Sold the Farm - really did this time

Unlike my post of 11/27/2011, which was written immediately before the South African banks let us down on the first of several occasions, we really have sold the farm this time. Papers are signed and the money's in the bank - not nearly as much as we would have liked, but enough to get significantly more personal possessions across the Pond. Liz will be reunited not just with myself, but with her collection of shoes, clothes, beads and beading, lighthouses and witches. I've been following the New Hampshire weather during their winter - I don't think I've seen the temperature rise above freezing for at least 2 months. I guess that if I miss Africa at all, which is unlikely, it will be at this time of the year. Still - I did spend 8 years living (off and on when not at sea) in the far North of Scotland, so I have been used to those conditions in the past, albeit many years ago. I guess I'll get used to it - I'll have to, won't I?

NH wild turkeys taken 30 minutes ago

What will I not miss about Africa in general, and South Africa in particular? Well, I never wanted to live in SA in the first place anyway, but was forced here by circumstances. Since democratization I have witnessed a country where reverse apartheid is blatantly being practiced - I'm not saying that BEE is a bad thing - far from it, but the way it has worked out in most cases has exposed corruption, nepotism and bad management at their worst. The poor in South Africa are still poor, whereas the well-off have lined their pockets and those of their cronies at the expense of the underprivileged. You only have to look around you at present. As many as 4 years ago the Mail & Guardian exposed the scandal behind the multi-million rand upgrades on Jacob Zuma's Nkandla home - upgrades carried out at the taxpayers' expense (for those who have never heard of him, Zuma is South Africa's multi-wife president). Today, 4 years later, the scandal lives on. 

I will miss none of the above. What I will miss is the bush and the wildlife. The fragrance after that first rain shower after a period of drought. The ability to take a drive of less than an hour and be among a 30-strong herd of elephant, the bush buck that live on my farm, the monkeys that scatter when I drive to Bathurst, the sound of the jackals as they hunt at night, the call of the frogs from our small dam after the year's first rains, and the call of the fiery-necked nightjar - these I will never forget.

Yesterday I took my monthly drive into Grahamstown. The main street showed up mismanagement at its worst. Imagine taking a trash bin - well, probably taking dozens of trash bins - and emptying them along the sidewalk and gutters. The amount of trash just lying there was appalling. The thing is, the ANC have individuals all over the country in local government, mayors and councilors, who have no idea how to run a craft booth let alone a municipality. And they are all riding around in new Mercedes and BMWs. I'm not jealous - just sorry for the many individuals who cannot escape from the situation. Which makes me very glad of the decision I made when I first arrived in Africa - never to give up my British passport.

There is so much to get done during the next 58 or so days. Police Clearance Certificate, hand in Beretta, international driving permit, stop Eskom, stop Telkom, stop DStv, stop Post Box, change of address with various agencies, sell furniture, stop car insurance ... the list goes on. My clients will find my new telephone number on my main website, and I will still be available for work from South Africa. Just remember though, that if you call me the difference is 6 hours in SA winter and 7 in summer.

The Silly Season again

It's the Silly Season again. For six weeks during the school holidays Port Alfred will try to emanate Myrtle Beach. Of course the small coastal town in South Africa's Eastern Cape will never, never be anything to rival South Carolina's Grand Strand, but in terms of population per square mile it must surely do so. This is the time of year, from early December to mid January, when the town is full of vehicles and their passengers from all places north. They have traveled here from Gauteng, the Free State and Natal and even from such far away places as Mpumalanga and Zimbabwe. My local Spar has filled its aisles with extra goodies to cope with the increased demand from out-of-towners. In a few days' time you will not be able to find dog food or dish washing powder on its shelves - not until they start delivering goods again in early January. It's the same every year, but most locals such as me have taken precautions against the dearth of goods that always occurs about now by stocking up beforehand.

