I was watching a documentary about Gert Vlok Nel, born and bred in Beaufort West, South Africa.
The ancient San people had a name for the area where Beaufort West is situated; they called it "Karoo" in their language, meaning "land of great thirst".
They could not have described this vast, arid, stark, unforgiving and yet so awesome and dazzlingly beautiful landscape more aptly.
Many years ago I spent a long, hot summer in Beaufort West. As part of my studies I had to do some practical work in an orphanage, and I chose to go to the little village of Beaufort West.
The Karoo is more of a feeling, an experience than a geographical place. Early morning I walked to the orphanage which was situated on the outskirts of the village; walking in a dirt road, the sun already hot and dry and the air smelling like dust and sunshine; the shadows long in front of me. Late afternoon I walked back to where I lodged, the shadows long behind me, blue, blue sky and never a cloud, only the blindingly hot African sun.
And it was eerily quiet, except for the sounds of crickets and the odd, brave bird calling in the heat. I did not hear anything, but in the stillness I also heard everything. The voices of history echoing from the rocks and from the dirt and the dust, millions of years of people and forgotten places, the sun blazing down and blood buzzing in my ears.
Ek het gedink ek het dit alles al vergeet ...
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