Lesotho part one

So after Roger and Andy arrived in South Africa and enjoyed a few cold beers and a few sightseeing episodes and a trip to Pilanesberg with Marc it was on to Lesotho. The trip would be comprised of Shirley and I in our 1969 series IIa 109 ; Mike in his 1959 series II 88"; Marc and Brigid in their new Defender 110 Tdi (Kalahari); Emlyn in his Defender 110 V8; Henk and Annalette in their Discovery.

Mike and Shirley and I decided to leave a day early because in our vehicles it's great to enjoy the scenery along the way. We made it to Ladybrand (just outside Lesotho) that evening and after struggling to find accommodation we were lucky in finding a quaint guest house which was fully occupied with Harley Davidson riders who made our rooms available by them sharing rooms.




The next day saw us trying to help one of the Harley guys effect a minor repair on one of the bikes.

Today saw us all meeting up at Malealea, a campsite near Maseru, the capital of Lesotho. Here we all chilled out and enjoyed a braai and a few sundowners and really got to know each other. Our journey was to be travelling Southwest and then through the southern parts of Lesotho and exiting through the eastern border at Sani Pass.

This was the beginning of an adventure of a lifetime. Marc and Brigid were the only ones who had toured Lesotho before and we were all looking forward to tackling the mountains in earnest. I must admit to being a bit apprehensive because Basil (our Landy) tends to overheat on long uphills so I wasn't sure what would happen to our progress. As it turned out I had no need to fear as all went well in that department.

Plans were made but Marc warned us about being adaptable to change when driving in Lesotho (and for the rest of Africa for that matter). This was prudent advice because we indeed had to change plans due to underestimating the time it would take to travel planned distances and due to a breakdown more of which will be mentioned later. Our second night was planned to be at a village near Mphaki where we would ask the local headman for permission to camp.

The trip would be a bit rushed as there was a long way to go and the roads in Lesotho do not lend themselves to being driven fast. Tarmac was limited to about five percent of our trip and the only level ground was on a bridge crossing a river. We picked up a guide named Jerry to help with finding places to camp and to help with the interpretation. He was truly a great guy and it was a boon to have him along.


We were now experiencing passes up to altitudes of 2800 metres and then dropping down into river valleys of about 1600 metres and then immediately climbing back up again. Lesotho seems to be just climbing and dropping and climbing and dropping. The scenery is spectacular although the area is completely overgrazed. The highest passes which were still to come would peak at about 3400 metres.

All the vehicles were behaving wonderfully and we were all having a really wonderful time. Drivers and passengers were swopping vehicles and chatting and also conversing over the two way radios.

We were now discovering the term "pop ups". No matter where you drive children and often adults will pop up from the most obscure places and ask for sweets and money. We had heard incidents of refusals being met with stones being thrown at the vehicles. This has been widely reported on by many travellers through Lesotho and responses from the Lesotho government has been that they are trying to educate the people about the harmful effects this practise is having on tourism. We were travelling in the southern part of Lesotho and reports are that the people in the north are more prone to doing this as there are more travellers there than in the south. We only had one incident where something was thrown and that was a plastic cooldrink bottle. This whole begging for sweets syndrome has been promoted through people throwing sweets out to children and has entrenched the idea that white people have wealth and they, the local inhabitants, have nothing and also in a rural areas where dental treatment is greatly lacking this induces further problems. It also instills a concept of why work for anything when we can beg for it.


But enough of the moral talk and back to the journey. This day also saw us crossing the Senqu River which is the start of the mighty Orange River. We found ourselves getting worried about directions and then finding we were on the right track after all. Time was getting short and we were looking for a short cut that would entail fording a river thereby cutting out about 40 kilometres which relates to probably a little more than an hour travel time. Often language is a problem but we came across a young lady pushing a wheelbarrow up a hill loaded with a large gas cylinder. She told us how to find the river and we asked if she thought we would be able to cross the river. She thoughtfully surveyed the two Defenders, two series Land Rovers and the one Discovery and then said she thought they would all make it except for that one, pointing at Henk's Discovery. Needless to say we were all rolling around on the floor in laughter much to the non-amusement of Henk. The river crossing proved to be extremely mild and two wheel drive vehicles frequently use the crossing.

