‘Spyon Kopje’ the signpost indicated. I was already feeling tense.
Our holiday started on the empty road from Mafiking to Johannesburgh. Hardly a car in the hot sun, but the roadsides and fields in and around Derby were thick with cosmos. The roadside stores did what roadside stores are supposed to do, supplied us with petrol and Fanta. The storekeeper’s attitude was the only thing that was cool. Although the Boer war finished one hundred years ago tensions between Boer and English continue.
I detected a different unwelcomeness at the Platinum Mine near Rustenberg. This time the hostile attitude was coming from African miners leaving the mine at end of their shift.
In parts of Johannesberg we felt no more welcome, but we had been warned. ‘If they demand your car; give it to them. That way they might not kill you.’
South Africa claims the highest murder rate in the world.
Continuing our trip towards the Drakesburgh we headed for Ladysmith. A more relaxed town, but a historically confusing mixture of English and Afrikaans speakers. I was surprised at the number of memorials to Boer heroes and Boer weaponry.
But closer to Drakensburg things became more tense. Local Zulu youths threw stones at our car. I was later told this was to make us crash so they could rob the wreckage.
Then the road became empty driving towards a prominent high Kopje. ‘Spyon Kopje’, the road sign read. I was unsure whether this was the same hill as the ‘Spion Kop’ of our history books or the battle honours blazoned on the flags above the side pews in Bath Abbey. It was. I remembered the feelings of a patriotic teenager sitting under these moth eaten dusty banners whenever there was a school service or district Scout Church Parade.