24 Hours In The Tankwa

After an early start from Hout Bay, 20 minutes drive south of Cape Town; breakfast was at the wildly dippy Tankwa Padstal. Its official postal address says it's in Calvinia a town 169 kilometres and over two hours drive away. This place is so off the wall you cannot see the bloody wall its off.

But at the same time, it's very luring; it pulls you in. Not because, its the only place for a long, long way to stop for food, but because, its a welcome island in a sea of brown earth and heat hazes and twisting sand devils. The wackiness of it makes it even more welcoming; this is a sign of humanity in the vast emptiness known as the Tankwa Karoo. You drive in not as you would drive into a cafe on the side of the main road, but as an adventurer, who has made it this far out of his comfort zone and now needs reassuring he is safe and will be fed.

Unusually for a weekday, the place was buzzing, there were at least five people sitting at various tables, most were busy staring at Apple laptops, a giveaway sign that they are part of the creative tribe. The lady behind the counter smiled a big smile and said, "are you with the film crew." Over breakfast, we were informed that a UK TV company was in the area to film a reality game and today of all days was the day building of the set was due to start. Overheard from one of the creative types, "it's a sort of gladiator, cross mad max, cross destruction derby competition that takes place in a large arena and involves crazy vehicles and death-defying stunts". Well, that should certainly liven this place up.

An hour and a half later we were in the airconditioned reception area of the Tankwa Karoo National Park. Nothing there just an information desk, with two girls that smiled every time you looked at them, but had very little information to give, a toilet and a cold water dispenser. We sat and let our bones fall back into roughly the places they should be after being bounced and jostled around in the truck as we crossed the barren brown sea from padstal to reception. The silence was oppressive; it was a massive weight resting on our shoulders, it crushed our already disjointed body. We drank a few litres of cold water, we visited the toilet and then it was back into the four-wheeled bouncing oven, to continue our trip.

30 minutes later and we were on the top of the Gannaga Pass, some 548 meters above the magnificent, spellbinding Tankwa Karoo, spread out below. Slight purple and pink shades, large dark and light areas of brown. It looked like a shimmering sheet of rusting metal that had been attacked with a blow torch.

10 minute further along what passes for a road in this part of the world and we pulled into the Gannaga Lodge; the star-struck people of the Tankwa Padstal had recommended it as it served cold beer. Drinking and driving is never a good plan, but as we had not seen another vehicle for over two hours, the road was debatable, and it was 38c, we thought we would give the beer a go. The Gannaga Lodge appeared abandoned, we saw a few people sitting in the shade by a tiny swimming pool a few hundred meters away, but other than them, no one. A sign on the door said closed today open tomorrow; my question was how long had that sign been on the door, my suspicions were probably a long time.

30 minutes more of rattling around in the truck and we were in a small town that is quite simply in the middle of absolutely nowhere, Middelpos. It is officially the most isolated village in South Africa, in fact, its said that if a husband and wife in the village have a row and the wife walks out on him, he can see walking for three days. It is also big dog heaven as the guy who owns the whole town, Koos, also happens to be one of the worlds top Boerboel breeders and has a lot of them. I am not sure if there are more of them than people, but they are probably louder come feeding time.

After a few beers sitting quietly on the bench at the front of the only hotel in town and owned by Koos naturally, it was time for a Karoo dinner, and as can be expected in these parts it was lamb and hearty, I don't mean lambs hearts, but big, filling.

The next morning after an equally hearty breakfast we sat on the bench again and watched the town on what was the busiest day of the month. This was the day the money arrived, and everyone was paid their state pensions and other support grants. Sure enough, just like a modern take of a scene in an old black and white cowboy film, the small armoured van rolled into town, silent on the sandy roads and pulled up outside the general store, also owned by Koos. A guard got out gripping the handle of his handgun; he looked around assessed the threat level, there wasn't one. He got the money out of the back of the van and went inside the shop where Koos wife signed for it.

One by one, man, women and child got their rewards. Once the adults get their money, each child is given enough to buy a handful of sweets, kicking off loud giggles, big smiles and happy playing kids. This is how it used to be for kids 50 years ago, but here in the most isolated village in South Africa, it's a monthly event. Koos wife told me that an old woman comes every month to collect her pension, except she thinks it's her wages, wages from a boss who she doesn't do the cleaning for or wash his dishes, she can't explain why she gets her wages from her boss.

The people of the village are quiet, slow-moving and unassuming; they are like shadows moving across the sandy roads with silent, calculated steps. They nod, they smile, and their eyes miss yours by a mile. They are gracious, polite and generous with their time, they have a long time ago surrendered to their way of life, and hopefully, deep inside them they have forgiven whoever dealt them their hand of cards.

But these shadows are no different from us, they have their sorrows, they have happiness, they have daily problems to resolve the best they can, they have family disputes, wives get assaulted and abused, some will have cancer, some will have HIV aids, some will do well in sport, some will go to school in Cape Town or even university, most will labour in silence every. They all keep all of this hidden; there are no clues given in their body language, here life is in slow emotion.

Just then two donkeys pulling a cart with three adults onboard silently drift past our bench, more shadows on the move. Our 24 hours in the Tanwa has quietly come to an end.