The ghost that lives on
In the dark of the night, the gravel road feels like a scab that’s grown over a sore. It’s my turn to drive.
The other occupants of the car, my camera team, have been in dreamland for a while now following an exhausting week.
I soon find myself dodging nocturnal animals on the quiet dirt road. First an owl spreads its wings dramatically in the lights of the bakkie; later I narrowly miss hitting an aardvark. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen one in real life.
According to the GPS, we have another 80km to go before we reach our final destination: a farm in Smithfield in the Free State. Earlier, one of my colleagues had worked out that in the previous five months we had travelled 30 000km in order to tell the stories of exceptional farmers for the VIA television
