AN AUDITOR'S DIARY - PART 14

MOOI RIVER

I’ve been avoiding this branch as this is where I was in 1977 when I received the news of my Dad’s passing. I had just returned from a spell of leave during which I went to visit my girlfriend, Sonja who is my wife now when a neighbor of my folks phoned to tell me to make my way back home to Ladybrand as Dad had collapsed and died. When I got back to work Dave Sharp was well advanced with the audit which was just as well because Dad’s demise had really shaken me.

On a sultry Sunday afternoon, while I was snoozing a bit after lunch, I was awoken by a loud bang on the hotel roof. It sounded to me as if someone was hurling rocks at the roof. It was soon followed by another bang and then by a whole series of bangs and crashes. I rushed to my window to discover hailstones the size of tennis balls raining down. Luckily they were not solid chunks of ice but balls of finer bits of hail all stuck together. Each one that fell disintegrated into a myriad of hailstones looking like an exploding hand grenade. I wouldn’t have minded if my car had not been standing outside and I flinched every time one of those monsters smashed itself on my car. The storm did not even last a full minute but it was enough. My precious Beetle 1600SP with the beautiful peppermint green metallic paint, had a few dents. It broke my heart dammit. But Dave Sharp’s Peugot 505 came off a lot worse and had dents all over the car – he wasn’t thrilled either. Stay out of Natal in their hail season or you are in for a nasty surprise.

MOUNT FRERE

I had a hard time trying to even remember where this town was. It was not a place to write home about. There is no hotel in Mount Frere so we had to stay in Kokstad which is nearly 90 km away. To make things worse, that stretch of road, over Brookes Neck had an unusually high accident rate and to travel to and from on it daily, was really quite taxing. In common with all the towns in the erstwhile Transkei, Mount Frere is a constant hive of human activity. The infrastructure of these towns was just not designed to cope with the demands of the burgeoning populations of the districts and the constant crush of people around me was disturbing. I think I had Bob Bullock and Jimmy MacIntosh with me and we made short work of that audit and I seem to remember that it turned out well.

We stayed in a motel with rondawels on the outskirts of Kokstad. I didn’t see much of the town but I do remember going into the CNA and buying my very first CD there. (It was by The Stone Roses…. If anybody cares!)

BIZANA

In all fairness, Bizana should have fallen under Durban for audit purposes as it was much closer to Durban than to Port Elizabeth. I went there on three occasions – twice for special investigations and once with Mike de Villiers for a full audit. Mike and I arrived there in December 1983, found accommodation at Port Edward and travelled nearly 60 km to and from daily on a crudely tarred and winding road. The hotel people must have been having serious financial problems because they demanded 50% of our projected accommodation in advance! Mike had to bankroll me because I did not have that kind of money in those days. They also wanted us to pay cash for our meals but we balked and they accepted our protest with ill concealed annoyance.

The branch was in a prefab building and provided just enough accommodation for the times but I should imagine a much expanded premises would eventually have become necessary, considering the way the town was growing.

MASERU

Maseru is situated some 15 km from Ladybrand, my erstwhile hometown, on the banks of the Caledon River, in the Kingdom of Lesotho. I was sent there with Uncle Bref Edwards, a big “faux” bluff man with a priceless sense of humour. He had audited Sterkspruit branch while I was there and I had every reason to fear him. But I discovered that rude, bullying manner was just an act and that he was most approachable and very funny to boot. After passing through the passport control, we had to report to the Department of Labour in order to obtain work permits for our audit. What followed was a singularly unpleasant interview with an officious bureaucrat who left us in no doubt at all that South African whites were not welcome there and that they would have preferred inspectors from Barclays in London to inspect “their” bank. After some grovelling on Bref’s part, the official very reluctantly gave us permits for 30 days. I don’t recall much about the audit except that the branch was hellishly busy. I had the advantage of being able to stay at home with my parents in Ladybrand and travelling in and out daily but I have to admit to having disliked the unwarranted hostility we encountered there and have never crossed the Caledon River since.

