Fine, thank you. I’m tucked up in bed already, waiting for the sister to bring my pain muti and eyedrops. They put a drop in my left eye and five minutes later another drop. Same eye. Only my left eye.
It’s 6pm. Early to bed, my Ma in frail care.
Do you sleep well?
Like a log. I’m warm and comfortable. And Kosie! I’ve been having the most wonderful dreams lately. Nice, happy dreams. I wake up smiling.
That’s so nice! Can you remember what they’re about, or are they too racy to repeat in polite company?
Laughs!!
No, they’re about the farm. The wonderful farm, the beautiful view, the walks with my Dad. It’s all underwater now, of course.
The farm Nuwejaarsvlei on the Nuwejaarspruit. Now submerged beneath the waters of Sterkfontein Dam. About ’15 miles’ from Harrismith towards Oliviershoek Pass and ‘on the Witsieshoek road.’
I was eight years old when we left the farm.
That was 1936.
~~~oo0oo~~~
muti – medicine;
Kosie – my nickname; Ma pronounces it the Afrikaans way, Kuwa-see; unlike Annie and her friends who all called me Koosie, rhyming with pussy or wussy; True fact; Accounts for a lot?
Nuwejaarsvlei – New Year Marsh or wetland
Nuwejaarspruit – New Year creek or stream
Sterkfontein – strong fountain
Oliviershoek – the place of the Oliviers, a surname
Witsieshoek – the place of the Basotho chief Witsie who lived there from 1839 to 1856.
The pic shows Mom floating on the water above her old farm in 1990. Its somewhere in the background in this pic:
We good people of the Harrismith Methodist Church would never have taken Mrs Brunsdon to court for her singing! Sure, her singing was awful, but church would have been duller and there would have been less giggling and less to skinder about without her. She would bellow off-key and at her own pace, sniffing loudly from time to time, dabbing with a well-used hankie, and gazing all round the church mid-hymn; sometimes through her glasses, sometimes over her glasses; sometimes turning right round to see who was behind her. The sniffs would put her behind, so soon she’d be a few words and then a few lines behind but no way she would play catch-up. She got her money’s worth, singing every single word. In fact, our Mom Mary Methodist, the organist, would wait for her, as would we all.
Not so the Methodists in Lumberton, North Carolina USA. They were considerably displeased when William Linkhaw sang hymns very loudly and very poorly. Deviating from the correct notes, he continued singing well after the congregation reached the end of each verse. On one occasion, the pastor simply read the hymn aloud, refusing to sing it because of the disruption that would inevitably occur. The presiding elder refused to preach in the church at all. Upon the entreaties of a prominent church member, Linkhaw once stayed quiet after a particularly solemn sermon. But he steadfastly rejected the repeated pleas of his fellow congregants to remain silent altogether, responding that “he would worship his God, and that as a part of his worship it was his duty to sing.”
In their defence it must be noted that some of the better congregants of Lumberton Methodist – like us in Harrismith – found Linkhaw’s singing hilarious, but the bitter lot won out and decided to show him! They had the law hand down a misdemeanor indictment against Linkhaw, charging that he had disturbed the congregation. Obviously the LumberMeths had never heard Jesus’ clear instructions in his sermon that we ‘Turn The Other Tympanum.’ Or if they had, they were ignoring Him! No wonder Ghandi reputedly said, ‘I like your Christ, I do not like your Christians. Your Christians are so unlike your Christ.’ And if Ghandi didn’t say that, he should have, as ‘good Christians’ were mismanaging both his countries at the time: India and South Africa.
The Lumberton Methodist case went to trial in August 1872. Several witnesses, including the church’s pastor, testified that Linkhaw’s singing disturbed the church service. One witness, being asked to describe the way in which Linkhaw sang, gave an imitation of it, singing a hymn in Linkhaw’s style. He provoked what the court described as “a burst of prolonged and irresistible laughter, convulsing alike the spectators, the Bar, the jury and the Court.” Witness testimony also showed, however, that Linkhaw was a devout and spiritual man, and the prosecution admitted that he was not deliberately attempting to disrupt worship. Linkhaw asked the court to instruct the jury that it could not find him guilty unless it found intent to disturb the service. He was right, but the judge rejected his request, ruling instead that the jury only needed to determine whether Linkhaw’s singing actually disrupted the service. The jury found Linkhaw guilty, and the judge fined him one penny.
