We ought to light up when the wind blows

HOW WONDERFUL it was to arrive home after a pleasant and relaxed few days in the Karoo and a 10-hour drive back along the N1 to find my rain gauge showing I had 15mm of rain here during my absence. That’s not exactly a downpour, but we should be grateful for small mercies and my straggling ruin of a garden will look a lot better in a day or two.

Up there on the farm I was reminded once again just how dependent we are on water. The main water supply to the house is provided by a borehole pump driven by a powerful electric motor and after more than 10 years of uncomplaining service it had finally given up the ghost and stopped pumping.

Until a new pump and motor could be installed we had to rely on water from windmills and this meant that unless the wind blew for a day, we would be as water stressed as we were here in Cape Town.

This was a rather unsettling thought, because one of the main reasons we had travelled all that way was to be able to enjoy the rare luxury of a deep, hot bath.

We watched the weather anxiously and to our relief a west wind did come roaring through, ruining the chance of a game of tennis, but putting big smiles on the faces of the visiting Cape travellers.

They must be on good terms with the weather gods up there, because the wind dropped once the water tanks were full, so we could bath with clear consciences and the tennis players could get in a few sets before sunset.

Everybody celebrated with several cans of excellent beer as the sun sank behind the impressive mountain. All in all, we agreed, it had been a good day.

The following day the pump man arrived and installed a brand new water pump and motor and all was well again with the world. The wind plays an important role in our lives, even though we city folk sometimes tend to forget this.

On the long drive home the early morning sun spotlighted the impressive array of more that 30 giant windmills generating electricity up on the windswept vastness of the Holbrook mountains. It is an awesome sight.

I often think of it when I switch on a light or plug in my computer to write this column. I wonder how much of the electric power I am using comes from those great white blades turning steadily up there in the wind-swept mountains in the Karoo.

None of us lives in isolation. Everything we do affects somebody else, maybe somebody far away. In spite of all our differences and factions and enmities, we are linked. We should not forget that.

Last Laugh

In the run-up to Christmas a little boy was taken to meet the Father Christmas in the hypermarket mall. “And what do you want for Christmas, young man?” asked Father Christmas. “A skate board and a bicycle,” said the boy. “OK, l’ll see what I can do,” said Father Christmas diplomatically. Later they were in the Constantia Mall where they again encountered a Father Christmas and the little boy queued up to file his request. “I’d like a skateboard and a bicycle,” he said again. “Well,” said Father Christmas, “if you’re a very good boy maybe you’ll get them.”

The boy returned to his mother and said, “Let’s go back to the hypermarket. That Father Christmas offers far better terms”.