Day 16: Oom Manie and Auntie Joan

I had made my way via Port Elizabeth to Jeffreys Bay. I’d been travelling for two weeks and in that time was almost constantly surrounded with people. Leaving Jeffreys Bay, I felt the need for solitude.

The water is cool at my feet and the dunes are tall. It feels as though I am the only person on earth this day. I stop at a restaurant to ask whether it is possible to walk along the coast all the way to Cape St Francis. They have just read an article about the uBuntu Girl that morning. It’s surreal. They offer me a cooldrink and assure me that I can walk on the beach.

I leave with a lopsided grin. Yesterday I walked around Jeffreys Bay with an air of self-importance because of the article, but no one knew me and I was hugely disappointed. That is why I need to be surrounded by nature today. It is time for some reflection and conversation with my Self. On this stretch of coastline, caught between the dunes and the ocean, contained in this way by nature, the inner dialogue can flow.

It is as if Spirit Girl and Ego Girl are battling things out. The sea lashes out at me and the dunes stand firm. As I regain my perspective on the purpose of my journey, Spirit Girl takes a big plastic hammer and nails Ego Girl into the sand.

When I reach Cape St Francis, I stand in awe of the beautiful landscape. Frozen in admiration this way, it takes a while until I realise that there is no way for me to cross the bay and get to Cape St Francis itself. There is a Private Property sign where the bay curves away to the right. I see a few houses there, their jetties jutting out into the water, and weigh up my options. I could sleep in the dunes tonight, but it will be cold. That’s OK though, because I have my poncho with which I can devise a contraption against the wind and sea spray. I could also turn around, find a way over the dunes and go around to what must surely be the N2, but it is two o’clock in the afternoon and I might not reach the road before dark. Alternatively, I can take my chances and trespass on private property. It is the most alluring choice. I struggle briefly with myself. If I don’t want to walk in the water I have to walk through these gardens . . . but what will I do if I come upon a family having a braai? Fake a foreign accent? Tell them that I am the uBuntu Girl and had no other option. Leopard crawl past them?

In the end there is nobody home. When I get to the end of the row of peopleless houses, I see fields and fields of long grass dancing in the wind with abandon. Mesmerised, I carry on walking, climb over a fence and start down a deeply rutted road. I realise that I am on someone’s farm when the cattle stop grazing and stare at me. I catch myself talking to them – must be due to the many hours of walking and living in my own head, but at least they’re not talking back.

It is getting on for half past three when I come across the farmhouse. The garden gate is open. I walk on through. Breathe in. Breathe out. Knock.

Silence. I draw a deep breath and knock again. Then I hear a faint creaking and footsteps. Moments later the doorknob turns and an older gentleman stands before me. He’s tall, proud and very strong, I can tell, with hands that have toiled hard over the years.

Finding a stranger on your doorstep who rambles on about a dream, about a backpack, a camera and R100 is probably not a daily occurence here, but at least I can gooi it all in Afrikaans. Only half of Oom Manie listens, the other half is still glued to the television set I can hear in the background. He informs me that he is watching the cricket and that his wife, Auntie Joan, is having her Sunday afternoon nap, so can I please wait in the voorkamer until she wakes up. Awkwardly he shows me to the voorkamer and asks me to make myself comfortable. Poor Oom Manie – he turns around and leaves me there, visibly uncomfortable in his own home. I can imagine him squirming in his seat in front of the television at the thought of the stranger in his voorkamer. He comes to check on me once.

Later, Auntie Joan treats me to a lekker bord kos of lamb chops, bacon, eggs, tomato, toast, homemade sour fig jam and a pot of tea and I am invited to spend the night in a cottage on their farm.