Wind and Water

Photograph by Marinetha Naude

Like somebody dropped to the ocean floor we are slowly rising. I think we’ve broken the surface, but only our faces are above water. We’re not swimming in long relaxed strokes. Not yet. But it is very good to breathe again.

This old lady that has become our home here close to Wakkerstroom is on the one hand very generous and helpful. All her lights were working when the power was finally switched on. Her roofs aren’t leaking. She is warm and inviting. We are surrounded by beauty.

But she is not easy letting us get to her water (I am not sure whether that is generally an old lady thing?) First the windmill wasn’t working properly. I fixed that and in the process got to know its workings better. No, no, first I fixed the pipes running from the windmill to the tank. Then I fixed the windmill.

We had to learn the rhythm of water and wind. The borehole being shallow and a seep-hole does not supply gushes of water. You wait till it’s full. Then you release the brake on the windmill. If there is a breeze, you’ll get water in the tank. Otherwise you just have to wait for the wind to pick up. With the wind blowing you have to check the water level in the hole. Depending on how strong and for how long the wind blows, after about one and a half, two hours you fasten the brake again when you see that the hole is almost empty. Then you wait for the water level to rise again. That can take up to 3 hours depending on how much rain we had and how strong the seepage is. As soon as it is filled you release the brake and hope you have wind.

It may sound complicated and very cumbersome, but somehow you get into a rhythm and you enjoy the dance. You get to know the patterns of the wind. It blows early in the morning and at dusk. Should it pick up unexpectedly in the middle of the day, you look up in surprise and say: “You’re whimsical today, aren’t you! Or are you blowing up a storm?” You remember that the older people told you that you can call the wind by whistling. So, from time to time, on a quiet day, people might find you leaning against the windmill base whistling softly, trying different tunes. I can’t say whether the wind listens, but the dogs do. They sit at my feet, turning their heads.

Then, with the beautiful sound of water being pumped into it, the tank started leaking at the bottom. I tried to fix that without taking it off the stand. I thought I’ve succeeded. I didn’t. It stopped leaking for a while but as it filled up and the pressure increased, it sprung leaks all over the place. I got to know glues and sealants, but had dry taps. A toilet flushing down litres of water acquired a new sound. All the while we transported hundreds of litres in cans and buckets from a neighbouring farm to wash and cook. After months of moving machinery, furniture and boxes, muscles started complaining about this new load that seems never ending.

Although not part of the initial budget we realised we had no option but to get a new tank. We visited a tank factory not far from here, and got one for almost half the normal price. In the process we discovered the little town of Glencoe. There are people living and working there. Warm, helpful people. As there are in Volksrust and Newcastle at co-ops and building supply outlets.

Photograph by Matilda Clifford

We are amazed at how our many guests over the festive season took the inconvenience in their stride, how they helped and thoroughly enjoyed their visits. Some being here more than once. Obviously, there are more to Barrowfield than water.

Now I only have to get the old tank from the high tank stand and the new one onto it. When you’re busy with a job and you run into difficulties the Zulu workers here say: “We’ll make a plan.” We’ll make a plan.

I believe that it was no mere coincidence that I came across Mary O’Malley’s picture quote that I posted yesterday: “What’s in the way IS the way.” I’m sitting at the base of a windmill and a leaking tank, learning that.

George