One last time before lockdown

The Lekkerbek farm stall is next to the R54/R500 intersection, west of Vanderbijlpark, on the ragged fringe of Gauteng. It’s not a fancy farm stall where you can order a coffee with almond milk. No, it’s just Steve Albertus’s bakkie, his Venter trailer, a beach umbrella and some mielie plants. It’s Sunday and Overvaal Stereo comes through loud and clear on the radio; the preacher’s voice wrathful. I pull over to ask for directions, and because I’m curious.

Steve sells watermelons, honey, jam and mielies. He worked underground mining platinum and gold for 36 years. Trying to make small talk, I ask him how far we are from Potchefstroom. “Sixty-four kilometres,” he says, not really concentrating. His attention is on the sermon.

“I have to get to Kimberley,” I say and get back in my car without the customary handshake.

Don’t touch people if you can help it, they have warned us all.

Plans cancelled

I live in the Strand, near Cape Town, and I was in Gauteng to travel