27 Nov 2011
Sunday morning, and I set out on a tour of church. I head east along the south bank of the river with Man Friday for company and guidance.
What an amazing realm it is under the canopy! Tall fever trees line the river, creating a fertile, shaded environment that’s host to lots and lots of life.
And of course the Sunday paper has all the fresh news about it this morning, printed clearly in the rampant black soil: ‘Hippo bull slides down river bank on all fours after night out’, a headline reads. ‘Elephant trashes knoppiesdoring’. And, quite scandalously; ‘two senior buffalo bulls out drinking at dawn’.
Tsk, tsk. These Sunday papers, you know..
We surprise a bushbuck ram resting in its grassy boudoir, we stare down impala that snort and flit away, and generally enjoy a tour of the wild that once again leaves me feeling privileged to live in such a rich neigbourhood.
Adding to my buoyant mood is the expectation of isolation relief today. A vision of the Aerostar swooping in on final approach to my new runway has been keeping me keen for a while, but yesterday the news came via a crackling satphone that the plane has a transponder problem and won’t make the flight, but not to worry.
On the way back to camp, after a four-hour walk, I hear a vehicle. Could it be the cavalry?
There it is when we arrive home: a muddy but familiar Landcruiser! The Great Chef Renck, chief of chefs, man of men – he who can walk on water – got through to deliver a helping hand to a friend.
The man and his steed.
Bad down south, he reports. Two 4×4’s bogged down and abandoned along the way. But seemingly not too big a problem for the big V8 Cruiser and the big chef with the big coconuts. Even towing a trailer.
Would I like a cold beer, he asks. Or a Chivas on ice maybe? Marlboro or Stuyvesandt? Rump or leg of lamb tonight? Droëwors? Biltong?
Which is all too much for me so suddenly.
So I go for the Captain Morgan and Camel. And stay there for the rest of the day..
