Tough

Not the walking, although that's been tough too... What's tough now is trying to extract a small selection of moments from the last few weeks which I think someone reading this might find interesting. Not at all because there hasn't been much interesting happening but because so much interesting and strange things have happened that nothing is normal anymore! There is nothing with which to compare one day's experience to because each day is a standalone story, independent of the day before and the day after except maybe for the steady change in weight of food and water. Each moment in fact has become standalone and often I find myself so desensitised to the idea of walking that I forget where I'm going or why I'm going anywhere at all, drifting along in thought that both alienates me from and unifies me with everything withing the limits of the horizon. Being interrogated by a catholic missionary from Kenya who thinks I'm a spy provides an experience similar to being abducted by 3 crazy Germans and taken to a braai in the dunes with some alcoholic bushmen. A cold winters frost issues a rejection similar to an offensive stare from a disapproving local. A firm handshake and a friendly smile feels quite like the warmth of the morning sun. As hippy as that might sound it's hard to describe it in any other way! What is also tough is blogging from my phone, which is perhaps why I've been so reluctant to blog but here goes:

Actually, before I roll the highlights reel, I think I should share with anyone reading a simple yet ingenious (I believe) formula that I resort to when I begin to lose track of where I'm going and why I'm going there. I cannot claim to be the first to propose such an idea as I have not had time to research what the great minds of our time have concluded on the subject of walking but I think you'll find this quite a revolutionary concept; a formula for walking! Mathematical perhaps not, more of a biomechanical formula that I believe could help many people on long walks (most don't realise but there are actually many people doing very long walks at the moment all around the world) who tend to stray or overcomplicate things. So, here it is:
Step 1: Move left foot forward.
Step 2: Move right foot forward.
Step 3: Repeat steps 1 and 2 while breathing.

And that's it! After reducing the mechanics to something so simple, I find it strange when people find me strange. All I'm doing is putting one foot infront of the other and people can't seem to make sense of it. Of course I still need to do some testing on the formula, particularly the implications of starting with step 2 instead of step 1. I do worry that this may induce a bad day as the phrase 'to start off on the wrong foot' must have started somewhere! But on with the highlights...

Kakamas has amazing dates! Not the Friday night kind, but the kind that are grown in Pella from trees that Oom Gertjie Niemöller brought from Yuma in America. These dates are best bought from Die Pienk Padstal, a shop with serious character! Past Kakamas I headed to Noeniput. En route I was fortunate enough to be accommodated by the Myburgh family."Ons is lief vir mense!", were Koot's words and his son ,Willem, and his family who I stayed with, certainly shared the sentiment.

Just before the Myburgh family I had reached the 1000km mark! I was hoping to make some phone calls but the area had no reception so I quietly celebrated on my own by running back about a kilometre to try find one of my waterbottles that had fallen from Olive. No such luck. Instead I made some room in the other bottle and filled it with water from the dodgy dam next to my party stop. Thank goodness for water purification drops is all I can say!

Past the Myburghs the landscape was almost dream like; vast grassy fields that danced in silver and gold around the occassional abandoned house where a rusty old windmill would slowly turn over in the wind providing the perfect ambience for a bunch of cannibals to invite you with a southern 'States hillbilly twang to come in for 'dinner'. Further on, the dunes began to sprout from the grassy plains. Some a tawny colour but most that deep Kalahari red. There's something comforting about the dunes, perhaps its the distance that you can see when you stand on top, some basic programming deep in the primitive part of our brains that rewards us for getting to a high point, where we can easily see any predators coming for miles, with a euphoric sense of calm. Or perhaps its that the dunes are affected by the weather on a time scale that is far easier for us to identify with than that of a rock formation carved out over millions of years. Instead the ripples in the dunes could have been formed by a strong wind that left you sand-blasted two days ago. Just as majestic as the rock formations, but in their geological youth and delicate nature, the dunes seem almost more playful and accommodating.

The reborn missionaries in Noeniput are also accommodating but only, I think, because they wanted to try convert me. The Kalahari is hard core God country! But I have respect for anyone until they show a lack of respect for me, so when a grossly overweight missionary laughs at my beliefs I can't help but laugh when he mentions that gluttony is a sin. The Myburghs were also strong christians but had enough respect for me to not want to convert me, even showing interest in my beliefs. I think that's why I liked them so much, they were naturally good natured. Genuine.