WHATEVER YOU DO, DON’T LET THE JO JO TANK HIT THE FLOOR (UNLESS OF COURSE YOUR FALLING OFF A THREE FOOT CONCRETE LEDGE AND ROLLING INTO A DRY RIVER BED)
Today has been a very successful day. Gilbert, Charles, Sipho and I have finally completed one of the houses. The Malueke house now has a set of roof gutters, down pipes and a Jo Jo tank to collect the soon to arrive summer rains. This means that Mrs Malueke and the children will have to carry a lot less water for their use. When the rains come, the tank will be continually filled, the water will be more or less clean and to put into perspective the weight each tank holds. For every time the tank fills, it will save the family the equivalent of carrying TWO THOUSAND KILOGRAMS of weight on their heads! It was such a great feeling to see it all completed and a promising sign for the future, it started to rain and the first trickles or rain water could be heard making its way into the tank.
The tanks are huge things and a real pain in the arse to manoeuvre. There not heavy, one person can lift them, providing that person has arms like Mr Tickle. I got them onto the buckie and one at a time drove them to Dumphries gate, bouncing around in the back as the buckie lurched and lunged over the bumpy dirt road. The plan then was for the four of us to lift it, keep it stable and then lower it over the eight feet high electrified boundary fence. That was the plan. The guys I work with are brilliant, however sometimes in the enthusiasm to get things done, ’more haste, less speed’ seems to go out of the window. The Jo Jo tanks when not stable on a platform and horizontal are very fragile. One of the other great things about the guys I work with is when requested to do something in particular, they do it spot on. In this case ’literally’ may be a better word to use.
The Jo Jo tank was held aloft, high enough to clear the fence without anyone getting zapped. This put the tank about eight feet high. The lads on the other side were shuffling their feet for position and before the tank being stable, the move was on. The lads were stood on a concrete walkway which has a three feet drop on either side, it ground then drops down onto a gradient of hard packed scorched earth that’s littered with rocks. It then falls slowly to a dry river bed. The call from myself and Lindsay repeatedly went out ’don’t let the Jo Jo tank hit the deck‘, ‘don’t let the Jo Jo tank fall’. It was almost a mantra. The guys shuffled, the call went out. The guys again shuffled, again the call went out. The path narrowed, to narrow for what we doing. The writing as they say, was on the wall. In big letters.
The tank wobbled and wavered, it then plunged to one side, the call went out. I just saw it drop from eight feet to past my eye level and then on towards and below my feet. Again the call went out. Asi had fallen off the ledge and was on his way to some good bruising from the hard floor. Incredibly he managed to, in mid fall, manoeuvre his falling body under the Jo Jo tank and then instead of putting his arms underneath him to break his fall, he directed them upwards and underneath the falling tank. He hit the deck, the tank closely following him. The tank hit him with a good whack on the head and then harmlessly roled to a stop shortly after. Jeez, what a save. Gordon Banks himself would have shook his Asi’s hand. I couldn’t contain my emotions……and promptly burst out laughing, Lindsay, Gilbert, Sipho and Charles did the same. What is it about people falling, other people, that makes us laugh uncontrollably? They should bottle falls like this and when were having a bad day at work, we should open the bottle and give ourselves a good cheering up. Asi fortunately wasn’t hurt and bounced up like an uncoiling spring. I had to move the car. The car was in a perfectly suitable place, I simply needed somewhere to laugh.
That evening I went round to Johans and Lindsays for a braai and some drinks whilst the rugby was on. The braai over here are something else, the meet is cooked to perfection over coals and it’s a real get together atmosphere. I also got to meet Johans brother whom was trying to explain to me ‘story’ behind South African music. Its really interesting actually and him and Johan gave me a demonstration of the ‘Stooky’. A traditional South African dance I can only liken to a fast waltz.
Another really good day.
I’ll be heading home on either Tuesday or Wednesday (not sure which yet as the flights aren’t finalised) as much as I want to get home and see people, I can’t believe how fast it has come round. I’ll be really sorry to leave, everyone in the staff village have made me feel welcome and I’ve received invites to braai’s, leaving do’s and game drives and I’ve made, what I’d happily describe as friends in the village. Sipho, Gilbert and Charles are absolutely brilliant lads and I almost want to be able to magically give them the life their searching for. Its not even that much really, work and a bit of money. It doesn’t work that way though, unfortunately. They’ve ‘bagsied’ some of my clothes and I’m happy to give them. I can easily replace them at home, not that I need to, more if I want to. Tomorrow we have one more day left of work in the village, I think I’ll treat the three of them to a beer after we’ve finished.
So tomorrow, its final Jo Jo tank day and final day.
Oh I nearly forgot to mention my stand off with the warthogs, the little buggers. I was heading into the rubbish area and a large female and two young hogs were mulling around, snaffling for food. As I reached the back of the fenced in area, they had made their way to the front and the only exit. As I started to walk towards the exit and where they were munching away, I startled the young ones. The mum immediately confronted me, her body tense and six inch teeth/tusks directed firmly at me. At first I didn’t really bother and carried on walking. She then became more agitated and more defensive, her long head bowed down and she visibly tensed up and got ready to charge me. These hogs are built like mini rhino’s and I reckon if one ran into me I’d be plastered along the floor. I waited by the skip, ready to dive into it and its shitty contents to avoid a steaming and she just stood firmly, not giving an inch. People in the yard started to watch and I felt a little embarrassed at not knowing what to do. I made a few benign jokes and nervously waited. After about fifteen minutes and either realising I wasn’t a threat or I wasn’t worth the hassle, they went back to feeding and I slipped slowly by. It was a good example of how things can turn in this environment, granted not as good an example as the rhino’s running at my car but good never the less. When I buy my metal warthog tomorrow, I might ask the guy to paint a black eye on. A symbolic victory for me.