Bokkie gaan bosveld toe ...

When we finally leave Elim, it's pitch-dark and we've still got an hour’s drive to our guest house, the Bosveld Gastehuis in Dendron. We're on a dirt road in the middle of nowhere heading into nighttime blackness when Mark gets a call on his cell. "Ek dink ek sal jou a gelukkige man maak," says a strange voice. Mark pauses a moment, laughs out loud, "Are you calling me from inside a baobab tree?" We can't believe it! His wallet had been found and is waiting for him. Eugene was visiting the area and was only the second person that day to visit the giant baobab tree when he stumbled over Mark's wallet. Hooray, what a relief.

It's after 8pm when we eventually pull up at our guesthouse. There's no-one there. “Hello, hello,” I call as we walk through empty rooms. We make our way towards the only sound and walk into Eddie's pub - the lights are low, the music's going, there's a springbokkie on the one wall and a warthog on the other, Stormers, Cheetahs, Blou Bul flags are draped all around, everyone is kuier'ing lekker! “Hello, hoe gaan'it,” says Eddie and his wife Concetta.



Eddie Jordaan, at home in the master seat behind the Bosveld bar, Dendron, Limpopo.

We're warmly greeted and shown to our rooms. Mark surprisingly has an open toilet standing in his bedroom? "Ja, you got the k*k room," laughs Eddie who sprinkles his sentences liberally with colourful adjectives. And instead of guest soap, on the neat white towel laid out on my bed lies a packet of condoms. Clearly plenty of action goes down in this little dorp!

We make our way back to the pub. I have tried for an hour to get internet reception and am frustrated that I cannot post my blog. I've even got my laptop on the bar, getting advice from everyone on the best ways of trying to log on. Eventually I surrender to the ice-cold lager Eddie puts in front of me. With generous hospitality, he has insisted on us ordering the 600g steak (which I know I cannot finish). The meal arrives on two plates because the steak takes up one whole plate all by itself. The atmosphere is obviously getting to Mark and Tim who are now breaking out into Afrikaans, “nou hier kom ‘n ding!” exclaims Mark when he sees his steak advancing towards him.

Next to me is Stef, a fellow guest whom I discover is the plumber currently working on the building site at Dendron Secondary School, the project that we’re about to visit tomorrow. “If I’d known that Old Mutual was funding this project, I’d have loaded my quote!” Stef laughs, leans over and pats my leg. He tells me he’s a singer by night and promises me a number.



Stef Gouws, plumber and live entertainer extraordinaire.

True to his word later that evening, Stef sets up his music equipment on Eddie’s sound-system, selects a favourite song, hitches himself up onto the bar, takes hold of my hand and commands Eddie, “Gooi hom, boet!” The sokkie speels lekker, the pedestrian lights blink red and green, the springbokkie gazes into eternity and Stef gazes into my eyes:

“O Liewe Lulu,

Sal jy vannaand by my kom doedoe

Die liefde brand hier in my hart soos voodoo

My drome le aan skerwe liewe Lulu... ”

By now, Mark has taken so many photos, he’s run out of flash batteries and Tim is holding up his laptop for light. We have a few more classics from Stef, then Eddie brings the house down with a rousing rendition of Green, green grass of home. Eventually I extricate myself from Stef’s grasp, leave the guys to it and excuse myself from the pub. I make sure to lock my door that night.

* With kind thanks to Eddie and Concetta for the most memorable evening of our road trip!