A farm gate is the gateway to a farm, but as you all know there is not only one gate on a farm. The gates give access to different areas on a farm. Each gate tells it own story,
Farm gates come in different sizes and styles. The farmers
adapt the gates to fit into a specific opening.
The primary aim of the fence is to make access difficult for
animals and keep the animals in place as decided by the farmer. It gives the
farmer protection to the cultivated crops. They keep the livestock in and the
unwanted out. They allow the farmer to maintain control of the animals while maneuvering
large working vehicles on and off the property. Farmers know their gates and
what they need. Gates are used for main or rear entrances, pastures, pens, or
orchards, gates are a staple of life and they need to be sturdy to do the job
Farm gates go through a lot of abuse and they need to hold up to the rigorous of the elements, the livestock and heavy-duty use. Farm gates are important and they need to be made from the right materials to suit your day to day operation. Farm gates are made from wood or metal.
The best gates is metal. Gates need to be sturdy and strong livestock is more apt to break through wooden gates than metal. Gates need to be heavy, and long lasting all of which are perfectly suited for metal.
When Rovos Rail – The Pride of Africa stops at Kameel it is
always a special occasion.
For those that is still wondering Rovos Rail is a
train-hotel.. The trains consist of restored coaches with lounges, dinning
cars, private sleeping compartments, each with private ensuite facilities. Then
there is the observation car which is like sitting on the stoep of the train.
The train has different types of accommodation on board.
With names like Pullman. Delux and the Royal Suite, which is half a train car
The company was started in 1989 by Rohan Vos and is family
owned and Rovos Rail has its private station at Capital Park in Pretoria.
The dining car reminds of Edwardian train travel with beautiful pre-1940 and is characterized by the carved roof that is supported with pillars and arches. The button leather seating, cristal glass and branded cutlery is all enhanced with the beautiful light fittings. The fans add to the glamour. This car is referred to as the Pillars.
The lounge car is fitted with deep sofas and wing back chairs and seems like the ideal place for an afternoon snooze as the train makes its way over the plains of Africa. Even the train is air conditioned the windows can open and you can enjoy the sights, sounds and scents of Africa.
When the train leaves Vryburg station toward Mahikeng (Mafeking) there is a couple of stations and whistle stops en-route. Today there is not much going on, on this route as the trains that use this line is transporting loads to neighbouring countries of South Africa. We have travelled on the old service road between Paradise and Madibogo to have a look at the marker boards.
First stop is Paradise. There was not a station but the farmers would leave a parcel at the rail side for transportation to the next place. The marker telling us that Paradise is 781 miles from Cape Town and the 4013ft above sea level.
The next station is Devondale. There used to be water tanks for the steam locomotives. There used to be a little shop built of stone and we would travel on the passenger train from Kameel to Devondale for an outing. The Devondale marker reads 790 miles from Cape Town and 4129ft above sea level.
Next up is Mnyani only 5 miles from Devondale. This stop was used for passengers to get a way of transportation. It was also a popular stop for parcels. The maker reads 795 miles from Cape Town and the altitude is 4207ft. As you will notice there is a climb in the altitude of 194ft over 14 miles.
Curnow used to be a whistle-stop like Mnyani. It was a popular place for passengers to make use of the train to travel to Mahikeng on the passenger train. As children, we would call this the milk stop. Farmers would load the milk on the train to be transported to Vryburg to the diary. 797 miles from Cape Town 4267ft above sea level.
The next station is Kameel and it is the station we call home. Kameel used to be a busy station with lots of rail traffic. Today the old rail lines tell the stories of better times. It was the station where the grain from the silos was loaded for the next destination. It was extended with more rail tracks round 1980. The station was also equipped with yard lights. Unfortunately, like so many railway stations, the station building and other buildings were demolished. We still have some fun when the weekly train passes by and you feel the rumble of the train under your feet. It will never be the same again but we are trying our best to uplift the station houses and the community. Kameel is 805 miles from Cape Town 4449ft above sea level.