This was to be my last Christmas in Africa - soon I will be sailing my boat to colder climes, but at least will eventually be reunited with my family. Speaking of which - to us old-timers seeing out the autumn of our years, the Internet has brought families much closer together. Yesterday, on separate occasions, I got to video-chat with Liz, my wife, with my daughter Julie and her three kids Grace, Owen and Luke, all in Pennsylvania,, and with my sister Suzane along with her three kids Nick, Anna and Lisa and her numerous grandchildren in the UK, something that could never have happened 40 years ago when I first came out to southern Africa. The only problem is that the Internet speed here on the farm is so appallingly slow. I am going to be so spoiled by the download speeds I experience in other countries in the near future.

We all make mistakes - I know that I have made many, but many of our mistakes eventually turn out to have been for the best. For example I sometimes wonder whether it was a mistake buying this farm, but where else in the world can you find such a small corner of paradise, where else can you sit outside after breakfast and have two lesser striped swallows chatting to each other and to their newly fledged offspring perched nonchalantly less than two meters away. This year a sunbird built a nest on the wire perch that the swallows use - not sure which species as the bird that made and now occupies it (see above) is a very dull color and obviously a female. The farm abounds with birds and in clement weather is a continual orchestral interlude during the daytime. At this time of year, when there is water in the farm's two dams, the orchestra's players change at nightfall, the birds being replaced by frogs that continually call to each other during the starlit hours.

Talking of starlit hours - I have lived in many homes and traveled the world over, from Hong Kong to Wellington, through Europe and the Mediterranean and as far west as the Great North Woods. Only here, in Martindale, have I regularly been able to see this corner of our galaxy in such detail. This small community is a paradise for star gazing, even through the naked eye. By the time that I take my leave I will have spent eight happy years here, but just cannot spend any more time trying to sell the place. When deciding between family and property, family has to be the winner. If I have to start from scratch all over again, so be it. At least I have the satisfaction of knowing that I have a small but sufficient passive income to fall back on during my pending long journey.

A few weeks ago I was thinking that this would be a fairly lonely Christmas, my being all by myself in Martindale. Actually, being a free thinker, I don't really celebrate Christmas - rather Yule. But that's another story. However that expected solitude was not to be. My good friend Alberto from Bologna in Italy, together with his protegé Jimmy, has been my house guest all week. It has been refreshing to have someone to talk with, and we have touched a wide variety of subjects. I know that I talk to Katie (my white shepherd) much of the time - but understandably that is a rather one-sided conversation, despite her being extremely intelligent and having a very sensitive nose. Katie will not be accompanying me on my pending voyage. My good friend and neighbor Wendell has offered to give her a good home - and I know he will. I just have to find a home now for my two inseparable cats. Any offers of a home to two neutered male cats that have been together for 8 years?

Ramblings and Rumblings

It is a balmy afternoon in mid November in the redundant South African province of the Eastern Cape. The distant rumblings of thunderheads can be heard in the far North. They gradually become louder as the storm moves towards the farm, away from the Drakensberg and towards the sea. As it does so the wind starts to pick up ahead of the approaching roll cloud, and the first drops of rain can be heard hitting the tin roof of the room that serves as my office.

Just a few days ago I completed exactly forty years in southern Africa, years that have shaped much of my life. The approaching storm is typical of the summer storms that frequent the region. The rain becomes harder, louder. Soon it will be too loud to stay down in this end of the house and I will soon be forced to move to the lounge, to work from an armchair. This room I am in now is known as the lighthouse room, named so by Liz on account of the drapes and artifacts that depict so many of those phallic edifices. The rain is steadier now, and is accompanied by that fragrance that is so often found when the first of the rains meet the oh-so-dry ground.  

I move to the lounge and, by Murphy’s Law, the storm peters out, as so often happens with storms that come from that direction. Our two summer residents returned from their European home a few weeks ago – coincident with the equinox. This is their fourth visit, and is usually accompanied by a complete makeover of last year’s home. This year, as yet anyway, they seem to have decided not to rebuild. This pair of Lesser Striped Swallows chat to each other from a perch I made for them just outside out front door. On previous years they have had to rebuild their home, but this year they just seem to be spring cleaning the old one and using the two tunnels that serve as both entrance and exit. I am expecting that the female will soon be sitting on eggs – last year there were two fledglings. The male will spend most of his day catching insects and bringing them home.

