My town
Meet the weekend farmers of Tonteldoos – and the real one
Tonteldoos is not your average community. Folks do call it a town but, in fact, it does not really qualify, although there are those who speak of a CBD. It’s really more of a place, but you’re never quite clear on exactly where this place starts and where it ends. There is a main street – one long dirt road – where about five houses and the same number of businesses (with plenty of space separating them) slumber under the starry sky. There’s not even an NG church, but there is a Catholic church a stone’s throw from “the CBD.”
The inhabitants of Tonteldoos live on parcels of land that were measured out along streams in the area after the unstable era of the Mapoch wars and the Anglo-Boer wars had come to an end. There was a school at one time, but it closed its doors at the end of the previous millennium after earning the dubious distinction of a 100% failure rate.
At the general dealer or the bottle store or the coffee shop – or on a Wednesday evening in High-Side Tavern, where the locals gather to chat over a burger and a beer – someone will inform you that “about 38 people” live in this corner of Limpopo. But, among the green hills and red rocks and golden-yellow arum lilies, you will also find a few hundred souls who eke out an existence with donkeys and cattle and firewood collected from the veld… and very little money indeed.
Even the name is unusual. Note the bemused expressions on most people’s faces when you happen to say: “Let’s go see what’s happening in Tonteldoos.”
Indeed, Tonteldoos is an otherworldly place. But the inhabitants actually prefer it to be off the radar, so much so that they will roll their eyes in irritation at visitors complaining – upon their arrival here, but also on social media and websites like Tripadvisor – about the condition of the road between Tonteldoos and the nearest “real” town, Dullstroom, which is 22km away across the provincial border in Mpumalanga. >
The stately old house with its exuberant garden must be the bestknown landmark in Tonteldoos. Out front is a sign declaring “The Cheese Shop”, but on the grass outside another sign reads “More than just cheese”.
The house, built in 1899, has worn many hats in its time – residence, Indian shop, cheese shop – and today it’s the home of Totally Tonteldoos, a business started by Tanja Camacho in 2013. She makes a range of wares such as preserved fruit and vegetables, jams, dried herbs and felt products by hand, as well as lovely knick-knacks. And now it’s for sale, ready for its next chapter.
Inside, a dog lies stretched out on every armchair and a sign makes Tanja’s basic rules very clear: “Religion, politics and the state of the road are not to be discussed.”
At one of the tables, a large man with friendly blue eyes and a broad smile introduces himself: “Ben Struwig, pleased to meet you.”
Ben is one of the handful of staunch farmers who still make a living from the earth here in the valley between the Steenkamp and Mapoch mountains.
“We’ve been on the same farm for six generations. I am the fifth – the third generation of Struwigs – at Klipbankspruit. Today we are chiefly cattle farmers, but we also plant some mielies and tef, which we bale into round bales, 1,2m in diameter.” Ben nods slowly as he gazes into the distance. “Yes, for the past 10 to 12 years I have really been making bales for a living.”
Ben says Tonteldoos was once known for its peaches and apricots, but because of labour problems and lots of hail this isn’t really fruit country. “We cannot pack fruit to sell, but it is 100% perfect for making jam, preserves and mampoer. My girlfriend makes jam on a fairly large scale – she’s just taken 2 000 bottles to the Magalieskruin Christmas market.”
Ben is as sober as only a farmer can be about the changes he has noticed in Tonteldoos over the past 15 to 20 years. “It’s incredible how it has changed from a little agricultural town into a place where weekend farmers, mostly English people with money, buy a place to spend their weekends. But…” He leans forward and says emphatically: “You can take any piece of land in Tonteldoos, but these people rarely last more than four years. You have to arrive here with a bag full of cash, because farming on such a piece of land is simply not sustainable.
“Dullstroom is an established destination, but people who drive to Tonteldoos aren’t going to come here again next weekend. And in this community there’s probably only about R1 000 of disposable income, and that’s all there is to spend. It doesn’t matter what idea you come with – I’ve seen it all over the past 30 years.
“But, of course, all these people think you are just being negative when you tell them something will not work – and by that I mean you will not make money and survive unless you either have a lot of money to start with or another source of income. But they’ve noticed how people in Dullstroom open a guesthouse or build stone cottages,
and now they’re doing it here too. It’s the same with the trout dams. Most of them are small, but there is a market because it’s not nearly as pricey here as it is in Dullstroom. You just have to travel the bad roads, bring your own alcohol and meat, and you can have a much cheaper weekend away.
