What has been seen, can never be unseen

Ican’t remember the first time I went camping. I don’t come from a family of campers and we typically went on holiday in a rented house in some seaside town.

My dad has always been a hiker, though, and every now and then he would take my brother and I – plus a friend or two – to an overnight trail in the Cederberg. I still remember packing: tightly rolled-up clothes, a tiny cooking set and gas stove, the A-frame tent with its musty smell (thanks to many years on a garage shelf) and the mess trays and cutlery kits my dad still had for some or other reason 20 years after the end of his army days. Everything had