QUIET CONTENTMENT OF COUNTRY LIVING
MY GIFT to you today is a virus-free Tavern column. I shall try not to mention the dreaded C-word even once. (We all need a break.)
I took a few days off from city life recently and reminded myself what quiet contentment there can be in country living.
Neighbours gathered on Saturday for a game of tennis, as they have been doing for as long as I can remember. Actually, it was officially tennis, but in reality it was sharing news, discussing important matters such as the weather, and generally socialising. Some members did play tennis too. Some members pitch up every week but don’t play.
The local tennis club was built by the community on a piece of land leased to the club by my father at a rental of R1 a year.
There is an annual rent-paying ceremony that has become a neighbourhood tradition. Once a year, at the club’s meeting, the secretary hands over the ceremonial rent and the transaction is recorded in the club minutes. “Annual rental paid.”
The tennis club has been the social hub of the district for generations. Babies are baptised there, weddings and church services take place there when there is a preacher visiting, and braais and farmers’ meetings take place there. During the festive season, parties and dances are held in the clubhouse.
It is a real community centre and that is what makes it such a special place. When the children and grandchildren of community members come home from other countries where they are settled, they always find their way to the club to renew old friendships.
There would be far less anger and crime in city communities if people developed real social hubs like that.
What was particularly pleasing about my recent visit was that they had had good rains at last, after several years of devastating drought. The Karoo revives miraculously after rain, and the grass was standing fence-high everywhere, green and lush. The sheepdogs had to keep leaping up to catch a glimpse of the sheep they knew were in there somewhere.
There is nothing as good as a
Karoo break to refresh the mind and recharge the batteries. I must remind myself not to stay away as long next time.
Last Laugh
A scruffy looking fellow was walking along Kommetjie beach holding two flapping live crayfish when a fisheries inspector popped out from behind a rock and shouted: “Ha! Caught you catching kreef illegally.”
“Catching? No meneer, I’m not catching kreef. These are my two pet kreef that live in my shack with me. I take them down to the bay for a swim every day. Then take them back home.”
“A likely story,” snorted the inspector.
“No, I’ll show you meneer,” said the fisherman, and he took the two crayfish to the water’s edge and set them down. They scuttled into the water immediately.”
“Okay,” said the inspector,” now let me see you call those kreef back again.”
“Kreef? What kreef meneer?”