Anecdotes from Africa

By Werner Richter

The book is an introduction to the people and animals of South Africa by way of a collection of 60 humorous anecdotes about events in the life of the author, and the lives of family and close friends, who have their roots deeply implanted in Africa. They are all true events, dating from early childhood, that have mainly taken place in Africa, but sometimes in other parts of the world when people from Africa travel and their innocence and naivety are exposed to the world at large. The book describes close encounters with baboons, snakes, apes, lions, elephants, and even swans, but also encounters of a different kind while travelling or staying in other parts of the world.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Jan 17, 2014
• ISBN: 9781304832948

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Anecdotes from Africa

Copyright © 2013 Werner A. Richter. All rights reserved.

ISBN 978-1-304-83294-8  First edition

Preface

Anecdotes from Africa is an introduction to the people and animals of South Africa by way of a collection of 60 humorous anecdotes about events in the life of the author, and the lives of family and close friends, who have their roots deeply implanted in Africa. They are all true events, dating from early childhood, that have mainly taken place in Africa, but sometimes in other parts of the world when people from Africa travel and their innocence and  naivety  are exposed to the world at large. The book describes close encounters with baboons, snakes, apes, lions, elephants, and even swans, but also encounters of a different kind while travelling or staying in other parts of the world. The stories have become part of a folklore among friends and family, and have often been told around campfires and at barbecues as a contribution to the mirth of the occasion even before they were put in writing. The title reflects this African source of these anecdotes, and the book aims to preserve them for posterity. More than half of the stories are illustrated by the nephew of the author, David (Daya) Beukes, who works as a consultant in communications  in Johannesburg.

About the author:

Werner Richter is an Extraordinary Professor of  Physics at the University of the Western Cape, near Cape Town, and an Honorary Research Associate at iThemba LABS, with theoretical nuclear physics as speciality. He has had an interest in Creative Writing since student days, when he obtained a Certificate of Recognition for Creative Writing from the Famous Writer’s School in Westport, Connecticut after completing a four-year course. He has many interests which include wine, cooking, tour guiding, piano, and studying languages. In 2012 he started a touring company, Gems of SA Tours, which aims to introduce visitors to the true gems of Southern Africa ([e-mail]; www.gemsofsatours.co.za)

About the illustrator:

David Beukes, responsible for the illustrations in this book, did a BA Communications degree at university, became a copywriter and spent 10 years working in international advertising agencies. Searching for a vocation with meaning he later migrated towards documentary film-making for non-profit organisations, in attempting to make the world a bit more liveable. Since a young age, a keen interest in philosophy and psychology drove him to seek out the lighter side of being human. Hence, the illustrations.

Acknowledgements 

I am particularly indebted to the following people for proofreading and making useful suggestions: Linda Peckham, Harry Knitter, Mary Michener, my cousin Maarten Turkstra,

Rassie (B.P.J.) Erasmus, my cousin Liesel Eiselen, my sister Deline Beukes, and my nephew David Beukes for his tireless work on the sketches.  Much thanks also to many friends and family members for continued support and encouragement.

Guaranteed: a snake-free automobile

My father was a frustrated civil servant working in the Department of Education. He forever had vistas of the better life and bemoaned the fact that a civil servant’s salary was never quite adequate, not that the salary prevented him from tackling some very ambitious projects. He was not content to live in a row of tacky little boxes, so soon after marrying my mother, he purchased a small farm some thirteen miles from the city of Pretoria. Here, he and some freelance labourers built a huge house, using stones from the hills on the property and provided it with a thatched roof, cut from the grass growing in the fields. Then, he set about laying out immense lawns around the house, the largest of which was used as a football field for kids in later years, and at the end of this field was created a huge garden which provided every conceivable local vegetable and fruit for the house. There was even enough to sell at the town market periodically. The small farm also became an animal sanctuary, and we had cows for milk, donkeys, chickens, geese, pigeons, and some dogs and cats. It was appropriately called Bushveld. This was the idyllic area where my sister and I grew up, and I will forever be thankful for having had the privilege of growing up in such an environment.   