The summer temperatures have kicked in – the other day it hit 95 in the shade, and at nearly 10.00 p.m. it is still in the high 70’s. We have had 170 ml of rain in the last few weeks – that’s 4 inches - much needed here in the Eastern Cape, where there has been a winter drought lasting several months. As a result, what was a parched and sun-burned lawn has suddenly burst into life, the kikuyu grass six inches high in places and a brilliant dark green. My gardener is a local man called Headman – a retired railway worker I believe. He rents a house from the railways at the old Martindale station and tells me he pays just R10 a month. He recently bought himself a Isuzu bakkie or truck and has been using it as an illegal taxi. I get the impression that this new role has made him too important to cut grass for the likes of me. However I understand that his truck is undergoing repairs in Port Elizabeth, so maybe I can get him to come and cut the lawn next week.

I have decided to start selling off some of the larger items of furniture that remain in the house – after all there is no way they are going overseas once it is sold. I have dropped the asking price on the house as far as I can. Now that Liz has a job and a car, there is no longer anything to keep me in this country. Much of the house is already boxed up and awaiting the freight company. I can’t wait for the day when I can say “I had a farm in Africa, at the foot of the Kapriviersberge hills”. Whoever buys will be getting the bargain of the Century.

Cape Cobra Visitor

Yesterday Katie started barking just outside the doors of the Lighthouse Room - after the floods in October I moved my desk there to allow the carpet tiles in the office to dry out. Her barking was persistent, so I left my writing and went out to investigate. There, up against the fence, hood extended in defense, was a large Cape Cobra. I say large - it was larger than the one that visited a year or two back outside the scullery, probably a little over 4 feet long. KT has never, to the best of my knowledge, come face to face with a snake before, and was most inquisitive, but stayed her distance as if instinctively knowing that this strange creature could be dangerous.

I ordered Katie to back off, and the visitor went off down the driveway, past the Wild Plum by the gate, and vanished into the long grass alongside Liz's Dragon Garden. 

This specimen was not the yellow color most commonly associated with the species, but a dark brown with darker markings along its length. In fact had it not been for the extended hood I would have taken the markings as those of the night adder, a more frequent visitor. The Cape Cobra is known to be one of the most dangerous species of Cobra on the continent. Its venom is made up of neurotoxins and possibly cardiotoxins, and without an anti-venom a bite will result in death within one to ten hours. Its diet consists of small rodents, lizards, frogs, birds and other snakes. It will climb trees, and one of its favorite pastimes is to raid the nests of the Sociable Weaver.

Blog Followers

What do I have to do to get more followers? I guess it would help if I were a little more active in this blog for a start. If any of my readers can leave a comment with a constructive idea I would be most obliged. I currently share on Twitter and Facebook - some ideas please!

Back to reality. Still stuck here at the farm. Things are moving out there though. I had a viewer come through a week ago, and another query from an East London estate agent specializing in farms on Monday. I'm being very positive about it, more than anything else because I miss the Love of my Life. Today I will repost some farm ads.

Liz has been back in Washington State for six months now - sent her a GPS unit for Christmas so she can find her way around. Liz was never that good at navigating, and when working for Chris & Terri in Woodmead would phone me at KDHS asking for me to email her directions to some address in Pretoria or Sandton or wherever. I don't miss the big city at all.

There's a steady drizzle falling at the farm today, in this idyllic corner of the Eastern Cape. My nearest neighbor is some 2 miles away and occasionally stops by with farm eggs , home cured bacon or, a couple of weeks ago, a honeycomb. Talking of honeycomb, a couple of years ago a bee-keeper who has a honey farm near Southwell stopped by and asked if he could place some empty hives on the roof of our workshop - of course we agreed and he left four. He collected them, each full of bees, a few months later. We were most surprised when, a few weeks after collecting them, he dropped off a container with 2½ kgs of honey - I still have about a kg left over. That's the way things work in the countryside!

The swallows have finished rebuilding their nest and are now lining the interior with small pieces of straw and feathers. When they've completed it they will raise a new nest of fledglings - last year there were 3  . By the way honey, sorry I didn't vm last evening but my landline was down. Seems to be working gain today though. I'll see you in my dreams.

