A country girl (or boeremeisie, if you prefer) at heart, I have yearned to escape the captivity of the city since childhood. Finally, at the wiser age of almost 50, this year I managed to trade the buzzing life of Jozi for that of the small, rather ugly-looking town of Grabouw (What? my overseas friends ask).
However, you need only turn off the main road of Grabouw, through apple orchards and over the Palmiet River, to unearth the magic of this area.
A clod’s throw from my farm barn and I am in the Hottentot’s Holland mountains with my three dogs. We’re tracking horses, on a mountain bike, following wild buck spoor, our tongues lolling in the wind.
I wake with pink sky creeping up between my toes, and rest with the sun setting lazily and late over my new hill I call Hans se Kop. It’s a notorious climb on a cycle to ‘my” western horizon.
Despite being reclusive by nature, folk here are so embracing that I cannot help but know all the shopowners by name. My neighbour passes me speckled eggs from her dusty hens over the hedge, and kids wave their arms and shout greetings as they pass my rather shambolic smallholding,
dubbed Klipkopkraal, not only after the hard rocks on the little hill but, I suspect, also after the hard head of this artist who has now perched herself on it.
I have managed to do the apparently impossible within one year — moved my substantial collection of junk right across the country (the Pickfords team rolling their eyes), closer to the earliest settlings of my forgotten forebears. Rare people have adopted me as an adult ‘orphan” in their midst. I have a new family, nuwe lekker local Afrikaans-pratende mense, bruin en wit en swart en sommer alles. (I realise, now, I almost forgot my moedertaal, amper, during my decade in Jozi!)
I miss my old house with her embracing views of the Jozi skyline, I sorely regret not being there to share in the exciting explosion of culture in eastern downtown. I miss Drew Lindsay and his Spaza art gallery and my favourite restaurant nearby, the Troyeville Hotel. I miss the cosmopolitan buzz of the big African city but, all in all, I will not easily be convinced to trade my new domain for any other.
I chucked out my TV about five years ago, shortly after finally quitting cigarettes, and have since leapt into reading books again, mostly non-fiction, spanning a wide range, from ancient history to college zoology. Currently I am digging into old art student books, all mouldy, just unpacked after many years in storage — The Nude by Kenneth Clarke is adorning my bedside right now.
I listen quite widely — must still find a local replacement station for my favourite: Nicky Blumenfeld’s world music on Kaya FM on Sunday evenings. But Philip Glass, Michael Nyman and Erik Satie remain my favourites, though.
Now more than ever my studio is a maze of boxes and junk, so for the time being I have reluctantly shelved the idea of working — I am taking ‘off” and spending the festive season unpacking and sorting out, but already I am champing at the bit to return to art, this time to my paint brushes, after almost a decade of working in clay.
I miss the indulgence of regular cinema — the closest Cinema Nouveau is 70km away! However, my productivity soars.
I am a wild woman and love to ride motorbikes, mountain bikes and horses in the dirt. I guess I still will at age 80, perhaps with the kierie tied to the saddle. — Nicolene Swanepoel
The Wildekrans Country House in Grabouw is presenting an installation of Nikki Swanepoel’s Nguni cattle heads and vessels in its gardens. By appointment only. Tel: 083 284 6226. Visit www.wildekrans.co.za