Karoo Keepsakes – Bull Dancing, Line Dancing, Sea Cowboys, Coldstream Guards & the Magic of a Shearing Shed

Bull dancing 

Alexander Bay society used to be divided into Binnekampers and Buitekampers (people who lived inside the restricted area and those who were outside the fence). Before leaving the area on weekend pass, binnekamp families and their possessions were thoroughly searched, because diamond smuggling in Namaqualand has always been as natural as truffle-sniffing in the south of France.

Namaqualanders are known for their prowess on the dance floor. On Saturday nights the womanless men would “bull dance” until dawn, tossing each other about with much gusto. At the nearby village of Grootderm (large intestine), the local headmaster held bull dances for the miners in his school canteen.

Restricted diamond fields around Alexander Bay. (Photo: Chris Marais)

And when the womenfolk started filtering into the community in later years, they would end up being flung onto the rafters by their over-enthusiastic male partners. “Go dance with your friends,” was an often-heard refrain uttered by a rather bruised wife. Those were the days of beach parties, giant crayfish screeching away in big drums of boiling water, epic fishing expeditions and the occasional overdose of Cape Smoke, a particularly vengeful black sheep of the brandy family.

And you never addressed a diamond by its name.

“We were taught always to use the word ‘product’ when speaking about, er, diamonds,” said Pieter Koegelenberg, a local who had given a quarter of a century to Alexander Bay. “Children playing ‘diamond in the sand’ games were told to use the word ‘pearl’ instead.”

Bedrock boys

They call her Port Jolly. She has a rebel nature. She’s the place to go if you’re in need of a party, an exotic sea tale or simply to blow off steam in the company of true frontier people.  

Port Nolloth’s diving community of South Africa’s northwest coast has always been a gem in the rough. For four days every month, men dressed like Jules Verne’s old bell divers fling themselves down to the bottom of the sea. Then they manhandle a suction pipe along the ocean bed in the hope of exposing some of those world-famous, beautifully smoothed little Orange River diamonds that have been so long in the making.

Diamond boats moored overnight at Port Nolloth. (Photo: Chris Marais)

If they don’t find anything, it’s just another day at sea in a little Tuppie (short for Tupperware, the nickname of the diving boats out here) with crewmates, a stewpot and a wine box. But when there’s a rumour of something nice and sparkly on board the boat, it’s “Crank up the music, boys. We’re in for a long night.”

And then the sea shuts up shop for the rest of the month and the divers go back to shore to work on their boats, their rigs, their home lives and matters of the land. And, of course, the local pub. Because Port Nolloth lies nestled between two restricted diamond areas, it has always been a hotbed of illicit diamond trade. 

Northern line dance

For as long as anyone can remember, the people of the Richtersveld have danced the Nama Stap. It’s as much part of the cultural tradition of the area as frilled bonnets, bread baked in a mud oven and domed reed matjieshuise. 

The Nama Stap, with its catchy beat, is danced at weddings, to give thanks, to celebrate almost anything or anyone. The participants are always demurely dressed, the girls with headscarves and skirts, the boys in their Sunday best. It’s all buoyant movement and gliding steps, circles within circles. 

To the outsider, it looks a little like a Texas line dance, with a number of partners dancing together. But one of the most special versions of the dance – and one seldom seen today – is to celebrate a young girl’s coming of age.

First, the girl is taken aside and put into her own matjieshuis. She won’t emerge for an entire month. Elder women take care of her, bring her food, fuss over her and teach the young girl what it means to be a proper Nama woman. They also put ointments of bush medicines on her skin to make it pale.

At the end of the month, a crowd gathers.

The young girl is, as some of the elders put it, “dressed to look like a springbok”. It’s a festive ceremony, and a chance for any young swain to make his feelings known. But she must be willing and he must be persuasive. He can only gain her favour if he’s able to “dance her out from under the sheltering arms of her chaperones”. 

Young Richtersvelders dancing the romantic Nama Riel. Photo: Chris Marais

Shearing season

The old Karoo shearing shed has the feel of a cathedral. Built in stone and corrugated iron, letting in natural light from above so the men can see to cut, and to class.  

The sounds – unforgettable. The shed is filled with the metallic clipping of the fast-moving blades, the murmur of the shearers and the constant bawling of the sheep or angora goats. Occasionally, a goat will bleat in protest at the injustice of losing its warm winter coat. The sound is just like a child throwing a tantrum.

Read more in Daily Maverick: The case for celebrating the certification of Karoo Lamb

Every five minutes or so, a shearer brings in a new, wide-eyed animal, clamping it firmly between his legs before starting on the hindquarters and working his way forward. The beasts sink into a hypnotised chicken trance, sitting immobile on their backsides as the wool comes off nearly in one piece like a skinned pelt.

The shearer puts the dazed sheep back on its feet and gives it a commanding pat as it scuttles off down the chute to its mates. The wool thrower brings the fleece over to the sorting table. With a dramatic gesture, he flings it onto the slatted surface, slick with decades of lanolin. The graders crowd around, burying their hands in the wool, looking at the length and fineness of the fibre.

Everything in a Karoo sheep-shearing shed is traditional, from the shears to the table to the wool presses. And when it comes to blade-shearing, South African cutters are some of the best in the world. The legendary Zwelile Hans lives in the Eastern Cape village of Sterkspruit and regularly trounces his Australian and New Zealand rivals on the world shearing stage.

The Coldstream stomping grounds 

Where does a past or present member of His Majesty’s Coldstream Regiment of Foot Guards on holiday in South Africa find himself most at home? The Graaff-Reinet Club – established in 1895 – which nestles snug in the heart of this major Karoo town on the banks of the Sundays River.

During the Anglo-Boer War, officers of the Coldstream Guards – the oldest military regiment in Britain’s Regular Army – were honorary members of the club. In fact, since that time any Coldstream Guardsman from any war or generation has enjoyed automatic membership of the Graaff-Reinet Club while staying in the town. They were actually quite lucky. Most clubs would slap a life ban on anyone discharging a firearm at the bar.

Historic weaponry on display in the Graaff-Reinet Club bar. (Photo: Chris Marais)

On the day they heard of the end of the Anglo-Boer War, the Coldstreamers poured into the Graaff-Reinet Club for a wild party. They were going home. No more chasing the elusive, perfidious Boers over hills and dales and prairies. A number of the more reckless Guardsmen jumped on the counter (made from the teak timbers of an old shipwreck from Algoa Bay) and emptied their revolvers into the bar and floor.

On display in the bar is also a 105-millimetre shell that was fired with deadly effect at a Cuban tank during the wars in Angola in the late 20th century. Other interesting dust collectors in the club include a brace of wine coolers made from elephant feet. There are still about 250 stalwarts who spend their evenings drinking with the noble – if slightly inebriated – soldier ghosts of the past. DM

Karoo Keepsakes by Chris Marais and Julienne du Toit.

Karoo Keepsakes II by Chris Marais and Julienne du Toit.

These are extracts from Karoo Keepsakes I & II by Chris Marais and Julienne du Toit. The authors are offering a Keepsakes Special on the classic little coffee table books of R600 (including courier costs within South Africa). For enquiries, please email Julie at [email protected]

Daily Maverick’s journalism is funded by the contributions of our Maverick Insider members. If you appreciate our work, then join our membership community. Defending Democracy is an everyday effort. Be part of it. Become a Maverick Insider.