The ghost trees of Bushmanland

There’s a very long and delicious word that best describes a quiver tree forest: phantasmagorical.

These giant succulent tree aloes look like the backdrop for a dark and stormy Tim Burton movie, with spindly arms for branches, white roots that seem to grow towards you and a collective mien of old men in deep conversation together.

Every quiver tree or kokerboom is different. One has decided to grow a full branch-beard, another wants to remain slim and stretch heavenwards and yet another has simply chosen to lie down and rest a while.

At the dawning of the day and at the setting of the sun, the quiver tree turns rich gold, as if dipped in amber. The shadows lengthen and the forest seems to shift, as if settling down for the dark night.

Quiver trees, young and old, congregate along the Onseepkans road. (Image: Chris Marais)

Quiver trees begin to make an appearance on the N14. (Image: Chris Marais)

This writer was recently schooled on the subject of quiver trees by a miner buying a meat pie at a Kakamas farmstall. Until that time, my most significant experience with a kokerboom forest had been while photographing the slowly vrotting hillside collection outside Kenhardt. I thought they were dying out as an ancient species, victims of the dreaded global warming.

“No,” said the miner. “There’s kokerbome all around here. Young ones, too. Take the road to Onseepkans and you’ll see. They say it’s the biggest kokerboom forest in the world.” 

Read more: Quiver trees of Kenhardt, camels and the deep Kalahari

The next morning, we left the canals, sluices and water wheels of a bustling Kakamas and headed west on the N14, in search of this mystical forest in the heart of Bushmanland. The Orange River behind us, we were now faced with a dead-straight blacktop highway that came with very little road traffic. And Bob Dylan’s Desire at top volume in the bakkie.

Within the hour, the first strange thing happened.

Driving to Pofadder on the immaculate N14 blacktop. (Image: Chris Marais)

Another roadside attraction on the N14 is this car in the sky. (Image: Chris Marais)

Smousing in the veld

We came across a large hillside covered in young and lusty quiver trees facing south. This, in itself, was a little bizarre because usually such a sun-loving species chooses a north-facing slope. 

Then, while I was photographing the immense quiver tree nursery, a little silver sedan with Limpopo plates passed by, slowed down, did a U-turn and parked near our bakkie. 

The occupants introduced themselves as Michelle and Friedrich van Horsten, on their way back to Hoedspruit after a trip to see the daisy fields of Namaqualand.

“And we’re big fans,” said Michelle. “So when we saw the Karoo Space bakkie, we just had to stop and say hello.”

Roadside smousing to Michelle and Friedrich van Horsten along the N14. (Image: Chris Marais)

Out here in the boonies, middle of nowhere, and two reasonably devoted readers rock up. We felt like little movie stars – and so we did an unabashed smous right there on the side of the Great Western Highway.

“Which books have you got?” I asked them. They reeled off the titles, leaving some out.

“I’ve got the rest of the catalogue in the bakkie. Would you like the Friends, Family & Roadside Encounters Special?”

Yes, they replied, so I dived into the organised chaos of the back of our vehicle and fished out some books. The deal was done, and another short chat followed. Both their sons had been doctors in faraway places: one in Ukraine, the other in Papua New Guinea. Naturally, we spoke about artillery battles and head-hunting cannibals.

Sakkie’s rubber dam

About 40km from Pofadder, we turned right to the little river border post of Onseepkans, as directed. Our first quiver tree on this stretch of dirt road was a rather large fellow, inhabited by a raucous mob of sociable weavers. They had painstakingly built a huge nest in the middle branches.

“We’re going to be seeing a lot more of this,” said my wife. “As the telephone poles come down, the sociable weavers need new nesting sites. Quiver trees are perfect second homes for them.”

A new sight for the author: sociable weavers living in a quiver tree nest. (Image: Chris Marais)

Sociable weavers seemed to have forsaken their telephone pole nests for new accommodations in quiver trees. (Image: Chris Marais)

Quiver trees, young and old, congregate along the Onseepkans road. (Image: Chris Marais)

We climbed out to take photographs. At 24°C, the day was mild for Bushmanland. The sky was light blue, with a slight dust filter. The weavers all had a fit and flew off, in the direction of a dam with a weird black wall. It felt good to be out here, with nary a soul in sight.

But not for long. 

Local farmer Ricus Brand arrived in a magnificent old 1985 model Isuzu warrior bakkie that had done its half-million klicks and was game for more. We introduced ourselves and stated our mission. He stated his.

“I stopped because there’s been a lot of livestock theft around here recently,” he explained. “So we’re checking all unfamiliar bakkies that pass by.”

His cellphone rang.  

“No, it’s all right,” he explained to his wife on the other end of the line. “I’m just talking to some writers here, by Sakkie’s rubber dam.”

Bushmanland farmer Rikus Brand and his 1985 Isuzu road warrior bakkie. (Image: Chris Marais)

The only ‘rubber dam’ in the district. (Image: Chris Marais)

Owner of the ‘rubber dam’, Sakkie van den Heever and his son Pieter. (Image: Chris Marais)

Before he could head off for his Sunday lunch, we asked Ricus about the little bushes nearby, covered in pretty red flowers. He was clearly not a botanist but ventured a couple of guesses.

“Maybe a Vet en Brood? Or Wilde Roosmaryn? Perhaps it’s Meide Bos.”

When it comes to botanicals, Afrikaans folk names are the best.

Sakkie of the rubber dam

We drove on for about 80m and stopped again, entranced by a venerable kokerboom at said rubber dam.

Within seconds, another bakkie approached, kicking up dust in the opposite direction. In it were Sakkie van den Heever and his son, Pieter. We asked Sakkie about the rubber dam.

“Many years ago when I began farming, we had no money,” he said. “I needed to build a dam, and the cheapest material available was an old conveyor belt. So parts of that became the dam wall. And it has lasted for more than 20 years. And that tree is nearly 120 years old.”

The affable Sakkie asked where we were headed. A mystical quiver tree forest, we replied.

“Mystical? Oh, yes, there are lots of kokers just over the rise. Hard to miss.”

“Come to lunch!” Pieter said.

“No, thanks, we have to go and find these trees. And besides, then you’ll miss your Sunday afternoon nap.” Kalahari and Karoo people love their post-prandial nod-offs. I could see that Sakkie, for one, was in agreement with me. They drove off and we drove on.

A young quiver tree with jutting hills in the background. (Image: Chris Marais)

Quiver tree landscapes like this inspire the work of photographers and artists alike. (Image: Chris Marais)

Just imagine a sundowner under this magnificent quiver tree. (Image: Chris Marais)

A gathering of quiver trees

Suddenly, we were in a world of quiver trees. Their ragged ranks stretched out either side of the road, towards the horizon on the left, down a valley on the right. 

Read more: Quiver Trees – a succulent that would literally give an arm and a leg to survive

Every year, for about two months, tourists stream into northern Namaqualand in search of daisies. It’s the massed colour effect. But not every season yields good upwellings, and you may have driven all the way from Joburg in vain if flowers were your thing.

But consider these year-round phenomena: the quiver trees of the North. They are the ultimate botanical survivors; they stand like living sculptures, and yes, you can imagine them having long gossip sessions moments after the humans have driven off.

My wife hauled out the nuts, biltong and water, and we took a snack break. 

“Imagine having a guest farm nearby, or even on the property,” we mused. “Sunrise tours in the kokerboom forest on the ridge, sundowners under a tree in the valley, with a great view of the river down there.”

We suddenly realised Sakkie and his son were sitting on a tourism gold mine, and made a point to contact them with our brilliant outsider idea. 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]