Day 74: Velddrif via Piketberg

‘Should we?’

But we both know that the answer is yes. The answer is right there in the easing off of the accelerator. Our heads turn to each other at exactly the same time and nod. Danie pulls over to the side of the road. Exciting! My heart is racing. The bakkie doors swing open and we move towards the fence.

‘You know that this is illegal, right?’

‘Ja,’ my voice sounds shrill.

We scan up and down the road. No-one in sight.

‘So, do I need to pull at it? Bend it? Cut it?’

Danie gives me a knife. I face the five strands of barbed wire and my mind transports me back to childhood moments of climbing under, over and through fences like this one. Blood from nicks and cuts. Stolen fruit and one incident of stolen biltong.

Then my hands and feet are on the wire. I manoeuvre my body through the gap. I am on the other side. Danie nods. I laugh nervously. Knife in hand I approach the nearest plant, slice at a young branch. I pull and yank. It’s in my hand. I run back to the fence. To Danie and the bakkie. Through the fence again, but in my rush I am caught by a barb and tear a hole in my shorts.

Danie looks at the cutting and I suddenly wonder about the wound I have left in the young pomegranate tree. A hole on the side of an exclusive tree that requires the grower to have a licence to bring into life its special fruit. Danie tells me the name of this variety is Wonderful.

We moisten some newspaper with water, gently wrap it around the growing point, bag it and place it in the canopied back of the bakkie. Then we’re on the road to Porterville again. I pop my head out of the window. The wind plays with my hair. The sun is kissing my skin. I feel wonderful.