Even the Cops Drive White Bakkies

Some of you have asked about my obsession with white bakkies.  If you look at this pic, you might understand. The only non-bakkie you can see is Bob's car. If I were ever to commit a crime in Mthatha, I know what vehicle I would use to make my getaway.

Signs of the Times

Most of us are familiar with most of the road signs. However, in the last few years, new signs have started appearing on our roads.  This one is quite new to Cape Town:

 There are also signs which we don't see too often in suburban Cape Town, like this one:

However, when driving from Port Elizabeth to Mthatha last month (a 5-hour drive), I realised that road signs actually tell a story...  

Often, this is the only indication that you are approaching an inhabited area

This sign is seen regularly between PE and East London. There are none after East London.  Is it because most of the land after EL has been given over to cattle grazing, or because the vegetation before EL provides better opportunities for concealment?

This is quite a common sign along the N2, so it may not always be a good idea to travel at 100kph as the sign in the background suggests.

  The first time I saw the 'Cattle Crossing sign, I was reminded of this call to a radio station in America:  

 

After a while, it seems as if the authorities got a bit fed up with putting a 'Cattle Crossing' sign every kilometre or so, and changed their strategy:

But even that, they decided at the Great Kei River, was too onerous to repeat every 10km, so they just put this one up, to get the warnings over and done with:

This one makes statements about several things:

1. There are quite a few schools in the rural areas
2. These kids have no means of transport to get to school
3. They walk along the N2 
4. They have long distances to walk to school and back each day

This was my absolute favourite.  It ranks up there with the 'Toads Crossing' signs in Noordhoek and the 'Tortoises Crossing' signs on the West Coast

But there's no sign like the sign that tell you you're home.  Ads like this are nailed to the trees all along the N2 as it comes into Mthatha.

Hunnee, I'm home!

Burn, Baby Burn

I couldn't believe my eyes when I returned from rehearsal at school today.  I'd been away from home for about two hours, and in that time, all the long grass that hadn't burned in Friday's fire had now gone up in flames.

Bit of a surprise when I return home to see this.  As you can see, the road is crowded with concerned neighbours and residents. Not.

For comparison - before the fire.  I took this pic on 28 May, intending to blog about Rubbish Day in Mthatha - no  wheelie bins, no bin pickers, no dogs.  Just leave your rubbish on the verge, and it'll get picked up.  Eventually.

I take a walk down the road towards the smoke and meet a rather agitated guest house owner (whose gardener is on standby with a hose pipe) and a Man in Black.  MiB is the greenskeeper of the golf course, and is responsible for today's fire, which was supposed to be a controlled burn.  Oops.  He grinned when I told him that I was the one who called the fire brigade for that silly little fire in June.  But he had the grace to  admit that he had called the fire brigade two hours earlier for this fire, and was still waiting.  He was a tad concerned that the houses at the end of the road may be at risk, because then the golf club would be in a spot of bother.

I didn't phone Bob this time.

Oh, and no prizes for guessing what MiB was driving.

View from the golf course

 

It can get pretty hot in there

The tick birds thought this was a great opportunity to snap up any fleeing goggas

...as did this junior Grey Heron

Looks like a fire-breathing dragon. If you scrunch up your eyes and tilt your head 45 degrees. Really.

The main disadvantage of this fire is that all the builders' rubble that has been dumped in the long grass is now exposed.  Apparently Mthatha has no bylaws.  None.  None about dumping, none about vagrancy, none about wandering livestock. 
Spot the dog...

Fire! Fire!

26 June:  So there I am, sitting around, at 10 in the morning, and happen to look out of the window.  This is what I see:

Coming from Cape Town, I'm a little bit sensitive about fires, as Table Mountain is particularly vulnerable.  I like to think I am a responsible citizen, so I phoned the golf course, and asked if they know about the fire.  No, they said, they don't have any controlled burns at the moment.

So I phone the Fire Department.

"Hello"
"Hi there, I live off Delville Road, and the golf course is on fire.  If the fire continues to spread at this rate, it will reach the houses in about 15 minutes"
"Where did you say you were calling from?"
"Just off Delville Road.  The golf course is on fire."
"You mean the grass is on fire."
"Yes, that's what I said"
"You phoned us for a grass fire?"
"Yes"
"OK"
*click*
 
I phoned Bob to tell him we might be homeless tonight, but reached his voicemail - he was in a meeting.  He phoned me back about an hour later, after having listened to my message and speaking to a colleague who is a golfer.  Apparently the golfers regularly set the long grass alight, as it's a real pain to look for your balls in that long grass.

