Maverick Life

Guardians of the Vaal: Legends of grit, diamonds, and dusty reams

Working the diamond diggings north of the Vaal River. (Photo: Chris Marais)

26 Sep 2024

Beneath the dust around the Vaal River, north of Kimberley, lie age-old tales of diggers and their diamonds, although the wild entrepreneurial spirit of yore has not been confined to hunters of little carbon crystals.

‘After the passing of many moons, and when there was great sorrow in the land, a spirit, pitying the wants and difficulties of Mankind, descended from Heaven with a huge basket filled with diamonds. The spirit flew over the Vaal River, starting beyond Delport’s Hope, and dropping diamonds as it sped on; past Barkly West and Klipdam it flew along towards a place now called Kimberley.”

The good words above apparently come from a local Tswana legend, quoted in The Romance and Reality of the Vaal Diamond Diggings, by TL Terpend and George Beet. To date, it’s the finest non-geological explanation for the origin of diamonds I have found.

In the summer of 2005, my wife Julienne and I ventured north of Kimberley with Dirk Potgieter, a guide who harboured a deep passion for the diggings around the Vaal River.

Together, we crossed the Vaal early one morning on a digger safari that started in the village of Windsorton; the river was clear and green. The bedrock on the floor of the river had been laid bare over the decades by miners hungry for the diamond-bearing gravel.

Just around a corner, we were confronted with the results of all that diamond fever.

The eastern Kalahari grasslands had been turned into a giant construction site, replete with scores of earth movers crawling between mounds of upturned red ground. Men had literally moved the Earth to get at the little carbon crystals so that women far away could wear them for baubles. Go figure.

diamond The 85-year-old digger named James Riet in 2005. (Photo: Chris Marais)

Rebel country

The Windsorton Hotel used to be a rip-roaring spot where diggers gathered in all sorts of weather conditions. We drove up to the semi-deserted hotel and bought a cheap pair of takkies from the new tenant, a young trader. Julienne and I expressed our concern for the trader’s well-being.

“The digging community is very tight,” Dirk said. “There will be trouble if he is whacked.”

We continued to Barkly West, which was called Klip Drift in the old days. This was the colourful centre of South Africa’s next diamond rush, when in the late 1860s thousands of hopeful men descended on the veld. Klip Drift became a tent city in no time, and soon there was a land dispute between the Griquas, the Boers and the ruling British of the Cape Colony.

On 30 July 1870, the diggers declared their very own Klip Drift Republic under a trader called Stafford Parker, and it was rough, ready and Paint Your Wagon, SA-style. Klip Drift then assumed the name of Parkerton. The Brits decided enough was enough. Cape Governor Sir Henry Barkly paid the settlement a quick visit, dispensed some harsh words and had the place renamed after himself. After all, in South Africa, when a town comes apart at the seams, you solve the problem by giving it another name.

diamond Rush Hour in Barkly West. (Photo: Chris Marais)

Digging in the Blood

Would he like to take a turn at the diggings, I asked Dirk.

“I would love to dig,” he said. “It’s in my blood. But these days, you need a lot of money to move a lot of earth. The diamond fields are running out.”

What was it about a digger’s life he loved so much?

“The freedom, the chase,” he said. “The lure of vast wealth just a few handfuls of dirt away.”

A huge flash left-hand-drive American imported Chevy truck roared past.

“That guy,” said Dirk. “He used to be a diesel mechanic. Now he’s a diamond millionaire.”

The old toll bridge crossing the Vaal River, near Barkly West. (Photo: Chris Marais)

The old Windsorton Hotel became a general dealer. (Photo: Chris Marais)

Night music

Near the centre of town, we came across the diamond buyers’ offices, a row of plain, tiny cubicles with glass window fronts. On any Saturday, the buyers will sit and wait in these cubicles, their electronic scales, eyepieces and calculators at the ready. And then the diggers arrive with their stashes of sparklers and intense negotiations will take place.

I read from a tourist guide to the Frances Baard Municipality, specifically the Barkly West section:

“Up to 20,000 diggers worked in the district. Both sides of the river were covered by canvas, tents, houses, carts and wagons. During the daytime, carts and barrows were constantly on the move and during the night the canvas towns were lit up. Music of all kinds was heard from the banks and from the small boats of the Vaal, giving the night an almost magical atmosphere.”

The dark side of the diggings: environmental mess and poverty that result from uncontrolled extractive mining. (Photo: Chris Marais)

Moonlight rush

Later, we drove on to Dirk’s home town, Delportshoop. Once, it carried the rather more magical name of Moonlight Rush. We were headed for the local township, Rooikoppies, to see an old digger called James Riet.

At 86, James Riet was one of a rare breed of hand diggers. That afternoon, he was relaxing at home because his beloved jig-sieve was in for repairs. James spoke of working the red ground, going out to the fields of Schmidtsdrift in the deepest winter, breaking the ice on the barrel of water used to rinse the gravel. Despite the hard life, James looked 20 years younger. How?

“I only celebrate a little when I find a nice diamond,” he said.

He also came from a hardy gene pool: his father died at the indecently ripe old age of 103. As we made ready to leave, James confided that whenever he was about to uncover a decent diamond, he would have a premonition.

“It’s a feeling I have in my sleep,” he said. “And I’ve been getting it over the past few nights. Once my jig comes back fixed, I’m going to find a big one.”

Only the graveyards may not be dug up for diamonds. (Photo: Chris Marais)

Working the diamond diggings north of the Vaal River. (Photo: Chris Marais)

The Fat Tourist Shirt

We drove on to Longlands and stopped next to a white pillar, all that remained from the old Longlands Hotel.

“This is where the diggers used to really party,” said Dirk. “Back then, there was more trust in people. A digger who had found a decent stone threw a party in the bar, and the diamond would be passed around for everyone to have a look at. Now, of course, that’s unheard of.”

Why did the hotel have to go?

“Oh, some digger got permission to mine the ground under the hotel, so it was all destroyed. Digging is a greedy business, but that guy crossed the line.”

We drove past a trading store. I stopped and shot a photograph. An angry-looking young fellow emerged, obviously the owner.

“Who are you? Why are you taking pictures?” he shouted.

“I’m just visiting,” I replied, backing off, flapping my Hawaiian drinking shirt at him to show my Big Fat Tourist credentials. Mollified, he strode back into the gloom of his little shop.

Mini Kangas

We begged Dirk for one final digger story, and he said the wild entrepreneurial spirit of yore had not been confined to diamond hunters.

“There was a professional hunter living near Barkly West,” he said. “The man lost his licence after being caught selling ‘miniature kangaroo hunting safaris’ to naïve Americans. They were actually springhares.”

“Well,” I said, knowing a little of these matters. “When you come from a country that sells postcards of jackalopes (rabbits with antelope horns), what can you expect? I think I’ve still got one at home. So Dirk, what happened to that kangaroo hunting fraudster?”

“Apparently, his last words were: ‘Don’t worry, that’s a tame buffalo. I know him.’” DM

This is a short chapter excerpt from Karoo Roads IV – In Faraway Places (360 pages, black and white photography, R350 including taxes and courier in South Africa) available from September 2024. Anyone interested in pre-ordering a first edition, author-signed copy should please contact Julie at [email protected] for more details.

The Karoo Quartet (Karoo Roads 1 – 4) consists of more than 60 Karoo stories and hundreds of black and white photographs. Priced at R960 (including taxes and courier in South Africa), this Heritage Collection can also be ordered from [email protected]

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