Catching Up, Last Days And Cyclone Freddy

We needed an entire month to organise ourselves before entering unknown territory. I told Butch, “Fine.” He said, “You can have February.” So we decided to take up a February special offered by the ATKV (Afrikaanse Taal en Kultuur Vereeniging) resort, Die Eiland, near Tzaneen.

We could stay and enjoy all the amenities at a very reasonable rate. I caught up on my blogs after a six-week break from my computer. Butch would get cracking on updating our insurance, especially our travel insurance for Africa, which proved far more challenging than we had expected.

Every day there’s a list of “Best of” stories on Social Media. Yesterday, Cape Town was once again voted the best city to visit in 2023, etc. The top of my list of Friendliest People is undoubtedly Limpopo Province. It took me a while to realise that people cared about your answer, would stop, look me in the eye, and say, “Good day, how are you?” At first, I was startled and would respond, “Good morning”, then turn and walk off, often shouting, “I’m fine, and how are you?” in my hurried, distracted way, until I realised the person had stopped and was looking at me with a huge smile. I slowed down and did the same. Those greetings made my day and often led to a conversation. Some days, those chats were the only conversations I had all day. This friendliness will be the highlight of my stay in Limpopo Province.

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Our beloved motorcar, which had sat on bricks in Bellville for five months, was finally repaired after months of waiting for a tiny electronic part shipped from Germany. I was sure I could’ve walked there and back with the parcel. Once up and running, webuycars.co.za would flog it for us. It was the last of our possessions to sell before we had our passports stamped to leave South Africa.

We were advised to obtain a Carnet de Passage for the Honey Badger. Some African countries require a passport to enter. The AA (Automobile Association of South Africa) issues these documents, and the nearest office was in Pretoria. We applied at the last minute because the document, valid for one year, is issued four days after payment is received, not at the time of departure.

Although amicable, knowledgeable, and helpful, the officials issue the documents but never offer a delivery service. Their “delivery person” left, and no one filled the vacancy.

Once again, Post Net came to the rescue; they arranged for a courier to collect our documents, and Post Net in Pretoria then forwarded them to the Tzaneen branch. Thank you, Kim Scholtz, our outstanding contact at Post Net in Tokai, for your outstanding service. Without fail, you always pull the rabbit out of the hat for us.

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While we bobbed in the heated pool, cycled and hiked a few times, we became aware of Cyclone Freddie. Although it was hot and humid, the heavens opened without a breath of wind, and soon rivers of water washed past the Honey Badger.

The Letaba River slowly filled, and when we next passed by, we noticed local ladies couldn’t do their laundry under the old bridge. The bridge was barely visible. News of devastating floods, storms and high seas reached us, and photographs of our niece in Tofo on social media told a disturbing tale. At least Casa Butch was still standing.

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One morning, my beloved asked me to inspect his bottom. He felt discomfort in his derrière and thought it best that I examine it. Dr Van Heerden to the rescue. A sight to behold. Butch’s plump bottom was covered in red blisters, some of which wept. I was at a loss. Subtropical skin rashes aren't my forte, but I could report that things weren't looking good.

Google’s our friend, and soon he had an appointment with the local GP in Tzaneen—for a diagnosis. A blister beetle had somehow wormed its way into his underpants. It may have settled in the folds while on the washing line. The little critter became agitated when he realised he was trapped in his underpants and went into fight mode, spraying his venom from his hind legs.

Believe it or not, the Blister Beetle, one of a thousand species, is in the same genus as the Spanish fly—both secrete highly toxic venom. For days, they had to apply a cream to the affected area, and they were prescribed antibiotics. Eventually, the blisters healed, and now, two months later, ugly purple scars remain. That little beetle is no joke.

The Bottom Line! Blister beetles excrete a toxic blistering agent called cantharidin, which can cause irritation and blistering when it contacts the eyes, skin, mouth, throat, or digestive tract. The resulting irritation and blisters can be painful but are usually not life-threatening.

The two photographs of the Blister Beetle above are from the internet. They appear to be very common in the Kruger National Park.

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Butch, a very loyal patient, immediately liked Dr Andre Botes, who conducted a thorough check-up, ran a few necessary tests, and declared him fit to travel north beyond our borders. Dr Botes worked in Somerset West before moving to Tzaneen and remembers Dr Keith Joubert fondly. Butch and Andre had plenty to natter about.

