BETHLEHEM
My first visit to Bethlehem found the branch in temporary premises. Bethlhem is one of the coldest places in the country and it’s best to avoid the town in winter, if you can. I could not get close enough to the single old fashioned stove which was doing a pretty poor job of warming the office. I was with John and Elizma Bell and we all stayed in a hotel which also housed some actors and actresses who were shooting a movie, “’n Beeld vir Jeannie” in the town and area. We occasionally spotted Hans Strydom, the lead actor in the dining room where a large table had been set aside for the moviemakers. He was pretty stand offish but far more hospitable and friendly was Don Leonard, also a lead actor. John and Elizma soon palled up with him and on Wednesday afternoons, if he wasn’t filming, he was talking horses with John. Don always played rather rough, quite uncouth characters in his movies and I discovered to my delight that in real life, he was exactly like he was in the films. I met him one Sunday evening in the passage as he was bringing home a load of ironed clothes and I asked if he was moving. He wasn’t and complained about the irregular shooting schedules they had. As he walked past I heard him mutter, “Dis sommer ‘n k.. job die, ou pal”. I’ve not seen the movie but I would like to because I was sitting in my car outside some shops where they were filming and I must have appeared in the background, if the scene was not cut.
And damn, that hotel was fliipin’ cold too. On some mornings, I actually found ice on the INSIDE of the window pane of my bedroom.
My second visit found the branch in a spanking new building. I was assisted by Johan Fourie. It soon transpired that the branch was not running very well and the exceptions started piling up. I was struggling my way through the securities when Fourie announced that he was taking some of the ladies to lunch. I worked through my lunch hour and did not take much notice of the time until I ran out of securities and when I looked for a custodian (At after 2.30 – they went out at 12), was told they were STILL at lunch. At nearly 3 pm a grinning, slightly tipsy bunch of women and Fourie walked in – I had worked myself into a towering rage and tore a strip off him. I told him in no uncertain manner that 3 hour lunches were not going to happen on my watch. I was all for having him removed from Audit but eventually decided to let it ride on condition he did nothing to raise my ire again.
While I was shouting at Fourie, the manager came out of his office and said something like. “Ag leave them man, you’re only young once”. Off I went again – this time slamming the door of the manager’s office behind me, while I told him his fortune. I recall saying that I was not surprised that the branch was in a mess and that his lack of leadership and discipline were to blame. I think he was most surprised to discover that I wasn’t an easygoing pussycat after all. I rarely had fights with people in branches which is why the ones I did have, are still so vivid in my mind.
Near the hotel, there was a kloof walk along a stream, a fenced off bird sanctuary in the heart of the town. I was walking there late one afternoon, enjoying the silence broken only by the wind in the overhanging trees. All of a sudden it was as if all the demons in hell had come to gather me in. A whole flock of hadedahs was roosting in the trees and had been watching me carefully as I trudged along, deep in thought and they suddenly cried out loudly in alarm. This sudden burst of utterly horrifying sound in that eerie silence was more than enough to make every hair on my body stand stand right up. It was all I could do to stop myself from running away in fright! Fortunately I didn’t and I returned there several more times but with my eyes up in the trees so as not to be taken by surprise again by those lunatic birds.
CLOCOLAN
This village lies between my hometown Ladybrand and Ficksburg in the Eastern Free State. I went there several times and was able to stay at home with my mother, which the old lady appreciated. Francois Booysen assisted me. I was pleasantly surprised one day when I noticed an old school friend standing at the counter – Pietie Fouche. I had known him from when we first attended the Volkskool in Ladybrand. Piet was a big sport enthusiast but in a cruel twist of fate, Nature had given him clubfeet which made walking very awkward for him. But did this daunt young Piet? Not on your life. My earliest memory of him is him playing cricket during breaks – bowling and batting with skill and enthusiasm. I could hardly believe it when in high school, Piet started playing rugby. He eventually started playing for the town team as fullback. Piet was amazing. They could kick a ball just about anywhere on the back and Piet, running with outstretched arms would catch that ball. How he managed to get under that ball every time, on those twisted feet, only he knows. My Dad, a big supporter of the “dorpspan” thought Piet was the best fullback he’d ever seen and absolutely idolized him.
