Theo Kotze's 'priceless gem' honoured

Hundreds of mourners have paid tribute to “Theo’s priceless gem” at a memorial service for Helen Kotze, who was honoured for her behind-the-scenes fight against apartheid.

The wife of the late struggle theologian Reverend Theo Kotze, Helen passed away in Cape Town aged 92 last month.   

Addressing a packed Rosebank Methodist Church on Thursday afternoon, the family’s close friend and fellow theologian activist Charles Villa-Vicencio described Theo as the “committed opstoker” and Helen as the “rock” who was the “mother of the Christian Institute” in Cape Town, a stalwart of the Black Sash and a “champion of the poor”.

 Together, the couple, who had five children, were a “formidable pair who paid “an enormous price” in the fight against apartheid.

As activists at the Christian Institute in Mowbray, their home was searched and shot at by security police. In 1977  the Institute and Theo were banned, leaving him with no choice but to cross the border into Botswana. Helen and her family followed, embarking on a new journey into exile “beginning to pay the price in a new way – the loneliness of exile”.

After 15 years of being uprooted, the couple returned to South Africa in 1993 – at the dawn of the new SA.

The couple’s son Derek told the friends at the service that his mother’s life “could not be described as a happy one, but it was a rich one”.

 Another close family friend and activist, Horst Kleinschmidt said that in the liberated SA, Helen’s values remained what they were before 1994, a life in search of ‘justice and honesty”.

“The struggle left them with no house of their own and every cent had to be turned twice before it was spent. They never complained nor had regrets,” said Kleinschmidt.

The story of the Kotzes and of the Christian Institute had not yet found its place in South African history, and it “deserves remembering”, he said.

The Institute and the Mowbray office was a place of education, where a “small and beleaguered community of apartheid opponents” of all races gathered, where they set an example in living an alternative life to apartheid.

Kleinschmidt said that like so many others after liberation in 1994, Helen's role as a freeom fighter had been forgotten.

This was why in her Diep River retirement home, Helen was very proud of the National Orders award, the order of Luthuli, that Theo was given posthumously by the president in 2009 for his contribution to democracy
*In a note at his computer, Theo referred to his wife as his "priceless gem".
* This article first appeared on the Cape Times web. www.capetimes.co.za

‘Deeply scarred SA crying out in agony’ - Cape Times | IOL.co.za

Interview: ‘Deeply scarred SA crying out in agony’ - Graca machel

Madiba is in good health - Graca Machel - Cape Times | IOL.co.za

Madiba is in good health - Graca Machel - Cape Times | IOL.co.za

Tough Assignment: Jane Raphaely book review

Book title: Jane Raphaely Unedited: True tales of a fun, fearless female

Jane Raphaely

Associated Media Publishing

  Jane has been relevant in a candy-floss world where appearance overshadows substance.

---

After Jane Mullins married her “Jewish prince”, whom she met as a student at the London School of Economics, she could have settled into 1960s apartheid suburbia as a privileged stay-at-home mother.

Instead, Jane accepted an offer by Nasionale Pers as launch editor of Fair Lady, one of the first English glossy magazines for women in SA.

Putting any lingering self-doubt aside, she built up a reputation as a glamorous, intuitive, no-nonsense editor in a chauvinist, Calvinistic industry – one that insisted on appointing a male editor-in-chief over her.

In 1984, after almost 20 years as editor of a magazine selling 216 000 copies a fortnight – Jane left the company’s patriarchal clutches to launch Cosmopolitan in SA.

Today, Jane Raphaely is a powerful media icon in what has grown into a saturated, recycled market. She chairs Associated Magazines, a family-run empire that publishes an array of coveted titles from a building, dominated by women, opposite Parliament.

Through the years, the unflappable “JR” has resolutely got on with the job. She survived the odd banning order from the Publications Control Board. She fobbed off critics – from feminists to chauvinists – “with a polite smile and wave”; and the odd stiletto-sharp barb.