Well!
William was not gonna take this lying down. He appealed the judgment to the North Carolina Supreme Court; the case was heard in 1873 and the court unanimously set aside the verdict. It accepted the jury’s ruling that Linkhaw had indeed caused a substantial disturbance. It also agreed that intent can generally be presumed when the defendant could have anticipated his actions. However, the court observed that the prosecution had expressly admitted that Linkhaw had no malicious intent. The justices therefore held that the presumption, being contradicted by uncontested evidence, did not apply. The court issued a writ of venire de novo, nullifying the jury’s verdict. Linkhaw was free to bellow afresh.
Well!
We of the Harrismith Methodist Church liked our Mrs Brunsdon, and we did not take her to court. We instead thought like the 1873 Supreme Court that since she was attempting in good faith to worship, and she had a good heart, and she made great marmalade, she could not be subjected to criminal penalties. And we also thought thus:
Although the proof sure did show / Ms Brunsdon's voice was awful / Us judges found no valid ground / For holding it unlawful /
and
While LumberMeths grumbled / And acted all nefarious / Us Harrismithstians benevolently / Thought it all hilarious /
and
If all things bright and beautiful / The Lord God made them all / Then sniffs and squawks discordant / Are welcome in the hall /
and
Old Brunsdon raised the rafters / Some congregants did cringe / But she was screeching to her Lord / So we laughed, we did not whinge /
I’ll stop now.
OK, one more:
Some thought that they could bellow/ In holy tones so fine / But'oo's to know what the Mighty One/ Regards as a voice divine? /
I mean, how do we know the Good Lord likes it when he hears the famous Three Fat Blokes Shouting (some call them The Three Tenors)? And I bet He gets tired of hearing Jingled Bowels after a few weeks of it, starting in October every year, ffs!
The first poem paraphrased and Harrismith’d from The Green Bag – self-described as “A Useless, but Entertaining Magazine For Lawyers.” Second and other limericks sommer made up as a tribute to Dorothy Brunsdon, good soul.
Ina Prinsloo came into the bottle store one day many years ago to get stuff for a party. Said Ina, “Don’t tell Egbert. I’m arranging a surprise party for him.”
She bought plenty of grog.
Later Egbert came in. Tongue-in-cheek he said: “I don’t like this Harrismith tradition on your birthday. People fall all over you, make a fuss of you, and you have to buy them food and drink!”
He also bought plenty of grog.
Dear old honest Mom was torn as she accepted the second Prinsloo grog payment of the day: I didn’t know what to say . .
~~oo0oo~~
I didn’t know this: Mom met Ina when she first started nursing at the Boksburg-Benoni hospital – her very first hospital. Egbert was a houseman there and that’s where he and Ina met. Years later Egbert joined a general practice in Harrismith. They stayed and raised their kids Adri, Yalta and Willem, and became a big, active and well loved part of the town.
In February 2021, out of the blue, Leo Caskie Wade wrote:
Good morning Rob. I thought the Caskies in SA were something of the past. I am 81 years old and my Caskie connections were from Harrismith years ago. Should you feel inclined I would like to hear from you. Regards - Leo wade
Rob Caskie replied: Good morning, Leo, Thank you for your email which arrived as a great surprise. Yes, indeed, our family also stems from the Caskie family in Harrismith. Our cousin Sheila Swanepoel knows far more about the family and early Harrismith days than I do. Neither I nor my brother have children, so this line of the Caskie family unfortunately dies with us. Our father, Alexander Maynard Caskie (Taffy) died on 6 March 1989, aged 61. His brothers and both parents passed on early in our father’s life.
Enter Sheila, she with the family info: Hello Leo, What a delightful surprise to make contact with another Caskie.
Alexander (Alec) Caskie was born in Scotland in 1839. He married Mary Craig, and they came to Harrismith from Pietermaritzburg. He was my great-great grandfather and Rob’s great grandfather.
