JOUBERT & JACQUELI TULLEKEN
Neuras is a farm in the Maltahöhe district of Namibia. An aimless Lloyd Zandberg visits his brother, and picks a fight.
Jacqueli (Jackie) is a digital marketer and Joubert (Juba) is a civil engineer. Their travels in Southeast Asia were part of a year-long trip they did in 2019. They kicked off their adventure with a six-month camping tour of southern Africa in their Land Rover called Mkulu. After that, they explored Southeast Asia for two months.
It took them three years to save up for their trip, and to plan the itinerary. Follow them on Instagram – @jubasjourney and @jackienotinthecity – and watch their travel videos on YouTube: youtube.com/jubasjourney
When you sit on the big cement stoep at my brother’s farmhouse, Windhoek is directly behind you. My brother and I can disagree about this for hours. He’ll say it’s more to the right, to that side of the mountain, and I’ll say no, it’s more to the left. Neuras is one of Namibia’s handful of wine farms. When you’re there, you have a hard time determining direction, mainly because the farm is in a valley. It’s also so scenic and relaxing that you don’t really care where you are.
“You’re pointing towards the sea,” my brother said one morning as we savoured our first cup of coffee. “Walvis Bay is that way.”
“No ways, man, Walvis is behind those mountains,”
I said, pointing to the Naukluft Mountains in the distance.
“The quiver tree forest is that way,” my brother corrected me. “Do you want more coffee?”
“Which quiver tree forest?”
“The one we’ll visit on Saturday. Go charge your camera batteries.”
Sometime later that morning, he also told me that we were expecting a visit from “family” the next day.
“We don’t have family here,” I said. “Or do we have a sister I don’t know about?”
My brother painstakingly explained that in this part of the world, everyone is family, whether or not they’re related by blood. Even if you live on another farm 376 km away, you’re family and you’ll get a call on your birthday. Finish and klaar. “No surprise sister,” he said. “The oom and tannie with the quiver tree forest on their farm will be paying us a visit.”
The next day, Oom Neighbour and his wife arrived. A lovely couple. You could tell they knew what they wanted from life. “And how is life treating you wynkoppe?” Oom Neighbour asked.
“Good,” my brother and I answered in unison.
“Do you have your camera? You won’t believe your eyes when you see those trees,” Oom Neighbour said.
The quiver tree forest near Keetmanshoop is quite spectacular and attracts thousands of visitors a year. How much better could this one be? And why doesn’t anyone know about it?
“No, that Keetmans forest is old news,” said Oom Neighbour, as if reading my mind. “This forest makes that one look like a townhouse garden in Swakopmund.”
Then we packed water and chips (I need snacks on a road trip otherwise I get grumpy) and we hit the gravel. The route to the quiver tree forest was simply stunning. We drove along the base of the Naukluft range to where the mountain shadows petered out, then we turned left. North, according to me.
“It’s west, Lloyd,” my brother corrected me. He only calls me Lloyd when I get on his nerves or when he wants coffee. “North!”
“You’re as confused as a mengelslaai.”
“What exactly is a mingle salad?” my sister-in-law interjected. I haven’t mentioned her yet but she was with us in the car. My brother fell in love with her somewhere in England and now she lives with him in Namibia. She understands just enough Afrikaans to know when to run and when to pray.
About 15 minutes later, we turned left again and arrived at a farm gate. Adelina, Oom Neighbour’s wife, got out to open the gate and waved us through. The Naukluft rose up again before us like a giant aniseed rusk.
“Where are the trees?” my sister-in-law asked.
Oom Neighbour pointed ahead. I peered through my camera viewfinder and saw the trees on a ridge in the distance, clinging to the rock like mussels.
We got closer and I couldn’t believe my eyes. There were quiver trees everywhere: big ones, small ones, grandfathers, grandmothers.
“You’re right, Oom. Keetmans doesn’t come close to this,” my brother said. “We learnt something today.”
“There are about 7 500 trees here,” Oom Neighbour said. I almost swore aloud.
I knelt down, chose an ancient tree and took some of the best photos I’ve ever taken. It felt like nothing else mattered.
I was at one with my camera, nature and myself.
I showed a photo to the neighbours.
“Stunning,” the oom said. “You have a good eye.”
“It’s a beautiful photo,” his wife added.
And suddenly they did feel like family, because in that moment, they knew exactly what was important to me. And in that same moment, I suddenly knew where I was and what I wanted to do with my life.
Even though I still can’t tell north from west.
The Naukluft rose up again before us like a giant aniseed rusk.