The Farm
Trip Start
Sep 14, 2007
1
8
39
Trip End
Ongoing
Cintsa,
South Africa
Saturday, September 22, 2007
So, after arriving 5 hours after they called to say they'd meet us in 45mins, we met the owners of THE FARM. Mark, the father, Elbe, the mother, Zebedy, the oldest boy aged 8, Uisce, the girl aged 3, and Ossian, the baby aged 11 months. The baby didn't wear a nappy.
They escort us from our hostel out to their van where we load our bags into the back and then climb into the boot/trunk too
feeding the pig
. We sit rattling around in the back of the van for about 45mins while we drive to their farm.On arrival at THE FARM they ask if we are tired. I reply 'no' and try to sound enthusiastic. We dump our bags and are carted off (in the back of the van) to a nearby farm where we proceed to shovel sand from a pile of sand to a dug out hole (directing the wheelbarrow around the children who play Dodge the Wwoofer (Wwoofer stands for Willing Worker On Organic Farms - its the organisation we volunteered through)). We cart sand about until it gets dark. Then he turns the car around, puts the lights on and tells us to continue saying "Hurry girls! Faster faster faster!" while he stands and rakes out the sand we are dumping at his feet.
Eventually we are taken back to the farm, in the back of the van (this is how we travel everywhere from now on), and are shown our room. Our room is the old dairy farm. It is full of spiders and cobwebs and one light. Elbe walks down to meet us with a mattress over her shoulder and throws it into the room. They say they will bring us a brush so we can sweep the floor if we want. I began to wonder what she had meant when I called her on Monday and she had told me 'I'm not ready for you yet'. I couldn't see ANY evidence of her having 'prepared' for us?
our room
!So, we sweep our shed, make the bed with the 'clean' sheets (don't know what her idea of washing is) and go up for a tour of the house.
Walking into the kitchen there is a strong smell of....poo and decomposition. I turn to look and there are 2 baby geese living down the side of the kitchen as they are 'too young to live outside'. Nice.
There is no fridge as it broke a few months ago, so instead they keep a silver bowl with water in it and a cloth over it to keep the milk and other refrigerated goods in. This is in Africa. The concept doesn't work. Genius....
There is a bowl on the work surface with some veg in it. And a cupboard with some seasonings. Not to fret. I'm sure it'll be fine.
Next we are escorted to the living room which consists of a very small wooden coffee table one foot off the ground. No chairs. And the baby is sitting on the floor peeing. This is also where we eat dinner.
For dinner we have fresh garden peas with crushed beetroot, garlic and lemon squeezed over the top. Delicious, as a starter or side. But as a main dish doesn't really suffice. Hey ho, she's promised us a cake for desert - I'll get my calories from that!! The 'cake' is raw carrot shreddings mixed with sultanas and bananas and topped with yogurt.
She doesn't like to cook vegetables as she thinks it kills them.
We make our excuses after the filling food and head to bed. We laugh hysterically for about an hour before falling asleep exhausted. If only we'd known what was to come.
On day two we waken early and are fed dry oats - as the milk has gone off for some strange reason even though they stored it in the silver bowl?!
Carted back to the neighboring farm to resume our sand work. Told to continue putting the sand out into holes, while Mark runs another errand. He leaves for 2 hours in which time the farm's owner requests that we marry him as he 'wants a white wife'. When we both politely decline his offer (for reasons he cannot fathom) he demands to know how he should go about getting one. Yahoo!! Emma suggested he look on the internet, and so he toddled off seemingly happy with the advice.
When Mark returned he demanded to know what we'd been doing the whole time. Then when I asked what else he'd wanted done he replied "Anything!". Pah!! Take from that what you will.
We were then taken back to the farm for lunch. i forget what we had. something raw and not a lot of it.
Then back to the farm. To cut tarpaulin for the dug out holes with sand. Then back to the farm for dinner. Then sleep.