As luck would have it, Butch needed a dental check-up too and, on recommendation, had Dr Marlies Meintjies check his ivories. Much to his surprise, she made an exception and had him in the chair at 7h30 the next morning, before her day began. He beamed when the procedure was done, singing her praises. “Such tiny fingers, no pain when she injected him, and the extraction, although tedious, was a piece of cake in her capable hands.”

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On the way to Tzaneen in January, a friend’s husband, Leon, recognised us as he drove to Johannesburg in their new motorhome. They had spent a few days in their newly acquired Iveco truck and, as expected, had a snag list to attend to.

Hilde messaged to say we’d been spotted on the highway. I was over the moon, and we soon made plans to meet once we were settled at the Eiland.

The highlight of our stay at Die Eiland was undoubtedly my roomie Hilde and her husband Leon's visit. Hilde and I met on a black-and-white photography course a few years ago and have kept in touch since. A very talented graphic designer and photographer, Hilde designs and manufactures unique products, such as lamp and candle shades. She often exhibits at Kamers vol Geskenke, held across South Africa. Browse her gorgeous creations on the EyeCandyLibrary Facebook page.

With a basket laden with gifts, I filled my fridge with Hilde’s delicious, spicy Neapolitan sauce. Garlic filled our kitchen when I served it with pasta on a miserably wet evening, and a few days later it lifted my boring Gnocchi to new heights when we needed something comforting—the dregs I scooped onto our Boerie rolls. I used every last drop, Hilde. Bellissimo!

We had no time for a lavish meal; we had so much to catch up on. Hilde’s sausage, which Butch braaied, was perfect for lunch, and we served it with another winner from the basket: a garlic ciabatta and my salad, whipped up in a few minutes.

Not only did you drive to see us, Hilde and Leon, but you also brought lovely treats and spoiled us rotten. I am saving the lanterns for Zanzibar. We hope you can wrap up your working life soon and join other nomads on the road. A life-changing adventure awaits you. Next time, it might be me texting you, “You’ve been spotted!”

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We made a few minor upgrades to the Honey Badger before we finally left South Africa. On my insistence, we’ve fitted tracks (ladder-like tracks for negotiating short clay or muddy potholes and short roads).

We upgraded our Wi-Fi modem with a booster and a multi-directional aerial system to improve our internet connectivity.

The rain didn’t leave us unscathed; silicone came to the rescue, and we applied it along the length of our awning to keep water from seeping into our windows.

The one-stop shop, Tzaneen 4X4, made all these additions, and the charming owner, Steven Bishoff, never said no, never said 'later', and was never too busy. Thank you for being so helpful and caring.

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On the spur of the moment, after Butch’s dental appointment, I suggested we start up the Honey Badger. TZN printing is across the road. We swung in, and Eric de Jager knew exactly what we needed. We started small—just a logo, “Honey Badger on Tour”, with the website address, etc. Rave reviews from friends and family followed, encouraging us to go further and requesting an African map. We’d mark our route as we went along. Grand idea.

There was no stopping me now; we added two more decals and another map. The Honey Badger’s looks improved dramatically, and her admirers have increased tenfold since the beautification.

Wherever we stop, people gather to check her out and ask about our route. My favourite question is always, “When will you stop?” Never, I hope. Butch pipes up, “It all depends on health, wealth and desire. We have no end date and no final destination.”

Butch, with a red marker, keeps our route travelled up to date. With colourful local cloth adorning our dashboard and flags and decals announcing our presence, we’ve only encountered friendly officials who have mostly let us pass and wished us a safe, pleasant journey.

Thank you, Eric, for your excellent work.

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I promised the manager at the Fish Away shop/restaurant in Tzaneen that I would mention their excellent fish and chips. We never eat fish up country, only at the seaside. Tzaneen, of all places, broke our rules. At the strip mall, we stocked up on a few groceries at Checkers, then decided on a whim to have lunch at Fish Away; we enjoyed it so much we did it again.

10/10 The best fish and chips I have ever had. Crispy panko crumbs coated the delicious, flaky hake fillet. Served with golden potato chips, crunchy coleslaw, the crispiest deep-fried onion rings, a sachet of mayo, and a generous wedge of lemon, the fish came with all of it. The price: R49.95 (yes, I’ve not made a typo)

On both occasions, we complimented the chef and told the manager that our meal was the best we’d had in Tzaneen. Congratulations on serving a delicious meal. 

