Before we take on Lydenburg, Pat wants to depart from the timeline and digress a little. Picnics always featured strongly in the Clark’s leisure time. I recall when they were in Naboomspruit, driving out to the Doringdraai Dam. Pat had prepared a big pot full of good old stywepap, as well as a pot of tomato and onion mix, to accompany the pap. Chris had packed everything securely into the boot of the car and off we all went. The dirt road to the dam was pretty bumpy and before long, the delicious smell of the “pap sous” starting making itself known and indeed became so strong that Pat was convinced the pot had fallen over. Despite her pleading, cajoling and eventually demanding, Chris would not stop and check the state of the pot. He felt that if it had fallen over, taking action when we got to our destination was the way to go. Pat was having a cadenza by the time we reached the dam but she could not believe her eyes when the open boot revealed no spillage whatsoever. Chris had done his packing well. It turned out to be a memorable picnic after all and for the right reasons. Only Michael had reason to be a little unhappy when, despite his father’s warnings to keep away from the fire, he managed to step on a live coal with his bare foot. I thought we might never see him again, the way he took off screeching his head off.
There was the occasion, when Mom was visiting the Clarks in Louis Trichardt and they decided to go and show her the Tzaneen and Magoebaskloof area. They eventually set themselves up at the Ebenezer Dam and had their lunchtime picnic. Chris decided he needed to wash his hands and spotting an outside tap beside a fenced in building, climbed the fence. Innocently opening the tap, Chris was considerably taken aback when the entire top of the tap came away in his hands, unleashing a particularly powerful jet of water. Although he tried manfully to screw the top back on, the pressure was just too much for him and he eventually beat a sodden retreat back over the fence. Mom was the most worried of all and said, “I think we’d better hurry up and get out of here”. Without consuming a single morsel, they picked up everything in record time and took off guiltily. Goodness knows how long that water kept on wasting but there was a drought on at the time and every time the radio reported dropping dam water levels, Michael would say “That was Dad’s fault”. It took a long time for Chris to live that down.
On another occasion they chose to have their picnic in a pleasant spot near Kowyn’s Pass. At the time they were going through a phase of doing a stirfry on their gas braai. Pat would prepare the meat and veges beforehand, cutting everything into thin strips, storing the resulting food in plastic boxes for each of them. At the venue, everybody would cook their own food, to their own taste. Some distance from where they set up their picnic, a VW Combi was parked in a secluded spot and they had no idea of anyone was in it, as it had tightly closed curtains all round. Naturally their suspicions settled on whether or not there was any naughty hanky-panky going on in there but they soon dismissed the Combi from their minds and as the boys were hungry, started up the braai. Things went well for a few minutes when all of a sudden, the gas flame died – the gas bottle was empty and they were left with a “skottel” full of nasty looking gray bits of meat and limp unappetizing vegetables. Nothing was anywhere near cooked and they were left with three very disgruntled and hungry kids. A quick decision was made to pack it all up and head for Harry’s Pancake Den in Graskop. As they drove off, the curtains in the combi twitched ever so slightly and Pat surmises they must have been puzzled by the Clarks’ brief picnic and speedy exit. But maybe relieved as well to have their peace and privacy restored ………………
Michael never found their picnic disasters amusing. On another occasion, they were at a popular picnic spot in the forests near Sabie. When they arrived, all the formal braai spots had already been taken so Chris decided to build his own fireplace out of available stones. It was low on the ground but served its purpose and Chris soon had the wors and chops clamped in a two sided grid, sizzling over the coals. The trouble came when Chris turned the grid over and all the meat slid out, slap-bang into the coals in an untidy heap. Michael was as scornful as he could be but he was pushed to the limit when his father sent him to go and wash the dirt and ashes off the meat at the nearest tap. Michael was NOT amused. Luckily Neil defused a ticklish situation by grabbing the meat and getting it cleaned up and back on the coals.
On yet another occasion they wanted to show the kids the Sudwala caves and took along the supplies and paraphernalia for a braai. Everything was going well until the meat started sizzling. In a flash, a huge cloud of flies and brommers descended on them, the likes of which they had never encountered before. It got so bad that Pat and the kids fled to the car and sat there with windows closed, while poor Chris battled the swarm of flies and tried simultaneously to braai their meat. They eventually all retired to the car to have their food, while millions of flies beat their little fists futilely against the glass on the outside. If Beelzebug truly was the “Lord of the Flies”, he must have been out for a walk on that occasion!
