Poeskloof

Chapter 1

Okay so try and picture this; A tracking shot moves through a gap between two thornbushes and you see two Karoo Thrush’s playing in the open air. Still tracking, the shot comes to the edge of a small cliff and moves swiftly down until it settles parallel with the dust, rocks and shrubs that lovingly embraces the dry ground of the Karoo. The shot swiftly makes its way high up to the top of the steeple of a large white church building, with Victorian detailing on the eaves and gables. At the top of the steeple, after you have made eye contact with the rooster who ever-so-kindly informs you of the wind direction, your focus shifts to the dusty road that encircles the church before leading you away from it.

Well-kept sidewalks hug the main road that is covered in dust that hides the tarmac. On the far ends of each sidewalk are rows of English colonial buildings with the names of the stores painted on the edges of the top-floorapartment balconies that cover the porches.

Surrounding the main road and all that embraces it rests the residential area split into two suburbs, east and west, accessed by four roads that veins out from either side of the main road, two on each side.

Now as the tracking shot moves down the street, passing all the stores, it reaches a T-junction indicating that turning left will take you to the mayoral farm, and turning right will lead you to the N2 national road, and eventually to the neighbouring town. The shot exits the town to the right and swiftly makes a 180-degree turn revealing a single lane bridge that crosses a dried-up river, as well as a sign that reads “Welcome to Poeskloof”.

The town was built by a handful of people who got lost during the Great Trek whilst trying to escape the policies of the British occupied Cape Colony. They built the church first, and right next to it they built a brewery. The most important thing to the people of Poeskloof, second to God and God only, is home brewed beer. This is mostly because the brewery is the biggest source of income in Poeskloof, since they brew and export theirnot-so-popular in comparison to the mass produced beers of the countryKloof Lager, to the rest of South Africa. The men of the town generally go to work at the brewery after graduating from Poeskloof High School.

The people of the town are very simple and not so fond of change. They take pleasure and pride in the simple things in life such as self-sufficiency, lending a helping hand to a neighbour, family, and keeping their town clean. They are oblivious to the changes in the world beyond the town borders. Influencers are the kids in school that get others in trouble, social media is summed up to Riaan Cruywagen on SABC 2’s news channel at 7pm on weekdays and SuperSport on Saturdays, sharing something means either confessing at church or gossiping at Kloof Brewery, men are men and women are women, and they/them are only plural pronouns referring to a group of people.

Chris van As, with his blonde hair and blue eyes, is the town golden boy, not only because he is the only man in town who still has his own teeth, but he is always, and to his misfortune, within the area when something needs to be fixed, someone needs help moving something, or little Jan messed with Pieter Poggenpoel’s bramaan bull again and is being chased down the main street by the beast. He was mostly deemed the town’s biggest success for being the only person who left the town further than the neighbouring, bigger town of Holbak. He left for a few years to achieve a life-long dream of his of obtaining a business degree.

Most of the locals can’t afford to move out of the town, let alone going as far as attending university, as money is scarce. Chris doing so was a big deal to everyone other than him. He struggled to fit into the busy life outside the town and decided to move back to start his own handyman business. This brought him joy, since he loved helping the people of the town, and loved the attention even more. Business was good, since the women are stuck in their olden ways of cooking, cleaning, and looking after the children and the men are too busy working at the brewery or on the mayoral farm to fix things around the house, and after hours all the men join in the brewery to discuss either rugby or politics.

Henrietta’s House

It was yet another warm day in Poeskloof - the four hundredth day in a row to be exact - and Chris received a call out to Aunt Henrietta’s house to fix the doorknob to her bathroom that her grandson broke yet again whilst molesting himself in the midnight hour.

He pressed the doorbell and was greeted by the tune of the old South African anthem. Jan, Henrietta’s husband, was a very patriotic man who, whenever he drank a little too much, reverts to talking about how men aren’t men anymore, and reminisce about the ‘good old days’.

‘I swear to our good, almighty, Jesus Christ if it’s those fucking kids again, I’ll get my gun!’ Henrietta yelled as she approached the door with a rolling pin gripped in her right hand, still dressed in her night gown that did not cover anything more than a shirt would. As she opened the door she was greeted by Chris chuckling at her reaction.

