Sunday 3rd August, 2009
When you are visiting on farms in the Karoo, whoever is ‘going into town’, gets a number of tasks to do. This time we were asked to give the builder and his mate a lift, and to cash the cheque for their salaries at the garage as we went into town. They packed their small bags into our boot, alongside the springbok carcass that we had to deliver to an elderly tannie whose husband had recently died. During the 45 minute ride the two men were much entertained by the seductive English voice of the GPS, telling us where to go. Just for fun, we had asked him for his street address and typed it into the little machine, so they were very tickled when we were directed straight into the dusty township, right up to the wire fence surrounding the builder’s tiny house. Very impressed we were too: I mean who would expect to drive to the humble suburb of ‘Barcelona’ on the outskirts of De Aar, in the Cape Province.