I almost didn’t make it to the Richmond Book Fair in the Northern Cape.
What’s that adage about the journey being more important than the destination, one in which I am a firm believer? I lived it out again, by accident rather than by intent.
I was travelling through the Eastern Cape en route to Richmond to speak on the first day of the fair about the bookshop I co-own in Durban, Ike’s Books and Collectables, and I was running late.
I’d just spent a few tranquil hours at the Valley of Desolation outside Graaff-Reinet. It was early morning. I had the place to myself. Perched on a rock high above the valley, I listened to bird calls and watched black eagles soaring below me.
It was breathtaking. Anyone travelling in this area would be well advised to linger for a while. There are numerous walking trails and overnight hikes in the national park (for details: www.sanparks.org/parks/camdeboo). I was sorry to leave my meditative rock chair, but duty called and there was still a few hours’ drive ahead.
The signpost read “Richmond” and I promptly turned off on to a dirt road. It couldn’t be that far! The landscape here changes subtly; the hills are blanketed with mauves, pinks and greens, peppered with aloes and fused with soil the colour of the deepest winter’s sunset. It is a palette so beautiful, it makes you want to rush out and grab the nearest easel.
I was hooked. Five tortoises, families of meerkats, more eagles, abandoned farms, a new acquaintance on horseback and several mountain passes later, the time was fast approaching for my speech and I thought the road would never end.
As anyone who has driven on dirt roads will tell you, you have to concentrate while keeping an eye on the scenery and wildlife. By the time the rocks ran out and the tar began, I looked as though I’d been dragged through the Karoo scrub. But finally, there it was, the small town of Richmond, nestled among the koppies, in the middle of the Karoo. I drove down the main street, parked and delivered my talk. I just made it.
If you arrive on the Graaff-Reinet or Murraysburg side of town, you would hardly believe that Richmond is a stone’s throw from the N1. I didn’t notice the trucks and noise until I clambered up one of the hills to the Boer War fort at sunset to get a view of the town.
Traditionally a stopover for travellers en route from Johannesburg to Cape Town, Richmond now has another reason for you to spend a few days.
Booktown Richmond is one of 20 book towns globally and the only one on the African continent: the idea being to boost the economy in rural areas through books and tourism. The most notable example is Hay-on-Wye on the Welsh borders.
Booktown Richmond is the brain child of Darryl David, a lecturer in Afrikaans at the University of KwaZulu-Natal, who spent years searching the small towns of South Africa for a dream location.
Finding property prices too high in many areas, or simply lacking in tourism infrastructure, David settled on Richmond in the Northern Cape. There were already people with an interest in bookselling in the town, property was still reasonably priced, it was accessible, and had established guesthouses.
With the encouragement of Dr Peter Baker, a Canadian vet, who bought property in Richmond after travelling many times to visit his sons at Stellenbosch University, Booktown Richmond was born. This was in September 2007.
The book fair followed a year later. The enthusiasm and passion that these two men and their families have for Richmond and its people is infectious.
The book fair, or the Boekbedonnerd Literary Festival, is now an annual event, held at the end of October, and will celebrate its fifth anniversary next year.
There is every indication that the fair has gone from strength to strength (try booking a room or table in Richmond over the three days). This year’s theme was a celebration of Indian settlement in South Africa and attracted a host of speakers, including Ahmed Kathrada, Ronnie Govender and Chris Nicholson speaking on his book about the Indian golfer Papwa Sewgolum.
The talks took place during the day, leaving the evenings free to socialise. A series of mainly Indian films was run, organised by David and Gail Robbins, who helped to resuscitate the Apollo theatre, an Art Deco cinema in the town of Victoria West.
Plenty of entertainment, eating and drinking is laid on by the locals: cabaret, port and books, or hanging out at the local supper club. The Afrikaans band Akkedis arrived and performed over two nights and continued jamming into the early hours in the local bar.
The town has 13 bookshops, some of which are small stables tucked behind a house off the main street and converted into rooms filled with books. There is also one dedicated to vinyl. The main street, Loop Street, boasts a few larger bookshops crammed with antiques, a stuffed camel, old newspapers and other memorabilia.
Endless hours can be spent searching through photographs of a bygone age. I found a great black-and-white photograph of windmills taken somewhere in the Karoo at least 60 years ago and a five-volume set of the writings and speeches of Leon Trotsky, a bargain, if a little heavy to carry and read.
Some of the bookshops specialise in sports, books in Afrikaans or children’s fiction, and many of them also incorporate coffee, crafts or antiques as part of the business. This is a bibliophile’s dream town.
Early Friday morning and one of the bookshops had laid out a long snake of books on the pavement of the main street for local children to snap up and take home. This, with a reading programme started by the book fair, is helping to encourage a love of reading among the community. Local kids eagerly pounced on the books and carried armfuls down the street.
The fair also offers a three-day book-restoration course, run by the National Library of Cape Town, and there are plans to train two local people in the art of book conservation.
I found plenty to keep myself occupied over the three days. My Afrikaans not being up to scratch, I had to skip some of the talks, so wandered around the town, taking in the architecture and ambience. This is a photographer’s paradise too.
Flat-roofed houses, faded, cracked shutters and natural peeling paintwork that decor magazines only dream of, windmills galore and faces as open and diverse as the landscape around. The protracted twilight brings a mellow hue to the buildings, as the heat of the day subsides and the smoke from stoep fires starts to rise.
And, as I sat on the stoep, chewing my way through a sheep’s tail, courtesy of one of the locals, I realised that this is a place comfortable in its own skin, in no hurry and with little need to impress. The horse and cart that rattles through the town daily gathers the most speed. The people are friendly and hospitable and the skies expansive.
So, if you enjoy long, scenic drives, starlit skies and like to immerse yourself in all things literary, or simply just need a slower change of scene, I suggest booking your room early for next year — before the tortoises beat you to it!