Her career never thwarted her traditional family aspirations – she and her husband Michael have four children. This led many women, particularly from her generation, to wonder how she did it.

This partly motivated her to pen her own cover story, Jane Raphaely Unedited: True tales of a fun, fearless female.

The meticulously self-edited autobiography is a “personal odyssey”, laced with dollops of Oprahesque advice about friends, motherhood, work and her adopted country, SA.

Her early years are vividly recollected. Conceived in 1936 on a rubbish dump to a “struggling Irish welder” and a “Jewish alpha female who was a chronic optimist”, Jane grew up in the “armpit of England”. Half-Jewish, she often felt like an outsider.

Jane digs deep to unearth family secrets around her conception, her parents’ marriage and an esteem-bashing, abusive aunt.

In her 20s, Jane followed Michael to SA, where she got a job as an advertising copywriter. Married a few years and pregnant with her second child, this “media nobody” became Fair Lady editor.

Her only journalism credentials were a Cape Times shopping column and two irreverent articles on food and fashion translated into Afrikaans for Sarie Marais magazine.

Jane describes Naspers as “a conservative God-fearing apartheid engine”, the last place a “subversive, pregnant Jewish rooinek should have embedded herself”.

Jane gives readers a peak between the frothy covers of the magazines she has edited over five decades, including Fair Lady, Cosmopolitan, Femina and O, the Oprah magazine.

A control freak and perfectionist, Jane trusted only her company to publish her book. While she reveals fascinating insights about her upbringing, her later years of success are covered with broader strokes; a more airbrushed depiction, not unlike the industry over which she reigns.

Jane is tactful, discreet and a fastidious networker. She does not burn bridges. She also understands the art of masking flaws, hailing from an industry renowned for sculpting fantasy images of women.

She has dealt with stroppy celebrity publicists who demand sign-off before publication. She has negotiated exclusives with the Barbara Barnards of the world and beyond – according to similar rules of compromise.

The chapter on Charlize Theron, who guest-edited an issue of Femina and collaborated on Jane’s hard-hitting “Real men don’t rape” campaign, has a superficial, varnished feel. The reader is also left wanting in the chapter on Oprah Winfrey, whom Jane convinced to start an SA edition of O.

The dynamics of running a family business is a no-go area (her husband operates behind-the-scenes as a shareholder, their second child Vanessa is editorial director and third child Julia managing director).

But Jane is generous to readers in other areas. Revealing her own fragility, she dwells on her experience with grief – especially over the death of her father-in-law. She also reminds readers that in life, “it is what you didn’t do that will haunt you”.

She recalls her failure to expose a first-hand account of atrocities in the SADF during apartheid. She wishes she had fought earlier and harder for gender equity, if not for herself then “for the other people on my team”.

Jane has flirted with politics and used her position to make a difference. She has been relevant in a candy-floss world where appearance overshadows substance.

She speaks out on violence against women and children, venturing into territory many younger colleagues don’t care to follow.

Through the years, she has injected journalism and pithy feature writing into the grit-deficient formula dished up by the industry.

At her book launch, Mamphela Ramphele paid tribute to Jane’s feminism – her campaigning role to encourage SA women to believe in themselves. This self-belief runs through the book. Aimed to motivate and uplift, the book reflects Jane’s own polished image. It falls short of the whole truth, but we get an absorbing self-portrait of the pioneering life of JR.

Note: I spent three years as features and deputy editor at Femina a few years before it closed down. This book review first appeared in the Cape Times http://www.capetimes.co.za on July 27 2012

