Open Writing

Occasionally big troops of baboons would come by, running down the riverbed or over the hills. Perhaps that’s where the name ‘Affenrucken’ came from. We did catch a few baby baboons just for the hell of it, but let them go again. Where they came from and where they went I never knew, nor how they survived in this incredibly harsh environment.

One baboon, who seemed pretty smart and unafraid, became quite tame, and the guys used to give him scraps of food and even sandwiches. He got very bold and even strolled into the single quarters looking for food. The guys used to be terrified, when coming off shift at midnight, to be confronted by a baboon wandering the corridors of the single quarters.

He became quite a nuisance and we had to be careful not to leave doors or windows open, nor to leave food lying around. They were strong creatures, with big fangs and not to be fooled with.

One guy decided that the only way to get rid of him, other than shooting him, was to make life difficult for him. So he had some ham sandwiches made and put in a few spoonfuls of Tabasco sauce. The baboon took the sandwiches and disappeared over the hills with them. We didn’t see him the next day, but a day later he was back again, so the process was repeated. We had to do this a few more times until the baboon seemed to realise that the food he was getting from us was not too good and in fact tasted pretty awful.

He disappeared a few days later and we never saw him again. I wonder if he had any stomach or arse left – I’m sure it got burnt to hell.

We were wrong to give him food scraps in the first place and we never repeated this error again.

I’m pretty sure that I also saw a caracal or ‘rooikat’ (redcat) as it is called in Afrikaans. It certainly looked like one, with the characteristic tufted ears and red/orangey coat. It was near Uubvlei and unfortunately I was a bit too far away to tell clearly and it scampered away rather quickly. They are very shy animals and not often seen. I’m sure that there was enough food to hunt as there were plenty of birds – including ostriches, rodents, lizards and even antelope such as young springbok.

There was plenty of other wildlife that we saw as well. One day we were exploring about 15 kms north of Chameis Bay near a small bay called Van Reenens Bay. We were all standing on a high dune and I had my binoculars looking northwards across the bay, when there was a rustling noise near my feet. I looked down and there between my feet was the head of a horned adder emerging from the sand.

Horned adders aren’t that big – only about 30-40 cm long but are venomous and can give a nasty bite. They have horns above the eyes with rather fat bodies and a stumpy tail. They tend to bury themselves in the sand and lie in ambush waiting for prey.

Why this one didn’t try and bite me I’ll never know, as I must have almost stood on it. I do know that I moved bloody fast and a split-second later was about five metres away looking down at the snake. I still don’t know to this day how I got there. We left it alone, and it slithered off away looking for a less crowded spot.

Talking about split-second, it reminds me about another funny incident. There were two operators at No 4 plant who were determined to become foremen in record time. There was a vacancy for a foreman in early 1968 and these two guys decided that one of them would get the job. So they figured the best way to get promoted was to suck up to the foreman and plant superintendent as much as possible.

So these two guys would try and out-do each other and would be seen running to the bosses as much as possible to inform on everything that the operators were doing. Anything, as long as they got brownie points. Even if we just thinking about doing anything wrong, then zoom, there would be a blurred flash and one or often both of them would streak off to the office to gain another point. It was really pathetic to see.

We called the one guy ‘Split-Second’ as he always seemed to be first to the foreman’s office, and the other unfortunate guy who always seemed to be second (or last in this instance) we called ‘Instant Later’. Basically it was guaranteed that if Split-Second didn’t get to the office in record time, then Instant Later sure as hell would. We called them these names to their faces, and they actually seemed proud of the nicknames we had given them.

So there was Split-Second and Instant Later zooming around all over the place trying to enlighten the foreman or plant superintendent on what we were doing. After a few weeks of this they must have been exhausted, as the poor things were getting no rest.

The worst result – for them anyway – was that the company got a foreman transferred from another mine to fill the position. So that screwed their promotion ambitions. Split-Second and Instant Later were not impressed and they both left not long afterwards, mainly because the rest of us treated them like dirt.