On a dusty signboard in the middle of nowhere, Toast Coetzer learns about the lives of travellers gone by.
On long road trips, I often pull over at places where people stand or sit while waiting for lifts. In the leafier parts of our country, these are always under a tree.
In the Northern Cape, however, there are no such luxuries. Here, the best a hitchhiker can hope for is a road sign that might provide a slice of shade.
In June last year, I crossed the border from Namibia at Onseepkans and drove south along a dentistry-busting road into the dry expanse of Bushmanland. About 7 km south of Onseepkans, my eye caught a dusty, sun-bleached road sign indicating that Pofadder, Springbok and Bitterfontein were ahead.
Noticing the board was covered in graffiti as high as a person could reach, I pulled over.I now got to see the other side of the sign, the side a motorist would see if they were driving back the way I had come. "Suidwes-Afrika" it read, despite Namibia having been renamed 33 years ago. To be fair, there was a new board to the side that did say "Namibia", so why wasn't the old one removed?
Maybe because it's more than just defunct infrastructure; because it captures something about Onseepkans that no website can ever tell you. It's like an archaic Facebook wall where entries are a little harder to delete.
I approached the dusty hieroglyphics, squinting in the bright sunlight. The first epitaph I read gave me a reality check: "Amigo was here to follow the living of suffering - 16 Oct 2022." It immediately put my own air-conditioned journey into perspective.
Next to Amigo's words, a certain Paulus "Mighty D" wrote that he was heading to the "Goudstad" (City of Gold) in search of peace and money for his "gemoedsrus" (peace of mind). I wonder how things turned out for Paulus in Joburg? I guess once you've walked the 7km from Onseepkans to here, you've already made up your mind as to where you're hitching to.
The sign is at the turn-off to Kakamas. From there you can head to Upington and beyond, or you can continue straight to Pofadder, where you'll hit the N14 and go west to Springbok, Port Nolloth or all the way to Cape Town.
So many souls waited here: The dates go back to the 1980s. Jaco was here, Anker was here, and Dancing Shoes, too. Bernadine professed her love for Shakes, and Beranice for Jaya. Mr Xhoebenzee was headed for the "Mas" - local slang for Kakamas. On 10 May 1991, Ding Dong waited here for a lift to "Upington for a court case". Someone was aiming for distant Durban; someone else for nearby Pella. Quinton, Khoi, Chips, Dapman, Wolla, Bloodstone, Elvis, Storm, Bisto and Spanner - they were all here.
Milla, Albertus, Nombes and Bra Sticco were regulars: Their names appeared several times. So too someone called B'land. One of his inscriptions read: "B'land was hier op pad na sy meisie in Pofadder. My o is vol trane en ek verlang na my meisie." (B'land was here on the way to his girlfriend in Pofadder. My eyes are filled with tears and I miss my girl.)
The people of Onseepkans (sometimes abbreviated to O.S.K.) who waited here shared surprisingly personal details. "Christo van Wyk is op pad, op soek na die meisie van sy drome." (Christo van Wyk is on the road, searching for the girl of his dreams.) Some words were scratched out below, as if there was a sudden change of plan.
Elsewhere, someone wrote: "Don't forget Christo." Was this the same Christo?
Another hitchhiker wrote, "Lovey don't worry" with no attributed name. Maybe this person (I'm assuming it was a man) knew his wife would come looking for a message on this signboard. If she ever found it, it would have offered scant reassurance that he was okay and all was fine.
A certain Morolla wrote that he (or she?) was here, "honger en dors op pad na Kaapstad op soek na ware liefde" (hungry and thirsty and heading to Cape Town in search of true love). It's as if the quest for ware liefde became the default reason for many a hitchhiker's departure from Onseepkans. Or maybe it was just a mantra repeated by each person who washed up here at this lonely crossroads, looking for a reason to continue.
In the year 2000, Manaka, also known as Menchin, wrote a short but profound millennial mantra: "Let us give, let us forget."
With these words tucked into my heart, I get back behind the wheel. Soon, I'll fill up in Pofadder and push through to Verneukpan where I'll camp for the night.
Let us give, let us forget.
