Unusual Nuptials – The long haul home

The lorry was late in arriving at the hotel that morning. Jerry and Thirza were waiting outside with their pile of the boxes containing the stores, food, the curtain, clothes, wine and some new prospecting tools for Jerry.

The cool, frosty morning mirrored their mood when the lorry did finally show up.

Thirza raised an eyebrow at the sight of the lorry and the squealing brakes. “Jerry do you think this contraption will get us there?” she said concerned.

“Mr. Nash,” the driver said as he jumped out of the cab, “my name is Koos. Mr. Vandeveeren told me to fetch you. He was out late last night – a big ‘babalaas’ he has this morning – not good.” He held his head imitating his boss’s headache.

“I’m glad you’re here. I was beginning to get a headache too,” said Jerry as he shook the young man’s hand. “Lets get on with it then,” he added.

The two men began loading ‘the goods’ into the back of the little lorry. Thirza wrinkled her nose at a pungent smell when she placed their valise in the cab. “What’s the smell?” she exclaimed.

“We were taking cow manure to my uncle’s farm yesterday,” said young Koos grinning mischievously.

All their boxes would not fit in the back of the lorry, and a little argument ensued.

“Do you think you could do without some of those boxes for a few days,” said Jerry kindly to Thirza, but he wore a tired air.

Thirza sacrificed the hat-box. “It can come later,” she said and pointing “that one with my paper and pencils. I won’t need them until we get settled in the bush.”

The lorry’s load weighed on Jerry’s mind as the three of them squeezed into the cab. Thirza sat with a container of eggs on her lap and Jerry held onto the valise.

It was a bumpy ride to the camp, nine miles from town. They had to wait at the bridge outside of town to cross the Orange River. A tractor pulling a load of pigs stopped next to them after hogging both lanes on the bridge. Koos and the tractor’s driver had a long ‘chat’, all in Dutch.

Jerry couldn’t move much and to alleviate that worry a little swearing served to compensate for his discomfort.

Thirza took hold of his hand holding the valise, “Now, now, Jerry. Soon we will be there – home and free of burden,” she said smiling.

With that they crossed over. The frost had gone, lifting their morning mood. They listened to Koos’s banter about the scenery passing by, his uncle’s farm and how his cousin was a layabout. It all helped the time to pass.

They passed through a gorge between two hills, over which clumps of the delicate shrub called “broom bush” grew and then over another hill where the view of the winding river marked by the willows on it’s banks gave Thirza a perspective of their home coming.

The brakes made it known that the downside of that hill was arduous. She hung onto the eggs as they wound around bends into the valley below.

Finally Jerry pointed to the spire of a bell tent tucked behind bushes. “There’s our camp,” he pointed. The lorry passed round the diamond diggings. “And here’s where we have a claim,” said Jerry with a hint of excitement in his voice.

They bumped over the grass, around the brushwood where two bell tents and a white cottage tent stood in front of them. A local boy came out from behind some trees as they drove up.

“Hello missus, Mr. Jerry told me you were coming,” he said in greeting Thirza.

“You must be Petrus. Mr. Nash told me about you,” said Thirza replying with dignity.

Koos and Petrus unloaded the lorry and Jerry took Thirza’s hand leading her to the largest tent. He untied the flaps and flung them open for Thirza to enter.

“Home,” he announced.