Make friends in Fraserburg
Fraserburg is a Karoo town in the sprawling landscape north of the Nuweveld Mountains. It’s far from the main routes and retains an old-world character that is fading fast in other parts of the country.
In his book Karoo, published in 1955, the author Lawrence Green quotes a resident of Fraserburg: “[The town] was on the road to nowhere, and for that reason it missed – or escaped – various forms of excitement.” More than six decades later, those words still ring true. Fraserburg remains one of the most authentic of Karoo towns: The church looms over wide streets lined with sandstone, Victorian and flat-roofed houses. There are two general dealers, one bank, a few cafés and a Pep store. There are no lawyers. Every second week, a doctor from Williston drives over to see patients. The Peperbus in Meyburgh Street is unique to Fraserburg. It’s a six-sided pepperbox building that dates from 1861, with only one door and one window. Over the years, this odd structure has become the symbol of the town. As Lawrence Green writes: “They say that Fraserburg without its pepper-box would be like Cape Town without Table Mountain.” The town is home to some 2 000 permanent residents. It’s sheep country, and the members of this close-knit farming community carry each other through droughts and hard times. If you draw an imaginary square between Williston, Loxton, Beaufort West and Sutherland, Fraserburg is almost exactly in the middle, miles away from any main routes. It’s not the kind of town you happen across by accident – if you’re here, you came here for a reason. Fraserburg was established in 1851 when the farm Rietfontein was sold to build a church for the community. The town was named after Scottish reverend Colin Fraser, who had a congregation in Beaufort West. In later years, Fraserburg became known for paleontological discoveries in the area. On a nearby farm, there’s a footprint made by a Bradysaurus – a hip-high crocodile-like creature that wandered the earth about 250 million years ago. In February this year, Toast Coetzer and I visited Fraserburg for Weg Agterpaaie Karoo. We stayed at Die Kliphuis, a B&B owned by Herman and Ronél le Roux. Ronél introduced us to Marthinus Kruger, a former magistrate from Bronkhorstspruit who moved to Fraserburg with his wife about two years ago. Soon after he arrived, Marthinus established himself as the town’s guide and tourism ambassador. Some people might even call him the unofficial mayor. He showed Toast and I around and took us to see the dinosaur tracks. Now, a couple of months later, I’m back at Die Kliphuis. It’s time to explore Fraserburg properly…
Bruised but not broken
At 7.45 on a Wednesday morning, Marthinus and I drink coffee on the stoep at Die Kliphuis. Birds chatter but everything else is quiet – not even the windmill in the backyard creaks. “Fraserburg amazes me,” Marthinus says. “Everyone is dependent on each other. There are lots of unique people here and uniqueness is celebrated.” This morning we’ll do a tour of the town. Fraserburg is small and everything is within walking distance. The town doesn’t have any obvious tourist attractions, which is a good thing according to Marthinus. “If you market a town too much, it loses that thing that makes it special,” he says. “Fraserburg is one of the last few proper Karoo towns. The people you meet here actually live here.” He points to a building across the street, which is full of antique generators. “Fraserburg only got Eskom power in 1983. Before then, seven Lister Blackstone engines supplied the town with electricity. They’re still in there. That building should be a national monument.” In 2015, Marthinus and his wife Carien decided to look for a quieter life. They found an affordable three-bedroom house on the Internet and moved to Fraserburg. “It was fate,” Marthinus says with a shrug. A bakkie drives past. “That’s Esmarie, she’s a teacher and on her way to school…” We walk past Die Kliphuis caravan park and on to Rietfontein, the farm where the town was established. The natural spring is overgrown with reeds, but the farmhouse is still in use. It’s quiet, as it must have been when Fraserburg was nothing more than water bubbling from the ground. Next, we head up Voortrekker Street, past a monument commemorating the 1938 centenary of the Great Trek. The monument has had to weather more than storms and wind: Marthinus tells me about a perlemoen smuggler who once crashed his car right into it. “The monument has its scars,” Marthinus says. “Much like the Voortrekkers themselves. Bruised but not broken.”
We amble down Fraser Street towards Oudam (Old Dam) on the outskirts of town. Oudam was the town’s first dam, built in 1870. The drought has nearly drained the dam, but the landscape is still quintessentially Karoo, with a windmill reflected in the muddy puddle at the bottom. Marthinus tells me about a ruling decreed by the town council in 1899: Every time the dam burst its banks, there would be a public holiday called a damvakansie (dam holiday). Nuwedam was built in 1917 and since then there have only been three damvakansies; the last one was in 1983. Nuwedam, which hosted the Speedo Ice Swim Africa event in 2012, has been empty for the last few years. Marthinus also shows me the Fraserburg golf course (mostly gravel) and the cemetery with its ornate headstones, some belonging to British soldiers who died during the Anglo-Boer War. Jane Wilson, a general worker, comes over with rake in hand to say hello. “I clean around here and I make sure the kids don’t break the flower vases,” she says. “I also like to help tourists find specific graves. I helped someone find a grave about three weeks ago. She cried so hard when she left that I was in tears, too.” Jane likes to talk to the dead while she works. “I tell them, ‘You have to look after me and give me a long life so I can keep your cemetery clean.’ They listen; it’s like they protect me.” She wants to be buried next to her mother one day. That way, they can be together all the time.
The Karoo gets under your skin
We walk down Meyburgh Street, past Fraserburg High School, where the Logan Drama Festival is held in August every year. Afrikaans singer Pedro Kruger calls it the Craven Week of drama competitions, with more than 400 pupils performing in more than 50 productions. I spot an elderly woman walking with a cane. Her name is Bessie Vivier and she lives in the old-age home. Right now, however, she’s on her way to visit the house where she was born in 1939 – something that she does often. “I do it for the exercise,” she says. “I walk here and sit on the wall for an hour. Morné, the owner, is a nice man. He doesn’t mind. When the roses are in bloom, I like to pick one. It’s good to get out of the old-age home for a while.” Back in Voortrekker Street, Marthinus shows me the town square, a replica of a corbelled house and the town museum, which used to be a parsonage. The museum has an array of antique items donated by the townspeople over the years, as well as exhibitions about the early history of the church and the local paleontological discoveries. We return to Meyburgh Street for a closer look at the Peperbus. It was built using clay bricks, it stands 8,5 m tall and it’s the only