Unhappily for Neil, their next transfer to Lydenburg arrived shortly after he had been chosen as a Grade 7 prefect in the Soutpansberg Laerskool. The Clarks were very sad that the transfer would deny Neil his bit of honour but the bank did not take cognizance of any personal factors when arranging transfers.
In Lydenburg Neil again decided that he’d like to make some extra pocket money so he started selling the Rapport newspaper on a certain corner on Sundays. He quickly built up a group of regular clients, people who were kind to him and tipped generously. He once spotted a competition run by Simba Chips in which the prize was a sports bicycle worth a princely R800 and he set his sights on winning it. The catch was that you had to attach a cut out logo from a Simba packet to your entry. Neil did not see his way clear to buy up myriads of packets of chips with his hard-earned pocket-money, so he raided the trash bins at school for empty chip packets and lo and behold, Neil flooded the competition with entries and with this effort won the bicycle. Although it was a beautiful, streamlined machine, he found that it did not suit his purpose and he sold it to the NG dominee’s son for R1 000. With this windfall, be bought his first computer. No doubt about it – Neil was a born entrepreneur.
In Lydenburg, Chris had a client by the name of Eddy Ratsoma, who was a businessman in Sekukuni. He owned a large store which stocked everything from groceries to building materials. His business did extremely well and Eddy was quite wealthy. He took a liking to Chris and valued his strict control and advice on his banking affairs. He always referred to Chris as “My Manager” and he joined the Clarks for lunch at their house on many occasions. Pat lost count of the number of crockery sets which Eddy had given them as gifts. These must have been stock from his shop and unfortunately some were quite abominably ugly. He was very upset when the Clarks were transferred to Groblersdal and promised them a very special farewell gift. It was delivered to the new house in Groblersdal and being wrapped in a grey blanket, look like a coffin but it was in fact a grandfather clock. They named the clock “Eddy” and it remained with them until they had to sell it when they left for New Zealand.
Pat was a member of Methodist Women’s Auxiliary in most of the towns, in which they spent time but the Lydenburg branch was by far the one where she had the most fun. One of her dearest friends in Lydenburg was Anne van Dort who was a born comic. She didn’t have to work at being funny – she was just naturally funny and could turn the most mundane, boring activities into sources of fun and laughter. Pat and Anne ended up being the “entertainment” at their W.A. Christmas parties each year. One of the items which brought down the house was a skit they sang and acted to the song, “There’s a hole in my bucket.” Anne dressed in baggy khaki shorts, shirt and floppy hat and a huge pair of men’s boots and used a black marker pen to draw hairs on her comically scrawny legs. Pat dressed up as a big fat washerwoman and even took out her false teeth for greater effect. It is sad that there were no cellphones and digital cameras around in those days because the skit should have been preserved for posterity. It really was funny and the ladies shrieked with laughter throughout the presentation. On another occasion, Pat and Anne dressed up as schoolgirls, wore black gyms and pigtails and sang nursery rhymes with all the childish actions.
The W.A. had a project one year where they all had to knit bed socks for the people in the old age home. A few of the ladies were making up little gift bags for the oldies, when Anne suddenly burst out laughing. One of the knitters had stuck religiously to the sock pattern but had come unstuck when she came to stitch them up. She had ended up with two long tubes with an opening at one end. Anne brought the house down by commenting that they would have made fine “Willy Warmers”. The lady who had made them was a rather dour, vague soul who said sheepishly, “I did actually wonder how they were going to work”, which brought even more gales of laughter.
Anne’s husband Dirk was a Free Mason. One afternoon Pat went to their house to see Anne, and Dirk, who was on his way to a Mason’s meeting, opened the door. Impressed with Dirk’s formal appearance, Pat jokingly said, “Good evening, you must be the butler. Is the lady of the manor home?” They never forgot the little joke. Sadly Anne passed away recently but Pat still has contact with Dirk and he always ends his communication on the phone by saying “Lots of love. The Butler”. They were delightful people whose friendship Pat will always hold dear.
