I’m heading towards Williston from Sutherland on what appears to be a sublime dirt track. It’s been a hot spring day ride on a mixture of tar and dirt roads, and the recent head-wetting revival in Sutherland has all but worn off. But there’s only 50km to go of this 500km day-in-the-saddle before I reach my overnight stay in Williston.
There’s an adage in adventure biking circles that says the closer you get to your destination the worse the road gets. It rings true today. The last 35km into Williston throws up hectic corrugations, loose gravel, sand and ruts; and it makes me think of how bands of pioneering farmers and other frontiersmen must have gritted their teeth over this bone-shaking terrain as they made their way to the new “pastures” and relative freedom of the north.
One such group (about 700 nomadic “baster” pastoralists) settled at a spring just outside modern-day Williston in the 1840s. It was shaded by a large “amandelboom” (almond tree) that eventually gave the settlement its first name.
In the Cape of the 1700s, the pejorative term “basters” was assigned by the colonial powers to the illegitimate offspring resulting from European relationships with slaves and Khoikhoi, as well as the progeny of Khoikhoi and slaves. But not all “basters” were equal.
In the first two instances, the offspring were mostly regarded as “free” citizens, particularly if they were baptised; while the latter group had to settle for another demeaning title, “Bastaard-Hottentots” and were also condemned to a life of servitude.
However, the status of all these “baster” groupings declined even further as the 18th century wore on, leading to many of them leaving for the northern frontiers of the colony (bounded by the Gariep, Riet and later, the Sak rivers) where they joined other farmers, bandits and fugitives trying to survive off the land, or prey on its few established residents.
I arrive in the town close to sunset. Like an old cowboy with a dust-caked throat, I totter into the nearest bottle store on bandy legs and secure two big bottles of cold beer. A windstorm has whipped up the grit as I scout the deserted and dusty streets of Williston for my digs.
I eventually ask an oom sitting on a stoep if I’m at the right place and he gesticulates to me to park around the back. Later, my host, Cora Steenkamp, comes to introduce herself. I learn that until five years ago she taught at a local school and it was in her first two years teaching in the town (nearly 50 years ago) that she met her husband, local farmer, Willem.
It turns out Cora is also one of the curators of the recently refurbished museum, and I immediately book a time with her to visit it tomorrow. Combined with this, I plan to take a self-guided tour of historic Williston (there’s a map in my room), look for remnants of Boer War sangars in the veld and visit old friends, Pieter and Elmari Naude, at the Williston Mall.
The Amandelboom “basters” apparently had an arcane, yet efficient, way of dealing with the snake and scorpion bites that were commonplace in Williston’s distant past.
The “gifdokter” (poison doctor) built up full immunity to these bites by drinking venom and further boosting it with frequent intakes of his dried venom stocks. When treatment was required, the “gifdokter” was made to sweat by ingesting large quantities of venom and his perspiration was collected and smeared onto the body of the victim, focusing on the bite area and the armpits.
In addition, the victim was made to drink the “gifdokter’s” urine, plus a brew made from the clothes off his sweaty body, including his shoes. If reports from the missionaries are to be believed, it was this final concoction that set the patient’s recovery in motion.
In 1845 this group requested the Rhenish Mission in Wuppertal to form a parish here and a mission was established soon afterwards. But the influx of European farmers from Clanwilliam in the 1860s caused most of these “baster” frontiersmen to move; eventually settling in Rehoboth across the Gariep River in what is today Namibia.
The “basters” probably weren’t aware the spring’s almond tree was planted in celebration by an itinerant Dutch farmer, Johan Abraham Nel, who stopped at the spring in 1768 when his wife was ready to give birth to their son. Though the tree never bore fruit, it gave shade to many water collectors over the years; that was until a well-meaning man of the cloth (Rev S H Kuhn) blew it up in 1902 when he used dynamite to try to increase the spring’s flow.
Life was not easy for the early European farmers either, and even though they were reasonably successful with their Karakul sheep, the sparse grazing provided by these often desiccated climes had to be supplemented with lucerne grown in the path of the mercurial Sak River. By means of regulatory weirs and dams, and the construction of low-walled “saaidamme” (seed-sowing dams) downstream, the farmers were able to reap bumper crops of lucerne (and wheat, too), but only in the years the unpredictable Sak River flooded.
The ground is so hard and rocky here that family graveyards always had a spare grave dug in case someone needed to be buried in the blisteringly hot summer months. Coffins were also stored in readiness in farmhouse roofs, where they doubled as storage units for dried fruit. If you were unprepared, best you had some smelling salt tablets handy to burn to disguise the smell of a decomposing loved one while you painstakingly excavated their grave.
One of the respected crafts of old Williston was that of a stone cutter. Not only did they dress stones for the town’s buildings, such as the neo-gothic-styled NG Kerk (1912), they were also much in demand to carve gravestones. One such artisan, Kerneels de Waal, the protégé of Scottish stonemason, James Wright, was legendary for his ability to carve elaborate designs on his self-mined slabs of rock, with his self-made tools. It apparently took him seven months to carve one; and, earning only one pound a month, it must be gratifying to his soul that his efforts are remembered by Williston’s Gravestone Route.
Williston’s greatest modern tourist attraction, the artistic ensemble of all things collectable and extraordinary that’s housed at the Williston Mall, has unfortunately closed its doors to day visitors. When I pitch up there later the next day, Pieter tells me that he and Elmari decided on this some time back due to the disproportionate amount of time and money it took to walk tourists through their large creative enclave for virtually no return.
“Besides, we’re artists, and need the time and space to practise our crafts,” he tells me. So now they reserve their energies for overnight guests (they can sleep 22 in a variety of bespoke rooms), making the experience more rewarding for all concerned, Peter says.
Whatever else you do in Williston, and I found plenty to keep me occupied, make sure you spend at least one night at Die Ark in the mall — your inner child will thank you.
Travel Notes
Getting there: Williston is about 535km from Cape Town (dependent on the route chosen); 700km from Gqeberha and just more than 1,000km from Johannesburg.
What sort of vehicle will I need: You can get here in a normal car, but if you’d like to explore some of the side routes to Brandvlei, Loxton and Sutherland, an all-wheel drive SUV is advisable.
What activities are on offer here: This is primarily a good sleepover point between the Cape and Prieska, as well as a worthwhile detour from the R27 when travelling to Verneuk Pan or Upington. Apart from showcasing the lifestyle of the hardy folk who live here, in their much-loved and mostly restored Victorian houses and Cape Karoo dwellings, there are a number of other things to keep you busy.
Dine at Manna’s Restaurant, where the lamb shank and lamb neck come highly recommended; visit the local museum (call Cora on 082 463 3927 or Elsa on 072 074 0919 to unlock it); go looking for Boer War sangars in the veld, about 1km behind the old tennis courts; take a walk up the koppie on the north side of Williston for a lovely view over the town; stay over at Die Ark and experience the fascinating tour of the Williston Mall; go on a self-guided walking tour with the aid of the excellent tourist brochure; take in an old corbelled house 20km out on the Fraserburg R353; taste delectable artisanal cheeses at Langbaken Farm (35km distant on a rough gravel road); admire the hand carved gravestones in the old cemetery and walk the succulent-surrounded labyrinth in the grounds of the beautiful sandstone NG Kerk.
Where I stayed: The authentically restored apartment adjacent to the Karoohuis, a good-value (R500 per night per couple — call Cora on 082 463 3927), “heat and eat” self-catering stay; but there are many other options to suit most tastes.
Suggested reading: The Forgotten Frontier by Nigel Penn and Karoo by Lawrence Green.
Best time of year to go: April to October.
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