Still, en-route to Mahikeng is Doornbult. Doornbult is a crossing and between Kameel and Doornbult was the old trolley stop. When a train approached the trolley will have a place to park next to the main line. During the Anglo-Boer War, there was also a corrugated iron blockhouse from where the British troops would protect the railway line. Doornbult is 809 miles from Cape Town and the altitude is 4470ft. This is the highest point on the railway line.
Wirsing is a railroad siding and is located in Ngaka Modiri Molema District Municipality, North-West, South Africa. The estimate terrain elevation above sea level is 1377 metres.
Next up is Rabatho. Rabatho is 819miles from Cape Town and the altitude 4325ft
At the end of our road is Madibogo. Like Kameel Madibogo was a busy station. 821 miles from Cape Town 4038ft above sea level. The water tank is still standing the station buildings has been utilized and forms part of the community.
Thank you to everyone whom made their photo’s available.
Soos julle weet het ‘n Kameeldoringboom yslike dorings. Vir ‘n klein dogtertjie is dit sommer allermintige dorings. Onthou tot vandag dat ‘n doring in die sagte deel van my voetsool gesteek het. Dit het gereën en ons het in die water geloop. Die nagevolg was pynlik. Ma Floss het alles probeer maar die doring het vasgesuig vir dae. Vandag nog is die letsel onder my voet die bewys van die pyn en lyding.
In Suid-Afrika is die Kameeldoringboom is ‘n beskermde boom. Dit lewe vir baie jare. Van die bome op die plaas was daar toe ons as klein kinders daar kom woon het. Niks krap hulle omstandighede om nie. Nie droogte of baie reën nie. Die penwortel roei baie diep en die maksimum van so ‘n penwortel is 68m.
Die Doringboom verskaf kos, skuiling, plek vir die vee en voels. Dit het ook medisinale voordele vir die mens. Pierneef het graag die bome geskilder.
Jare gelede wou Pa Gerald ‘n boom uithaal wat in die pad was
van ‘n ontwikkelling. Die trekker – nogal met so ‘n dakkie – en kettings is
ingespan. Die trekker het gekreun en gesteun, maar toe die ketting breek en
amper vir Ouboet teen die kop tref Pa
oorgegee. Die boom staan nog vandag heel gemaklik op sy plek.
Die boom dra die mooiste grys peule. As jy desperaat genoeg is kan jy die peul oopbreek en die swart sade uithaal en fyn maal en gebruik as ‘n plaasvervanger vir koffie. Die fyn gemaalde saadpoeier is ook glo goed vir oorinfeksie. Gebrande as van die bas van die boom is goed om ‘n hoofpyn te genees. Die sade word ook gebruik as ‘n voer vir die vee. Die gesegde lei dat ‘n Kameeldoringboom nie sal groei voordat dit deur die maag van ‘n bees gegaan het.
Die bygelowe het ook nie die Kameeldoringboom verby gegaan nie. Daar word geglo dat weerlig eers ‘n doringboom sal slaan voordat dit anderbome sou raak slaan. Die storie glo ek swaar. In ons jong dae het die weer 14 van Ma Floss se beeste onder die Kareebome dood geslaan. Die Kameeldoringboom was ongeskonde.
Die Versamelvoëls maak maak masiewe
neste in die Kameeldoringbome. Die nes lyk soos ‘n groot hoop gras wat in die
boom sit. Wanneer jy onder die “hooimied”
staan sien jy die ingange na die verskillende kamers. Dit lyk nogal soos ‘n heuningkorf.
Honderde families woon in so ‘n nes en dit is ‘n gesig om van nader te beskou.
Hierdie neste word vir generasies van voëls bewoon.
Ons huis is natuurlik in die skadu van ‘n Kameeldoringboom gebou.
Die dorp Stella het wonderlike kinderdae herinneringe vir my. In besonder Brandstraat. Dit was die straat waarin Oupa Jimmy en Ouma Sannie se huis was. Nommer 10. Vandag lyk Brandstraat heel anders as wat my kinderdae se onthou dit voorgestel het.