I had previously told Francoise about this special chap and I was chuffed to be able to introduce him to this exceptional fellow. When I reiterated how my Dad always spoke about him in glowing terms, Piet looked sheepish and shuffled his feet. He mumbled that he was now paying the price for his sporting activities. A more modest, self effacing bloke you could not wish to meet and I count myself lucky to have known him. Piet and his wife are still with us and we have contact via Facebook.
GRAAFF REINET
I have always rated Graaff Reinet a town well worth visiting. The town has very successfully preserved much of its architectural history. Apart from real architectural treasures such as the beautiful Gothic Revival Dutch Reformed church, the old Drostdy (Now the Drostday Hotel) and numerous impressive public buildings, the simple Karroo style houses in the back streets, lend the tree lined avenues the peaceful and cool ambience of another time. I stayed in the Drostdy Hotel once and was impressed by the elegance and charm of the old buildings but less so by the service and food. I see that it is currently rated one of the best hotels in the country so possibly it has been upgraded again. On another occasion I stayed at a guesthouse which provided excellent accommodation but served only breakfast. I was given a lavishly appointed room with a huge bed and in the bathroom found a bath which was far, far too big by any standard. In water starved Graaff Reinet, trying to fill that bath to a decent level was criminal. I actually battled to get out of it, it was so deep. I am (Was?) 6’ 3” and yet I could lie flat in the bath.
Surrounding the town is the Camdeboo National Park. A steep but surfaced road leads up to the top of the looming Camdeboo mountains. Views of the town and of nearby Spandau Kop are breathtaking and just a bit further along to where the road ends, a short walk takes you to the view from the back of the mountain, of the amazing Valley of Desolation. The whole mountain is covered in thick bush and the spekbome, much sought after by kudus, grow everywhere. There are few drives that I enjoy as much as that one and I am really sad I’ll never do it again.
About 50 km from the town lies the village of New Bethesda. It is a much visited tourist attraction these days, due mainly to the so called Owl House where in the 40’s Mrs Helen Martins and Koos Malgas sculpted the host of mainly Biblical figures, which crowd the house and property. She had a vision and tried to make it real in cement and ground glass. The branch manager used to do a periodic agency in the Village and my friend Fred Coetzee, who was manager here for a spell, often spoke of this eccentric customer and her obsession. She committed suicide by swallowing caustic soda which caused her a prolonged and terrible death. The village and its surrounds are well worth a visit.
PARYS
Parys is the place you have to visit if you are looking for a long lost bank friend because so many bankers have retired to this town on the banks of the Vaal River. I spent quite a bit of time at enquiries counters while I was there, talking to retired colleagues from all over the country and Namibia.
Some of you might know me as a real music freak – I have collected music for most of my life and have amassed a sizeable musical library. My taste tends to veer away from the more popular types of music and people are often surprised to find an old timer like me delving into some quite extreme genres. So it is that I listen to progressive rock, new country and jazz/rock by preference but to just about anything else out of curiosity. Working close to where I was sitting in Parys branch was a young lady by the name of Sonja. I really wasn’t impressed with her radical hairstyle, tattoos, body piercings and rather hip language but somehow we clicked. We started talking about artists like Gary Moore and the Cure and before long, she was bringing me cassettes of music from her collection and I did the same on the weekends when I went home to Ladybrand. Kindred spirits don’t necessarily look alike do they?
Hey no, I wasn’t carrying on with her if that’s what you’re thinking – I never saw her outside of the office. I guess the rest of the staff might have wondered whether something was afoot but all we ever chatted about was music.
MEMEL
This impoverished village lies up in the North East corner of the Free State, on the borders of Natal and the erstwhile Transvaal. I have in fact stood at the exact spot where the 3 borders cross and enjoyed the novelty of walking from one province to the other in three steps. Kid stuff ? Sure! Memel was apparently named after a Lithuanian port and the word means “surrounded by water”. I’ve read that the Lithuanian Memel was the hometown of a surveyor called Straszacker who came to South Africa so he probably came up with the name. The town had some shops and even two banks in its heyday, but has severely declined since the turn of the century.
The Seekoeivlei Nature Reserve is a wetland much visited by birdwatchers, which is supplied by the Klip River. The area is most picturesque, especially in the mountainous region of the district, where streams and waterfalls abound. There is no shortage of picnic spots, a favourite being the Ncandu Falls on the dirt road to Newcastle. I picked up my worst case of sunburn ever, when I was a youngster in the bank there and a whole bunch of us young people went there for the day.