Shortly after the crossing we wound our way up a mountain pass with some extreme gradients only to turn around and make the descent and spend the night at Mount Morosi. This area was named after King Morosi who had defied the British forces way back in the eighteen hundreds by holing up in the mountain and was able to repel attack after attack. After a very lengthy time I think the siege ended in suicide of everyone. I will research and post on this again later. That saw the end of an adventurous day with picnic lunches on the side of the road and river crossing and some pretty hairy mountain passes but the best was still to come.

Boring life? Not I.

I was reading my blog and realised that if anyone were to read this they would think I existed in a terribly boring life. Nothing could be further from the truth however. Why did I think this? Probably because I don't put anything into this blog. To those few who have read it then I offer my humble apologies.

So what am I going to do about it. Firstly I am going to try and make people jealous by writing about our past trips and our hopefully many future trips, money allowing, that are due to happen next year.

So where do I start? Well let's start with our recent Lesotho trip. Lesotho? You ask where is Lesotho. Well if you live in Africa you'll know exactly where Lesotho is. For those that might be reading this beyond the Dark Continent then Lesotho is a small, mountainous, landlocked country surrounded by South Africa. Dust off the old school atlas and if it's new enough it'll show Lesotho; if it's not (and now you'll be giving your age away) then if you see a country called Basotholand it's one and the same.

Why did we go to Lesotho? An adventure was desperately needed and we wanted to give some visiting Poms something they would remember for a long time. Visiting Poms? Let me explain. There is a Land Rover internet forum ( http://www.landrovernet.com ) which I subscribe to and there are a number of South Africans,especially around Johannesburg, that are also on the forum. Well in one of our Gauteng chapter pub meets Marc's partner, girlfriend, extremely long term relationship lover, etc (Brigid) suggested we get some Poms out here to experience what Land Rovers really do. An idea was readily born amidst the murky depths of George's Gold Diggers bar. Marc then hastily goes onto the forum and invites any one willing, to fly to South Africa and we will give them a time of their life. All they need is the cost of a return airfare and spending money. True to form many say how they would love to come but unfortunately it falls over their dog's birthday or they have heard that someone their parents once knew thirty years ago has an ingrown toe nail and are about to lose it and it means they can't now get out here to accept the offer.

However two upstanding members of the British forum accept the challenge; Roger Whittle and Andy Deaves. Both scout masters I hasten to add. Two people who love adventure and are not afraid to admit it. Do people try to talk them out of it? Most definitely. How can you just go to Africa they are asked? You don't even know these people. Maybe there was a belief that we are starving in Africa and were encouraging well padded Poms to come out so that we could throw them in a cooking pot and eat them. Might have worked in Roger's case but definitely not enough meat on Andy.The Father Christmas looking chap is Roger and the one pretending to drink mampoer is Andy.



So two hearty fellows buy their tickets and arrive in Africa. That is how the Lesotho trip came to be.

Now I must hasten to add there is nothing strange about Andy and Roger. Why do I say this? Because they are not represented in my previous blog about strange people.

More on the Lesotho adventure soon.

People are strange.

People are strange. Maybe people say that about me. However, I really believe that people from Africa are very much less strange than those from other places in the world. We used to be friends with people from a particular section of England. We met another couple from the same area. I thought the first couple were different. I definitely think the second couple are different. According to statistics one hundred percent of people from that part of the world are different. Different from what? Well, from us. I suppose some would rather say eccentric. Great people but I suppose when people are different from us we consider them strange.

What do I mean by strange. Well it's hard to quantify without being labelled as extreme or unpolitcally correct or maybe just downright rude. Just believe me when I say Poms are a strange breed. I'm glad we're here and they are there and we just see each other occasionally. It's all relative I suppose. People from England probably look at us here in Africa and think, what strange people they are. They eat raw meat and drink too much!