Six ex-editors, six survival kits for newspapers

What should newspapers do to remain relevant in today’s topsy-turvy digital world?  This perplexing question has led journalists to switch career, stick stubbornly to the staid formula or panic and overdose on reinvention strategies.
In the latest edition of the Nieman Reports, six former editors of regional and local newspapers in the United States reveal what they would change if they were back in charge of a newsroom.
I found the perspectives both inspiring and provocative, yet also at times disagreeable.  Although the press in South Africa is very different from the US, their perspectives are relevant for South African journalists and the landscape here.  
While most offer different solutions, there are common threads running through all six.  They all agree on one thing:  innovation is imperative. This is not the time for complacency, the golden years of print are no longer. Also, the pursuit of excellence in journalism is not negotiable.
The innovations suggested by all 6 editors would be possible only if editors are empowered to do their job. They need to have control of their newsroom budgets. They need to be able to implement changes, sometimes acting swiftly and not deferring to the bean-counters every step of the way.  Most importantly, they need buy-in from management that the only way forward is through quality journalism. This requires resources, skills and training, and being given the tools of the trade to deliver ground-breaking journalism.
In summarising the series of articles in Nieman Reports, I have taken the liberty of reproducing certain accredited paragraphs in a bid to accurately reflect the views of the 6 former editors.

EDITOR 1:
AMANDA BENNETT, former editor of the Lexington Herald-Leader and The Philadelphia Inquirer, says that back when she was editor, “the panic froze us and and perhaps made us less effective at figuring what our problems were”.
The paper kept looking for big solutions to fix the problems. Now, she would trust the news and the newspaper, and would stop looking for a magic bullet. “I would keep trying as many things as possible, including fiddling with different ways of asking people to pay for the news.”
Her most valuable contribution is the confession that she would have been braver.  “I feel proudest of the times I was bravest.” 
“We are surprisingly weak at facing down the stares from within our own newsroom when we hear: “That’s not what we do,” “that’s not my beat,” or “We’ve never done that.” How many more times should I have said; “Yes, it is, it’s your beat now. It’s time to try.”  I should have been braver at recognising the difference between a reverence for the past and a reluctance to face the future.”
She concludes by saying: The future still lies ahead. Why not try? 

EDITOR 2
SKIP PEREZ, former executive editor of The Ledger in Lakeland, Florida, for 30 years until last year.
Perez argues that one of the biggest problems in newsrooms today is the “creeping despair”, which he says is posing a serious threat to journalism.
To fight the wave of debilitating pessimism, Perez says:
•     Staff training is essential. “One small step toward lifting spirits is for upper management co commit to a healthy increase in newsroom training budgets … The right kind of training will boost morale and reward the news organisation with dedicated staffers itching to tackle groundbreaking assignments.”
•    Owners should have a genuine appreciation for journalists work and values, ie “covering the news without fear or favour”.  A seminar on journalism credibility and conflicts of interest “would be a valuable learning experience for executives tone-deaf to those fundamental values.”
•    Managers must learn to help reporters motivate themselves because self-motivated employees are key to any organisational success.
•    “Despair won’t get a foothold in a newsroom where the boss understands and encourages extraordinary work and gives the staff the resources to pursue it.”

EDITOR 3
RONNIE AGNEW, former executive editor of The Clarion-Ledger in Jackson, Mississippi
Agnew offers tips for newspapers go “get their swagger back”:
•    Maintain an investigative reporting culture
•    Cover the community better than anyone else (Unless the newspaper is a national one, local news is the primary reason people buy the paper)
•    Accept the fact that as more readers become comfortable with digital tools, circulation of the printed newspaper is likely to decrease
•    Move faster and more nimbly into digital initiatives
•    Lead the community through the newspaper’s strong editorial voice
•    Accept that the  newsroom can no longer cover everything
•    Bring back training
•    Find out what works on the Web for your market and exploit it. (web users are very different to newspaper readers)
•    Get out of the office and get to know the town, what makes it tick, make makes it unique
•    Don’t worry so much about how it (news) will be consumed. Focus on what you will give readers to consume.