Next day we go back yet again and are handed a machete and told to head up the next hill and cut down the papyrus grass. My hands get all blistered and Emma gets cuts along her arms from the grass ripping her open. Mark returns 5 hours later (after leaving us out in the blistering heat with no water or shelter) and states "Girls. You need to cut more. Keep going." He leaves and we sit down.
On our 3rd day at the farm, Elbe ran out of vegetables to eat. Woe is me.
Other stories from the farm (in no particular order as I can't remember when they happened):
Emma and I go to visit the pigs. We see one little baby one, but there's meant to be 3. On reporting this to Mark, he removes the pig from the pen and offers it to Emma and I to try and feed it. We try for hours and eventually late in the evening it drinks from the bottle. It gets the hang of things and drinks every 30 minutes.
We take the pig to our room to let it sleep in a box by us. Unfortunately it doesn't like that idea and will only sleep in the bed. So we take turns sleeping with this pig nestled into our elbow or armpit or neck.
Luckily pigs r quite clean and naturally potty trained - so every 30 mins it wood get up, hop off the bed, walk to the corner of the room, pee, then come back to bed grunting for milk. After feeding it would grunt about until it was comfortable then go back to sleep. What a legend!!! We didn't get much sleep that night however!
Uisce, the little girl, thought that the pig was hers. So when we returned the pig to its mother the following morning she had a temper attack and went crazy because we'd 'taken her pig away'. When I tried to explain that the pig was still hers but it needed to be with its mummy right now, she ran off to her father and demanded he got it back for her.
He placated her for a while, and so she eventually came back to me and stated 'Mark is going to get the pig for me. So why don't you just go and get it for me now?' I've never met such a manipulative child.
Needless to say, when we arrived back that afternoon from the neighboring farm, Mark had given her the pig back and it was sitting in the living room while she ignored it.
Another day we were to make the duck pond for the geese. Emma was busy digging out the cluttered hole, while I headed off to find some boulders. While I was away the goat appeared over Emma's shoulder - it was standing on the landing of the house which was raised about 1 metre above the ground. Emma warned it not to do anything stupid.
So as she's digging away it decides to jump on her, but jumps slightly to the side, impales itself on a tree stump and slides down into the hole on top of Emma. It then stands up, a little shocked, and proceeds to pee on her foot!!Hahahahaha! Amazing!!! Emma batted it out of the hole with her spade.
Mark returned from his ventures and announced that he wanted lilies in the pond. "Here's a bag. Take Mulalwe with you and if you hike up that mountain over there there's a pond at the top. Dig out some lilies and bring them back". We hiked for 1 hour and eventually reached the top, spade, bags and all.
We spent another hour digging out lilies, and then 1 hour more scaling the mountain-side home. I tell you this because when we get home we start to put the liner in the duck pond and turn around to find the goat eating everything. The goat almost died that day.
For breakfast one day the maid had gotten confused and boiled the maize (rather than...do something else with it). So Elbe fixed the problem by serving it to us mixed with marmite and tahini (a paste made from sesame seeds). What do I say?
At another point, Zebedy the oldest boy, said he had a surprise for me. Humoring him I walked with him and he stated I was to wait while he found it. Meanwhile his friend climbed up the tree next to me, pulled a rope, and a log (1metre long and a diameter of about 15cm) came crashing down right in front of me. I was speechless. Luckily for them I'd seen what they were doing - but didn't think they were going to attack me with the log. I took several steps backwards - luckily for me or else I wouldn't have been here to tell this tale. They told me "Hahahaa - don't tell the other Wwoofer!" I couldn't even respond I was still in shock! When I got back and naughtily told Emma, she went crazy. We left the next day.
In the morning Emma was feeding Uisce and she poured the maize and marmite and tahini into a bowl for her. She then sprinkled some sultanas on top - only to discover that one of the sultanas was in fact a cockroach.
I'm sure there are other stories, but for now I've successfully blanked them from my memory.
We made our excuses - the huge red lump in my armpit being the main one, and after long deliberations from them and demanding petrol money, they said they'd drive us to the local hostel.
On the way, Mark stopped to pick up a bottle of wine and some fresh bread. I have nothing further to say on the matter.
