Forgotten Towns of the Karoo - a photojournalistic essay

Niekerkshoop
Day 2: 17 December 2005 SATURDAY

The road to Niekerkshoop from Griquatown stretched alongside a never-ending flat plane with Karoo trees on the horizon that looked as if they where scattered like breadcrumbs on a table.

I loved Niekerkshoop the moment we stopped there. Why you may ask? Simply because a horse drawn cart came cruising past us, filled with locals who cheerfully chatted so loud, it was difficult to distinguish between trotting feet and voice. They where so excited to see us, but at the same time absolutely stunned. Or it might have been me, because I was sitting on my hunches to photograph them as they went past. They must have been in a hurry because they cruised past us at such a pace, that I really struggled to get my camera ready in time for another photo. We waved at each other as they disappeared down the horizon.

As usual, the locals came looking over their fences at us. It’s only when we waved and greeted them that they seem to relax and smile at us. Their corner café had an interesting name, Indraf Eethuis (in-jogging eating-house). No wonder the horse drawn cart was in such a hurry.

Reaching the end of the main road in Niekerkshoop and looking down the main street, we discovered that you would be able to see the whole width of the town, with the sides arcaded with dark green trees. Etienne stopped near the church, and while I was looking and snapping photographs of the church, he found some locals to talk to. Eventually I turned around and was surprised not too find him. I looked around and found Etienne, behind his Jeep on his hunches, with a bunch of lively kids totally surrounding him. I scarcely saw him; it was only his camera strap that dangled near the ground that gave him away. He was showing them pictures which he had just taken of them and they where once again laughing. They all struggled and shuffled with one another to get a glimpse of the photos on the small LCD screen. But leaning against a car striving to look mucho and not phased by our visit, was Martin. His boxer shorts were sticking out and he had no shirt on. He’s probably not more than fifteen years old.

While Etienne was talking to them, one local caught my attention, a young mother. She looked like any other local, but it was her beautiful shy smile and her cute baby in her arms which looked so peaceful that I tried to capture on my camera. But I was only able to take one quick photographs of her before she was overcome with shyness and hid herself behind a pillar. She was part of the Olyn family Etienne later on told me. He heard this while I was looking at the church and he was talking to the locals.

When we had to leave Niekerkshoop, we found three people standing by the main road outside the little town. Etienne saw that they wanted a lift, and I was quite unaccustomed to giving people lifts, being use to the city full of criminals and having heard so many horror stories about hitch-hikers, I was honestly quite nervous. But I could see why Etienne did want to give them a lift, because very few people do go past these towns and it was a mother with her son and his friend. I realized how luxuriously we had been travelling in an air coned 4x4, with shocks, soft leather seats and a radio (which we never switched on). Absolute luxury compared to, for example, the horse drawn cart. We quickly threw the odds and ends we had in the back seat in hollows only Etienne was able to find in the boot. We had to ask them to carry their heavy luggage on their laps because we simply didn’t have any other place to put it. They never once complained about a suitcase which stabbed them in their sides, which I’m sure had happened, or a box that squeaked in an ear. All we heard where thank-you, all the way to Prieska.

It turned out that they had been waiting there at Niekerkshoop for two days before we had picked them up. They had come from Pospotburg, and had only stopped at Niekerkshoop on their way to Prieska. They were going to spend some time there with family and friends for Christmas. The mother, Olga, worked in an army kitchen, and her son Gordon, fifteen, was still at school. He wanted to become a policeman, whereas his friend, Densil, seventeen, wanted to become a DJ, playing house music. He told us he had his own keyboard that he played and practiced on. We were talking and getting to know one another, and I occasionally turned around in my seat to face them, when I felt the Jeep slowly getting out of control and Etienne suddenly exclaiming in a very subtle way that there was trouble. I looked in concern at him, but knew what was wrong. I felt the car sliding sideways and looking in front of me I saw the turn in the road approaching us at too fast a pace and too my comfort. I gripped the sides of my seat for what it was worth and looked at Etienne who tried to stay calm. But to me it looked like his eyes where bulging out of his head with fear! Later on he told me that he wasn’t that worried, but I had seen the concern in his face and I surely did feel the car approaching the side of the road, which unfortunately had to be on the one of the few cliffs we did encounter on whole trip through the Karoo (except for ‘Die hell’). Our passengers never once said or exclaimed in any way. Maybe they couldn’t see anything with their baggage packed up to their nose.

Although the Karoo is generally quite flat, we where driving down a hill that had a few corners in it. But this one corner just seemed to have sprung on us, and the gravel underneath the car really didn’t help much. I was very fortunate not to have been sitting on the right hand side of the car; because I’m sure the car must have reached right up till the edge before Etienne eventually gained control of the car. According to him I’m exaggerating, because he told me that he was in control of the car. Well, I have to give him credit for that, because we did stay on the road and he did stay calm even though we had come so close to the edge. When we passed the corner and began heading straight on a straight road he started laughing at me! I was so shocked and disgusted at his reaction. He asked whether our passengers where scared but of course they wouldn’t admit it! Two of them being teenagers who would never acknowledge fear! Gordon actually laughed, but I think he laughed in fear, I noticed this subtle treble in his voice. So I sulked in my corner of the car, but not for long, because we reached Prieska and drove over a wide river, The Orange River, an absolutely stunning river that I never imagined would exist in the dry Karoo.

The total distance from Niekerkshoop to Prieska was approximately 43km.

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