Kuruman and Tsineng

February 24 – 27, 2010 Kuruman and Tsineng
We left the Kgalagadi and drove to the town of Kuruman, which was my town when I was a Peace Corps Volunteer—it was where I collected my mail, hopped on the internet and shopped for groceries. Including stops and interesting detours, it was a full day of driving—distances are vast in the Northern Cape—and we barely made it to Kuruman by sunset. Because the roads are unlit and full of potholes and cattle and other creatures occasionally wander onto the road, I was very happy to pull into Kuruman just as the sun was setting on over the Kalahari.

We stayed with my dear friends Jenny and Dirk. I met them in 2003 when I was a PCV at the church in my village, Tsineng. They had driven from town to show a film and they very graciously invited me to come and stay with them in Kuruman whenever I was in town. Little did they know that I would be at their house every weekend! I always hated taking bucket baths, and I was so very grateful to be able to take a shower occasionally. Their house is beautiful, and they are wonderful hosts. They made J. and I feel very at home. They taught us how to make a potjie (stew of meat and vegetables cooked in a three legged pot over hot coals) and they sent J. home with a little cast iron potjie (pronounced POY-key).
After visiting some more old friends in Kuruman, we drove to Tsineng to see the village and my host family. Getting to Tsineng is so much easier with a car. As a PCV, I bounced around in the back of a bakkie (truck) or hitchhiked or took a terrible bus that took three hours to get me to my village. With our trusty 4WD vehicle, it was a straight shot!

My host family was so happy to see us! Because they missed our wedding in 2008, they wanted to celebrate with us and they surprised us with a wedding cake!There was a braai and lots of spontaneous dancing around the kitchen.

Here I am in with my host mother and father.


Overall, visiting Tsineng was a little bittersweet. I suppose you can never return home; you are always different, and home is different too. Sad things have happened; for instance, one of my friends in the village had a baby that died at three months. The older kids in the household have left to work in the mines. And my dog, Lesea (means “child” in Setswana) died last year after eating poisoned meat. Lesea had a pretty long life by Tsineng standards—he was 6 years old—but both J. and I were sad to hear about it. (Why are Tswanas always poisoning their dogs?)

Overnight, it rained buckets and the road was absolutely ruined. I very carefully drove back to Kuruman, happy that we had 4WD to get us out of the mud. At certain points, J. had to get out to move rocks that were hanging out in the middle of the road!
In Kuruman, we dropped by the animal shelter to donate the dog food and supplies that we had bought for Lesea. J. was immediately mobbed by cats, which he loved!

When we left, our friend Principal Jan and his wife gave us Bafana Bafana (SA national football team) T-shirts. Go, Bafana Bafana!

Brush with Criminal Elements: Before we hopped on the bus to return to Cape Town we were in Upington eating lunch (for J., springbok carpaccio, of course) when the wait staff ran in to tell us “Is your car the white one outside? Yes? You had better have a look.” We ran outside to find that the car, which contained all of our luggage (except for camera & passports, which we were carrying) had had the back window smashed out. Nothing was taken. Why, I wonder, would you go to the trouble of bashing a window if you’re not going to steal anything? I concluded that J.’s suitcase was, at 40 kilos, too heavy to lift out of the trunk. Hurrah for heavy luggage! We met the rental agent and filed a police report. Everyone was so nice about it, and worried that it would deter us from returning to South Africa. (No worries, nothing will deter me from returning!)