Henrietta is a large woman with little to no shame in her appearance. She is often seen in town dressed as if she doesn’t own a mirror. She lives in her Crocs as they are the only shoes that treats her orthopedic situation kindly. Besides the Crocs, she’s often spotted wearing sleeveless tops and very short gym tights. She is also considered by most to a very bombastic woman who speaks first and thinks later, though some of her closest friends find it refreshing. The mothers in town question her antics and personality, as she is the one and only teacher in town from pre-school through to high school, and they are scared it will rub off onto their children.

‘Oh wow, good morning, Aunt Henrietta. I’m here about the doorknob.’ Chris was looking everywhere else other than his old teacher’s revealed upper thighs.

‘Chris, you’re very early. Please excuse the mess, I’m busy baking in the kitchen, you know where the bathroom is.’ She welcomed Chris in with a complete disregard of the fact that she’s half naked.

‘I’ll get straight to it,’ Chris swiftly moved through the living room plastered with red ornaments, throw pillows, and portraits of topless African women, towards the bathroom at the beginning of the passage. At this point he knew the layout of her house like the back of his hand as he spent twelve years of his life going to school in the next room. ‘Aunty, will you please cover that thing before it jumps out to bite me’ Chris pleaded as he placed his toolbox down.

‘Sugar, I wish it could, but this thing lost its teeth fifteen years ago when Jan lost his hair.’ Henrietta said as she laughed her way into the kitchen.

‘I’m guessing Jakob is still up to his old tricks from school.You know, if I charged you for every time that I had to fix this damn doorknob after school, I could have bought this town by now.’ Chris stated to her down the passage as he unscrewed the broken doorknob off the door.

‘How that boy isn’t blind yet is beyond me. You know, what he’s doing is a sin. He forgets that God is constantly looking at him, and I’m sure God doesn’t want to see that filth.’ Henrietta spoke into the oven as she bent down to remove freshly baked banana bread from the oven.

‘Or if He didn’t mind what He was seeing, He could at least pay Jakob for it. Some people pay a lot of money to see those things on the internet, I don’t really understand why He gets to see it for free.’ Chris mockingly responded, but Henrietta didn’t entertain his comment with a response.

‘I just wish he can find a nice girl. I heard Marie’s daughter is single now after her boyfriend got run over by that tractor. It’s a shame he died, but I told Jakob he should make a move, because at this point, he will get my bottle of lotion pregnant before he gets a girl pregnant.’

Chris took a new doorknob from his toolbox and fitted it. The houses in the town are old and most of the mechanisms are the original parts from when they were built. He usually fixes the original parts rather than replacing it, as it keeps the colonial essence of the homes and keeps his business going, as it will eventually break again. Today he decided to replace it, in fear of seeing Henrietta dressed like this again.

‘I think he should make a move quick, especially in a town like this.The single guys will be over her like flies on a cow’s ass. There aren’t a lot of girls like her here, most of them are like day old avocado’s; they’re okay to eat, but no one really want to. She’s not only smart, but pretty too.’ Chris tightened the last screw of the new doorknob. ‘We’re all done here Aunty. Maybe just tell Jakob to do it in his room like a normal person, that door handle is still sturdy’

Chris packed up his toolbox. Henrietta thanked him and handed him his money along with a banana bread. Chris has not needed to cook a meal in years, as the women around town always gives him a snack, treat, and sometimes plates of home cooked meals with their payment. Though Chris was fully capable of taking care of himself, he allowed the women to treat him like one of their own. It gave them a sense of purpose, and throughout town it is considered rude to turn down offers of help.

The older women in town saw him as their own child. Chris’ mother passed away when he was born, and his father was very rarely present. They had it very difficult keeping head above water, until his father quit his job as a shoe cobbler to take on a job as a male prostitute in the neighboring town, Holbak. He worked mainly night shift and every so often Chris was left home alone, and the local women took turns babysitting Chris. A few years later Chris’ father passed away from complications with HIV and left Chris with more money than he has ever seen in his life. Chris was the subject of quite a bit of bullying because of his father’s career, but he remained grateful that he did it to take care of Chris. He decided to honor his father by obtaining further education to prevent him from resorting to similar measures to take care of his children.

