Twintig jaar. 
Dis hoe lank ons hierdie Augustus al woon in ons huis in Riebeek-Wes. Die wit huis met die groen dak en die haan op die dak (soos ons altyd beduie). Bo in Stasieweg. Met Kasteelberg wat aan die linkerkant staan, en die vallei – met sy wintermis en somer-stof – wat lê aan die regterkant. (Jakob Ses het my geleer mens kyk altyd noord as mens rigting beduie…)
Dit was nie maklik om die skuif te maak uit Upington in die vroeë 2000’s nie. Die nog-wankelrige besigheid het begin groei in die Wes-Kaap, maar sou dit hou? En sou ons kon regkom? En aanpas? Sou ons ‘n huis kon bekostig? En ‘n kantoor-plek? Waar sou ons woon?
We spent a few years renting townhouses and apartments in different towns from where I could work when on month-long business trips to the Western Cape. But that only served to show us where we would NOT want to settle.
So after much searching and wondering we stumbled into the Riebeek Valley – on easter weekend 2003. The estate agent showed us some properties that Saturday morning… small… and super expensive. Feeling deflated (again) – we eventually asked to see a house that we spotted on a list in their office (it was close to what we could afford – and had an outbuilding…). She took us there – somewhat unenthusiastically.
We walked through the farmstyle gate, as Tom – the owner – appeared from his workshop (the outbuilding) clasping a big hammer, and wearing faded cut-off jean shorts and a sleeveless vest. He stood strong and upright. A typical metal craftsman with his wide shoulders.
“Hi“, he shouted loudly with a friendly smile. As I walked towards him to shake hands, Cecile was eyeballing the place with it’s abundance of overgrown green everywhere, it’s roaming spaces and it’s honesty, and said to me softly – before we even reached Tom: “Dis die plek“.
Tom wanted R490 000. Steep for us, but with some stretching we would just be able to make the bond payments. Radie – the estate agent principle – suggested we put in a lower offer (as the property was not in the “normal” type of condition for a family with young children), but we wondered… We negotiated with Tom: sell the house at that price WITH the two chandeliers in the sitting room (hand-made by him), as well as the magnificent metal rooster on the roof (also made by Tom). Tom said “OK – but then you have to take the three geese walking in the almond orchard as well.“.
We signed that same morning. We were blindingly in love.
Toe die tyd kom om te begin regmaak vir trek uit Upington, sê Cecile NEE – Alida is oppad. So dit was ‘n jaar later – in ‘n harde Augustus-reën – dat Alida onder my baadjie die huis ingedra word. Die water het tot teen die agterdeur kom staan, terwyl meubels en bokse deur lang gras en modder aangedra is.
Dinge was ongemaklik. Kombuisgeriewe was min, die enkele badkamer was primitief, en dit het gevoel die wind waai deur die huis. Maar ons het geweet dit sou ‘n PROSES wees om ingeleef te raak hier. Ons het die plek die naam gegee “Altyd Onderweg“… later sommer begin praat van “Onderweg“.
Die buitegebou (Tom se eertydse werkswinkel) was intussen ingerig as kantore en die personeel het ook getrek vanaf Upington en hier begin werk. Familie het ingespring met Danie wat help met dry walling , Pa wat diefwering gemaak het, en Dirk wat tuinhekke en katte-toegange bou en plaveisel lê.
As for the house, I had promptly put in much effort getting to know the builders and renovators in the area. I showed them where I wanted the “bloody noisy” wooden floors taken out and replaced with concrete so we could put down carpets and tiles, had them measure up where we wanted built-in cupboards in the kitchen, etc etc.
They all disappeared. No quotes. We couldn’t understand why. We were blind.
Daniël (5) took to exploring and playing in the vast and wild third-of-a-hectare plot. While he adjusted to being separated from his Ouma Ertjiepit (she had played a critical and pivotal role in his first years), his Oupa Jan continued to send hand-written maths and word quizzes by post every few weeks. This helped to feed Daniël’s ever inquisitive young mind… eagerly filling in the answers with every arrival of a package.
Pa en Ma het op ‘n stadium die plek kom bekyk… soos ouers doen. Ma het stiller geraak soos ons deurstap en ek al die idees en planne noem. By die destydse eetkamer – waar deesdae die boekekamer is – kon Pa nie meer nog ‘n half-gepleisterde muur en kaal sementvloer verduur nie, en mompel terwyl hy omdraai en wegstap: “Jy sal hierdie f****n plek nooit regkry nie.”
Cecile het begin tuinmaak, en potskerfies en ou flessies in die tuin opgegrawe. Ons het begin kennisse en vriende maak, en geleer die plek was voorheen (in die oorlogtyd?) ‘n kliniek. Party mense wat ons leer ken het was kundig en kon interessante dinge uitwys: die wydte van die panele in die houtdeure beteken iets; die metaal-insetsels in die boonste venstertjies wat uit Brittanje kom; die populier-balke bo die plafonne… Ons het begin insigte verkry en leer van ons ou huis… blykbaar die tweede-oudste in die Vallei… en waarom bouers nie sommer daaraan wil “vat” nie. En ons het vriende geraak met stunning Ronéll: plaaslike argitek wat weet van ou huise.
