My uncle had a farm in the Northern Cape. They lived in town later on. Said town being a tiny little village called Griquatown (Griekwastad). He had a village cafè and a butchery.
What I remember best are the chalk pebbles covering the roadside, the white dust that never settled, eating biltong (jerky) for breakfast, buying penny candy at the shop and playing with my cousins.
We also visited the local museum every single time. Why? Well, I'm not sure, but it was something to do.
Oh boy, and them there were the Kalahari sunsets. Even as a kid it took my breath away. Remember, I was a city brat!
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