“Look, one thing is certain: Tonteldoos is at least 10 times more beautiful than Dullstroom, but there’s just no money here. And there will never be any development. The problem for many people is that they take out a mortgage on their land and then overcapitalise. Then it becomes the property of Standard Bank. One guy scores something, and then the cycle starts all over again.”
He has seen weekend farmers come and go. “Today there are only about four or five farmers who are actively farming, who have to pay for electricity and pay their workers at the end of every month. The rest are all weekend farmers who aren’t dependent on the land for their income and aren’t reliant on rain. You try to offer advice, but people are strange: they will always want to show that they can reinvent the wheel, even if they don’t make a profit.” The road, he says, is the other challenge. “It’s corrugated and full of potholes – wobble all the way.”
Tanja laughs: “But once you’ve arrived back from Dullstroom, it feels like you’ve been to the chiropractor!” BEN WAS DIAGNOSED with GuillainBarré syndrome 11 years ago and is still struggling with the after-effects (this year he is meant to undergo heart surgery to repair his arteries). “I’m always losing my balance and these days stairs get the better of me... and I wasn’t always this size, you know!”
He knows everything about the history of Tonteldoos: “This is a historical place developed on Mapoch land. We don’t speak of plots or stands here but of persele [parcels of land] – farms that, back in those days, were measured out on horseback along the streams. This was after the two Mapoch wars and the Anglo-Boer wars, when people had to start working again. These properties were 16 morgen each [about 13ha], and that’s how everyone received a house, a dam, an orchard. They all have very odd boundaries and corners to give each property access to water – that’s why the English arriving these days wonder why their little piece of land has 12 corners!” >
Ben doesn’t mince his words when he explains how Tonteldoos got its name. “That story of the land surveyor who apparently lost his tinderbox here is a crock of sh**. A land surveyor is a person who comes to a place that already has a name. People of my mother’s generation say that when the Boers, trekking with their horses and oxen, arrived at Jas Venter’s farm where the Tonteldoos stream and the Marais stream converge and set up camp, heavy rainfall caused a flood to wash through the camp, soaking everything. They couldn’t cook food for the children because all their tinderboxes were wet… and the children started weeping. So they named the place Tonteldoos.”
He belabours the point: “Just think about all the names of the properties here: Bloukrans, Muisvlakte, Konijnvlei, Swartvlei, Witvlei, Draailand, Swartspruit, Lemoenkloof, Diepgezet, Blomplaas, Blomvlei, Lelievlei. They are all Boer names linked to something that is found on the site or how it looks – everything from rabbits and mice to lilies and oranges. Now why on earth would they name Tonteldoos after some strange
“We mustn’t be ashamed of our history. We were, and are, poor people, and today it remains a great art to be able to maintain your own land. As one guy said to me after he drank away all his money: ‘It’s cheaper to booze it away, because I don’t have the money to be a farmer.’” Ben shakes his head once more. “Now the government is giving farms to people who don’t even have cars. How can they be expected to farm?” >
FRANCOIS MALHERBE clearly is someone who has heeded Ben Struwig’s advice. “Don’t come to Tonteldoos if you’re hoping to make money! You have to live with what you have or set about working very frugally. In one way
What is it exactly that keeps Ben Struwig here? “I was born and raised here. And I’m a very sentimental person. My greatest desire is to stay right here, even though it’s tough going and even though the circumstances have changed somewhat since interracial strife has flared up over the past two or three years. We’ve had a few terrible farm attacks – not by local people; it’s coming from outside.
“But look, in times of need and illness, we really do stand together. Not a weekend goes by that a person with some kind of connection to the town doesn’t stop by, even if it’s only to scatter someone’s ashes under the pear tree 40 years later.” it is cheaper to live in the platteland, but your expenses aren’t lower, especially if you’re trying to appear as though you’re a selfsustaining farmer.”
Francois and his wife, Helen, lived in Springs for many years, where she had a confectionery business and he owned a small engineering firm. “We worked hard and started looking for a small weekend place within a 2½hour drive of Springs. We basically wanted a weekend place that wasn’t a timeshare; I need a place to leave my own bottle of whisky. I met a man from Tonteldoos – in a bar, where else? – and had never heard of the place before. Eventually we bought a 70ha piece of land here in 1997.”
At first they only visited over weekends and stayed with their closest neighbour, Johan Kunneke. But while they were building the cottage, Francois’s business took off and building came to a standstill. In 2006, they decided they could not wait >