Oupa en Ouma se huis was wit geverf en het so ‘n wye voorstoep waarop Oupa Jimmy graag gesit het en die wêreld bespiet het. Oupa het so ‘n skaaphak kierie gehad waarmee hy jou sommer so nader gehak het. Dit is die straat wat gelei het na die ou klipsaal. Die straat het sommer net daar by die klipsaal gestop. Vandag sou ons praat van ‘n cul-de-sac, maar daardie dae was dit ‘n vreemde woord. Die saal was die middelpunt van die dorp. Dit is nou naas die kerk. Daar was konserte en vergaderings gehou en natuurlik ook het die Vroue Landbou Vereniging hul vergaderings gehou. Ouma Sannie was ‘n raakvatter tussen die vroue van die VLV.
Brandstraat se huise het elkeen sy eie styl gehad. Almal was wit geverf. Almal naby die straat. Sommer so naby genoeg dat jy met die uit loop slag in die straat was. Daar was die Celliers huis op die punt naaste aan die klipsaal. Die huis het ‘n stoepie tussen die twee kamers wat soos vleuels op die stoep uit geloop het. gehad. Dan was daar die huis met die geboogde sinkplate oor die stoep. So ‘n regte Karoo-styl stoep. Die stoep waarop die oompie sy pyp gesit en rook het. Die hoekhuis lyk vandag nog baie dieselfde. ‘n Lekker stoep met die lae muurtjie.
Die water in Stella is brak want die soutpan lê naby die dorp. Vir baie jare is hier sout ontgin. Ongeag die brak water was daar heel party windpompe in die dorp, want almal het groentetuine gemaak. Ouma Sannie het ‘n Lemon Verbena by die agterdeur gehad. Dit was ‘n fees om die blare tussen ons hande te vryf en dan die reuk vir die hele dag saam te dra. ‘n Lekker vrugteboord was oupa se pride and joy. Die ingelgde geelperskes met dik vla, was ons kinders se gunsteling.
Oupa en Ouma was altwee kinders van die Willowmore, Patensie en die Gamtoos, soos Oupa het altyd na die Kolonie verwys as sy grootword wêreld gepraat het. Hy en Ouma het mekaar van kindsbeen geken. Hy het die plaas Langverwagt naby Kameel gekoop. Op hul oudag het hulle op Stella afgetree.
Ouma het geduld gehad met ons. Sy het die fynste kant hekel met sulke fyn gare en ‘n blink hekelpen. Dollies was ‘n groot gunsteling. Elkeen het die mooiste glaskrale gehad. Dit het geklingel wanneer sy die koffie ingebring het en dit oor die melkbertjie daarmee toegemaak was. Sy het geduld gehad om my te leer hekel – hotklou en al.
Die kombuis het ‘n houttafel gehad. So wit geskrop naby die koolstoof. In die eetkamer was ‘n bal-en-klou tafel wat ‘n verlengstuk gehad het. Op Sondae was die tafel gedek met ‘n gehekelde tafeldoek en haar beenhef eetgerei. Sy sou op ‘n oggend bel en sommer so terloops sê dat sy my pa se gunsteling skaapboud gaar gemaak het en ons moes oorkom vir ete. Sy kon selfs haar skoonseun onder ‘n wip vang met haar kos wat altyd vol verrassings was. Wanneer dit vetkoekdag was, was dit wonderlik om die vormpies van die vetkoeke in die olie te probeer assosieer met ‘n diertjie. Eendjies en hasies was altyd ‘n reg raai.
Ouma het lang hare gehad. Sy het dit in ‘n lang vlegsel aan die eenkant van haar kop gevleg en dan om haar kop gedraai. Na Oupa oorlede is en Ouma by haarself gewoon het, het die dogters op ‘n dag besluit – Ouma se hare moes kort geknip word. Wat ‘n tragedie was dit. Ouma kon nooit met die kort hare vrede maak nie. Ek het baie dae my tas gepak om by ouma te gaan bly maar het maar elke keer weer terug gekom huis toe.
Ouma Sannie het ook die swaar van die lewe geken. Haar een dogtertjie is oorlede en twee van Ouma se seuns is tydens WWII oorlede. Ek het altyd gewonder hoe sy dit oorleef het want daar was altyd ‘n glimlag op haar gesit.