They had two sons and two daughters: 1. Robert (Bob) married Doreen (Doe) and Rob is his grandson; 2. James (Jim) married Ethel and they had four kids; 3. Mary who is my great grandmother – she married John Francis Adam Bland II. She was my Mum’s beloved Granny Bland, who died in Harrismith in 1959, so she had me as a great-grandkid till I was three; 4. Jessie who married a Mr Tapling and then a Mr Tarling – she had no children.
– Sheila has this old cracked daguerreotype ** of Great-Great Gran Mary Craig Caskie with Great Gran Mary Caskie Bland on her lap –
My Mum Mary – grandaughter of young Mary on the lap above – is 92 (2020), still alive and well, and now living in Pietermaritzburg. She remembers all the Harrismith Caskies very well. She and Taffy (Rob’s father) were both born in 1928 and were great mates when they were little.
There are three Caskie homes in HS – all beautifully restored, all in Stuart Street. We grew up in this one on the east end from 1960 to 1973. It had been owned by the original Alec Caskie. The others were on the west end of town.
– 95 Stuart Street –– view from that front stoep – or veranda –Caskie Corner, opposite the Town HallMrs Caskie switches on Harrismith’s first electric street light!
It turns out Leo Caskie Wade is the grandson of Janet Caskie, who came to Harrismith from Australia, and Harrismith’s well-known doctor Leo Hoenigsberger, who our gran Annie insisted on calling Dr ‘Henningsberg’. A great friend of her Dad, our great grandfather, Stewart Bain, he was the family GP as well as the Harrismith government doctor, or ‘district surgeon’.
One day, driving back to town from his duties at the prison, he missed the bridge and his car landed in ‘the spruit with the name.’ The Kak Spruit. Only his pride was injured. In the meantime, back in town, the hostess of the weekly bridge evening was getting a bit perturbed as Dr H hadn’t arrived yet and they couldn’t start playing bridge without him. She ‘phoned the Hoenigsberger home and was told by Dr H’s young son Max:“No, I don’t think my father will be coming tonight. He’s had enough bridge for one day.”
After decades of hearing this story from mother Mary, here’s Leo Caskie Wade to add some more detail:
“Leo Hoenigsberger, methodical, careful and pedantic as he was, was rushing in his huge German Sperber motorcar over the narrow bridge that led to the Harrismith Hospital. It was an emergency. He crashed over the side into the river and was admitted to his own hospital.
“Now fast forward to the mid-1970’s. I am at university in Durban; I am asked to take an Italian female exchange student to digs where she would stay over the week-end on her way to Rhodes University. I dropped her at the gate to return later to take her out. When I arrived she was not ready yet, and in chatting to the elderly German landlady I discovered she was my grandfather Dr Leo Hoenigsberger’s theatre nurse! She had nursed him after the said crash. She wanted to know all about the Harrismith family etc. What a coincidence!”
~~oo0oo~~
** The ‘Two Marys‘ photo: To make the image, a daguerreotypist would polish a sheet of silver-plated copper to a mirror finish, treat it with fumes that made its surface light sensitive, expose it in a camera for as long as was judged to be necessary, which could be as little as a few seconds for brightly sunlit subjects or much longer with less intense lighting; make the resulting latent image on it visible by fuming it with mercury vapour; remove its sensitivity to light by liquid chemical treatment, rinse and dry it, then seal the easily marred result behind glass in a protective enclosure. (thanks, wikipedia). Later, the daguerreotypist would go mad from the mercury fumes, of course.
~~~oo0oo~~~
– Sheila’s ‘Two Marys’ daguerreotype: As is, and ‘digitally doctored’ –
Mary Caskie Bland’s Stuart Street home:
– Granny Bland’s house 13 Stuart Street –
~~oo0oo~~
Sheils found this handwritten note – most likely written by Alec Caskie himself – among her gran Annie’s effects. Annie was his granddaughter:
– H.M.S. Vanguard – In 1862 it left Liverpool, reaching Australia on 3 June, probably via SA –
Born at Kilmarnock Dec 1839. Brought up in Stewarton where his father’s folks lived for several centuries. Was sent to the parish school under Mr Sinclair Sincular ?. Graduated in the big college of the worlds.