(To the credit of the Fire Department,  they did send someone in a white bakkie to have a look)

But wait, there's more!

On Friday (1 August), I look out of the window (again), and see the homeless man in this picture has started a fire.  Outside the golf course.  Over the road from our house.  In the picture, he is moving his wêreldse goed away from the fire because it's getting a bit hot for him.

 Now, I'm becoming a regular Mthatian, and don't panic about such silly stuff any more.  So I phone Bob at work and tell him there's a fire, but there's nothing to worry about.  He says thank you, it's very sweet that I phone him.

I've heard that the sound of a grass fire is quite frightening.  Now I know why.  It's quite ominous in its regularity and intensity

While I'm watching this fire grow and spread, I see the man from next door (not this one, the other side), sending the homeless man on his way.

My isiXhosa is very basic, but my father taught me some very colourful phrases when I was 10 years old.  This is the first time I have heard them spoken out loud.  I had to smile and thank my dad for his foresight.

I asked the man next door if the fire was safe, and he said, yes, it's okay, he'll keep an eye on it (as I had to go to a rehearsal at the school).  I got home two hours later, and the fire had spread about 500m, into Delville Road, which is home to quite a few guest houses.  Yesterday, I spoke to an owner of one of the guest houses, and she told me that her staff were standing outside the property with fire extinguishers on Friday.  She was pretty cross about the fire - they happen quite regularly, and are not always as innocuous as they seem.

I have to admit this made me feel a bit better about phoning the fire brigade last time.

Miss Mthatha Teen 2014

Saturday morning 28/6/2014:  Auditions for Miss Mthatha Teen 2014 in the car park at The Mthatha Plaza.  The woman in the shiny black pants is showing the girls how to sashay. Check the height of those heels!

There is no artistic merit in this video, but if you turn the volume up high, you might feel a smidgen of sympathy for Bob, who was trying to give blood in the caravan at the back.

Oh look - there's a white bakkie in the car park.

Hello Port Elizabeth!

Arrived at 6.30pm (6 hour drive from Mthatha) Uneventful journey except for a roadblock in Kingwilliamstown. A very chatty (aka bored) trio of police officers asked me where I was coming from and where am I going to.

"From Mthatha" made their eyes light up. They asked to search my luggage for illegal substances. Perhaps they thought I'd been to the Doobie Rally in Port St Johns.  Instead, I whined, "Do you have to open my suitcase, it took me all morning to pack it and get it closed. And besides, it's got a padlock. Do I have to go and look for the key now? I really don't want to drive in the dark..." It worked!

But they insisted on looking inside my hand luggage, which is stuffed with documents, files, keys, cables and my laptop.

"So," came the inevitable question, "What do you do in Mthatha?"

Here we go again, I thought. But before I could reply, he answered his own question,,,

"Are you a missionary?"

Which leaves me wondering if Helen Zille looks like a missionary.

Or if missionaries look like Helen Zille.

A Trip to the Vet

Jasper has a cough, so I found a vet and phoned for directions.  Do I ever learn?  No street signs, just landmarks.  And potholes.

Passed this shop while getting lost on the way to the vet. At first I thought the squiffy M was falling off.  Then I thought it was a deliberate ploy to attract my attention.  Then I saw the E (behind the robot), and realised that this is probably not a good place to shop. Look there's a white bakkie!

Not a sight you're likely to see outside Blue Cross Rondebosch

This neither

This miniature sharpei is a permanent resident.  She was blinded at three months old by snake venom.  She's only knee high and just loves everyone.  What a sweetie.

Jasper had to go for an x-ray.  He was not impressed.  Neither was the vet when he saw me taking pics in the x-ray room.  Jasper has an enlarged heart and water on his lungs.  Bob says he always knew Jasper had a big heart.

 

The vet didn't have any meds at the office, but had them at home.  To save time, I offered to follow him home and pick them up there. Mistake.  He's been in Mthatha a while and fully understands that an orange robot is not a suggestion to slow down.  I didn't know where he was going, so I tailgated him through said orange robots, together with the rest of Mthatha.  Holy mackerel. 

No rain for a while - see how dusty the road is. And my car.  I picked up mail from the PO Box.  Even the mail is dusty. 

The tall building in the distance is where Bob works. See, there's another white bakkie!

(Jasper has to take heart pills for the rest of his life.  Poor boy.  Apparently the same pills are given to humans)