Ouma het nog in die tyd van briewe skryf gelewe. Onlangs het ek hierdie stukkie kosbaarheid van ‘n niggie ontvang. Die brief is gerig aan haar suster, Tant Pollie, wat in Uitenhage gewoon het. Die inhoud is kosbaar!
We are part of the street as much as we are part of the town.
Our house address is 17A Stuart Street.
The name Stuart relates to two possibilities.
*Major Warden named all his children after the Royal house of Stuart. Rumors were that he was an unofficial grandson of Bonnie Prince Charlie.
* Stuart Jacobus, 1803 – 1878, author, diplomatic agent and advocate of emigration, took part in the Sand River Convention in 1852.
After the Boer War in 1904, the British had a huge camp on Kings Hill. Here they broke many stones, cut and trimmed it to be used for building purposes. To get these stones in the town a track was laid from Kings Hill to the town. Some of these stones were used when the Town hall was built. This information probably also explains the existence of many houses and buildings in Stuart St, which were built of stone. There were also traces of the track in Vowe and Bester streets.
The early magistrates were Bester, Chauvin, Theron, D Cloete, J De Kock, Bramley, (that was accused of high treason), Canisius, J N Boshoff, J Z de Villiers, F W van der Riet, Charles Warden. (Steytler 1932)
Mr. Joseph De Kock resides at De Oude Huize Yard from 23 July 1861 till 23 April 1903 almost 42 years.
Concentration camp at the foot of Platberg
After an incident with Lord Kitchener the women were transported to “Tin Town”
Some women were lucky and did not travel in open carriages
An almost mad Kitchener was tormented by the Concentration Camp women and children when they did not show respect when the funeral procession of Dr Godfrey Reid pass them. Instead a hissing sound was made. Reid was killed during the Groenkop battle on Christmas day. The women and children were then moved to “Tin Town” close to Ladysmith. Some were transported in open train carriages and the luck ones in proper passenger car.
Thank you to Leon Strachan, Nico Moolman en Biebie de Vos for their contribution
Our next story comes with a twist as we noticed that the cornerstone of the Wesley Hall was laid by Mrs. Tom James. It left a question mark.
Who was Mrs. Tom James?
The Wesley Hall was built in 1906 and the cornerstone was laid by Mrs. Tom James on 17 January 1906. She was the eldest daughter of James Putterill. Her husband was a true supporter of the church and was for many years the Sheriff and Mayor of the town.
From the time Harrismith was established most of its inhabitants were English-speaking. The British settlers who emigrated to Natal during 1849-50 found the country in the Byrne Valley not suitable for traditional farming practices. Many went to settle in urban areas, while some returned to Britain. Encouraged by Mr Warden, about 1 500 settlers came to Harrismith.
The story of Anne as shared by Leon Strachan.
Mrs Tom James was Anne Putterill and has a truly sad but remarkable story.
Her father James Putterill was a Byrne settler with a big personality who owned land in Verulam before moving his family up to Harrismith in 1863. His eldest daughter, a tiny but stubborn 25-year-old woman refused bluntly to get married, even though women were in great demand in the Free State (in 1863 the Free State Republic had been in existence for only 9 years and was extremely sparsely populated).
Unfortunately her disinterest did not prevent a man to fall in love with her. Anne didn’t want to have anything to do with him. When Anne’s strong-willed father (a grandchild referred to him as domineering) got wind of this he stepped in to salvage the situation. He instructed the man, a Welshman called Thomas James, to build a suitable house and furnish it. He, on the other hand, bought trousseau and a wedding dress for Anne, and fixed a wedding date.
When Tom James completed his ‘solid cut stone house,’ James Putterill instructed his daughter to prepare for her wedding. Anne refused, she said she didn’t love Mr. James and that was that.
The Putterill’s were a prominent family thanks to the very forceful James Putterill, who was an excellent business man and played a leading role in the Wesleyan (Methodist) church, as he did in town affairs. Whilst guests filled the church in Warden street on Anne’s wedding day, he instructed his womenfolk to dress up the unwilling bride. He then continued to drive her to the chapel in his carriage, where he walked a very unhappy daughter up the isle. He maneuvered the obstructive girl into position next to the groom, while he flanked her on the other side ‒ urging a flabbergasted minister to get started.Don’t think James Putterill had won the battle of wills yet. Anne was unfazed, she declined bluntly to take the marriage vows in front of all the astonished wedding guests. She stood her ground, not unnerved at all. Putterill didn’t despair either, neither did he give up. It would be a battle of wills to the inevitable end.