” survived 4yrs to the (WHOLE LINE MISSING) ” in __ of the large __ __ __ questions involved __ __(HM ??) Paul to release political prisoners. ” Am a JP for many years.” A freemason for 40 years, passed through the chair three times and am affiliated with several other Lodges. Belong to all the churches and a number of _____. I have served on the village management for 35 years barring 2 years I was out. I have been several times mayor retiring for good in March 1921. I have served on the Hospital board; learning / licensing? board; on the Library committee; the (?Ways – maybe ‘Ways and Means’) Board. The Literary Society. Have (?passed) the (?port) on many occasions. __ under Dr. and I. __. Married Mary Craig daughter of Robb Craig, High Street (?Stewarton__). Sailed on the Vanguard from Glasgow to South Africa – 1862 – 69 days passage. Was (?pro cantor) and organist Rev Campbell _____ Church for Maritzburg, where I have lived for about 10 years. Came to Harrismith in 1873 where I have lived since.
(Those of you who can read old bullets’ 19th century spidery inkwell-and-quill handwriting, please click on the pic bottom right below and do some deciphering and add it in the comments!).
~~~oo0oo~~~
. . and a pleasantly flattering bio in Afrikaans (by historian FA Steytler’s Die Geskiedenis van Harrismith, 1932) which I translate here:
Grew up in difficult circumstances; not much schooling; worked on a farm as a boy; then apprenticed to a lumberjack (or timber merchant?); Came to PMB and started as a builder; poor health saw him seek ‘higher altitude’ and move to Harrismith for the climate in 1873; seemed to suit him! He built the landdroskantoor, the hofsaal (magistrates court and offices), and the town gaol; Disaster struck in 1874 when the house he was renting (the Ou Pastorie of Ds Macmillan) burnt down; he lost all he possessed; he then decided to take advantage of the increased traffic between Durban’s harbour and Kimberley’s diamond fields and open a hotel – the Commercial (later called the Grand National), which he ran as hotelier till 1899; He was described as pleasant in company, a keen debater, with many friends; He did an incredible amount for the town. Town Councillor; Mayor 1896 to 1899, 1904, 1910-1911 and 1920. For fifty years he was involved in almost everything the municipality established or started: eg. electric light, water supply, town hall, Victoria Lake in the park, the pine plantation on the slopes of Platberg, etc. A member of the Hospital Board, a director of the Building Society, the School Commission, Library Committee, etc. A prominent Freemason; Active in politics: he stood for the Unionist Party for the Harrismith seat in the Union Parliament, but lost the election to Kommandant Jan Meyer. Died 14 August 1926, aged 86.
~~~oo0oo~~~
Sheila also has an undated newspaper article about the death of one John Caskie in Kilmarnock, Scotland – brother? cousin? He served in the 72nd Highlanders and saw action in the Crimean War (1855) and the Indian Mutiny. John was likely a relative, as Annie Bland kept this article amongst her papers.
~~oo0oo~~
Potted Caskie history (like all my history ‘lessons’: pinch o’ salt): The Caskies originated in the Galloway – Dumfries region of Scotland. The name is the anglicization of the pre-10th century Gaelic ‘MacAscaidh’ which derives from the Old Norse personal name ‘Asketill’, and translates as ‘The cauldron of the gods.’ How’s that!? Some of me was brewed in a cauldron!
The first recorded spelling of the family name is that of Thom McKasky, 1494, Edinburgh, during the reign of King James IV of Scotland. Surnames became necessary when governments introduced personal taxation, so no wonder the Scots kept spellin’ them differint! The Stewarton region seems to be known for Ayrshire cattle, body snatching, variable spelling and being a good place to leave, but of course – I may be wrong.
~~oo0oo~~
Sheila made a Caskie Family Tree. Anyone with more info, please add / amend (as I have) so it can be improved / updated! Simply do it in the comments here, or email admin@sheila.co.za
OK, the author has a new book out, his first. School friend Harry ‘Pikkie’ Loots is Harrismith’s latest published author, following in the footsteps of FA Steytler, EB Hawkins, Anita van Wyk Henning, Petronella van Heerden, Xander Strachan and Leon Strachan. There must be more?
