Forgotten Towns of the Karoo - a photojournalistic essay

Campbell
Day 2: 17 December 2005 SATURDAY

Once again we almost missed another town because we almost didn’t realize we were in Campbell. We never saw a sign to indicate to us that we had reached it. We simply came upon a stop street, and when we looked around to figure out which way to go, we couldn’t. The sign we actually did see all indicated that Campbell was still coming, and at the stop street it showed that we had to go back the way we came, so we were quite confused. Trees and shrubs hid the small number of houses and shacks that would have indicated to us that we were actually in a small town. But nevertheless, we saw glimpses of these houses and shacks when we drove around to explore the area.

The first house we actually came upon was so striking, we both excitedly jumped out the car to take photographs. Plaster had fallen off some parts of it, and a small gate at the front stood awkwardly to one side, which would still allow someone to pass through though we strongly doubt anyone still lives there. It’s not so badly ruined that one wouldn’t be able to make anything out of it, because the gutters where still there and the wooden window frames might be skew from someone carelessly pushing it up, but it was clearly a place that had been lived through. I wondered what stories it would have told if it where able to talk.

It’s only when I was hunching down to get a different angle of this dilapidated house that I heard music come from a small blue shack hidden behind a tree besides the house. As soon as the music reached my ears, the local from the blue shack came walking up to his gate right next to the house and greeted us with a smile that had a few teeth missing! A few locals then came walking down the street and our neighbour greeted them excitedly and we heard them laughing and talking about us. Just as they reached us Etienne asked them whether they would mind having their picture taken. They where very shy, and I wondered whether anyone else had ever taken a photograph of them before. The younger boy would most probably have had his photograph taken at his school, if he actually did attend school on the other hand. When Etienne showed them the photograph they laughed in excitement and at themselves. The older local kept rubbing his head and smiled, while the younger boy laughed and teased the old man. As they walked away we heard their happy bantering all the way down the street.

We discovered that the whole town was quite neglected. But a sense of lively spirit was clearly still there. A small soccer field was right in the centre of town. Its goalposts consisting of tree trunks, some slightly skewer than the next, and the ground was just plain gravel. I shuddered to think what it must have felt like to collide at speed with that type of surface, but I was sure that they somehow managed to use the field. The rest of the town consisted of old run-down Karoo houses and a fair number of shacks to my surprise. Thin dogs roamed between the shacks, and horses grazed on whatever grass they could find, but I never once caught a glimpse of doom or depression. It’s as if they had made the most of what they had.

A small boy was walking amongst rocks in deep thought, swaying his stick, with his dog ever slowly trailing behind him. When he caught sight of us he became very shy but still walked to have a closer look at us. His ketty was hanging over his neck and he leaned against a fence pole. When we asked his permission for a photograph, he nodded, but his little brother must have been nearby, because just as the first photo was taken, he came strolling up to us in curiosity, playing with a twig in his hands. Their mother pushed her head out the door and looked at us in concern, but when we waved at her, all we saw was a big broad smile. It might be a small neglected little town, but the spirit of that place was absolutely stunning and it does rub off on oneself.

The distance from Campbell to Griekwastad was approximately 48km.

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A short history:

The first church north from the Orange river was built in 1831 by John Bartlett from the London Missionary Society in Campbell. It was restored and declared a national monument.

The town’s name came from a visit from John Campbell, director of the LSG, in 1813 to the Griekwa community, which was then known as Knovelvallei. After Campbell he visited again in 1820, he then decided to establish a full missionary station, and Bartlett, the second incumbent (holder of office), was appointed in 1825. He paid for his church with money he earned as a (grofsmid) in Cape town.

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