There is an old building in the centre of the Pilanesberg National Park which used to be a Magistrate’s Court, built in 1936. It is a bit of a neglected old building, with chipped white paint that bleaches an arched entrance into an open courtyard. From there, the view opens up beyond the wooden railing to meteoric hills and thorned acacia trees. There is a small wallow of a watering hole that meandering game paths network towards, bringing with them herds of kudu, giraffe and zebra. Sometimes glimpses of ambling elephants or even the odd leopard have frequented the spot. It is also a busy human space as many of the people who visit the park use the centre to break up game drives with a cup of coffee or an ice-cream. There is a restaurant, but one that is ramshackle in its approach: sticky cooldrinks bringing thirsty bees and left-over food attracting cheeky hornbills or monkeys. And that is a real shame, because it could be a place of bushveld reverie and insight. Imagine capturing the spirit of the old building with a book shop that offers a plethora of Africana literature. The courtyard could be refirbished with a dark wooden deck, its centerpiece a giant tree that has long-since extinguished its life but is reborn into a towering trunk that cascades leafless branches over the intense blue sky. It could be decorated with tasteful beaded animals and birds indigenous to the park. Maybe a geko is caught in mid-escape up the bark, or the statues of hoepoes, frozen crested on a delicate branch. To enhance the shade their are triangular sails that swipe the sky, pressing a cool breeze down to the deck below. Beneath the tree are scatterings of mismatched chairs which catch dapples of shade. There is also a giant table, made by weathered railway sleepers where people sip a cup of coffee or a refreshing Steelworks and page through titles like Cry of the Kalahari, The Elephant Whisperer or The Man with the Black Dog. They are distracted by the birds and animals that intersect with this human sanctuary, and look up from a white rhino on the page of a book, to see the real thing masticate a mouthful of grass. Around the perimeter of the courtyard are tall shelves of books, interspersed with watercolour paintings of different animals. Between the books are artifacts from the park: a nest from a weaver; the skull from a bushbuck or a gleaming white ostrich egg. The books would form an unsurpassed collection of wildlife in words: a glimpse into the insights and passions that devoted lovers of the wilderness have made into their own. The light fittings, paraffin lanterns adapted for electricity, create gentle pools of light into the darker spaces. Often new books on the subject of the environment are launched from here and often authors decide to do signings and informal talks in this unique space. The book shop is also something of a living museum with indigenous plans and bonsai versions of local trees scattered on and between small coffee tables. There is a private glass booth where all of the bird and animals calls can be identified. One of the walls is made of plaster-cast hoof and footprints, interspersed with various insects preserved in resin. The patrons, brimming with enthusiasm from being in the bush, eagerly seek more and new information on wildlife they have just seen. It is a book shop with a pulse of life. Outside, and beside the old building, there is a fenced, grassy area where families can enjoy a picnic beneath the trees. This replaces the restaurant of fast foods and sugary drinks. Instead, one can order a basket of crackers, freshly-baked bread and rolls or a variety of cheeses and preserves. Families swap stories of their sightings, brag about the photographs they have taken and absorb the beauty of the space around them. There is that frequent question of, if you won the lottery, what would you do with the money? Well, this bushveld book shop would be at the top of my list.
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Sometimes we forget that getting away from the city can happy within its confines. Whether it is hitting the Spruit on a mountain bike, running through the blooming cosmos in Delta Park or having a picnic by Emmerentia Dam, escaping the bustle of everyday life can be as easy as just that.
This past weekend a few of us decided to take advantage of the place where we life and have a camp out just below the school dam. We set up in the mid-afternoon underneath a row of paperbark trees that ran along a terrace just beneath the dam wall. The Sandton lights were a flicker in the distance, and with a bit of imagination, it felt like we were in fact out in the bush. We spent time with our kids, fishing in the dam and walking between the trees in search of birds until sunset. Then it was around lit fires that we braai’d our meat, made smores and told stories. Bella and the boys enjoyed cramming treats into sugar cones that were then wrapped into foil and melted over the coals. So it was with sticky fingers that we drank in the evening, close to home but so far away from it. The stress of everyday slowly evaporated from my shoulders as tiredness took over and I crept into a soundless sleep underneath the canvas tent. You don’t need to go far to retreat. |
ContentSome thoughts about things, sometimes philosophical, sometimes just musings. The world through my eyes... Archives
March 2023
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