Beach View, near Port Elizabeth

Igrew up in the Eastern Cape interior – in the Cradock district – and didn’t see much of the sea as a child. Wool farmers only visited “Die Baai” (Port Elizabeth) once or twice a year to drop off their wool bales at BKB. It was on these trips that my siblings and I were introduced to outlandish things like Kentucky Fried Chicken and neon lights – and the sea. Even though we often went for a short stroll at places like King’s Beach, the city beaches somehow felt too dangerous to us Coetzers. We’d usually go in search of a quieter spot at Beach View, about 30 km west of PE. Beach View had a nice caravan park in the 1980s and sometimes we’d hitch our Jurgens caravan to the Passat (later the Cressida) and set off for the coast during the April holidays. Wool farmers rarely went to the seaside in summer because it was a gamble to leave your flocks alone over the festive season. What if something went wrong with the water troughs? You couldn’t risk lazing about on the beach. At the Beach View caravan park, my older brother, younger sister and I got to know the sea. There was a tidal pool that was safe to swim in, or my dad would wade into the shallow waves with us. (No Coetzer that I know of has ever ventured into water deeper than hip-height.) My mother made sure we put on sunscreen and wore hats. I still like wearing hats to this day. (It may also be because I’m bald.) We caught fish with nets in the rock pools, poked at the slimy mouths of anemones and looked for sea urchin shells. I added the word “periwinkle” to my vocabulary. And “bluebottle”. My dad taught us how to make drip castles – no need for plastic moulds and spades. You dig a hole until you reach wet sand. Then you run the muddy sand through your fingers to build towers and turrets. We called them “ketottertjies” (pictured). I think I was about six years old in this photo and I’m happy to report I still rock Hawaiian shirts! – Toast Coetzer