I doubt that you’ve heard of the Pondoro Game Lodge but if you ever get the chance to stay there, seize it. It overlooks the Olifants River that runs through the swathe of game reserves fringing the Kruger Park in what used to be the Eastern Transvaal and is now Mpumalanga.
My brother, Brendan, booked me, his son Conal and himself into the lodge for two nights to celebrate my first visit to my South African family in many years – too many years.
The trip began at Loule railway station on Wednesday morning and proceeded via Lisbon and Frankfurt airports to Johannesburg. I had looked forward to the overnight flight south in a giant Lufthansa A380,
the sheer size of which is lost on passengers seated in its multiple compartments. But apart from sitting remarkably high above the ground in the upper cabin, I might have been in any big aircraft. It was certainly a delightfully smooth flight.
CONAL & JULENE
Awaiting me at Johannesburg airport (which had changed beyond all recognition) were my niece, Micaela, and Julene. Julene is Conal’s partner. She runs the office of the small construction company that Brendan and Conal have set up and which services a big coal mine near Witbank.
The love of Julene's life, apart from Conal, is her Pekinese bitch, Charlie. Charlie goes fortnightly to a parlour to be washed, dried, perfumed and whatever. She is loved almost to death and seems to thrive on it.
Bren's daughter, Micaela lives in Pretoria, in one of the city’s secure housing complexes.
She took us first to her home, from which she conducts her own business, the sale of upmarket equestrian equipment. She is herself a fine equestrian. Brendan had been been waiting there to meet us.
From Pretoria it's an hour and a bit to Witbank (now called something unpronounceable), an unalluring coal-mining and steel-making town.
Bren has two Jack Russels, the younger and larger of which, Milo, is famously anti-social and notorious for nipping visitors. But, for reasons known only to herself, she fell instantly in love with me, followed me everywhere and insisted on joining me in bed at night.
Brendan was amazed for such behaviour on Milo's part was unprecedented. Small as she is, she is carefully shut into the house whenever visitors call for fear that she will add them to her toll of victims. She is not so much hostile as completely unpredictable.
In my case it was sheer, unadorned adoration - and that was fine by me. I'd rather be overwhelmed with affection than bitten any day.
Crime and security are the preoccupations of most Witbank residents because burglary and assaults are,
regrettably, all too common. To enter Bren’s house, one has to get past a succession of gates, beams and alarms. My brother has spent a fortune on security for himself and his family. He says it’s saved his life – for his house, like those around it, has been frequently assaulted by people who are often very nasty.
He explained that it was safer to keep a couple of alert terriers inside the house than to allow guard dogs to patrol the garden because the latter, like the unfortunate rotweiler over the road, were simply poisoned.
One of my missions during the visit was to close a bank account in which the fruits of a matured fund had been deposited.
It was outside the downtown bank concerned that Brendan had narrowly escaped muggers. Inside, we grew increasingly nervous as the bureaucracy dragged on for nearly an hour. And I couldn't believe the huge pile of notes that were eventually counted out in front of us - hundreds of them. I stuffed them into my pockets and we made a beeline for the car. In Europe, I calculated, the equivalent sum could have been paid in just 13 notes.
On a Monday morning the construction team arrives early at the house to exchange the previous week's uniforms for fresh ones, ditto worn gloves and any other necessary safety equipment. Bren discusses with Conal any problems concerning the job that awaits before Conal and the workers set out for the mine. Unless his presence is required for a meeting, Bren stays behind in the office.
In offices around the back of the house, Elbe and her brother Pierrie, operate the 4-head embroidery machine that Bren has set up as a sideline. Elbe (short for Elsabe) is expert at working out the digital designs that are then embroidered on to garments or whatever. She and I chose a leopard spoor as the logo for our newly acquired jackets and it looked brilliant.
Back to Pondoro. The game lodge is all of four hours from Witbank on roads crowded with mini-bus taxis and intimidating coal trucks. It’s not a relaxing ride. And when one reaches the gates, there are 17 kilometres of rough road to cover to reach the camp. As I was later to discover, this approach road is nothing compared to the tracks and river beds negotiated by the safari jeeps - hard on bad backs such as mine.
Each jeep takes up to 12 people, including the ranger at the wheel and the tracker perched on a seat welded to the front of the vehicle. The ranger talks to other rangers and trackers by radio in their joint search for animals. From their seats, the trackers can discern exactly what animal has left tracks or droppings and in which direction it was moving. The trackers don’t hesitate to go off on foot with just a radio to find the animals – and the rangers drive into the thickest bush.
The result is pictures like this, of a magnificent leopard at rest, entirely indifferent to our presence. As it happened, he had just tried to stalk guineafowl, lost his balance in the process and severely cut his leg. The ranger opined that the wound would heal in a few days. We hoped so. In these circumstances, nature is allowed to take its course.
Equally fascinating was the young hyena, who struggled to marry his curiosity with his nervousness. He kept on approaching the jeep and then retreating again. His mother, a few metres away, seemed entirely unconcerned. She knew, the ranger said, that we presented no threat to her babe. Indeed, we didn’t.
On the charm front it was hard to beat the banded mongooses that invaded the dining terrace with impunity. According to the ranger, at least one would leap happily into the lap of visitors. I was a little nervous in case of a rabid bite but no harm came to us.
Dining was conducted on a raised platform under the trees, overlooking the Olifants river. At night braziers kept us warm. Breakfast was served shortly after nine, after the return of the safari jeeps that had set out at 06.00. Monkeys played in the trees overhead and, if one looked carefully, one could see the warthogs digging in the gently sloping banks on the far side of the river.
Eric, our tracker, took me bush-walking, pointing out the spoor of both male and female leopard close to the camp reception. Indeed, one of the leopards passed through the lodge each night, leaving clear prints in the sand. Eric knew the droppings and spoor of every buck and predator.
MALE & FEMALE LEOPARD SPOOR
He could say how many animals they were and the direction they'd taken. If we come across elephant or big cats, he said, stand still behind me and don't run. Because if you run, you will be killed. Happily, we came across nothing more threatening than a couple of sunbathing crocs.
FROM FRANKFURT AIRPORT - BETWEEN FLIGHTS:
It was hard to take my leave of my hosts yesterday. Their hearts are as big as they are, and their hospitality and helpfulness is unbeatable. Thank you guys for a wonderful holiday. I wish you weren't quite so far away.