Alas, my father’s paradise had a serpent, quite literally — in fact, it had many. The farm was the most snake-infested area I have ever experienced anywhere in South Africa. The general climate included mild winters and very hot summers. The low thorny bushes and long grass, which provided the name for the farm, seemed to be the ideal breeding ground for a tremendous variety of snakes, most of which were extremely poisonous. We typically killed two to three snakes a month on the farm, some very close to the house and sometimes even inside the house. Most of these were extremely venomous, and reached lengths of more than 6 feet, like the ring-necked cobra and the green tree snake (boomslang), while others were short and flabby like the puff-adder, which could blow up its fangs to make itself look more ferocious. Now, the great irony in the equation was that my father had a complete phobia of snakes. It was not the normal fear of snakes that most people have, but it was a totally irrational and excessive fear of the serpent. For example, he would quietly be reading a newspaper in the living room, and the next moment the pages would be projected explosively in all directions, with the dogs knocking over furniture in their hasty getaway and the cat performing an acrobatic loaded-spring dance. It was total pandemonium. All this was because there was a photo of a snake as my father turned the page.

As a young boy not yet in my teens, I had developed a certain bravado about the snakes because I could shoot quite fast and accurately, be it with a pistol, rifle or shotgun. Often, my friends and I used a pellet gun to inflict minimal damage to the snake because we would then tie a piece of soiled kite-cotton around the head of the snake (soiled to make the cotton practically invisible) and place the snake in the bushes next to the roadside  where workers on other farms were bound to pass on their bicycles. We hid ourselves suitably on the opposite side of the road, and when the cyclists were close enough, we would pull on the cotton so that the snake came almost directly towards them. This became a very popular game, with its own dangers and its own anecdotes. At times, we were chased by angry workers, but we were fleet-footed enough to outrun them. But the crucial point was that my father latched onto the fact that I did not share his fear of snakes, and I therefore could be useful to him.

Because my father had to drive about 26 miles a day to his work and back, the car was a very important piece of machinery on the farm. It was always parked in an open double garage, which also contained chicken feed, fertilizers, and what not. The foodstuff attracted rats and mice, which in turn attracted snakes, and from time to time, a snake would be seen in the vicinity of the garage or in the garage itself by a farm worker or a member of our family. Simply a rumour to that effect was enough to keep my father far away from the garage, not to mention the car. This is where I came in. He considered it my task to go and inspect the car and issue a certificate stating snake-free. This meant opening up the engine compartment and poking around, inspecting the boot, lifting the seats and floor covers, and even inspecting the underside of the car. I did it without complaining because I realized that if a snake should somehow make itself apparent whilst my father was driving, he would abandon ship, which could result in a serious accident and leave us without a breadwinner.

One day, my father and I were walking towards an old abandoned chicken-run where he hoped to find some feeding trays that were required elsewhere. Because of the many large stones and rocks on the property, the older chicken-runs were circular stone walls of about three feet, topped with poles and chicken fencing. When we reached the old chicken-run, we spotted an old feeding tray lying near the centre of the circle. The general area inside the circle was rather overgrown with grass and shrubs, so my father climbed onto the stone wall, carefully over the fence, and then headed straight for the tray.

In his enthusiasm to retrieve the feeding tray, he threw caution to the wind for a moment. I was still standing outside the run, keeping a kind of lookout as it were, as was usual when my father and I went anywhere on the farm. Suddenly, there was a rustle in the shrubs and I saw a thick silver-grey body moving in the vicinity of my father. Almost simultaneously, I saw that it was an extremely large lizard often found in those parts; its body could easily have a diameter of one and a half inches and a length of two feet. But the instinctive cry had already gone out: Snake!

My father swirled around, his face like that of someone possessed. He leapt up and down in various directions, rather like one climbing air, for he did not know where the enemy was and what the direction of escape should be. From my focus on the area where I saw the lizard, he gleaned in which direction to run and cleared the fence with remarkable athletic ability. By this time, I had started shouting, It’s only a lizard! Sorry! and inadvertently began laughing. As he landed next to me, he took a full-fist swipe at me, which would have knocked me cold, but I ducked and then ran for my life into the veld. He was too shaken up to give chase.

By the evening, he too was laughing at my demonstration of his panic antics, but the generous tots of brandy that went into