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The very brief reign of the 'King of Putsonderwater'

The very brief reign of the 'King of Putsonderwater'
Australian-style ranch house in Putsonderwater Village. Photo: Chris Marais
Chris Marais and Julienne du Toit
By Chris Marais and Julienne du Toit
5 Sep 2024
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This Northern Cape ghost village was once stuck in the South African Imaginarium. Then overlanders, bikers, prospectors, travel writers and temporary settlers found the place.

We hooked a right to Putsonderwater on a sunny day at the back end of a three-week road trip in 2008 and, after rattling along on a dirt road that begged for the services of a padjapie and his scraper, we arrived at a sad little settlement beside a railroad track.

As we picked our way through the waiting rooms to the back offices, I felt like an intruder. I was half-expecting a red-faced, black-suited ticket inspector to come striding out from 30 years ago and shout at us. I remember even lowering the tone of my voice in case I disturbed a ghost passenger waiting for the night train to De Aar, as he sat on an outside bench discreetly sipping brandy from a silver hip flask. For the winter chill, of course, meneer. 

Read more: A Steamy Affair – The locomotives of the Karoo and the men who stoked and drove them

I had never been inside a spoorweghuisie (railway house) before.

I’d often driven past them and wandered how the railway folk lived. I’d heard tales from the footplate, so to speak, related by the retired steam locomotive drivers living in De Aar. They spoke of hunting springbok from the caboose, cooking three-egg breakfasts on the coal shovel (hopefully cleaned before use) and the vast spaces of the Karoo they chugged through on their journeys. And they often spoke of Putsonderwater.

Putsonderwater The old railway home, with its backyard outhouse. (Photo: Chris Marais)



The Lollipop Highway into Putsonderwater – a lineup of sociable weaver nests on telephone poles. Photo: Chris Marais



We found a well, still with its corrugated iron roof intact.

“Is this the well without water?” we mused.

We crossed the dirt road and climbed through a loose barbed wire fence. Now we were trespassing, in real life. But we could not resist the remains of a little village that stood before us, having gently settled into graceful ruin. The broken-down hotel, the church, the general dealer and the residences all beckoned.

The gardens were completely overgrown, but a wind pump still spun and sighed in the midday breeze. The wooden floors were still mostly there and, as usual, a mysterious amount of single shoes abounded. In the ruins of the Putsonderwater Hotel, we found some graffiti that was obviously drawn by a couple of rabid Isuzu fans.

Men called Theo and Willie had made sketches of their beloved bakkies and signed them. As a fellow Isuzu bakkie owner, it made me proud.

Theo and Willie left their Isuzu lovemarks in the ruins of the Putsonderwater Hotel. Photo: Chris Marais


Meet Blackie Swart


In the autumn of 2023, we returned to Putsonderwater and noticed, outside the old Bayly’s Trading Store, a little white bakkie and trailer, festooned with batteries and solar attachments. Clearly, someone had moved in. 

We approached with caution. We could be staring down a shotgun barrel and be sent packing by a dodgy someone inside the old building. Or be attacked by a resident pit bull terrier with attitude and big teeth.

Instead of all that, we heard:

“Hellooo! Come inside!”

At the door stood a bearded fellow with a pipe in his hand and a twinkle in his eye. He introduced himself as Blackie Swart and yes, he was staying in Putsonderwater.

“I’ve been looking for Shirley, my old veldkat,” said he, a little distractedly. “I got her from a dagga smoker in Strydenburg.”

He invited us in, where we saw he had installed two tents: one for himself and one for guests. On the table at his tent was a spread of ginger snap biscuits, instant coffee, two copies of the Qur’an and a book on who some called the Boer 'prophet' Siener van Rensburg, the all-time favourite for domestic doom-scrollers.

We asked him why he had chosen to live here.

“Everywhere is war,” he answered, inadvertently quoting from a Bob Marley song. “Satan is messing with the whole world. Even here in South Africa, our murder rate is war. I came here to get away from people.”

Ironically, people were popping up at Blackie’s every day, as they passed through Putsonderwater. He even kept a visitors’ book.


Putsonderwater Blackie Swart Blackie Swart, who lived in Putsonderwater for a couple of years. Photo: Chris Marais



Blackie’s solar setup, attached to his bakkie. Photo: Chris Marais 



“I once had an auntie from the Revenue Service arrive here in her little car. She took some pictures of the place, ate a ginger snap, gave me a book to read and drove off.”

Blackie had installed a porta-potty, an outside shower, a solar setup for lights and power and a braai stand that did some heavy duty. Every second day, he ambled off to the Putsonderwater station where, at a certain point on the tracks, he could get cellphone reception. He would download his WhatsApp messages and go home, keeping an eagle eye out for summer snakes, Cape cobras and puff adders topping the list.

He loved his status as the only villager. In fact, when a young boilermaker arrived here some time back, Blackie was quick to react.

“He came here all stinky, pushing a bicycle, both tyres completely flat. I made him take a bath and drove him off to Marydale to get a repair kit and sent him on his way. I told him to head for Orania and ask for a job.”

We signed his visitor’s book and prepared to take our leave, having reserved lodgings at Boegoeberg Dam.

“It’s a real pity you have to go,” said Blackie. “You could have stayed over. We could have braai’ed some meat, drunk some wine and had a good time.”

Plans for Putsonderwater


As the year was winding down, I contacted the owner of Puts Zonder Water Farm (now simply Putsonderwater), Michael Loubser, for an update on the village.

“Blackie doesn’t live here anymore,” the Dorper sheep farmer said. “He’s moved up to Groblershoop.”

The farm has been in Michael’s family for four generations. Putsonderwater Village, originally called Krom Begin (Skewed Beginnings), was always part of the property.

“The grounds on which the old station stands were donated by our family to the State,” he said. “Originally, the line ran up to Putsonderwater and stopped. Goods and passengers bound for Kenhardt were then transported up via bus or lorry. In 1914, the line was extended into the old South West Africa (now Namibia) to transport soldiers during World War 1. Now it’s the mainline to Namibia and passes through Putsonderwater once a day.”

Putsonderwater Australian-style ranch house in Putsonderwater Village. Photo: Chris Marais



Michael Loubser has been trying to buy Putsonderwater Station back but Transnet, the state-owned entity running South Africa’s rail system, has flatly refused to sell fixed property.

“I’ve wanted to make Putsonderwater more hospitable for some time now,” he said. “But the eight-year drought forced me to concentrate on keeping the farming side of the business going.”

However, because this ghost village in the veld has become the “oddity stop” for so many cross-country travellers, Michael and his son were planning overnight camping facilities on the old village site. 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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