WARDEN

I’ve written about Warden elsewhere, most notably when I mentioned the exceptional cleaner, Joseph Molefe, that I encountered there. I also had occasion to severely chide a relieving lady official (Relieving the accountant) who was playing a martinet to two young girls only months in the service. I preferred that she cease her constant barrage of criticism and use her considerable experience to train and guide the new kids. My own chiding did not go down very well but it did at least stop her incessant haranguing. I’m afraid my temper was on a very short fuse at the time as I had not had a decent night’s sleep at the hotel. The owner had a fox terrier dog which he kept in the courtyard around which the rooms were arranged and that flipping mongrel would go out on the hour all night and bark his silly head off. I’d just manage to doze off when he would start up again – time after time. In the morning I approached the young owner at reception and asked him quite reasonably if he could not keep the dog inside. He was immediately confrontational and said I was the first person ever to complain and he didn’t like my attitude. I liked his even less and said so. I immediately demanded my bill because I was checking out with immediate effect. I heard later that he had phoned Head Office in Bloemfontein and complained that I didn’t support his business even though he banked with us. I found accommodation in Harrismith which is not so far away but I should have taken a swing at the cheeky sod and done what I was basically itching to do!

I think that Alex Gibson, the manager, was jolly glad to see me go as I had quite severely rocked his little boat while I was there. Perhaps he was miffed because his cleaner had received more praise from General Management than he had himself!

VREDEFORT

Why this branch even existed was a mystery to me. Parys was mere kilometers away and I couldn’t see how the tiny town could support a branch. However, some two billion years ago the area was witness to the biggest asteroid strike in Earth’s history. The original crater is believed to have been 300 km in diameter but little remains of it after the passage of so much time. A rebound dome exists, formed when magma exposed by the impact, welled up and solidified. We can but hope that such an impact never recurs on this planet of ours as it would wipe all life off the planet in the blink of an eye. The little hotel in the town was owned by a fellow who used to be a manager of our branch at Excelsior. I imagine he did a damn sight better in his bottle store which was right on the main road, than he ever did in the hotel.

While there I heard a story about an eccentric farmer who built a fortress on his farm because he feared attack from black folk. The building had a totally vacant ground floor and access to the upper level could only be gained via a rope ladder which he pulled up after himself. A substantial trapdoor set into the floor would then be securely locked. He could see a long way in all directions from upstairs and would make sure he wasn’t being stalked before descending. Ironically his deepest fears were realized when he was murdered by a black man who accused him of having an affair with his wife. He was apparently lured out of his fortress and attacked out in the open.

VENTERSBURG

There must have been a plethora of travelling traders in the early days of this country if the popularity of the name Venter in the context of a town name, is anything to go by. I’ve been to Ventersburg, Ventersdorp and Venterstad and can report that not one of them is anything to write home about. I visited Ventersburg with Peter de Villiers. He decided we should put in some overtime after supper and we sat there checking overdraft interest until about 9 pm. The staff looked at us strangely when they realized we were in the branch after dark – they would not dare to do so. It seems that a previous manager of the branch had shot himself right there in the office and they firmly believed that his spirit haunted the building. Needless to say, we never saw, heard or felt a thing.

This was the third branch I visited while on audit and I damn nearly cut my career short right there and then by falling down the backstairs of the hotel, while carting my suitcases down to my car. I had cases in both hands and could not save myself when my shoes slipped on the top stair. In the process, I flung the one case over the parapet into the yard while nearly tobogganing down the stairs on the other one. I found myself lying in considerable pain while I tried to gather my scattered wits. Something very strange happened then; another bloke who was also packing his car came UP the stairs and clambered over me lying there groaning. No offer to help, just a curt nod and a remark, “Lekker koud ne?” I don’t know if he thought I was some dronkie who habitually lay about on the stairs groaning or what, but I really would have thought I was obviously in pain and could do with a hand up! He obviously was not the “Good Samaritan” whoever he was. I eventually got going again but my nice new suit had a big bloody patch on one knee and a nasty tear as well.

In Ventersburg pub I was witness to a really rough looking character drinking a beer with tomato juice, laced with Worcester sauce. I couldn’t resist asking why he did that and he replied that he was hungry and thirsty and offered me a sip which I took. Folks, it looked disgusting but by golly, it tasted pretty good! I have never seen that combination since.

VENTERSDORP

Probably best known as the home of Eugene Terreblanche, erstwhile leader of the AWB it really isn’t a remarkable town. About all I recall about it was old David the cleaner who was WW2 Veteran, who I have written about elsewhere. I was with Bush Morley at the time. Another odd memory which I have of the place is the branch manager’s son who had a genetic disease which elevated his cholesterol to highly dangerous levels. The poor kid was so laden with cholesterol that it actually oozed from his pores at times. “Hypercholesterolemia” is the name of the condition and I can’t help wondering if the kid grew to normal adulthood or not. Without some sort of medical intervention, he most likely would have had a fatal heart attack as a result of blocked arteries.