The Lydenburg house was huge and had 5 bedrooms with a garden to match. A big silver oak tree in the neighbour’s garden overhung their fence and a hadeda pair decided to build their untidy nest in this overhang. Mrs Hadeda duly produced three eggs, which were incubated faithfully in turn, by the couple. The babies were unremittingly ugly but were devotedly cared for by the parents. Unfortunately the area below their nest was permanently covered in white poo. Pat would go out to the area three times a day with a hose and a broom and Mom, who was visiting there at the time, would remark that “Mrs Washalot was changing nappies again”. They eventually grew sturdy and ventured out onto a branch, where the parents would feed them religiously. One evening all five birds were perched on the branch when it broke with a big crack, sending the family tumbling and into hysterics. It took them ages to settle down again that night. They successfully raised those three chicks plus yet another one, the following year. While the Clarks enjoyed having the noisy and messy family around, I was less impressed. I arrived there to collect and take Mom back to Ladybrand and was unaware of the “bywoners”. I was woken early the following morning by the frightening cries of a bunch of demons from hell obviously after my soul – a flipping rude awakening to say the least. That awful cry multiplied by five makes an effective but thoroughly nasty wake-up alarm.
When the Clarks left Lydenburg, Michael was halfway through Matric so it was decided to leave him to finish the year there. He was placed in the boys’ hostel for the remaining months of the year. One day he was with a group of boys chatting about the music which they liked or abhorred. Michael did not think much of Afrikaans music and expressed his dislike of it in no uncertain terms and particularly mentioned the purveyors of ultra maudlin music, the Briel Gesin. Next thing, a visibly upset lad got up and stormed out of the room. A puzzled Michael wondered why the fellow was so upset and he was told that Frans and Sannie Briel were the lad’s great-grandparents. Predictably, he never spoke to Michael again.
The Clarks next moved to Groblersdal, to an old bank house but the purchase of a new house was already in train and very soon they had to move again.
Once Michael had passed his Matric he went to Middelburg to report for his two year stint in the army. Unluckily for him, it was the last year in which there was compulsory military training. Luckily Middelburg was quite close to Groblersdal, so Pat was able to fetch him home for occasional week-ends.
Chris’ Mom was also living in Middelburg at the time. She enjoyed her kitchen and spent lots of time there making jam, chutney and preserving fruit. The Groblersdal area was known for the production of fruit and vegetables and one afternoon on the way to fetch Michael, Pat stopped at a stall and bought a crate of tomatoes for Ma, which were being sold cheaply. As the man tipped the loose tomatoes into the boot of the car a mouse tumbled in as well and disappeared into the depths of the car. She drove on to Middelburg, confident that given a chance, the mouse would vacate the car in a hurry but even after thorough, repeatedly searches and leaving the car doors wide open for ages, they found no sign of the little pest. They eventually assumed he had gotten away but after a while they noticed an unpleasant odour in the car which grew increasingly into an eventual stink. The smell was even worse if the air conditioning was used, which it often was in that hot climate. In desperation they eventually took the car to an Opel dealership, where the dashboard was removed and a very dead and smelly mouse was found. It took ages for that dreadful smell to dissipate and the air conditioning never properly after that either.
On an occasion when Michael was home from the army, Pat had just returned from a shopping trip, As he lifted the shopping bags on the counter, he happened to glance out of the window and was just in time to see a huge green boomslang gliding down the driveway. Michael was very prone to panicking, even in the face of minor emergencies, which this wasn’t. He went absolutely crazy! Pat did not want him to go out and handle killing it himself but could not get hold of Chris either so she asked the accountant, Johan Naude, to come out and help. She realized her mistake too late when an even more excitable Johan turned up, brandishing a revolver. She tried to convince him that firing the weapon in an urban area was a crime but he was completely insane and deaf to reason by now. Pat realized, as she watched the action from her kitchen window that she had a double crisis on her hands – a lethal snake was on the prowl in her yard, being pursued by two crazy, armed men. The two eventually ended up on the roof from where Johan could see the snake and he emptied the revolver at it, blowing it to tatters. Two maids next door, quietly eating their lunch in the yard fled screaming hysterically from the scene and off down the street.