Intussen het my liewe tante Rosalba ook eendag kom kuier… net so stil-geskok soos Ma en Pa. Sy het ook swygend deurgestap en by die destydse kombuis, waar ons pasgemaakte oregon pine tafel gestaan het – die een met die groot krake om outentiek te lyk – gaan staan. Haar vingers deur die krake laat gly en op haar afgemete manier geprewel: “Ai jirre, my kind“.
We went through the first few winters and summers. Lay awake at night as storm winds came racing through the tall trees (“die lang bome“) across the street, shook the house and growled down the chimney… and we realised again the house had endured more than 120 winters before, and went back to sleep. In the heat of Swartland summers we learnt the value of keeping the wooden shutters closed, and how energy-efficient thick clay walls are. We got used to – and steadily fell in love with – the old oregon pine flooring. Not just because of the practical value, warmth, ease of cleaning, and being water resistant, but also being able to hear the muffled sounds of children moving in their rooms… the sounds of LIFE.
We steadily got to know all our neighbours… Hennie, Groot Anna, Oom Daan Karstens with his sheep, Boeta Fortuin, Sturvy, Klein Anna, Herman Geustyn, Daniel Christen … and we took to expand our livestock: geese, ducks, chickens…. and Hannes, the muscovy duck who used the driveway as his runway for taking off, and landing again weeks later on his return.
And Ronéll guided us with much encouragement and passionate enthusiasm through the GREAT RENOVATION project of 2009. Assisted by her meticulous planning and collaboration with the Cape Heritage Foundation. The building was expanded, new windows added, additional bathrooms built, a new kitchen, a deck, etc etc while the four of us slept in the outbuilding on one double mattress on the floor for 7 months. Cecile bathed the kids in a bucket and prepared meals on a little two-plate stove. Great fun!
The changes and renovations were done to authentic style… we did not use conventional builders, but local craftsmen who knew their stuff. The names of “Oom Joe” and “Oom Petrus” and “Jan de Bruin” will forever be remembered for their masterly work in this house. Watching them day-by-day as they created magic from a few pieces of wood or bags of cement made for wonderful memories.
Daar was intens moeilike oomblikke – tot ons weer op ‘n desperate Maandagoggend of twee vir Ronéll laat kom… help asseblief! En sy hier aankom met nat hare nog pas uit die stort – en ons vir haar die ineengestorte muur, of verrotte verskuilde houtbalk, of verskil in ontblote vloerhoogte uitwys, en hardop weeklaag dat ons eerder die plek maar moet verkoop! En sy – tot ons verbasing – liries raak oor die briljante ontdekking wat gemaak is, en hoe ons dit-en-dat kan doen en nog ‘n idee wat sy nou het, en waar kry ons daardie lieflike deur!? (wat ons op die punt was om weg te gooi), …
En skielik is sy weer weg. En ons het weer verwonderde moed. En onsigbare skoenlappers fladder deur ons huis…
In this house we had – and still have – the privilege of countless visits from family. And friends – from close by and from far – sometimes very far. Meals and braais and music nights and wine by the fireplace. And soirees when there were so many people we had them practically “hanging from the rafters” (do I see Stephen frowning?) .
And here we home-schooled, and got sick, and had happy days and worked late-nights, and left for work or other reasons long before dawn, and fretted our worldly worries with wordless evening meals. We cried deeply, laughed freely, slammed doors in a rage, and had birthday parties, and lost beloved animals to Station Road’s wheels.
Sometimes intense sad times came over the house… when our family lost a mother, grandmother, father, oupa… or a brother. Or a good friend. Yes – sometimes sad events or bad news came into the house. To be softly discussed and wondered about. And they will probably come again.
But also often the bliss of tranquil times come to lay upon the house like a protective shroud of mist. When we experience good health, the young ones are happy, there is still wine in the cupboard, dry firewood, … and the floors have sounds.
Soos die jare verbygaan, en van ons se knieë meer begin kraak as die houttrappe, en die jonges se kamers meer en meer leegstaan, kom die besef dat ons tyd in hierdie lieflike tuiste ook op een of ander stadium sal moet einde kry.
Dit gaan moeilik wees.
Intussen bly dit ‘n nimmereindigende taak om ‘n ou plek soos hierdie in stand te hou… elke jaar ‘n stukkie pleister, ‘n nuwe kraak… ‘n venster vervang.
Maar dis OK, ‘n liefdes-taak… al stap mens soms moeg en bietjie moedeloos om die erf en bekyk die plek en dink vir jouself: Ai jirre, my mens. Jy sal hierdie f****n plek nooit regkry nie.
To every person who visited us in this old house: thank you for making this a special place. Please come again.