ROUXVILLE
I was at Rouxville in around 1987, assisted by Gustav Peach. This was the time of the great upheaval when Barclays became FNB and the bank made a huge song and dance about announcing the name change. Branches were told to invite some customers to the branch, supply some snacks and drinks and park everyone in front of the branch TV at 4 pm when the announcement would take place. Rouxville decided to restrict the guest list to folk from the old age home, mostly little old ladies. The happily chattering little crowd settled down in front of the TV and started “kuiering”. Come four o’clock and on came the TV but no announcement. Instead the old folks were “treated” to the pop group A-HA in full swing, doing their latest hits on Pop Shop. I don’t know what the old folks had expected but why the bank had brought them all to the bank simply to watch a pop group must have crossed their minds! Eventually the music stopped and the announcement trumpeted out and the mystery was solved. I still wonder what those little old ladies thought of A-HA – perhaps they actually enjoyed them as they were quite a handsome lot!
Gustav had family in Rouxville – Oom Kosie Pansegrouw was married to his aunt and we were invited to lunch at their house. But before we get there, some background: My Dad was a Roads Inspector in the Free State while Kosie Pansegrouw was Member of the Provincial Council, in charge of roads. He would periodically visit the districts where men like Dad supervised the maintenance and building of secondary roads, to satisfy himself that taxpayers’ money was not being squandered. He had driven around the Ladybrand area with Dad all day and towards late afternoon they were quite near the Lesotho capital, Maseru. There was no access control into Lesotho then and Kosie decided to have a look at the town and slake their thirst. So it was that they piled into the Lancer’s Inn in order to quaff a frostie or two. Dad was not a habitual drinker and it took little to get him tiddly but Kosie was his boss and he insisted on staying longer ….. much longer!
Back home, Mom was becoming more and more agitated. Dad was seldom late and if he was going to be, he would always phone and put Mom in the picture. Not this time though. Mom was frantic when close to 9 pm, Dad’s car pulled into the garage. Boy, did Mom let him have it! It wasn’t so much that he was quite obviously drunk, it was because he hadn’t let her know he would be late. Poor old Dad just laughed sheepishly and said that he was too drunk to fight and that she should tackle him in the morning…….. which of course, she did.
So here I was in Rouxville and meeting this (In our home) legendary Kosie Pansegrouw, who had landed my dear old Dad in the doodoo. He had eventually ended up in Parliament and was immensely proud of his own achievements, to the extent that he had created a little museum to himself and his history, in the town. Yep, an egotist to be sure but an interesting old guy nevertheless. When he eventually broke off from talking about himself, I slipped in myself with the story about my Dad. He remembered the occasion but denied that they had misbehaved – yeah right! I will say he did seem to regret having got Dad into trouble.
ZASTRON
I visited Zastron only briefly as an auditor, when I called in to perform what we called High Risk Audits. Yet I was quite familiar with the town as I often crossed the border from Sterkspruit to take in a movie or buy say pharmacy goods not available in Sterkspruit. Inevitably, before, during and after showings we would adjourn to the Maluti Hotel for a drink or two. On one occasion we turned up at the ladies bar after some movie or other and found the owner, Chris de Wet, seven sheets to the wind and affable as can be. The pub’s theme was musical instruments and all sorts of noisemakers were displayed on the walls, while in a corner stood an old “traporrel”. One of our number was Henry Crawley who could play the organ and before long, Henry was tickling the ivories of the organ to the delight of the owner. Every time Henry played “Lara’s Theme” from Doctor Zhivago, a misty eyed de Wet would pour a round “on the house”. We actually got a set of bagpipes down off the wall in order to keep Crawley company but succeeded only in getting a sound like a sick cow from it. It was a night of much hilarity and imbibing and how we all got home in one piece I don’t know. I was driving but just have no memory of it.
Many years later Bob Bullock and I stayed there when we had to audit Sterkspruit. De Wet had long since passed on and a young couple had perked up the old place quite a bit. A novelty for me was their claim on the menus that they cooked in the style of Louis Leipoldt. A multi talented man, Leipoldt had been a poet, a doctor, a dramatist and a food expert. The hotel had one of his famous cookbooks and claimed that they followed it slavishly. The food was OK, albeit not outstanding but I had to applaud the gimmick value of their claim.
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