Mom visited them in Groblersdal and enjoyed sitting on a bench in the front garden, under the shady trees. She called the spot “Dingly Dell”. One evening Mom and Pat were sitting on the bench when they heard rustling in the trees. Pat was alarmed as she was still leery after the episode with the snake but they were both relieved and charmed by two bush babies which were frolicking in the trees. After that introduction, the little creatures were quite often visitors to the garden.
On another occasion, Pat was having tea with Mom in her bedroom and was sitting by the open window when they heard a kitten meowing. She looked outside to see their cat Tuppy strolling past and on the telephone cable above him sat a fork-tailed drongo meowing exactly like a kitten. She had no idea that the birds were such excellent mimics.
Heather tried her hand at waitressing at a restaurant in the town but soon realized it was a thankless job with few really noteworthy tips. She passed her Matric in Groblersdal and decided to join her Dad at the bank. Her dream was to save enough money to enable her to go abroad but to this day, she has not managed to do the latter. She was good at her job and seemed destined to follow in the footsteps of her father and uncle.
However, just a year after joining the bank, she and a friend were helping to arrange the staff year-end party. She was driving from a plot near town in her Golf, when her car skidded in some sand and rolled over, ejecting her from the car, as she was not wearing a seatbelt and coming to rest on her pelvis and legs. First on the scene was a black man who tried unsuccessfully to lift the car off her and then ran back to the people on the plot to fetch help. Pat recalls travelling in the ambulance with her to the hospital in Pretoria as one of the worst days of her life. She had a dislocated hip and multiple pelvic fractures and ended up spending 6 weeks in bed, after having had surgery to relocate her hip and repair her pelvis with steel plates and screws, in Jacaranda Hospital. It took her 3 months to recover sufficiently to return to work but Pat remembers her being a real trooper throughout all those long weeks of recovery.
While working at the bank, Heather was approached by the owner of a small private school who asked her if she would consider coming to teach at his school. When she revealed that she had no teaching experience or qualifications, he suggested she study and teach at the same time. So, after three years in the bank, she started teaching and soon qualified as a teacher through Potchefstroom University.
Neil landed a Saturday job at the beer distributors in town where he was often left in charge on a Saturday so the owner obviously trusted him. He bought himself a 50cc motorcycle and had a very nasty fall with it. He ended up with a painful gash on his arm and still has that scar to this very day. He also passed his Matric in Groblersdal and spent his “gap year” in the United Kingdom.
Pat was once again involved with teaching kids at the church Sunday School and also belonged to the ladies’ fellowship group, which was similar to the women’s auxiliary to which she had belonged elsewhere. One night she had been to Bible Study at the church. The minister Johan had given a lift to a fellow who said he was on his way back to Durban from Zimbabwe and Johan invited him to join them at Bible Study. The chap looked fairly respectable and over coffee afterwards, he was asked where he planned to spend the night. He said that he would be going to the police station to ask whether he could spend the night in the holding cells. Looking back, Pat believes she was suckered into helping him and is not proud of having been a patsy (No pun intended) but there’s no shame in having kindness being spurned in this way. They had an outside bedroom attached to the garage which they let him use, also allowed him to use the main bathroom and fed him a hearty breakfast before Chris drove him out to the main road. While he had assured them that he did not drink or smoke, imagine Pat’s dismay when she went to change the sheets to find the room permeated with the smell of dagga smoke.
A month or two later he was back in Groblersdal again with a tall story about having had a fallout with his brother in Durban. He virtually demanded that they give him accommodation again and wanted them to pick him up at the local Wimpy. He became abusive when Pat said she couldn’t help him and then he phoned Johan the minister again and became nasty when Johan said that he was taking advantage of them. That was the last they ever heard from him.
On the day they were packing up and leaving Groblersdal, they had locked their two cats in the bathroom to keep them safe. Unfortunately one of the removal men accidentally opened the door and Rubbish the Siamese shot out in fright. The removal truck had been loaded while the house was clean and tidy but despite Pat’s best efforts, there still was no sign of Rubbish. She had even been into the neighbour's house as they often left windows open and had even looked under beds there. Time had run out because they had to leave to travel in convoy and in order the reach the new house before the removal van. The thought of leaving without the cat had Pat in tears and in desperation she decided to do one more sweep of places which she had already searched. She walked round the back of the house next door calling the cat and noticed the door of the garden shed was slightly ajar. Imagine her relief when she peeped into the shed and found Rubbish cowering fearfully in a corner.
