What a week! Hang on… That’s nearly three weeks since I arrived back at Boggy Pond! I barely had time to install three ports in the first stage of my Biogas digester before I became heavily involved with preparations for the first ever “Celebration of History Festival” – a rather awkward way of saying “Heritage Festival”.
The 4th of December marks the 200th anniversary of old JJ Tesselaar’s bequeathing of this land to his slaves. Legend has it that he fathered many of their children, with the compliance of his barren wife. For a long time the settlement – it is hardly a town – was known as Hartebeestfontein. It was only when the Post Office was named Tesselaarsdal to avoid confusion with a similarly-named town that the name began to be used to denote the place. The name stuck, even after the Post Office ceased postal delivery in the 1960s.
Although Tesselaarsdal remained a backwater, some of its residents have from time to time revealed an independence of spirit which resisted being pushed around by big government. Most notable was the fact that the Nationalist Government never succeeded in imposing the Group Areas Act on this mixed community, which kept them tied up in Court for about twenty years. More recently, the national electricity supplier was given a bloody nose. Residents had barely a week to prevent huge 440KvA power lines being strung across the heart of the settlement. Representatives of Eskom had to admit that the EIA (Environmental Impact Assessment) was faulty.
As in many small towns, Government neglect soon resulted in unemployment, alcoholism and depression. Although never a segregated town, the pernicious divisiveness of Apartheid “out there” inevitably had an effect on the psyche of some. Good intentions misapplied also had an effect: a thriving vegetable farming community was destroyed by the installation of piped water to replace the canal system. The same water, from the same spring on the mountain, that had been freely available for agriculture for generations now had to be paid for at unrealistic municipal tariffs.
Tensions arose between different family lines and between people born here and a small but increasing number of white settlers buying land virtually abandoned by people leaving the community.
The fight against Eskom revived the fighting spirit of a few of the residents. The fact that the white residents fought as hard and put in as much effort as the locals during the Eskom battle did not go unnoticed. Some folk were given pause by the fact that the settlers seemed to value the spirited heritage of the town more highly than they themselves did.
With the power lines diverted and delayed, there was a danger that the “common threat” effect could wear off. The impending anniversary of JJ Tesselaar’s bequest provided a fortuitous common goal.
Frankly, nobody knew what would happen last Saturday. Involvement by the townsfolk was at first muted and cautious, even suspicious. The concept of voluntary work was difficult to promote, probably not helped by he fact that many of the prime movers were white newcomers. Perhaps an insidious result of the Apartheid era “Master/Servant” relationship?
Clearly the townsfolk were talking to relatives who had left for the greener pastures of Cape Town, because the early feedback was from people who had left. They were so taken by the idea that family convoys and groups were being arranged. The opportunity for locals to earn some money by having a stall overcame suspicions that the committee members would pocket the fees. Interest picked up in the last week, ironically, I suspect, driven by the talk the impending Festival was generating in the larger surrounding towns.
Saturday 4th December dawned under a leaden sky, with occasional flurries of Cape rain. Still, none of the organisers had the foggiest idea of what to expect….
More next time…..