So far he has it as an eBook – you can get it now already.
Real paper hard copies to follow. I had the privilege and fun as one of his proof-readers, of reading it as he wrote and re-wrote.
UPDATE 10 Feb 2021: It’s he-ere! In my hand!
Now you gotta realise, Harry is a mountaineer and trekker. These are phlegmatic buggers; unflappable; understated. So when he says ‘we walked and then crossed some ice and then we got here’:
– 5109m above seal level – the Drakensberg’s highest peak is 3482m –
. . with lovely pictures and fascinating stories along the way . . you must know what he doesn’t show you. And this is only the third highest peak he climbs in Africa! There’s more!
Those of us who climbed Mt aux Sources should also remember how we drove to within an hour or two’s walk – stroll actually – from the chain ladder. To get to these higher mountains there’s days of trekking before you reach the point in the picture. And there’s way less oxygen!
I can’t wait to hold a copy in my hand . . Goddit now. Here’s the back cover blurb: ( – get it on takealot.com – )
A post for you, if you’re A. Ancient; B. A Harrismith, Vrystaat okie; and C. A nerd or a petrolhead.
Who drove What cars When, back in the day. And: WHAT COLOUR were they? Also, for extra points, can you recall their number plates?
Old bullets – and those of us who spoke to dear-departed old bullets – remember that Harrismith was OI before it was OHS – Oh, Aye! It was indeed. Here’s a picnic on the slopes of the mountain back in those days.
– 1939 2-door Chev like this one, I wonder? –
Vic Crawley bought Sep de Beer’s 2-door Chev 1939 number plate OI 1
Abe Sparks, the Mayor of Swinburne – silver? Rolls Royce pickup conversion (Abe with stetson hat, cowboy boots and string tie with a semi-precious stone clasp; Lulu looking swish next to him). Abe bought the Rolls from Petronella van Heerden beforevconvertingbit to a pickup. She had toured Europe in it, then shipped ot to Cap Town wherecshechad her obs n gynae practice.
Beno Sammel – big Packard, according to Dad
– Dr Leo Hoenigsberger
Dr Leo Hoenigsberger drove ‘a big old German Sperber’ according to his grandson Leo Caskie Wade. Sperber means sparrowhawk
Pikkie Loots’ grandad’s ‘lovely old blue Desoto Suburban – probably late 1940s model – OHS 555 ‘State Express’ (remember the State Express 555 cigarettes – they came in a tin?).
Pikkie also added: What about the Herringtons, Charlie and George? They had a few cars between them. At least one Karmann Ghia if I remember. At van Niekerk (Dries’ brother) – a Porsche. Ronnie (Hector) Pienaar’s Alpha Romeo. Abel Caixinha’s uncle’s beige station wagon. Hoender’s (Gerrit – Rigter? – Kok) Volvo B16?
Annie Bland – beige Chevrolet Fleetline 1948 OHS 974
– I put a milk can in the back so it would like the Simpsons –
Joan & Vera Simpson – grey Morris Minor pickup, milk cans on the back this one photoshopped on by me).
Martha McDonald & Carrie Friday – British racing green 1938 Buick Roadster coupe. See the feature pic above of their actual car, lovingly restored by Ty Terreblanche in PMB.
Charlie Crawley & Michael Hasting’s ‘s flatbed truck – dark green, wooden bed Chev (1934 – 35 according to Dad);
JN ‘Koos’ de Witt – big black de Soto
Alet de Witt – VW Karmann Ghia
Biscayne
Max Ntshingila (Max Express bus fleet owner) . He drove a sleek yank tank and I thought I’d never get to know what it was. Then I met his son Thembinkosi, and he told me: A gold Chev Biscayne
– Parisienne – the Canadian Pontiac –
Hec & Stel Fyvie – a white Pontiac Parisienne and a lang slap off-white Merc 220S that Tabs drove; Tabs’ red Datsun 1600 (was it a SSS?) with the round rear lights that the girls at NTC in PMB called a Ferrari; Then Tabs had a green Datsun 1800 SSS which Geoff Leslie called his ‘Triple Ess Ess Ess’
Patrick Shannon – Chevrolet El Camino pickup (I saw him using it as a pick-up, too!)
