115 Everybody waves in this Karoo town. Alan Duggan tells you why
Prince Albert is a Karoo town with a heart of gold. ALAN DUGGAN finds out why the locals love living there, and why you should go
My friend Kevin, a sceptic from birth, attributes the epiphany to a rich fantasy life and a bottle of Oude Werf 2015 Cabernet Sauvignon/Shiraz, but I know better. As we exit the restaurant on Prince Albert’s Church Street, careful to avoid tripping in the near-darkness (thanks, Eskom), I happen to look up… and whoa! Freed from the tyranny of street lamps and similar trappings of civilisation, a good number of the 100-billion-plus stars in our Milky Way galaxy – and yes, I have indeed counted them – make their appearance in an unimaginably huge arc overhead, reinforcing my long-held conviction that We Are Not Alone. I don’t do spiritual, but my instincts put the accompanying frisson at around the 432 Hz level, reputedly the musical pitch of the universe, and for a few breathless seconds I consider saying something profound. (It later emerges that the buzz is a Whatsapp message from my wife, warning me to go easy with the red wine.) A massive power outage earlier in the day – it’s restored only 33 hours later – may be inconvenient and bad for business, but as cosmic extravaganzas go, it’s rather special. The blackout also provides interesting lessons in community bonding, lateral thinking and the virtues of patience: Prince Albert’s restaurateurs quickly adjust their menus or redirect diners, guest house owners haul out the candles, and locals exchange unfounded rumours over coffee. Prince Albert is a funny little town, and I like it very much. The locals are clever, quirky, entertaining and, above all, friendly. They enjoy talking (quite a lot, actually), entertaining visitors, sharing their local knowledge, eating good food and drinking all manner of fermented beverages. Feuds are relatively rare and mostly harmless, although some last for years and tend to influence everything from dinner-party guest lists to committee memberships. You know, normal smalltown stuff. A strong social conscience may not be their raison d’être, but it sometimes comes pretty close. Just about everyone I meet is involved in some or other community upliftment or animal welfare programme, including my hosts and long-time friends, former magazine editor Toni Younghusband and her husband, Kevin Jacobs, a seasoned magazine journalist and one-time foreign correspondent with whom I’ve shared some memorable birthday parties. Some years ago, they bought a house in Prince Albert, added a few more cats to their menagerie, and promptly grew very deep roots. Working closely with vets and other caring people, the couple have helped to rescue and treat literally hundreds of abused, abandoned and otherwise neglected animals. In fact, my family adopted two of these (kittens named Chloe and Amber) about 18 months ago. They have since grown up and enslaved us, the way cats do. Kevin has become quite adept at answering questions on the lines of ‘So, what do you actually do here?’ (usually accompanied by a quizzically raised eyebrow). He spells it out: ‘We have a wonderful Art Deco theatre right here. Films, live music, even classical musicians … we get it all. And we have something just as valuable; we call it community.’
Probably the best way to explore Prince Albert is to take a leisurely walk along Church Street, the main thoroughfare. Be prepared to wave. A lot. You know that gold-plated Japanese maneki-neko (beckoning cat) that graces the top shelf of your local oriental takeaway? Well, it comes to mind here because your walk will take you past people you met at the restaurant the previous night (wave), the man who shared your table at the Saturday market (wave), and someone from the shop where you bought a can of olive oil just five minutes ago (wave). If you time it right, you’ll enjoy a visit to The Real Food Company, where owner Jeremy Freemantle conjures up a variety of contemporary tapas-style dishes, sourcing most of his ingredients locally. On the night we visit, Jeremy is working in overdrive, slicing and dicing by the light of lamps and candles (the power is still out) while a steady stream of customers pours in and demands food. We order smoked salmon with ginger and spices, pulled pork and Thai beef salad. It’s all good. A visit to the Saturday morning market is a ‘must do’ on any visitor’s itinerary, and it’s easy to see why. As Toni tells it, ‘The market is where I catch up with town gossip and news of my friends. It’s way better than any newspaper!’ She’s right. Within 20 minutes, I say hello to someone I last saw 35 years ago, share a coffee with guest house owner Elin Bardin, chat to someone with a close
family connection, meet an old friend at the coffee stand, and pick up a hairraising story about uninhibited revelry at AfrikaBurn. Perhaps most satisfyingly, I get to shake hands with Caleb Swanepoel, a remarkably determined young man from Prince Albert who lost his right leg to a great white shark while surfing at Buffels Bay in June 2015. Now in his third year at the University of Cape Town, he spends a lot of time in the water (yes, including the sea), and his new passion is adaptive surfing – surfing for people with physical challenges. He smiles easily and is very polite. Mayor Goliath Lottering, a former schoolteacher and active member of the Prince Albert Community Trust, is an easy-going man who does his best to balance the town’s disparate needs and challenges, reportedly with some success. ‘It’s a difficult balancing act,’ he concedes. ‘There’s still a lot of work to do, but I believe Prince Albert has a good heart.’ It’s worth mentioning that this man took away the fence in front of his house to make himself ‘more accessible’. Hans Burger, a retired airline pilot who occasionally flies his own RV-8 kit plane to Stilbaai and other seaside spots, says the town meets his criteria for a permanent retirement location: easy access to a runway, clean water, a secure environment and air free of pollutants. Marina, his wife, adds: ‘What I love most about Prince Albert is the little acts of kindness… you see it happening all the time.’ How to sum up this beguiling Karoo town? Perhaps with a segue to the peachcoloured prison with its welcome sign (no, seriously) and a notice identifying it as a ‘place of new beginnings’. Spotting two smiling warders on the front stoep, I’m briefly tempted to inquire about guest accommodation, then decide not to be a smartass. Thanks, Prince Albert. It’s been a gas.