Life is a Cabaret

I don’t know why, but I sleep like a log when I camp. There’s something comforting for me in being close to the ground, with just a thin layer of material between me and the dark night. In a brick tent the scary monsters are always under my bed and in my dreams and waking me up in a sweat.

A major downside to camping though is when you need the bathroom in the middle of the night, and when you’re in the mountains the minute you peek your head out of your tent you’re bound to see several pairs of floating eyes staring at you. It’s scary! But I needed to go, late on night one at Klipkrans, so I set off with my torch towards the ablutions, which weren’t too far from my tent. I wasn’t really paying much attention, just stumble-walking along with random thoughts in my head, but at some point my eyes started sending weird signals to my brain. They were picking up shadowy figures moving in and out of the misty night. Lots and lots of shadowy figures. And really big shadowy figures! My brain is very literal when it comes to assessing survival strategies, so this was a real problem. It was struggling to relate this to a past and known situation. Eventually it just went “Nah, I dunno!” (Actually, it went “WTF!” but I’m trying to keep this PG13). Then it grabbed onto the closest familiar scenario and went with that, which of course was a Disney animation Lion King type situation.

So there I was in the dark, half expecting these shadowy figures to form a chorus line and start dancing and singing about the peaceful life in the Breede Valley, so filled with joy and communal spirit. And then you would know that trouble was brewing and somewhere in the mist was an evil antagonist. I’m surprised I’ve survived this long with this brain of mine. It’s fight, flight, freeze or cabaret apparently? As it turns out, the shadowy figures were a magnificent herd of blue wildebeest which roam the farm, along with zebra and various other Disney characters. I chose to rather pee behind my tent, in full view of the floating eyes, which somehow didn’t seem so scary anymore.

I’m travelling with my ancestral greens again. This time it’s my paternal geraniums which my Dad nurtured and shared with me. We had a ritual of swapping plants to create a thread of commonality between our gardens and I loved that grounded earth connection that we had. It was really a reflection of the relationship I shared with my Dad. His garden of course was a work of art! So beautiful. Mine, not so much. But now Dad has moved on to his next adventure and so have I. All I have left of my garden are my ancestral greens, as I call them. Clivia on my Mom’s side and geraniums on my Dad’s. Why I’m travelling with these paternal greens is to get them to Jozi so that Chezz can add them to her garden. The rest are with Inandre in Cape Town. I don’t know why but it feels comforting to know that these precious plants of mine are being held safe as I travel unrooted. The symbolism is apparent. It’s all part of my complex journey of discovering where and how I belong, now that my nuclear family is gone from this Earth plane and I still remain.

On Day three I left Klipkrans, heading for Swellendam, but I ended up in Struisbaai instead. That’s the joy of drifting.

I decided halfway that I wanted to go to Cape Agulhas and put my toes in both oceans. The Indian and the Atlantic Oceans meet right there. It’s a bit of a tourist thing to do but it is a significant spot on our Earth and it was fun. I found the sculpture of Africa and the symbolism of the lines to be very interesting but the photo op setup is a little bit Instagrammy for me. The blurb described the deliberate rusting on the sculpture and the expectation of vegetation slowly growing in and around the piece and integrating it into the land over time. You can’t really decide what nature will do though. Because of the many visitors it remains barren and the energy around the monument felt quite inauthentic.

But I’m African. We know what Africa energy feels like and the profoundly spiritual and raw Earth connection was just not present at all. The drama and tension of the energies of two very different oceans meeting at the tip of a spectacularly complex continent deserves something more, I think. Something like an old rusted ship that has taken on the character and colours of the surrounding rocks and become totally integrated into the seascape. Maybe. If they had just lifted their heads, opened their eyes and felt with their African hearts they would have seen it too.

I camped for free in Struisbaai that night, because when I arrived there was nobody at the campsite office and nobody when I left. I didn’t exactly feel safe because the campsite was wide open without any security, but a few other campers arrived so at least I wasn’t alone. I decided to think of it as wild camping with ablutions. Also, I learnt to use my car as a handy wind shield, which definitely helps in the Western Cape.

The next day the very strong winds blew me to George, where I met my gypsey clan that the Universe (who I’m still not speaking to btw) had told me I’d be meeting.