EDITOR 4
TIMOTHY A FRANKLIN, editor of The Baltimore Sun, Orlando Sentinel and The Indianapolis Star, and senior editor at the Chicago Tribune.
Franklin offers some radical suggestions, saying that if he were starting over in the top job at The Baltimore Sun, his new mantra would be: “We are a digital news operation with a print component.”
STOP THE PRESS: He would stop printing the paper on three days of the week, and reinvest these savings in improving the print editions on the other days, especially the Sunday edition. On those three days the paper wasn’t printed traditionally, the newspaper would be provided to subscribers on an e-reader. “This serves the dual purpose of strengthening our print edition on key days, and building an e-reading habit for what will inevitably be an entirely digital future.”
Franklin’s newsroom would also aspire to be a “service-oriented, one-stop news and information portal for the region”.  For a “modest subscription fee”, his newsroom would give readers different tiers of information “based on the device they’re using and their needs. Yes, frequent users would pay.”
LOCAL IS LEKKER: The newsdesk would break news - crank out headlines and two or three paragraph news accounts for smart phones and social media, and send news alerts via email and Twitter.
Other staff – editors, reporters, photographers and graphic artists – would be creating indepth versions for print, tablet and website editions.
The Sunday paper would be “meatier and a showcase for powerful local storytelling”.
“More than being a source of news, however, we should be a go-to digital repository for community information and tips that readers need in their daily lives.
“My newspaper would aspire to be the local equivalent of Siri – Apple’s voice assistant, instantly providing answers to the questions you have about Baltimore. We’d create a Utilities Desk with editors who would create and update that information.”
PERSONALITIES AS BRANDS: Franklin’s operation would cater to niche interests, building brands within a brand. “In sport for example, we would sell a monthly digital subscription that is less expensive than the entire paper, and give readers access to our beat writers for chats, video of news conference and all the stats they can handle.”
He would also produce a weekly Baltimore sports magazine or tab to tell separately.
INVESTIGATIVE REPORTING AND BEATS:  Bring these back, he says, adding that investigative reporting is “not a luxury, it’s fundamental.”  Cover city beats well, including major companies and industries. “My newsroom would have two fulltime obituary writers.”
It would also have: a dedicated social media desk with editors connecting with readers; an opinion editor and fewer institutional editorials; fewer page designers and copy editors and more video editors and web producers; fewer general assignment writers and more reporters who are experts.
 

EDITOR 5
MIKE PRIDE, editor of the Concord Monitor (NH).
A community newspaper is the ideal place to lead the revolution in online journalism, says Pride, who suggests a bold break with traditional practices and an increasing reliance on citizen journalism, especially for web-based community news and photographs.
 “First you need a savvy person who would make smart online news delivery a priority. After that every idea I hatched and executed would be aimed at restoring and enhancing local news reporting.”
There would be no sports writers per se on his staff. Sports writers would report the news – also the big local sport events and stories. Regional sports would be bought, but national and international sports would be obtained from other agencies.
Local sports coverage would be expanded , mainly on the web.  This means more stringers, call-ins and emails from local high schools and leagues. “The Monitor would be the place for people to turn for comprehensive coverage of everything from small-fry soccer to statewide high school sports to community hoops and softball teams.” There would be constant updates of scores, standings and schedules for local events.
Pride’s ruthless photographic plan, disagreeable as I found it, was this: to employ one full-time photojournalist and one fulltime intern. The photo editor would turn to the public to cover the community in pictures. These photos would be updated on the web as much as possible. The best photos would grace the print edition.
Pride would step up the sharing of local and state news with other newspapers around the state, and abandon extensive wire coverage of world and national news (the point being that readers have better sources of news at their fingertips).
“If I were starting the Monitor today, every action I took would be aimed at enhancing the paper’s ability to report local news. The time may come when the Monitor should sell its presses and commit exclusively to online journalism. If it does, the paper’s reason for being will be no different from what it has always been."