Update

I've been very lax about keeping my blog up to date over the past couple of months - I think mostly because I have been kept extremely busy - have written content for some 60 or 70 mini websites during that time, as well as content for a South Carolina holiday resort company. I must say that writing for the local company has gotten me very motivated as well as opening my eyes to wealth creation methods that I didn't think were open to the likes of me.

Liz has been back in the States for 6 months now - we chat either on Skype or the telephone just about every day. She now has a job, working for the DoD no she's not joined the Marines! - something to keep her occupied and bring in a few dollars locally until I can get this farm sold and join her. The farm sometimes feels as though it is an albatross around my neck. Liz has gotten over the culture shock of returning from a third world country (let's face it - we may as well be!) to what is technologically the greatest country in the world. She has rediscovered what it's like to be up to date with the latest tech. She's been busy too - a presidential election, a hurricane, the extreme heat of the Louisianna summer and now the advent of winter.

Meanwhile, back at the farm, the swallows have returned for their third year. They broke their nest again and have just completed rebuilding it with a third entrance tunnel, having blocked off the first two, which are still there attached to the roof of the patio. Back in October we had 400ml of rain in three or four days - the worse I have seen here in Martindale during the seven years we've been at the farm. So much rain that the water table was higher than some of the rooms, and there was an inch of water in two of the bedrooms, the lighthouse room and my office. Fortunately all but the office are tiled, so not too much damage. I was forced to move my office into the lighthouse room, which is where I am now.  I'm getting a regular trickle of people interested in the farm, but no actual offers since those first two I shook hands on a year ago. I shall endeavor to be a little more active in writing this blog in future.

Martindale Make and Mend

Today I decided to give myself the day off; after all, this government has its Women’s Day and its Youth Day and a number of other totally unnecessary local holidays, so I decided that today, here in Martindale, it would be My Day. Yes, today I awarded myself a Make and Mend. Now many of you will not be familiar with the term, so let me explain. It is a term that is used to this day in the Royal Navy to designate an ‘afternoon off’ – however in my case I decided to take the whole day off. The term goes back to the times of the old sailing ships when sailors would be given time off to ‘make and mend’ their uniforms. Since Liz has been back in the States for nearly three months, leaving me to stay behind and get the farm sold, I decided to carry out a little necessary maintenance. My “favorite” tracksuit trousers have been coming apart along some of the seams, so I have carried out the necessary work, having found Liz’s stash of needles and thread in the storage room.

Once my work was complete I decided, for a change, to sit outside in the sun. The temperature was up in the seventies, unusual for this time of year in the Eastern Cape. But here on the farm it is peaceful, and today you could see the sea from right where I am now sitting. The Coral trees (we have eight of them) are a mass of color, and I armed myself with a pair of binoculars and the Book of South African Birds to try to identify some of their visitors. Although you cannot see all of them, the air is filled with the constant sound of songbirds. Up in the Coral trees a pair of weavers were competing with each other for the sweetest blossoms, and for the first time I witnessed two  Black Sunbirds with their wonderful long curved beaks feasting on the sweet nectar found deep in the heart of the Coral blossoms.

A Fiscal Shrike had staked its claim in our Wild Plum near to the front gate, and from time to time would sweep down to pick up a bug it had spotted, sometimes landing just a few feet from away from me. Most of the birds I saw today were common local residents – species such as the Redwinged Starling, the Glossy Starling and the Drongo. I did get to see a few not-so-common visitors, notable of which were a Blackcollared Barbet and a trio of Trumpeter Hornbills, which had taken up positions in our huge Rubber Tree, and were taking it in turns to announce their presence.

I have been in Southern Africa for nigh on forty years now, but the time has come to move on, which is why the farm is up for sale. I shall miss the peace of Martindale and the friendliness of the local farmers. But while I am still here, waiting for that elusive offer, I will make the best of the peace and tranquility that this farm has to offer.