Pat’s first memory of Brits was rather like the nursery rhyme, “Hickory dickory dock” except that in her case, the mouse ran up her frock, not up the clock. The TV room/study led onto a small patio and they noticed some striped field mice, zipping about in the adjacent flower beds. The Clarks who were opposed to arbitrarily killing creatures actually found the little creatures most appealing and left them in peace. On an occasion, one of the mice made it into the room and under a big wooden desk so Pat got down on her knees to see if she could set the little fellow free. As she pulled out the bottom drawer, the startled mouse streaked out from under the desk and got tangled up in Pat’s long skirt. She fell over on her back and let off a shriek as the mouse ran down her leg and out of the door. Heather and Jacques were visiting the week-end and witnessed the drama with great amusement. Jacques with a huge grin flippantly remarked, “Foeitog die arme muisie het hom amper doodgeskrik”.
Mom visited the Clarks in Brits on a few occasions. Her little black dog, Thandi was well advanced in years by then and blind but she was still a spritely, happy little dog. She soon learned the layout of the house and could make her way around without any mishaps or assistance. Pat noticed that when she let her out into the garden for her early morning nature call, she’d head for a spot under a wild fig tree near the house. She investigated the spot and found bits of dry dog food lying around there. It turned out that their neighbours had big dogs and reasoned that either birds or fruit bats were raiding the food bowls and sitting in the fig tree, messily eating their spoils. Thandi’s trusty nose had quickly picked up on this bounty and she was eating the bits with gusto.
While in Brits, Chris experienced an attempted bank robbery. The accountant at the branch was the same gung ho fellow from Groblersdal who had shredded the boomslang, Johan Naude. On this occasion he dashed up the stairs to Chris’ office and hysterically gasped, “Fok meneer, ons word beroof”. Before Chris could say a word, he sped downstairs again. Chris later admitted that he was more afraid of Johan going on another shooting spree than of the robber. Someone in the back office managed to phone the police, only to be told that they had no vehicle available but would run to the branch in the meantime. The robber was dressed in blue overalls and wore a long dark wig and dark glasses and was brandishing a firearm and demanding money from the tellers, who prudently handed over the cash. The robber’s accomplice was waiting outside in their getaway car but when he saw the police running towards him, he simply took off at great speed. By now, the police back-up vehicle had arrived and they simply stormed into the bank and grabbed the robber and as they dragged him off, his wig and glasses came off revealing his real identity. He was a young fellow who had worked in the bank until he had resigned a few months earlier. John stood and watched all the action with great interest and after the police had driven off he revealed to Chris, “Toe hulle hom in die vangwa laai het hy himself beskyt!”
During their stay in Brits, the Clark’s beloved cat Tuppens died. He had somehow been injured internally and suffered before he died at the vet’s surgery. They still mourn the loss of that friendly and lovable feline to this very day.
Lady Luck smiled on the Clarks abundantly when against huge odds they won no less than three travel prizes in a single year. Pat started the ball rolling by winning a TV phone in competition which had as prize, a trip to London for 2 plus 7 nights’ accommodation in a luxury hotel. They planned a 10 day road trip around the U.K. and were still working on the details when they received the news that Chris had won a trip to Singapore and Bangkok. This included a 7 day cruise on a clipper ship, the Star Flyer, up the Straits of Malacca to Phuket. The trips had time limits attached them being taken up, so they went to Bangkok first and had their taste of the Far East and upon returning home, literally just had enough time to do some washing before repacking for London. If those once-in-a-lifetime trips were not enough, later that same year Chris also won a trip for two on the Union Steam Train, which toured the Cape. It is small wonder that the Clarks still have such itchy feet today. Those prizes spoiled them rotten.
Heather had stayed behind in Groblersdal and had moved into a flat next door to FNB, where she was employed. By then she had met Jacques and a year later, on 10 October 1997, they were married and settled in Aquaville, a Department of Water Affairs village near Groblersdal, before deciding to buy their own house in town. By now, Neil had also completed his schooling and was working at various jobs in the U.K. Michael had completed his compulsory military service and had joined the Air Force but he also decided to try his luck overseas and resigned from the Air Force and was waiting for his pension payout. He was helping out on a farm in the Bronkhorstspruit district when he accidentally dropped the firearm which he carried for security. A shot rang out and he was struck in the head. He was rushed to a hospital in Pretoria and although he was placed on a life support system, he was declared brain dead. Deciding to turn off his life support machines was probably the most difficult decision Chris and Pat will ever be called upon to make. Luckily they had the most wonderful support, empathy and comfort from their church friends and from the community at large, which helped them substantially to process and come to terms with their loss.
