A SENSE OF PLACE: A Gem Called Zwartkloof

Whenever I tell people that I am about to spend some time in the bush, their response still bemuses me: “Enjoy the peace and quiet!” ‘Peace’ is a relative term and may be used differently by folks to express very different states of inactivity, calm, tranquillity, lack of conflict or even stress, for example. However, the term ‘quiet‘ is far less abstract and so should mean a similar lack of loud noise, at least to most humans.

Possibly, people can ignore noises emanating from the bushveld; perhaps these noises are not relevant to most human beings, these noises are not directly related to their own personal lives of work, family and friends. I have never inquired quite what connotations people associate with the good wishes – I just know that the bush is never quiet; there is never silence in the bushveld. In fact, it is a tremendously noisy place.

As I am writing this blog*, sitting in the shade of the thatched roof of a tiny rondavel at midday (while family members are snoozing away the hottest hours), in a tiny patch of bushveld near Bela-Bela in the Limpopo Province of South Africa, a hot wind is susurrating through the still-leafless branches of the thorn-trees. A Tree Squirrel is chatting out its alarm call nearby, a group of Glossy Starlings is ratcheting away at some discussion, and a family of Grey Go-away-birds is busy settling some domestic dispute to the accompaniment of several Rattling Cisticolas. The most insistent and penetrating noise is the screaming of the cicadas, begging the sun to have some mercy on them on this hot, early summer day.

When I did finally tie the knot (as they say) relatively late in life, I had no inkling of the most generous gift that would be bestowed on Jacqui and myself. Every year we have had the privilege to be invited to Maroelarus, a beautiful small thatched-roof compound situated in a tiny piece of bushveld at Zwartkloof Private Game Reserve close to Bela-Bela. Our visits usually coincide with Christmas or New Year; however, in the past we have been invited occasionally to join my late brother-in-law Flip, my sister-in-law Elize and the nieces and nephews at other times of the year too. This present trip to Maroelarus is the first family outing to this most marvellous place since the sudden and untimely passing of Flip earlier this year. Sala kahle, Ou Grootte. Ngiyabonga kakhulu.

Zwartkloof lies at the edge of the Waterberg Mountains. This tiny game reserve measures just two kilometres by two kilometres in size. The bushveld is very dense since it is difficult to manage a reliable fire regime to control old growth on such a small property. Yet, despite its size, Zwartkloof boasts with a great diversity of veld-types. A small portion in the north-eastern corner of the reserve covers the first gentle slope of a large kopje situated on the neighbouring farm. Here, on the rocky soil, the bushveld is dominated by bushwillows, and includes (amongst many other tree species) wild figs, Candelabra Euphorbia, Live-long and Mountain Karee. In the opposite south-western corner, the ground is sandy and a deep red in colour. Silver Cluster Leaf trees and very tall grasses dominate this part of the reserve.

The rest of Zwartkloof is covered by the typical bushveld of the area, changing between thornveld (with various species of Acacia (particularly Umbrella Thorn, Robust Thorn and Red Thorn) and patches of mixed bushveld (dominated by bushwillows (Red, Velvet and Large-fruited), with African Weeping-Wattle, Bushveld Saffron, Marula and Jacket Plum. The smaller shrubs in the mixed bushveld include Common Guarri, several Wild Raisin species and small, scrubby Sickle Bush.

Large game is scarce at Zwartkloof and restricted to the common antelope (Kudu, Nyala, Common Duiker, Blue Wildebeest, Red Hartebeest and Impala, including Giraffe and Warthog) and Burchell’s Zebra. Watering-points scattered across Zwartkloof are rotated and controlled carefully, to prevent overgrazing or damage caused by browsing of the vegetation. Only small predators are resident on the reserve – Banded Mongooses, Slender Mongooses and, increasingly over the last decade or so, pairs of Black-backed Jackal and their offspring.

The birdlife at Zwartkloof is spectacular for such a small and usually quite dry bushveld reserve. The parched winter months can be challenging for keen birdwatchers, but the summer months reverberate with the calls of a host of resident species and summer migrants, including six cuckoo species and four species of owls.

This singular, tiny patch of the bushveld of South Africa is definitely never quiet, as indicated at the start of the blog. Obviously, there is no roaring of resident lions, no sawing of local leopards and no cackling of hyenas – there is, however, the nightly howl of jackal.

The birds add to the daytime cacophony. I have heard several European visitors remark that Africa does not have a dawn chorus of bird song. What Africa has instead, is a dawn-raucous, less melodic perhaps, but just as voluminous. Almost invariably, the francolins and spurfowls will start the African melody, followed by the unmatched range of calls of the Fork-tailed Drongos whistling out their own repertoire of songs or disguising their voices with the mimicked calls of innumerable other bird species. The various robins, scrub-robins, thrushes and tchagras soon join in. The slightly later risers of the avian menagerie of the bushveld, the hornbills and go-away-birds, add calls that are more grating later in the morning.

In summer, Woodland and Brown-hooded Kingfishers, Black-headed Orioles, numerous cuckoos and the high-pitched trills of a few bee-eater species, boost the daily performance. The less obtrusive, soft bubbling of doves, the tinkling of fire-finches and the sibilant swizzling of Blue Waxbills provide the real melodic musical talent. The noise continues throughout the day, with a ratcheting of grasshoppers and locusts, the buzz of bees, the drone of flies, the screams of the cicadas and the tremolo of leaves as a wind tickles past.

Despite numerous visits during the last decade and a half, it remains a privilege that I am invited to experience and to explore this small gem intimately. Zwartkloof has never disappointed – never, not once, have I encountered at Zwartkloof the same conditions, the same exuberance of the bushveld. Each visit reveals a different combination of flowering grasses, trees in bloom, diversity of insect and birdlife. The seasonal changes at Zwartkloof are dramatic, but even the summers have exposed their unique individuality, year-to-year.

I have set myself a hopeless task – to capture in a single image, the entirety of the most awe-inspiring qualities that Zwartkloof has to offer. I have spent at least a week a year for sixteen years now working tirelessly to attempt to hold in a single photograph, a single exposure, Zwartkloof’s unique sense of place. I have captured many good images of the environment, the flora and the fauna. I have been able to snatch many special moments in images.

As a collection, the photographs taken at Zwartkloof do reveal, in separate images, the charm and character of Zwartkloof. Yet, I am still captivated by a conviction (certainly fiction, not fact) that Zwartkloof will reveal its most treasured sense of place at any moment, to allow me to capture it in a single photograph, an image that encapsulates all facets that make Zwartkloof so extraordinary a place.

I know I have not succeeded yet; I know too that my obsession is a pipedream. Every photograph, every image, is an abstraction by definition, simply because it is a careful composition that includes only a chosen subset of elements of a place or its inhabitants, while deliberately excluding all other, distracting parts. Why then do I proceed with this mania? I continue searching because I remain convinced that it is possible to capture in a single frame – although it does not document all species and only a smidgeon of the geographic locality – a genuine, integral and summative sense of place of Zwartkloof.

As long as I may still be invited to enjoy this tiny jewel of bushveld, I will pursue my most tragic romantic passion that obsesses me still.


*   This blog was written on 20/21 October 2020, and is dedicated to my late brother-in-law and his family, the Bornman folks that have invited Jacqui and me repeatedly to share in the experience that is Zwartkloof.