With all the riots going on in KwaZulu-Natal since Jacob Zuma’s arrest, we decided that going to Wakkerstroom via northern KZN was perhaps not the brightest thing to do. So, we chose to go home via Bethulie instead. Besides, we wanted to visit the Royal Hotel aka The Book Hotel that Sue Freegard told us about recently.
Seeing the dolosse lining the coast as we drove past Gqeberha (Port Elizabeth) I could not help remembering a near disaster involving Simoné that happened about 9 years ago. But that is a story for another day.
In the late afternoon we started looking for an overnight spot when we saw a signboard for Middleton. It looked interesting, so we turned off the N10, and decided to stay over. Middleton is a quant Hamlet that was established in 1850 as an Anglican Mission Station, along the banks of the Great Fish River. A train station was built in 1879 which had since been converted into a pub. The Noupoort Christian Care Centre now owns the entire place and uses it as a rehabilitation facility for people suffering from substance addition.
Roger fixing the power point’s plug
We had breakfast at Middleton the next morning, prepared and served by the members on kitchen duty for the day, before heading out on the N10 once again.
We arrived at the Royal Hotel in Bethule at lunchtime, hoping to have a meal there at the same time. But the place was closed up like a fortress. There was no signage and we depended solely on Google Maps and asking around to be sure that we were at the right place. When we eventually got into the premises and managed to speak to someone they told us that they were closed; they only opened occasionally, mostly to cater for groups that made prior bookings. Just then the owner, Anthony Hocking (yes, you read that correctly!) popped out and after a short chat invited us in to look around. What an amazing place.
After our tour of the hotel we gave Anthony a ‘tour’ of Ufudu, then donated some books to be added to his collection and departed with promises to be back.
Fortunately, we had some food in Ufudu so we pulled over a few blocks away from the hotel to have lunch. While we were eating a young boy, probably 6 or 7 years old, with a snot stripe on his upper lip and a dull, dusty appearance, approached and asked quietly:
‘Het mevrou vir my ‘n broodjie asseblief?’
His manner was so different to the beggars we are used to in Joburg, with no ‘pathetic’ factor at all. Simply, please help, I am hungry. It somehow touched my heart, so I climbed into the back and made up a bag of goodies for him, apple, banana, rusk, breakfast crunch bar, etc. He thanked us very politely and to my surprise, as we watched him walk away, he selected the apple as his first snack.
It was growing dark when we reached Reddersburg in the Free State. And yet again, there was no camping facility. We were cold and hungry so, after driving up and down the streets looking for a suitable, out-of-the-way spot to park for the night, we eventually settled for an open area in front of the Landbouskool Hendrik Potgieter. I worried that the cops would come and check on why we were out on the street during curfew, but they never did. Perhaps it was too cold for them to patrol without reason. It reached -7⁰C during the night.
We made a beeline for Bloemfontein the next morning in search of a much-needed Wimpy coffee and breakfast. Then it was the N1 for the last leg home.
Just as we thought we were home and dry after crossing the Vaal River into Gauteng, a traffic officer stopped us at the provincial border roadblock demanding to see our travel permit. I was anticipating this and had a printed a copy of our rates and taxes account for just such an occasion.
Roger explained: ‘We were out of the province when lockdown was announced, and now we are returning as stipulated by the President in his address to the Nation’, while handing over the document.
‘No,’ said the officer, ‘the President only allowed people 2 days to return after the announcement was made!’
This was news to us, so Roger asked: ‘But where is it gazetted?’
Officer: ‘I don’t have that, but the President said so in his address’.
Roger: ‘Anyone can say anything. Show me the gazette, else it is not official’ while looking at me and rolling his eyes.
Now the officer dug his heels in, blocking our way. He was definitely not going to let us pass, insisting that we would have to turn around and obtain a permit at the Parys Police Station. I got the fright of my life when Roger put Ufudu into gear and sped forward into a U-turn, almost running the guy over. While we were heading back the way we came I warned Roger to not be so sarcastic, as he tends to get when someone won’t see reason. It just makes the other person more adamant to prove their point.
When we reached the roadblock for southbound traffic, on the Free State side of the Vaal about 2km along the road, we were stopped once again and a policeman this time (not a traffic cop thankfully) asked us for our permit as we may not leave Gauteng without one.
After patiently explaining our predicament, he directed us to a container office next to the road. Sitting behind a desk was a friendly police captain and Roger once again explained our situation. She also believed that there was a 2-day limit but again could not produce the gazetted regulations. So, she called the lawyer.
I, in the meantime, found the latest Level 4 regulations online and there was no mention of a time limit to return home to Gauteng, so I sent a message to Roger who came outside to fetch my phone.
The lawyer didn’t answer, but when Roger returned to the office with my phone the captain was talking to her colonel. It was decided that she will assist with an affidavit, and if that didn’t get us into Gauteng we would come back, and she would make another plan.
Anyway, an hour had passed before we once again made a U-turn on the N1 and headed back across the Vaal. We slowly approach the roadblock expecting the worst, but the previous officer was busy with another vehicle and his colleague simply waved us through!
We were happy to be home safe and sound after a very eventful 3 weeks.
The signed and stamped affidavit was filed under ‘memoirs’…