BOISHAAIER 2015

SKRYFSTUKKE

LEË TENKE Willem Moore 12B

Me, Myself and I… and my horse Henry Burnett 11B

Dis al skemer in die Karoo, met die son wat ’n oranje lyntjie verf oor die andersins blou-vêr horison. Windstil, met net die onderlangse gedruis van ’n Toyota-bakkie in die duisternis wat jou herinner aan enige soort beskawing. So twintig kilometer duskant Calvinia staan ’n Datsun 1200 uit die tagtigerjare, afgetrek op die gruis langs die pad. Teen die bakkie leun twee kêrels, beide geklee in die nie-amptelike uniform van die Karoo: ’n bont Pep Stores-hemp, ’n blou Johnstone-oorpakbroek en velskoene. Dit is ’n wit bakkie, maar die bak se klap is geel, merk ek op. Die tralies agterop is vasgebind met rooi baaltou en agterop sit daar ’n vrou en twee kinders styf vasgevou onder die komberse. Dit is al diep winter in die Karoo en die bakkie se paneelbord wys ’n temperatuur onder vriespunt. Een van die mans draf nader. “Ek soek ’n lift Calvinia toe, my lanie. Asseblief. Ons petrol is op.” Ons petrol nogal – nie die voertuig s’n nie. My oog vang die ander kêrel in die truspieëltjie en, wel, dit lyk nogal of sy tenk leeg is terwyl hy diep trek aan sy Camel-light sigaret. Ek skuif oor om die deur oop te sluit en terwyl die man inklim wonder ek, hoe gaan staan ’n mens in hierdie wêreld sonder petrol? Hierdie wêreld waar die plekke so vêr van mekaar af is? Dis mos maklik, maak seker jy het genoeg petrol voor jy vertrek? Hy wikkel in langs my en stel hom voor as Jannes, maar almal noem hom Jan. Jan is baie spraaksaam, het ek gou agtergekom. Hy is ’n draadspanner, skaapskeerder en plaasarbeider in die algemeen, maar is tans werkloos. Gaan dit die maand goed en hy kry wel werk, verdien hy so R250 op ’n dag. “Die mense hier het mos maar nie geld nie, my lanie.” Ek kan nie ophou dink hoé so iets gebeur nie. Is hy ’n kerkganger en het stilletjies agter die stuurwiel gesit en bid terwyl hy met ’n leë tenk dié plat wêreld aanpak? Of het hy gereken hy gaan die geringste afdraandetjie gebruik om die enjin af te skakel? Hy verduidelik aan my dat dit wel die ander man se skuld is dat hulle gaan staan het. “Dis my swaertjie se skuld, my lanie. Hy het mos gisteraand sy ma in Sutherland gaan aflaai. Toe hy vanmôre die bakkie terugbring, toe sê hy net nee, hy’t die tenk vol getap.” “Kon jy nie net op die bakkie se petrolmeter sien dat die tenk nie vol is nie?”, vra ek uit my onkunde. Hy sug oor ek so min weet van hierdie wêreld, en sê: “Daai meter werk mos lankal nie meer nie, my lanie.”

They told me it would be easy – said that any horse and rider combina- tion could do it. They lied … of course. I guess that is why only a hundred elite riders competed in the most gruelling of endurance races, the hundred kilometre race across the Namib Desert. It was too late for me to turn back. The stage was set for an unbelievable competition of sheer strength and speed. My stallion, Hurst Bangalore, and I intended to win. The first fifty kilometres turned out to be an utter disaster. I had given my horse energy boosters, but the effect I had hoped for backfired completely. Hurst Bangalore was like a 2-ton tank without brakes – unstoppable. Inwardly I was crying with frustration at my own stupidity. The hot pace he set was devouring his energy. And it was all my fault. While emotions raged inside me, fatigue started to set in. After hours of battling 500 kilogrammes of raw muscle, I wanted to give up, bail out – anything to stop the physical and emotional torture that I suffered. I kept on screaming and pleading, “Stop, you crazy horse. Stop!” I was not the driver any more, he was. I felt like an abducted hostage to be released on his term only. After what felt like an eternity, we came to Dune 7, a colossal mass of sand. It loomed before us like an endless pathway ascending to Heaven, although at the time it felt more like a stairway to Hell. Bangalore had had enough. He suffered severe dehydration and I could not ask him to continue. Past caring, I howled my frustration at God, ‘Why do you play with me?” Reflecting on those events, I often try to analyse the irrational turmoil inside me at that stage. I needed God’s help. I begged for it. Yet, I did not want it. He had disappointed me. I was angry at God, angry at myself, angry at the irritating jingle of my tack and angry at the one grain of sand that kept mocking me. In a few minutes the sand would have swallowed our sweat and in a few hours it would have covered our tracks. We were beaten by the desert and the only human company around was me, myself and I. While I trudged through the sand, it suddenly hit me why I actually loved the sport so much. It is because of the horses, the heat, the electrifying speed and the sweet satisfaction that comes with a completed ride. As I look back on my experience, I now realise that I was not completely alone. My friend Bangalore was there with me all the way. He would have run himself to death for me, even though he was dehydrated and exhausted, and for that, I love him. Here’s to you, brother.

Choices, choices By Wikus Groenewald (Grd 12B) to everything. Someone once said;” Whatever you think you can or think you can’t you’re right.” That to me is life in a nutshell. Life is littered with happenings. Events have the potential to shape us. They are not inher- ently good or bad. People tend to fixate on the negative things in life which have conditioned us to let life’s happenings negatively affect us. Divorces, break-ups car crashes. These are all very strong experiences with the potential to change our lives. They will, in fact definitely

(DISCURSIVE ESSAY)

It is often said “You’re only as old or as young as you feel”. Obviously, logically this is not true. Since the day you were born you have been ag- ing. We have come to measure age in years and months. Yet it is my belief that this saying does not apply to literal age and I am willing to go as far as saying that only the “young at heart” can truly understand this saying in its entirety. The term “age” we cannot measure. I believe that perception is the key. “The key to what?” you may ask … quite frankly the key

change our lives. Our attitude and perception are the factors within our control. These fac- tors determine how we see these experiences. It’s what takes you from zero to hero in your own eyes. Positive life happenings may include the day of your marriage, memorable birthdays or the birth of your child. It is important to realise the events can also be negative. It’s up to you to see how you play it.

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