Musical Birds

I am prompted to write this following a strange happening yesterday. It is winter in the Eastern Cape, and it had been raining for much of the morning and the previous night, but in the afternoon the wind had dropped to a serene calm – not enough to stir the wind chimes on my porch. I was watching one of the few local satellite Olympics channels, when the wind chimes started ringing out their music – something these particular chimes had not done for many a day, since the sail and clapper had been missing for some time. I decided to investigate this weird occurrence and peered out through the window.

Some time ago I had made a perch for a pair of swallows nesting just a few feet away. It is just a length of stiff electricians wire put there to replace a string of Christmas lights that the swallows had become used to. There on the wire was perched a glossy yellow-eyed starling, a frequent visitor to our yard. The starling had decided to play with the shiny silver tubes of the chimes and with the strings from which they are suspended. I would be interested in hearin whether this was typical of the behavior of this species.

A Mud Home in the Eastern Cape

I have moved my domicile many times, and have lived in places as far afield as the north of Scotland at the one extreme and South Africa’s Eastern Cape at the other. That’s where I live now, with my American wife, two white shepherds and two domestic cats. One of the greatest joys of living nearly ten miles from the nearest tarmac road is the plethora of wild birds, and here on the farm we have a good cross section of them. Our more common visitors are the Blackeyed Bulbul, the Fiscal Shrike and the Hoopoe, although I have listed some thirty-odd species seen on our 18 acres farm at the end of this article. Today I want to write about just one pair of birds, because they are our favourite.

When Liz and I moved into Martindale Farm in 2005 there were the dried mud foundations of a swallow’s nest up under an overhanging porch. It was not until November of 2010 that a pair of Lesser Striped Swallows started rebuilding this mud home, laboriously flying back and forth with small mud balls in their tiny beaks until after some four weeks they had rebuilt a perfect nest, the main “living quarters” being some 15cms across where it joined the wall, tapering down into a 20cm long tunnel that served as the entrance, the whole nest being some 35cms from wall to entrance. While building the nest the pair had used our Christmas lights, which were strung along the front of the porch, as a perch. By mid December the pair had finished their home and were busy lining it with bits of dog hair (our shepherds were molting) and feathers shed by our free-range hens.  

I was loathe to pull down the lights after the twelve-day Christmas period of grace ended, but when I did, I replaced the perch with a thick piece of heavy-duty electric wire, which they soon became used to, as did their three babies, soon to be hatched. As the end of summer approached in early 2011, our pair and their offspring took of for climes unknown, presumably somewhere in Europe.

This year the pair returned, and one morning in early October we found the main living quarters of the nest lying broken on the concrete stoep, leaving only 20cms of the tunnel intact. It is now mid November, and a few days ago the pair began rebuilding their home, advancing the walls a few millemetres a day. There is still a wide gap between the “work in progress” and the inner end of the tunnel, but after dark we have seen their tail feathers protruding from the tunnel, which must be where they are roosting. We have come to know their small talk to each other as they perch on their wire, and we are now once more looking forward to the pitter patter of tiny feet.

© Michael Mason, Martindale Farm November 2011.

The following is a list of birds seen (or in the case of the Nightjar, heard) on our farm.

Pintailed Whydah

Longtailed Widow

Hoopoe

Yellow Weavers

Blackeyed Bulbul

Sombre Bulbul

Blackheaded Oriole

Forktailed Drongo

Redwinged Starling

Cape Glossy Starling

Redheaded Quelea

Black Sunbird
Greater Doublecollared Sunbird

Greyheaded Bush Shrike

Fiscal Shrike

Cape Rock Thrush

Cape Wagtail

Blackcollared Barbet

Trumpeter Hornbill

Crowned Hornbill

Redbilled Woodhoopoe

Brownhooded Kingfisher

Speckled Mousebird

Lesser Striped Swallow

Cape Eagle Owl

Knysna Lowrie

Purplecrested Lowrie

Martial Eagle

African Fish Eagle

Secretary Bird

Stanley’s Bustard 

Spotted Dikkop

Yellowbilled Duck

Egyptian Goose

Sacred Ibis

Hadeda Ibis

Hamerkop

Blackheaded Heron

Jackal Buzzard
Countless and nameless raptors soaring above the farm

Martindale Farm is currently for sale. For details see here

© Michael J Mason 2011