The farewell they were given when Chris was transferred to Pietersburg was truly memorable and special. It started with just the branch arranging a function but the community insisted on being included in the arrangements and it turned into a magnificent farewell dinner. They were presented with a beautiful 3 piece oak wall unit from the staff and community which was a truly generous farewell gift.
Pietersburg was next on their list. If there was one thing which Pat detested it was blinds, vertical blinds being the most detestable kind of all. A predecessor in the Pietersburg house had apparently decided that vertical blinds were a delight and had had the whole house fitted with the awful things. Subsequent tenants had neglected the blinds which were in a proper mess from water stains and dirt from pets exiting windows and doors through unopened blinds. The resources manager from the branch arranged to have the blinds “professionally” cleaned, whereupon workmen arrived and proceeded to take down all the blinds. Pat wondered fleetingly at the time how they would remember which went where when they brought the blinds back because they made no obvious effort to identify the blinds as they were taken down. Her misgivings became reality when the “cleaned” blinds were brought back. Apart from still being dirty and stained, no two strips matched lengths any longer and the effect was like a set of organ pipes. Pat had a proverbial fit and demanded that the resources manager come and view the effect of his arrangements. This resulted in blinds being completely removed and replaced by curtains, much to her delight.
They had neighbours which Pat has described as ghastly in Pietersburg. Over week-ends they would braai virtually continuously and play their horrible music at unbearably high volume levels. During the day, their dogs would bark non-stop. They had an Alsatian with puppies that yelped all day and night and two dachshunds that barked at everyone and everything that passed in the street. They were truly the “neighbours from hell” and to this day, Pat has no idea how they endured those people for two and a half years.
One of the bank’s big clients in Pietersburg was the Moria Zionist Christian Church. The head of the church was Bishop Lekganyane and in 1996 membership of the church stood at around 3,6 million followers. Every year there is a huge Easter pilgrimage to Moria of members from across the country. On one occasion, a Senior Manager from Head Office in Pretoria, Gerhard Kies, wanted to pay the Bishop a courtesy visit and Chris arranged the visit and accompanied him. Kies was dressed in the usual tie and collar but Chris, who hated having to wear jackets, wore his shirt and tie sans jacket. They had to present themselves at security and Chris was told he could not see the Bishop without a jacket on. The guard disappeared for a few seconds and came back with a white jacket for Chris. As they walked into the Bishop’s office Chris led the way and Kies was right behind him. Kies suddenly burst out laughing because on the back of Chris’ jacket in big blue letters was the word Cremora. They must have had a devil of a job not to start giggling and ever after, the very sight of a Cremora bottle would be enough to trigger new gales of laughter. It occurs to me that we missed a golden chance to come up with some marvelous jokes with the words, “It’s not inside, it’s on top”.
A few months later, Chris received a very elaborate invitation for him to attend the Zionists’ Easter Sunday service as a guest of honour. He accepted the invitation and this time he arrived suitably attired. Hundreds of thousands of people from all over the continent attend this service and the venue is always packed with buses and taxis who ferry the faithful to the service. Chris presented his smart invitation at the gate, upon which there was a sudden scurrying about and suddenly, to his utter amazement, he had a full motorcycle escort with sirens blaring and lights flashing, leading him grandly down to the main hall where the service would take place. The service was a marathon which easily eclipsed the three hour Good Friday services we had endured at St James Church in Ladybrand. The reason becomes clear when one considers the congregation included worshippers from Nigeria, Kenya and Malawi to name just a few foreign countries, which meant the Bishop’s message had to be translated into each language in turn. The service took well over four hours to complete and was followed by a meal. I have no idea what being a Zionist entails but I should imagine a hefty dose of patience is mandatory for the Zionist pilgrim.