Kloof Brewery

Henk Flammink sat down at the bar counter as the church bell signaled the middle of the day. Mouse Malan, the sixteen-year-old barman, slid a beer across the bar to Henk. Being inebriated beyond his control, Henk missed the bottle, and it was met by the floor.

The bar is the second largest building in town, with the brewery taking up most of the space. It is the most popular gathering area from Monday through Saturday, and on Sundays after church. The restaurant area has an abundance of tables that are moved to the side whenever Kurt Darren starts playing over the radio. The bar counter centers the room in a half moon shape, with the kitchen and brewery doors on either side.

Henk had his own seat with a plaque of his name on the back at the edge of the counter next to the brewery door. This was gifted to him by Mouse’s family when he made his first and last payment to his overdue tab in 2005. Henk chose this spot, because according to him ’The window in the door allows me to watch the magic happen’.

‘Time to slow down there, Cowboy. It’s still going on your tab.’ Mouse announced the end to Henk’s bender, knowing that this was the signal to cut Henk off. ‘Along with all the others since‘05.’ He muttered below his breath.

Mouse has been working behind the bar since he dropped out of school at the age of fourteen - the same year in which his parents took over the bar from Mouse’s grandfather. His great-great-great grandfather, Christoffel Malan, was the original founder of the brewery when Poeskloof was founded.

‘Mouse!’ Henk yelled from the corner, dragging his tongue the same way he’s dragging the settlement if his tab. ‘Put it on my tab.’

Henk is the town drunk. Henk was discharged from the police force in Holbak back in ’98 after being caught filling up his tank at the gas station and driving away without paying. A few weeks later his wife packed up both of his kids and moved out of town. She literally packed the kids into separate bags as to hide them from Henk, fearing that he will open a kidnapping case.A few months later he received divorce papers in the mail and ever since he spends day in, day out, on his designated chair in Kloof Brewery drinking his liver into an even worse state than his heart.

‘Might as well.’ Mouse sighed and added another beer onto Henk’s tab. He opened the beer and drank it himself.

As the door of the bar opened,and a group of ladies dressed in pant suits, big hats, and gloves, walked in.

‘I still cannot believe Pastor Wayne will wear pants that tight!’ A lady dressed in all pink said as she took her seat around the table.

‘I heard it’s because his wife does not know how to do washing, so it shrunk.’ Another added her theory. The group took sat around a table in the furthest corner of the bar, just behind a support beam to hide themselves from other customers walking in. They thought that if they sat there after church meetings and services, no one would notice them, though everyone in town knows that the ladies of the church committee meet at the brewery for a few double brandies and coke after meetings. They were known to sit and gossip about the town’s people and they knew all of the stories that goes circulates in town. Mouse calls them the ‘dictionary’, though he means encyclopaedia.

‘I just know that I will do some things to him a good Christian women won’t.’ The pink lady added as the group giggled.

‘Can I get you ladies some tea?’ Mouse asked sarcastically to the group came out of a church meeting.

‘Boy, God is on leave till Sunday, now get us a round of doubles with a lot of ice, please’ A big lady in a baby blue suit placed the order. The women sat with her rear spanned over two seats. The seams on her suit’s skirt stretched as if it was clinging on for life. Her legs are the size of a tree trunk of a tree that is centuries old, with the fat around her ankles gently embracing the kitten heels, and her arms aren’t much smaller

Mouse, afraid that the lady in blue will fold him like a warm fizzer, acknowledged their order and went back to the counter to fulfill it.

‘Two beers, please.’ Chris told Mouse as he walked in. Mouse handed the ladies their drinks and ventured back to his station.

Mouse popped the caps off both and handed Chris both. He asks, ‘Rough morning?’

‘You have no idea what I just saw.’ Chris swallowed the last bit of beer from the first bottle. ‘I just did some work over at Aunt Henrietta’s place and she was half naked.’

Mouse chuckled. ‘Was she wearing those short shorts again?’

‘I wish, this time no shorts, just piece of lace strung around her midsection saggy enough to double as a kitchen curtain.’

‘Jesus, I’m sorry you had to see that.’ Mouse finished his beer. He rang another onto Henk’s tab and took a gulp.

‘Is he still alive?’ Chris gestured over to Henk who’s receding hairline rested on his right arm. His left arm dangled in between his legs as if it was detached from his shoulder pocket.