I don’t recall that manager’s name but if anyone reading this has knowledge of the outcome of that child’s condition, please let me know.

KLERKSDORP

Klerksdorp is quite a sizeable town so I can’t understand why it made virtually no impression on me. I’m not even sure if it was Dave Sharp that I joined there or not. For some reason which I have forgotten, a lunatic from the Reef Team joined us at one stage. He was Clive Smith, a man who talked and joked constantly with almost maniacal energy. The man was funny to be sure but boy, we wasted time during that audit.

The hotel where I stayed was reasonably comfortable and the food edible. Then came the week-end. A short distance from my room was that most terrible abomination of the era, a discotheque and on Friday night at around 9 pm it came alive. I saw the huge speakers they were using: They were really P.A. speakers meant for stadiums not hotel lounges. The music was frighteningly loud and endlessly repetitive and I could still hear it if I stuck fingers in my ears. People who know me, know that I am a music freak but the stuff they played in discos and at parties in those days, just didn’t rank as music at all to my ears. The noise carried on into the early hours and in the end, I couldn’t have had much more than an hour’s sleep. I made a solemn, silent vow that when I ruled the world, discos would be totally outlawed and the people who invented and ran them would be executed in some really unspeakable way!

SENEKAL

I was reminded of Senekal today when there were reports of severe floods in the eastern Free State and more specifically, in and around Senekal. I was reminded of the 1988 floods which hammered much of the Free State. I had just barely completed the Senekal audit and was at my next branch when the heavens opened. A trickle of a spruit, the Sand River, which snakes through the town and splits it in half, had become a raging torrent which no-one could cross. Both the manager and the accountant stayed on the same side of the river while the branch was situated on the other. As both were keyholders and neither could ford the river, the branch stayed closed but they were resourceful people who knew their customers pretty well, because they realized that near town lived a well to do farmer who owned his own aircraft. They drove out to his farm and asked him to fly them over to the aerodrome which was on the branch side of the river. From there they scrounged a lift into town and hey presto, the branch opened for business. I wish I knew if their resourcefulness was recognized by general management or not.

The Dutch Reformed church in the town had a unique wall around its perimeter. Petrified trees discovered in the district, were brought into town and used to construct the wall. It made for a most interesting and colourful wall but I cannot say if it still exists or not as I’ve not seen the town for decades.

My first experience of the old branch was a special Bush Morley and I undertook, on a fraud which the manager had tried to perpetrate. We travelled all the way from Evander to start this job and as we got to the front door of the branch during the lunch hour, the Free State GM at the time, Mr Steyl, also arrived. His face reflected considerable anger and when the door was opened by the manager, his opening words were, “Marius, wat het jy aangevang?” Marius was clearly shaken by the sight of his GM and two auditors on his doorstep and protested his innocence. He was suspended on the spot and sent home and Bush and I got started. I don’t recall his exact modus operandi but he helped himself quite liberally by simply debiting some clients. After his entries had been processed, he would enter the branch after hours and repost customer statements, leaving out his manipulations. Unfortunately for him he could not redo the journal sheets as well and they told the whole tale as I soon discovered.

We could not understand why the GM considered it necessary to call on the branch as well and then we heard that he and Marius often played tennis together and that he was considered to be a “blue-eyed boy”. At one stage, Bush pulled all the drawers out of the manager’s desk, in search of evidence when he chanced upon a whole box of “fancy” condoms and other sex aids. While I shook with laughter, Bush just dumped the lot on the desk and exclaimed, “This man is as crooked as a freakin’ corkscrew”. Bush had obviously grown up in a far more conservative era than Marius and considered such things pure perversion. Nope, no permissiveness for him.

Another interesting little fact is that in 1968, the South African film “Seven against the sun” was shot in the district. There is an area of extreme soil erosion in on a farm near Senekal, so degraded and desolate that it was chosen to simulate conditions on the Northern Kenyan frontier during WW2, where the action took place. I saw the movie at the time and it was hard to believe, knowing the lush, green Eastern Free State as well as I did, that such desertlike conditions existed anywhere near Senekal.