On another occasion, the Limpopo Education Department approached FNB for a donation to a remote rural school 150 km west of Pietersburg. The bank’s Social Responsibility Programme had donated a generous supply of text books and stationery to the school and Chris was asked to go out to the school and make the donation of behalf of the bank. It was quite a ceremony with numerous guests and government officials – even the then Limpopo Premier, Ngoako Ramatlhodi, was present. There was much singing and dancing by the enthusiastic children and endless long speeches by just about everybody and eventually Chris handed over the bank’s donation to the school. And then it was time for lunch and Chris was reminded of the huge black pots which had been simmering away to one side, when he had arrived. Chris was seated at the main VIP table but when he sat down he realized that there was no cutlery on the tables nor anywhere else! Everyone tucked into their food in true African style, showing some nifty dexterity in conveying messy items from their plates to their mouths with their fingers. Chris unfortunately was not as well schooled in this age-old way of eating and found it especially challenging when it came to getting the sloppy pumpkin into his cake-hole. Chris hates pumpkin with a fervor which rivals my own but for the sake of World Peace he valiantly kept on scooping the disgusting yellow stuff into his mouth. He ended up with yellow liquid running down his arms and all over his shirt sleeves. It really boggles the mind that the bank did not see its way clear to re-employ this dedicated employee in this job which he had performed with such distinction.
NOTE: I think I have been seriously traumatized by writing about this damn pumpkin. I can’t close my eyes now and not see Chris with pumpkin slopping nauseatingly down his arms. His green-tinged, perspiring face will also stay with me forever now.
Pat also had a much less traumatic but amusing experience at a small Pietersburg restaurant once on a Sunday, where they had gone to have lunch. Pat wanted to add a bit of salt to her food and turned the coarse salt grinder upside down to do so. The lid suddenly popped off, spilling salt over her food, the table and the floor. The area looked as if a small hailstorm had hit. Pat started laughing to such an extent that tears were running down her face. By the time the waiter arrived to help clean up, he thought she was crying and solicitously placing his hand on her shoulder said comfortingly, “Don’t worry Mammie, I will bring you other food”. This made her laugh even more and it took quite some doing to convince that kind waiter that she was laughing and not crying.
While they were at Pietersburg, Neil decided to make a career change. After two years in the UK working as a kitchen assistant and trainee chef at a country house in North Yorkshire, as well as chef at a ski resort at Mont Geneve in the French Alps, he returned to South Africa and worked as head chef at Walkerson’s Country Hotel near Dullstroom and later also at Lakenvlei Country Hotel. After a while he decided that he had had enough of the hospitality industry and wanted a career in IT. After resigning at Lakenvlei, he joined his parents at Pietersburg and completed two basic IT courses in a record time of 8 weeks. He then returned to Nelspruit and found a job in IT support and diligently furthered his training at the same time. During his time at Walkerson’s Country Hotel, he met Christie du Preez who was working at the Critchley Hackle Lodge, a sister lodge at Dullstroom.
Mom visited the Clarks at all the towns in which they had stayed. She was not well when she was fetched from the Lidia Rest Home in Ladybrand but was determined to go to Pietersburg with them. She took to her bed when they got there and essentially never got up again. Rubbish, their 18 year old Siamese was always fond of Mom and he settled down on the bed with her and left her side only when he had to be carried outside for Nature calls. Pat says Mom’s hand often rested on the faithful old cat and believes they were a great comfort to each other. Mom’s condition deteriorated and she had to be admitted to hospital where she died a few days later. Pat is grateful that she was able to be with Mom at the end and was able to help calm her troubled spirit at the end. She still misses her to this very day, as does Heather, who often talks fondly of her. Whenever the two of them hear the calling of turtle doves, which was such a characteristic sound in Ladybrand they always stop and say, “Granny was here today”.
Rubbish had been frail for quite a while and after Mom’s passing, he just seemed to regress much quicker. They did their level best to help him and make him comfortable but the day came when the vet told the Clarks that Rubbish’s heart and kidneys were tired. The day eventually arrived when they decided to let their dear old friend go peacefully and without pain. Chris held Rubbish in his arms as he finally slipped away. I too have had the experience twice now and it is something just too ineffably sad and upsetting to dwell on. Losing both Mom and Rubbish in short succession means Pietersburg does not hold many good memories for the Clarks.
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