Mouse flung a block of ice towards his head. As it hit the bald patch, that doubled as a bull’s eye for this often-played game, Henk’s right arm bent by the joint as if it had been possessed by a fly-swatting spirit.

‘I’ll check again in ten.’ Mouse threw the remaining four ice blocks back in the ice-bucket having hit his target the first time.

Chris and Mouse became friends after the prior year’s annual Ox Wagon race. Chris never participated in the races, as he was usually the person helping all the other competitors decorate and service their wagons. Last year, however,after helping with the decoration of Mouse’s wagon and convincing Piet Poggenpoel to loan Mouse two of his strongest bulls, he agreed to pair up with Mouse and entered together.

The annual Ox Wagon race takes place on first Saturday of May followed by a big braai. The festivities of the first Saturday is the preamble to Founders Day which is celebrated on the first Sunday of May. The locals would attend church in the morning, dressed in their colonial outfits, head to the entrance of the town that was without a doubt inaccurately determined by studying Zuurberg’s journal. They would then parade towards the town’s central park on their wagons, the order of which is determined by results of the wagon races. After the parade the mayor of the town will give his Founder’s Day speech and open the tables for the feast to commences. The Founder’s Day parade is the town’s biggest event.

After The first Saturday of May in 1836 was documented to be when Zuurberg and his group stopped their wagons, filled with their families, their livestock, and enough supplies to last them the remainder of winter, in an open field between two hills, with a river running perfectly through the middle of the field. It was documented that they raced to the body of water to set up camp on the embankment until they could figure out where they were. The following day, Johan Zuurberg, along with his two closest friends, Christoffel Malan and Herman van der Stel, decided that they will travel no further and claimed the land as their own. Zuurberg, jokingly, named the settlement ‘Poeskloof’, and this was later decided to be the name of the town. They rallied all the men and used stone which they quarried out of the vast mountain ranges, and mud from the river, to build the church in the middle of the settlement. This church still stands today and was declared a historical landmark only a few decades ago. Christoffel Malan, was an avid brewer who converted his wagon into a mobile brewery to quench the thirst of a hard day’s work. Upon completion of the church, he rallied the same men to build a brewery right next to the towering church. This building has since been demolished and rebuilt, as there were a lot of structural imperfections caused by tiresome, and for the most part intoxicated, labor.

‘Are you coming over tonight to work on the wagon?’ Mouse held out a packet of Winston Red cigarettes from which Chris took one.

‘I’ll be there at six, I need to help Piet with his barn door later.’ Chris confirmed as he lit the cigarette with a match.

‘See if you can maybe get him to loan us those bulls again. I can really use the prize money for the bar. Some dickhead broke into the back and stole the hops.’

The bell at the door rang as it opened. The warm gust of dry karoo air blew a silence into the bar. The ringing of the bell died down exponentially, and along with the silence the gust also brought an eerie atmosphere causing Henk to sit up, seemingly sober.

‘Oh, hi.’ A woman, in her twenties, said. She was clearly not a local, as the town had not aged her fair skin one bit and her light brown eyes still glistened with hope.

A general rule of thumb when guessing someone’s age in Poeskloof is to deduct at least twenty years from the age you guessed. The dry karoo air, along with the struggles of hard labour will add anywhere between fifteen and forty-four years to your features.

Another tell-tale sign that she was from out of town was that no one recognized her, and in Poeskloof everyone knows each other as if they are family, which for the most part they are. This makes dating difficult, but Pastor Wayne ensures that because Poeskloof is such a small town with very few visitors God will turn a blind eye.

After a minute of everyone in the bar standing around and staring in shock, the lady whispered, ‘It’s okay, I’ll find a garage.’

Confused and concerned she retreated out of the door and turned around only once it closed. She walked towards a parked car in front of the brewery.

From the end of the bar Henk exclaimed ‘What the fuck just happened?’ as if the miracle of having a visitor in town shocked him into sobriety. The second miracle to occur in one day.

Chris ran out the door to help the stranger. Shortly after he left the church ladies followed with different intent.

Mouse turned his head towards Henk following a hard thud and some glasses shaking on the counter. Henk has passed out once again, but for the last time.

When Henk did not respond to the ice cubes Mouse threw against his head, Mouse went over to check on him, but couldn’t find a pulse.