Other farmers’ cars: I remember Bertie van Niekerk getting out of a huge car wearing a huge hat, but details are missing. Someone will know; I also have a mental picture of him wearing a huge hat and coattails sitting astride a horse and looking down at the admiring throng . . by die skou, I suppose. I remember Chev Kommandos, one driven by an Odendaal, one by Hertzog van Wyk
Ronnie van Tubergh – Ford Ranchero pickup
Piet Steyn – grey Borgward
Chev sedan – Fleetmaster? 1948?
Gretel Reitz – black VW Karmann Ghia; Dr Frank Reitz – big old black Chev OHS 71, seen here parked in the shade of the big old trees on the banks of the Tugela river on The Bend.
Dad Swanepoel – beige Morris Isis OHS 154 – dark blue VW Kombi OHS 153 – light blue Holden station wagon – white Holden station wagon – white V8 Ford Econoline, all OHS 154
Mary Swanepoel – green & black Ford Prefect – light blue VW 1200 Beetle OHS 155
Jannie Jan Bal du Plessis – green Datsun 300C
Jes Hansen – Harrismith’s first Hino pickup; small and grey, I seem to remember; we laughed at it and Gerie Hansen used to say ‘Hino go so good’ but this Hino was the forerunner of the all-conquering Toyota Hilux; in fact, the first Hilux bakkies were built in the Hino factory.
Charles Ryder – lime green Volvo 122S – whattacar!
Teachers’ cars: Bruce Humphries – new white Ford Cortina; Heilige Giel du Toit – old black Mercedes 190; Ben Marais – blue VW beetle; Ou Rot Malherbe – little green Fiat 500; Ou Eier Meyer – something with wings – a Zephyr? Daan Smuts – white VW beetle;
Cappie Joubert – green Ford Zephyr 6 with wings; gold ‘stompgat’ Zephyr 6
Larry wrote to me – old-fashioned ink and paper, lick the stamp, seal the envelope and drop it into a postbox – on 4 Nov 1970, his 19th birthday.
He was getting brochures for Dad for a van – Ford, Chev and Dodge. ‘I’m glad your father is really getting interested in the scheme of getting a van. If he is serious about importing me too (to come with the van), I could be ready to leave in June. It seems a bit too good to be true, so I am not counting on it at all.’
Well, it didn’t happen. But the van did.
– 1973 Ford Econoline van –
The old man needed a delivery van for the bottle store. Twelve years of Joseph faithfully delivering booze to the needy on his bicycle clearly wasn’t hacking it anymore.
– Joseph’s bicycle stands idle –
People needed their dop on the double; their brannewyn and beer briefly; their cane kona manje; their Paarl Perle pronto; This called for a V8! A five litre V8 – 302 cubic inches of inefficiency was ordered from across the Atlantic. Two pedals, one to GO one to STOP; it was automatic . . hydromatic . . greased lightning!
It was a delivery van, so no windows were needed. These were only cut in the week it arrived. Then it needed to be fitted out to take crates of beer: Two beds, a fridge and a stove were fitted above the new green carpets.
A test run was called for: I drove it to Joburg, loaded it up with fellow students and headed for Hillbrow. At the lights on the uphill section of Quartz or Twist street some unsuspecting sucker pulled up alongside.
I gave him a withering look and revved the V8, which didn’t really growl, the ole man refusing to tweak the exhaust like it could have been tweaked. It sounded OK, but not “like God clearing his throat.”
I stomped down hard on the brake with my left foot and pressed full down on the accelerator with my right. A fraction before the light turned green I let go the brake and the bus squealed and roared and bucked as we gunned off up the hill. Dunno if the other bloke even noticed but we were hosing ourselves – we had fun.
The van cost the ole man R1500 and then shipping it across the Atlantic another R1500.
Vrystaat Confessions 