No, it's not my un-amiable personality coming through. We have friends in Australia who came and stayed with us for quite a long period this year and they had their daughter and future (maybe) son-in-law with. Were they strange? No way. But then again, except for the children (a term which is hard to use because they are in fact adults) they were born in Africa. They eat decently. They don't have this aversion for anything that is not bland, unexciting food.

Paul and Debbie and two of their other adults, or do I mean children, are visiting again next year and I'm looking forward to it. We can have a conversation without having to translate English to English, and indeed we can have a conversation where more than one party actually does the talking.

Ah well, I suppose it takes all sorts to make up a pack of liquorice all sorts. People probably talk about me and say, if they're being very polite and untruthful, what a strange character. Out of earshot they would probably say a lot worse things about me.

Pass the liquorice all sorts please.

Training courses

Well, I've just completed four days of training to become a assessor in terms of SAQA, NQF, IDETP, and who knows what other letters of the alphabet. This outcomes based training in theory is great but in reality it is a flop. Why? Because just in one small aspect alone, if I assess you to be not yet competent (euphemistic way of saying you FAILED) I must be able to back up my decision if the learner appeals. Therefore I can see the vast majority of assessors merely competising (Africa loves to make verbs of words that have no verb) learners merely to get their assessor money quick and not have to be bothered with appeals; especially because there is no extra pay for going through the appeal process.

Why did I do this course? Because the Land Rover Owners Club needs assessors as very soon 'off-road driving licences' will be required to use one's four wheel drive vehicle where it was intended to be used. Not a bad idea I hear many of you saying; environmental impact, bunny huggers, green peace and all that. I agree. Yes, I agree. However, and here I should have used capital letters on the HOWEVER, and that is like every new law which South Africa seems intent on threatening us with (more of a Police State than it ever was during the heady days of the conservative apartheid era, there has to be enforcement. Who I ask with tears in my eyes is going to enforce me going off-road? Are we going to have traffic cops on scramblers and quads and Range Rovers (they wouldn't settle for anything less than big, black Range Rovers so they can look like government bigwigs), now not hiding behind bushes, but actually driving from one bush to another.

Anyway back to the training. If I see how much content the trainer ( whoops, f.a.c.i.l.t.a.t.or.) left out then I can only say I'm glad for her she doesn't get paid according to how much she actually taught us. Short cuts like it was going out of fashion. Glad I was not paying for the course. There will be some pretty poor assessing going on out there based on the content of that course. But surely I must be wrong SAQA and NQF and IDTEP or what ever says it met a standard. How can I say this? Well I have Shirley's knowledge and experience to compare it with. It's a daily part of life at home here with all the GIMT and NAMPAK and CIDA going on.

What is it with the world today that everything must be capital letters? What if we started to TYPE IN ONLY CAPITAL LETTERS, WOULD gimt AND saqa AND nqf SUDDENLY GO SMALL?

Let me enjoy my Landy before petrol gets so expensive I won't have to worry about the new proposes laws. On a lighter note will an off-road enforcement officer be known as a bush pig?

Travelling in Southern Africa

I really feel that I could travel continuously and explore Southern and Central Africa. I will have to investigate how to earn money while I'm not there to run the business. Is there any business that falls into that category? I suppose not, because that's too easy and as they saying goes "money don't come easy". I'll have to write a blues song about my money woes. I can't even buy a Lotto ticket and hope to win the money to reach my dream thanks to the ineptness of our government ministers. I mean how hopeless do you have to be to mess up a simple thing like a Lotto tender. But I suppose there were too many fat cats in both tendering companies and they are all crying about the process of awarding the tender.