The coroner in Holbak later determined that henk died of blunt force trauma to the head, but rumours went around town claiming that it was the appearance of a tourist that finally shocked him to death.

Chris and Mouse were the only two people to attend his funeral later that week as Pastor Wayne did not even show up to do the service.

Kloof Brewery Parking Lot

‘Hi sorry ma’am!’ Chris yelled as he approached the woman sitting in her car. ‘Sorry about that, we were all a bit shocked, we don’t get many visitors here. You’re the first one in about four years. You even scared an alcoholic sober.’

‘Dead, she scared him dead!’ Mouse claimed from the porch of the bar as he moved Henk’s body to a bench under main window.

‘Oh shit.’ Chris said as he stared at Henk’s limp body for a few seconds before turning back to the woman. ‘Do you need any help, any directions? I’m sure you didn’t come here for the scenery.’

The woman was still confused at their reaction, and even more so now after seeing Henk’s body sitting on a bench as if he’s enjoying the view.

‘Is he okay? Should we call someone? Why is no one doing anything?’ She frantically asked.

‘Oh no that’s just Henk. He was going to go soon anyway; I lost money on it taking this long. I’m sure Mouse phoned AVBOB. How can I help you?’ Chris said.

‘Who’s Mouse?’ She asked.

‘The barman.’

‘Why do you call him Mouse?’

‘I don’t know his real name. He’s been mouse for years. Do you need help?’ Chris became a bit more annoyed with all the questions.

‘Where in the hell am I?’ She looked around to figure out where she is and why everyone in town started walking towards her.

‘Poeskloof.’ Chris answered.

‘What?’

‘The place is called Poeskloof.’

’Like ‘pussy gorge?’

‘Exactly that, yes. It’s warm, dry, has a distinct smell that you hate to love, and the locals enjoy it very much. Now, can I help you?’ Chris looked a little over her shoulder and noticed the locals coming out of their little stores, with the church ladies pointing and gesturing towards the visitor. They all flipped their ‘Back in 30 minutes’ signs over and headed towards the bar.

‘My car is constantly overheating and making a weird noise. I didn’t want to drive like that because I still have a long way to go. I saw a little sign showing a garage is nearby so I was hoping someone can help me out.’ She explained to Chris.

‘That was the mayor. He made the sign a few years back hoping someone would take the exit and come through the town. We don’t have a garage, we have a single self-help fuel pump at the hardware store, but not a lot of us have cars, so we don’t need a garage.’

‘Great. Just great. My car is busted, your mayor played a prank and now I’m stuck in a place called… what?’

‘Poeskloof.’

’Poeskloof! With a bunch of hillbillies. I don’t even think if I phone AA they will know where to BEGIN looking for me!’ Frustration pushed her over the edge as she went down a spiral of panic.

‘If you had let me finish, I would have said I can help you a bit later. I’m meeting up with Mouse after his shift to work on our Ox Wagon for the race, I could have looked at it then. Guess I’m not going to do it now. I hope you come right!’ Chris said as he turned around and walked away.

‘Wait, you can help me?’ She asked as Chris was already a few meters away.

‘Can? Yes. Want too? Not really, no.’ Chris said as he retreaded towards his truck.

‘Why not? Is it because I called you hillbillies?’ She asked.

‘You’re too much drama.’

‘I’m not!’

‘And you ask a lot of questions. I suggest you get a place to stay for the night. You don’t want to be outside when it’s dark.’ Chris mocked her.

‘Why? What happens here after dark?’ She asked, seemingly concerned.

’Have you ever watched Wrong Turn?’ He said as he got into his truck.

Chris started the engine and pulled up next to the woman. He rolled down the window. She was looking up the number for AA on her smartphone.

‘My name is Chris, get in the truck, we’re going to the hardware store. We can come back for your car and take it to Mouse’s workshop afterward. I don’t bite, though I’m one of the few people who still has all my teeth.’ Chris unlocked the doors to the truck. The woman reluctantly got into the passenger side of the truck. She had 10111 entered onto her dialer but discarded it as she looked across the road to see the only police officer in Poeskloof asleep on a chair on the Police Station’s porch, with his gun resting against the wall next to him. She let out a whimper.

‘I’m Micaela. Thank you for helping me.’ She sighed as if the feelings of terror and relief were at war inside her chest.