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South Africans are visa-exempt when visiting Mozambique; our passports are stamped at the border, and we pay a road tax. That’s it. However, this exemption is only valid for 30 days. We need at least sixty days to visit Mozambique, with the plan to travel along the coastline and then into Malawi.

Butch posed the question on the Drive Moz FB page. Some smart Alec, presumably with influence in high circles, replied, assuring us we could apply for a visa online, which we did. Our application was declined because “South Africans are exempt”.

It seemed impossible, so I asked on an overlanding site. Within minutes, someone responded and advised me to phone the Mozambique Embassy in Nelspruit. I did, and they said it was possible. They assured me that all we had to do was ask for a “duplo" at the border, and we’d get a sixty-day stamp. At the border, I asked for a duplo; they said it wasn't possible. Our stamp lets us visit as tourists for 30 days. 

Long story short. We went to Inhambane and consulted a visa expert. He explained it like I was a child. South Africans cannot apply for an extended tourist visa—finished and klaar. Our stamp is valid for one month.

The laws changed a few days ago, and most countries, except Austria, can now apply online for a 30-, 60-, or 90-day visa. What’s more, they can do so 48 hours before entering Mozambique. However, South Africans must return to the border and have their passports stamped.  

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Now, my dilemma. The visa photo. Mine was a reality check. Oh, my word, I’m ancient. And ugly. As my friend Audrey said when I mentioned my day-long self-worth decline, I have no reason to be confident.

“Hell. Yes, they tell you, "Don’t smile, pretend you’re vomiting, and keep your head still against the backboard. While looking natural." Might as well have a broom up your !@#$.”

“I ugly-cried for a day, Auds!”

“Not worth it; they’re a cruel and demeaning bunch, and they don’t say “say sex” while licking your lips. For goodness’ sake.”

I immediately pulled out my vanity basket and mixed a clay and baobab face mask to fix it. A little too late, you might think, but hope springs eternal in the human breast. Before I pull the cucumber slices off my eyes, I remind myself that these wrinkles proudly and unashamedly tell the story of my life, the good, the bad, and the ugly, and they also tell of my smiles, joy, and happiness.

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Our cycling expeditions took us to some very interesting places. During a cloudburst, we pulled over and waited out the storm at a roadside "cafe" where the ladies were grilling spatchcocked chickens on the braai. Delicious, smoky piri-piri chicken. On another occasion, we watched a huge cauldron of maize porridge bubbling away. Farm workers stopped for a ladle of piping-hot porridge while waiting for their transport. On that cold, rainy day, I caught Butch salivating. We met the most interesting people, and one guy, a taxi operator, would hoot and flash his lights whenever he passed us. A good contact if my legs gave out!

Our pit stops were extra special this time as we nibbled on Zietsman's very special dried mango slices. They dry the hand-cut slices on an ancient bed, the kind with springs, which they lug in and out of the house each day. Hilarious to watch.

The rains and cyclone were behind us. River levels were subsiding, the veld was green and lush, and the days were warm. The smallest changes began around us: seeds germinated, and mushrooms emerged from the peat, mulch, bark, and soil. Frogs laid eggs in puddles everywhere, and soon armies of tadpoles floated like clouds in the murky waters. Trees and shrubs burgeoned, new leaves unfurled, and flowers appeared. Platoons of ants marched in battalions, carrying building materials for new nests and anthills. From the sky, nature wreaked havoc, yet rewarded the earth with new life from the bottom up. The biggest moths would bug us at night as soon as we switched on a white light.

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Although the month’s stay at Die Eiland had soon passed, we accomplished everything we intended and enjoyed all the facilities, restaurant, and takeaways; it was time to move on. I'd certainly miss the washing machine, gym, hot showers, and chats with the staff, but I don’t think I could’ve stayed a day longer. My itchy feet were eager to get moving.

As we drove out the gates, great white cotton-wool balls swiftly moved across the blue sky. The Honey Badger, ready to show off her new glad rags, pointed her nose toward Magoebaskloof.

Finally: One of my blogs was published in an overlanding magazine. I was immensely thrilled by the honour. Thank you, Adventure Africa/Avontuur Afrika; you made my day. Seeing my words in print and my photograph on the front cover was incredible. Extraordinary.