VERANDA OBSERVATIONS & MUSINGS!

In Afrikaans, there is a wonderfully descriptive word viz. kaskenades. This term covers all sorts of japes, comedic interchanges and activities.

So, on a recent road trip, we spent one night at a rural hotel of long standing. What an interesting experience. The title of this piece should more correctly read STOEP KASKENADES!

The hotel is “old”, as in its design, size, frontage and its old-stylishness. Wooden floors, high ceilings in dark corridors with beautiful fittings and oddments of antique furniture. It just exudes “coolness”, both in terms of temperature and attitude, when you approach the reception desk.

After checking in, we repaired to the beautiful stoep facing the main road and large parking lot. The intention was to recharge with cold beverages and eventually dinner. However, we were blessed with a lot more value than just that.

You may have read P.G. Wodehouse and his golfing stories as related by the Oldest Member sitting in the clubhouse? I felt that I played the same role sitting there. So, let’s relate some of these observations from a similar perspective.

I cast my eyes across the parking lot where, under large bluegum trees, there was a gathering of local folk enjoying the Sunday afternoon sun. It was situated right next to a small convenience store.

Loud banging, shouting and bursts of laughter was punctuated by the crowd dispersing and rapidly coalescing again. To the inexperienced eye, this behaviour was reminiscent of a potentially fractious event, possibly ending in bloodshed.

But, my rheumy eyes, being worldly-wise, immediately identified it as a game of dums, otherwise known as dominoes to some genteel folk. A milo is as good as a winning mile in this competitive world.

This was interspersed with loud snatches of modern music, much in line with the young folk of today, I did not need to use my ear horn that often.

An interesting sign in the parking lot told us that the Intercape Bus Liner made its stop here to pick up passengers en route to the next hamlet, or schoolchildren on their way back to boarding school. This threw up a host of interesting folk and interactions.

One such was the appearance of a few young ladies ready for the trek back to school, accompanied by assorted adults. Joining us on the stoep, beverages of different varieties were ordered and quaffed. Not for the two younger ladies though, something upsetting which I would have frowned upon with my grizzly eyebrows .

We were informed that this was standard practice by the locals where the “event” allowed for relaxation, catch-up and communal planning for the week ahead. In between drinks, smaller buses popped in and out, bustling off with more passengers after disgorging others.

The conversation by the stoep folk drifted from the mundane to the serious, interspersed with laughter and ribald ribbing. All the while the dums game carrying on at an increasing volume on the side.

My own reverie was interrupted by our Waiter informing us that the big bus would arrive by 19:00 and it would be accompanied by the hotel supplying pre-ordered victuals for hungry travellers.

Random tour buses also passed through, often allowing passengers to stretch their legs and look around.

By now my eyesight seemed to weaken due to an impending overdose of amber liquid. Simultaneously the volume of the conversation increased slightly, with more animation accompanied by exotic drinks appearing. Were they Jaeger bombs or something along that line?

Suddenly iur Waiter donned an orange bib and armed himself with a short whip as the big bus hove into sight. A mini-deluge of well-mannered wayfarers alighted and, in a quick flurry of activity, collected dinner, used the toilets and left just as quickly.

Suddenly, it was dark, the Waiter was on his way home, the other stoep partners were swayingly making their ways home and we were suddenly left on our own.

Our only company at this point was the Barkeep, sundry folk walking up and down the main road and a couple playing Scrabble. But, not for long, since a car with helium balloons indicating a 16th birthday in progress loudly paraded past us with the hooter announcing the joyous event. Or was it a 61st?

What an exhausting afternoon for one not used to such frenetic activity. But what an entertaining and pleasing one as well. We saw small-town living in a nutshell. Life being lived in a rural setting.

The biggest thing to me, as a city slicker, was the energy and pleasure given and taken from doing what must be done by ordinary people going about their business. None of us were glued to screens, whether a TV or otherwise, yet we enjoyed a swell, mellow day.

Maybe I belong on that stoep more often. Yes, we will be back, maybe to meet the same folk or another set of players along the same storyline.

How interesting!