Every time it was expected of the bride to answer the parson, James pushed his silent daughter’s head slightly down as if she nodded whilst signalling impatiently to an ever more uncomfortable parson to get on with it. The ceremony was thus unceremoniously consummated, and the unlikely couple settled shakily into the solid stone house.
They were childless (3 stillborn). Tom James turned out to be a stalwart who became sheriff and mayor of Harrismith. Both he and his wife loved fishing, they were often seen fishing together whenever an opportunity occurred. The 66-year old Tom died in 1894, after which Anne took in a Miss Dixon to keep her company. According to Beryl Osborn (Anne’s niece who penned the family history) they lived happily together until the British garrison arrived on Kings Hill in 1903, when disaster struck.
A striking and very charming young soldier, conveniently named private James, befriended the two elderly ladies. Young James told them he was an orphan with no home and no family, all alone in the world.
Besotted with him, Anne bought him out of the army and formally adopted him. The young man then gratefully proceeded to squander his adopted mother’s savings. Even when Anne had lost everything she owned, never an unkind word was uttered or anything damaging believed of the young man. He bolted unceremoniously out of the country when there was nothing left to spend.
The Putterill family had to club together to provide the necessary means for Anne and Miss Dixon, and their parrot, to live on. Anne rewarded them by living into her nineties.
There is a pear tree in our neighbor’s garden but we are fortunate that a couple of branches arched into our driveway. On a windy day the pears would end-up on our driveway and were to bruised to eat or use. Every year we would safe some but end up with a bottle or two chutney or perhaps a starter of blushing poached pears.
This year there was a good crop of little Hood pears hanging over our driveway.
A little research and we were ready for our harvest. Pears ripen from the inside out. Left to ripen on the tree, they may become mushy. They ripen quite nicely once harvested. The old trick of storing the pears in a cool, dry place and the add of bananas did the trick. I put the bananas on top of the pears—and the more bananas, the faster the pears ripen.
Yesterday was Mulled Pear day.
We peeled and core the pears and let is sit in a bowl with salt water to prevent the pears to turn brown.
First the oven needs to be preheat to 150oC.
Then it was time to make the Mulled syrup. I used crab apples to give the syrup a nice pink color. Once there was a nice pink color in the water. The crab apples were removed.
Then cinnamon, star Aniseeds, gloves and allspice were added to the crab apple water.
The water was put to a rapid boil and then sugar was added. The sugar was then added and once the sugar dissolved a good bottle of red wine was added. A Merlot is a fruity wine that add to the flavor. The smells from the big pot was divine. It reminded we of my Mom and the many bottles that she filled during the summer months. Her specialty was canned whole peaches. We called it cling peaches because the pip was left inside and when eating the whole peach you really have to cling on to it or it would flew over the dinning table.
The syrup was then strained through a muslin cloth and I must say the color was looking just right.
The pears pack into warm, sterilized jars. Pears are very bottom-heavy and I find that you have to fill the bottles with more pears than originally though. Heat the syrup to boil and pour into the jars.
Cover the jars with lids, but do not tighten it properly. Place the jars about 5cm apart in the oven for about 2 hours. This will also depend on the size of the jars.
Remove from the oven and seal properly and place on a wooden surface. Leave undisturbed until completely cool and check the seal the following day.
It will last for about 12 months on the shelf of your canning cupboard.
Proof is always in the tasting. For an early evening we had mulled pears, with Parma Ham and Goat’s Cheese Salad
Stuart Street – this quaint and superbly kept cottage once belonged to Miss Helen Scott “Scotty”. Miss Scotty was the English teacher to many scholars. She was a wonderful teacher and friend to so many people in Harrismith who all loved her
She also wrote a testomonial for Mary Bland, in 1945, when Mary was finishing off Matric.