EDITOR 6
JAMES O’SHEA, former editor of the Los Angeles Times
O’Shea would definitely have changed the way he used the 920 journalists and $121 million budget at his disposal (that was four years ago). He said while the paper was considered one of the industry’s “crown jewels”, it lacked one critical component: a weak sense of community, with little agreement within about which community the paper should serve.
He believes that news organisations exist to serve the community by providing credible information so citizens can make informed decisions, the lifeblood of a democracy.
Key would be to have “aggressive coverage of California”.
To do this, the entire news business would be reorganized around three skill sets:
1)    Technological: journalists need data mining, geotagging to monitor and analyse communities and expand the reach of reporting deep into these communities.
2)    Ability to report and analyse: raw data can be interesting, but you need to turn this into credible knowledge or insight, you need to know how to probe and answer
3)    Experts in social media – to promote the kind of honesty and standards that makes for distinguished journalism.
How would he do this? It would take new investment for training and education.
O’Shea would lead a crusade to convince journalists that they can’t expect someone else to solve their problems. You can’t argue “it’s a business side problem” (remembering that the businesss side’s answer was budget cuts that diminished journalism).
His parting shot is to encourage the younger generation to start something of their own, to break free “from the shackles of my generation”.
 “The trouble with journalists like me is we spent our lives working for corporations – not evil organisations but institutions that grew more soulless as they aged.”
 His message to the younger generation is this: “Report and don’t just repeat. And don’t be afraid to fail. Failure is good for the soul. So go out there and give readers an alternative to the superficial. Infuse your effort with a passion for true journalism. Cover the community: give the public what it deserves: Journalism – with a soul.”
 *This piece is based on the cover story seriesMOVING FORWARD in Nieman Reports, Spring 2012, Vol 66, number 1. The Nieman Reports is published by the Nieman Foundation for Journalism at Harvard University . For the full report, go to www.niemanreports.org

Grinding into the snow at Zermatt

I am writing this while sitting in a glass cage at the train station in Visp, Switzerland. Seated with me are the elderly, the frail and a few other commuters who are escaping the chill while waiting for the train to Zurich.
The train, which is a connecting one from the ski resort town of Zermatt to Zurich, has been delayed by an hour, an odd occurrence I would have thought for a nation famous for keeping time.
My media tour mates are not with me in the glass cage. They are robust. They are standing outside. I am more vulnerable. I am light-headed from painkillers, I have a splint on my right leg and am walking (incompetently) with crutches. These are not regular crutches. They are Swiss crutches. They have reflectors for night walking and special scary-looking pull-out spikes for the snow. I wonder if I can sell them on Gumtree when I return home.
So how did I get into this sorry state?
I went skiing down a blue slope (I could swear it was vertical) at the ski resort town of Zermatt during a media travel tour of Switzerland, a one-off adventure.
Three of us - all virtual beginners and gung-ho South Africans not all that familiar with pistes and poles and ski lifts - plunged down the slope from Rotenboden (quickly nicknamed Rottenbottom)  to Riffelberg. I almost made it to the ... bottom ...  mostly by extreme split-like snow-ploughing, a useful technique I thought I had mastered during the rare occasion I have had the opportunity to venture on to a pristine white slope.
About 200 metres from the Riffelberg station, I panicked at yet another Cobra-like dramatic drop. All attempts to slow down failed. Wobbly, my skis rammed into each other. My pole struck the snow. I tumbled. My leg twisted awkwardly. I manged my right knee.
I felt the damage, even before I thundered to the ground.
The rescue was fast and Swiss-efficient. A ski instructor in a delicate pink outfit swooped by  and stopped with perfect precision at  my side. She untied my boots and called the rescue service (of course I  wasn't carrying a cellphone). I could not move my leg, it was like lead on the snow. My good Samaritan formed a cross with two skis behind me so that I would not get rudely rammed by a skiier gliding down the piste. Within five minutes a rescue skiier carrying a papoose-like stretcher sled arrived from behind.  He took control, but not before I filled out a card verifying my insurance details.
He bandaged my knee and helped me onto the stretcher. He said he would take me to the doctor in Zermatt but added that it was likely that I would be lifted by helicopter to the nearest hospital, at Visp.
He then towed me on the back of his skis down to the train station. It was one of the smoothest rides ever, with not even a bump. He hauled me into a ski train carriage and left me on the floor. The train moved. I gazed out the door as the snow-capped pines whizzed by, and also the jagged 4000 metre high Matterhorn peak. About 35 minutes later, the train stopped at Zermatt.
The doors opened, commuting skiiers got out. I was left on the floor of the carriage. I waited, wondering if I had been abandoned. About two minutes later, a slick team arrived. They lifted the stretcher, transporting me by foot to a doctor conveniently located a few metres from the station.
I had two X-rays before seeing the doctor, who was treating a number of  morning ski injury victims. The doctor then examined me very briefly. She said I had no broken bones but various torn ligaments.
Within 30 minutes, I had a brace and a pair of space-age crutches.
I got the bill - 734 CHF (swiss francs), plus 250 for the mountain rescue, plus 34 francs for the painkillers. That's close to R10 000.
Now I understand why you can't set foot in Switzerland without insurance. Ouch.
* This article also appears on the Cape Times web site as a travel blog: http://bit.ly/HmI8b3