But alas I digress. Where would I like to go first. Tough question Kevo. I reckon a couple of weeks through the Karoo and then up into the Richtersveld. The Karoo really appeals to me with its sheer barren expanse of scrub stretching beyond each horizon in all directions. I would stop in at the small towns and have a couple of beers in the local hotel pub and watch and talk to the local populace; try out the local tea rooms with home-made scones and tarts; wander through the town absorbing the way people live and how the pace of life is in these rural back-waters. Houses with corrugated iron roofs, stark white walls and wooden gates. Harsh sun beating down and sending up shimmering heat waves off the one tar road in the town. The type of heat that during the middle of the day wants to crush you and squeeze you from all sides, making a person listless and ready to seek out the cool shade. But even in the shade there is no escape from the heat, it's just that the sun doesn't directly bake you; you just bake anyway, just a bit slower. When the evening comes the smell of those home cooked lamb-based meals mingle with the scents that are always present in the rural areas. Scents that can now be smelled because the air is so clear. When the first evening star appears there is the first felling of coolness. Then sitting in the hotel dining-room with the large overhead fans slowly turning and barely making a ripple of movement. Hearing the waiters clonking on the pine floors, the scraping of chairs and then the sound of music emanating from the depths of the hotel. Sakkie-sakkie music, which out here just seems appropriate. Hmm, I do believe that must become a reality. Maybe go and pop in and spend a couple of days with Kobie and Alec at Ganna Kraal and take those breathtaking early morning walks before sunrise before the household stirs, with their Labradors keen to join in and ever eager to go further and further. Yep, that's going to become real.

It's a strange, strange world we live in, Master Jack

These were the words from a nineteen seventies song by the Four Jacks and a Jill. I think they sum up the feelings of probably every generation from Adam until now. The Lord says (in Ecclesiastes?) that there is nothing new. Do I believe the Bible tells the truth. You bet. Why? Because it has actually been proven true so many times. No this is not about God and whether he exists or not, but I do hope if you don't believe in God then one day you will. What it is about is how thoughts progress I suppose. How did I come to blog about war or murder in my previous post? Shirley and I spoke briefly about it because of the statement in the news that Vlok and Co. were going to be prosecuted for trying to bump off Frank Chikane. That then led me to start thinking about my days in the Rhodesian war. What progressed from there was viewing archive material about Rhodesia and the B.S.A.P. and amongst other things, inevitably for me, Land Rovers. But for a change I don't want to talk about Land Rovers. What I noticed in this period of searching the internet about Rhodesia was where many Rhodesians are today. And I began to wonder why are they where they are. Why am I where I am?

On an Emmaus walk I heard the statement that if you have no idea who you are the world will tell you who you are. This I heard later in life than I wished I'd heard it. Especially when it comes to the extension of this and that is if you have no idea where you want to be then the world will tell you where it wants you to be. For many years I've not wanted to be in Johannesburg. But because I've allowed myself to be here, here I am.

I take my hat off to those who are where they want to be. Fortunately in life we can often rectify mistakes. However to anyone younger than me who might be reading my ramblings then take life with both hands, give it a good shake and know what you want from it. Never be dictated to by the world. Lead rather than be led. Follow your dreams; and indeed make sure you have dreams.

Circumstances will to a certain extent be instrumental in foiling plans but they can be overcome. Sometimes it takes time, but never give up. For a while I gave up. But no longer. Maybe age makes you realise time is getting short to achieve what needs to be achieved, but nonetheless we need to go for it. When I left the secure employment for the world of self-employment I decided that I was, at 39, young enough to make a change and too old not to. I did not want to look back on my life and say I wish I had taken the plunge and I wonder whether it would have worked. I would rather be able to, as now, say I'm glad I tried. Has it been all roses? Well, yes frankly. This year has been difficult but it has taught me some lessons.

So in one way I am where I want to be, that is self-employed. Okay I chose a profession that is not the most high paid but I enjoy it. But I need to realise another part of my dream that I have always been too scared to do and that is to move. Now it is even more difficult to do and that is because my children live here.

So to answer the question I posed earlier. Why am I where I am? Well briefly because I was too scared to take the plunge and move. Why are my children here in Johannesburg? Also because I was complacent. Just think they could have been somewhere more agreeable.

This now leads me onto another thought and that is what would they be doing now had I taken the plunge and moved from Johannesburg, but I won't go down that route for a while.

