LOVE in the Kruger

ifty years ago a holiday at the Kruger National Park meant months of preparation. The seasoned Kruger man serviced his Volkswagen Kombi. His wife ironed the obligatory Big 5 tablecloth she had purchased on a previous trip to the Skukuza camp shop. This, of course, was the signature piece in her neat wicker picnic basket as no respectable Kruger lady served brunch at the picnic spot, directly on a naked table. The caravan cupboards boasted nylon tracksuits and North Star tackies: special outfits reserved for cool evening runs to the ablution block. Baby Boomers