Twelve nights as a tourist at home



Karoo reality: Lola the pet dog at Gamkapoort Dam: Pic Steve Pike

 Tourists tend to get a distorted view of Cape Town, but I got a refreshing perspective when I became a tourist in my own city recently.
Hosting friends from the US for 12 nights during the July school holidays, we showed them our local haunts. We also used the break to indulge as holidaymakers and explore our surroundings.

# There's always something new to see in your backyard

On day 1, we eased our friends Tom Landon, Beth Macy and their 13-year-old son Will out of jetlag by taking them to our favourite suburb, Muizenberg. We walked along the coastal path past Baileys Cottage to St James, the giant swell from spring tide lashing the route along the way. We spotted a few baby sharks, not in the ocean but in Kalk Bay, in a tank at the Save our Seas Shark Centre, a place of interest I have never visited before. We ate fish and chips at the Brass Bell, watching a group of gung-ho surfers getting barrelled at a break a few metres from our table window.

# The resilience of Robben Island

Madiba's prison cell on Robben Island. Pic: Tom Landon

Our laid-back friends from Virginia had one non-negotiable on their trip: a pilgrimage to Robben Island. On day 2, we took the Sikhululekile to the island, which has been in the headlines for all the wrong reasons. We got choked up with emotion thanks to our superb tour guide, Yasien Mohamed. The tour, which cost R220 for adults (R110 for children), became the subject of conversation throughout the holidays as we tried to figure out whether we had blinkers on that day, whether we were just lucky, or whether the new CEO is shaking things up at the scandal-ridden World Heritage Site*.
We walked to the station by following the fan walk through the city. We caught the Metrorail train to Steenberg Station, giving our visitors a feel for the natural working rhythm of city life.

# Spoilt for choice: Neoprene or lycra

The mountain or the ocean?

We headed for my weekend hangout, Surfers Corner, on Day 3. Will stood up within an hour of getting into the water, with the help of a learner soft board from the Surf Shack. Amped and stoked, Will spent the rest of the holiday like us - dreaming about his next surf.
So day 4 became a surf morning too, for half of us. The others took a break from the ocean and tight neoprene in favour of the mountain and moulded lycra, heading instead to the Tokai forest for a bike ride followed by a quick tour of Groot Constantia, the grand old dame of wine estates.


# Even locals can be fooled by the weather



Half-way up Platteklip Gorge in a black South Easter

The alarm clock beeped at 6.45am on day 5. It was a calm, clear day – perfect for our scheduled overnight hike on Table Mountain (Hoerikwaggo trail.) We got to the Cableway for a leisurely ascent, but the service was closed due to the wind (huh? We thought). Forced into the unthinkable, we had to climb the steep, scary face of the mountain up Platteklip Gorge. Instead of shedding clothes as we climbed, we piled on our inadequate, thin layers as we looked up to face a menacing veil of black south easterly cloud streaming down the mountain crevice. Our iced-up hands clung to the rocks as we navigated our way precariously upwards. We reached the top more than two hours later, but could see nothing through the thick cloud. Fighting the bitter cold, we trudged on. Eight and a half hours after our journey began, we arrived at the eco-friendly Orangekloof camp above Hout Bay.

