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Bredasdorp is the centre of the Overberg

I shot down to Bredasdorp yesterday as I had to apply in person at the Traffic Department for vehicle registration certificates for our truck and delivery bakkie. Bredasdorp is the centre of the Overberg’s wheat-growing and sheep-breeding valley and is an hour’s drive east of Cape Town.

The bigger town of Caledon and leafier Swellendam would hotly dispute this claim. But Bredasdorp is still a real farming town, and this is farming country. It’s not a dorp at all, although after once injuring my big toe in a winery accident involving a forklift, the “kind” doctor there remedied the situation by pulling out the bloodied nail with a pair of pliers (sans anaesthetic). That’s kind of a dorp thing to do.

I swore rather loudly in Afrikaans and with such colourful language that the assistant nurse blushed.

So this is a place of hard people of the land who don’t need anaesthetic for minor things like toenail extraction etc…

The Traffic Department office is similarly without excess. The queue was so long it snaked out of the little room into the baking sun. I could just hear Judge Harms delivering his Appeal Court judgement from the pulpit of a very loud TV hung in one corner. He put a small nail in our probable next president’s voting box.

Once inside, the blaring inanity of SABC 1 was far more oppressive than the blazing sun outside. I ruminated about this uncomfortable predicament as I stood there. Would Jacob Zuma have to stand in a queue to renew his licence? What about the Prince of Wales? What is it about a government-department queue that makes you feel so at one with your fellow honest strugglers?

It must be said that the staff were amazingly helpful and really worked. This helped scratch the itchy irritation of the wait.

It made me see that this is a magnificent institution, the queue. I have now become rather addicted to them. In front of me was a sun-baked farmer in an ancient hunting hat with a wolf on a chain. Behind me stood a beautiful young Overberg lass (this valley is renowned for the most beguiling women in South Africa), applying for her learner’s licence. Behind her stood the imposing figure of Mama Lethu (name changed to protect my life) – owner of 16 taxis. Los Angeles rappers could have picked up a few bling fashion hints from Mama Lethu. She was continuously on her gold cell phone – shouting orders in three different languages – Xhosa, Afrikaans and English (apparently one of her drivers is from Malawi, hence the English).

There were two little signs up in the reception windows of the office – both made her chuckle. One said “closed” and the other said, “It is not wrong for a man to possess riches. It is wrong for riches to posses a man” – I kid you not. A better sign would be: “It is not wrong for a rich man to stand in a queue. You just won’t see him here”.

While in my beautiful Overberg, I stopped to see some of the vineyards we source from. Everything is growing wonderfully well. The rain we had over Christmas has created a few challenges, with a new spurt of vegetative growth we didn’t need, but the region is disease free. Pinot Noir, Malbec and Touriga Franseca have started to colour up. Berries are generally very small and everything points toward a very high quality harvest.

In fact, this valley might just produce some really worthy wines this year.
Bring it on!

Love, light and a glass or two of Flagstone,
Bruce