But I must add a concept that makes my reasoning about why I'm where I am more difficult to put into context and that is God's plan for our lives. Does he care where we are? You better believe it. Am I here because it's God's plan? Not necessarily, because I haven't always followed a righteous life and make plans often without consulting Him, so therefore His plan might be for me to be on an idyllic island in Fiji. Maybe His plan for me is just to worship Him no matter where I am. This is also another thought process now and one which I don't have the theological know how to answer. I suppose it's back to the drawing board or I suppose I should rather say back to the Bible, and seek God, to find the answer to this one. Aaaargh! Stop blogging now Kevin before I find too many things to have to sort out.

Hmmmm. It is indeed a strange, strange world. Or maybe it's just me.

Is it war? Is it murder?

When is it war and when is it murder? There is an area which overlaps the two. Defining the two is not always going to be easy. Why am I asking this? Recently reported on the news is that the State has decided to prosecute Vlok and van der Merwe for attempted murder of Chikane. When was this? During the time that S.A. was at war against the ANC. The ANC were laying bombs and killing civilians. The S.A. government were trying to prevent this and known ANC activists were targeted. Was the ANC guiltless because they were trying to overthrow a corrupt government? Surely then the S.A. government was guiltless because they were resisting their downfall. They saw themselves as the democratic government of the day, notwithstanding how we might feel about apartheid now.

This is a different scenario to genocide with the likes of Charles Taylor of Liberia and many others, some in Bosnia and surrounding countries. I am not Chikane so I might have a different feeling about the matter if I were him. But then I would have been on the other side of the government. Did I fight for S.A.? No, however I have fought for Rhodesia and I wonder to what lengths I would have gone, in similar circumstances, had I needed to.

Sure, one can say arrest and charge and take the matter to court. In war this is not always an option. People are killed in war. Kill or be killed. Did I ever try to arrest the terrorists we were fighting? Our orders, and it was accepted as such, was that you go out an engage the enemy and kill them. Any that survive you bring back. We were never told to bring them back and try not kill any. Only in special operations, that elite forces like Selous Scouts and the SAS were engaged in, were expected to bring in enemy officers for intelligence purposes. The foot soldier? Kill them.

Do I approve of Vlok and van der Merwe. That is neither here nor there. I think that when you are being patriotic to your country a person will go to great lengths to protect it and guerilla warfare unfortunately has ill-defined labels as who is the enemy. That is why guerilla warfare is engaged in; to make it difficult to find the enemy. Which means the opposing side, in this case the S.A. government, has to try and decide and identify the enemy and do what enemies do in war; kill.

That's why I hate war. When will there ever be peace. Definitley not until the Lord arrives that's for sure.

First off.

This is a new phase in my life. That is speaking out ideas, maybe even feelings and putting them out in the open. Why? Well I could be described as showing the world only what I want them to see but I think it is more of speak out when you have something of relevance to say. I dread having people around me who speak just for the sake of speaking because they constantly need people to notice they are there. I have a dog like that. She is probably the most vocal dog I have ever come across. The world needs to know when she is out (well that is her impression). In reality the neighbourhood actually doesn't need to know. Some people are the same. Here I am and you are going to hear me all the time whether you like it or not; whether what I say is relevant to anybody or not, and you have to constantly hear my opinions. The nice thing about a blog is that if you don't want to read someone's opinion on something you merely close it and read something else. Cool hey!

Do you want to read an opinion I have? Well not yet because what I am actually doing is merely introducing myself and how I see this going. It might, over time, change and then I become so obsessed with it that I become verbose and opinionated and begin to be the person I described in my first paragraph as disliking immensely. But then again maybe I don't. If you want to find out whether I do or not then you will need to read post after post after post after post after......

Whoa. Dr Jekyll is coming out already or is it Mr Hyde who is coming out already? I can never remember who changes into whom. In this ridiculously politically correct world it will probably have to be Dr Jekyll and Ms Hyde so that there is gender equality in who he changes into and then when he is Ms Hyde he is bi-sexual so that there is no offence to lesbians and when he is Dr Jekyll he is homosexual so that section is okay with it. But wait! He will also have to change colour somewhere along the line. How about green so The Hulk doesn't feel ostracised? But then maybe even poor old The-Hulk has to be PC and is now She-Hulk



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