Only then did I decide that the foot sores and stress of the day (being know-it-all Capetonians who don’t need mountain maps, we also got lost briefly) had been worth it.


# It can be safe to sleep outdoors near the city

Orangekloof tented camp, a safe haven

We made cowboy-style spaghetti bolognaise on the communal stove. Fortunate to have the camp to ourselves, we shared a precious bottle of wine around a bonfire before collapsing on mattresses in luxury double tents (R200 a person). Here we were, close to the city and amid a spate of mountain muggings (we kept this from our US visitors till later), sleeping out in the open, with no doors or fences. Priceless.
On day 6, we walked through the shopping labyrinth at Greenmarket Square. We toured Newspaper House, Beth – a journalist at the Roanoke Times - delivering a talk to our newsrooms. We explored the devastation of District Six and pointed out the socio-economic contrasts between returning home along the M3 and the M5.
Later we headed out on the N2 for a night in Greyton, staying at a friend’s house. The town was blissfully quiet, like everyone had gone into hibernation for the winter.


# Sex sells, even along the R62




Ronnie Price is the face of the R62 sex shop. Pic; Beth Macy

 Travelling along the R62 on day 7, we popped in for a beer at Ronnies Sex Shop, which is safe to take the kids though they may giggle at the Pompstasie sign on the exterior wall. Chatting to Ronnie Price in his wheelchair (I didn't ask how he broke a leg), I learnt that the sex shop - actually a restaurant and bar where you may leave your signature underwear behind - had opened 13 years ago, “for fun”. “Sex sells,” said Ronnie before grinning for the camera. A sign of the times, his shop was littered with Karoo anti-fracking stickers and graffiti.


# It’s wild fun taking a sedan into 4X4 country

Gamkapoort Dam: The curvaceous Klein Karoo. Pic: Janet Heard

We pushed on through a treacherous 21km stretch up Seweweekspoort pass, dodging humps and bumps along the way, my city sedan groaning in sympathy with my edginess.
After zigzagging for another 25 km along a hazardous dirt road that had recently been eroded by floods, we reached our destination, Gamkapoort Dam, in the dark. I patted my car. We settled into our two-bedroom, Eskom-free cottages (R125 per person a night) which are managed by Fox Ledeboer, the legendary unofficial water bailiff who lives at the bottom of the hill, and Anne Reid, who lives at the top.
The next morning, the Karoo winter sunlight reflected, refracted and shimmered over liquid and rock in front of our cottage. I forgave my husband Steve for insisting that we trek for a day along unforgiving roads to show our US friends an obscure place way off the tourist radar. With no cell reception and aware that the closest shop was in Ladismith 90 minutes away, we spent three nights in the Swartberg among the oddly shaped cacti and giant thorn trees. We walked, cycled, kayaked, ate, drank and stared into the stillness of the illuminated Klein Karoo.
En route home along the N1 on day 10, we stopped in at Matjiesfontein for lunch in the pub, then back to the Mother City.


# There’s more to the Noon Gun than the big bang

Bo-Kaap


On day 11, Beth and I separated from our clan to vist the gorgeously kitsch Tretchikoff exhibition at the Iziko National Gallery. We strolled through parliament gardens, toured Lavender Hill “where Ellen Pakkies lives”, and ate a tasty Breyani for lunch at another place I had never been to, the Noon Gun Restaurant at the summit of Bo-Kaap.

# Where there’s a Will there’s a wave


A stoked Will catches a giant ripple at Surfers Corner. Pic:Tom Landon

 Before waving goodbye to our friends on day 12, we returned to Surfers Corner for Will to ride one last wave.


*An article about Robben Island appeared in the Cape Times on Wednesday July 20, link: http://bit.ly/rgVrUE.