The Swelling
The population of the village has suddenly swollen. I’ve been told this is a common occurrence in retirement and fishing villages far away from the busy urban centres. As the holiday season approaches, you start to see more people around. Houses that have stood forlorn for months suddenly have lights on in them, braai fires going on the stoep and children screeching around the yard and spilling into the streets.
There are a lot more vehicles around, many with the large urban centres number plates giving away their owners actual home locations. This swelling is a pleasant thing in some ways. For the staff at the handful of commercial ventures in the village, it means they might make a decent monthly income in tips. It means that the local making bread bakes more bread and you’re likely to luck out and catch a fresh loaf for a change. It means more happy sounds as whole families take evening walks with dogs and bicycles in tow.
There’s more ‘more Oom’ greetings than there’s been in months of being here. The place feels like it’s being lived in and enjoyed. That is a very pleasant thing to experience. Also with all the new bodies in town, one of the locals brings out the soft serve machine, so we can all enjoy the traditional ice-cream at the seaside treat.
On the less pleasant side, it means there’s now three or more motor vehicles ahead of you at the stop street to get out of the village. Your preferred table at the little beach bar might be occupied by visitors. The quiet spot you have used for a bit of writing has become a kiddies play area for children high on city doctor prescribed meds. The regular weekly pie delivery at the farm stall might be snatched up before you make it up there. You might be forced to join the mailing list to ensure you get your hands on Tannie Maalie’s weekly pie. The other shop in the village is likely to run out of those yummy pumpkin rusks, so you have to remember to stock up if you want one for Christmas morning coffee.
That’s a lot of change to deal with.
This swelling of the village population also means that sitting quietly on the rocky shore contemplating the world and life is no longer so quiet. Random and new dogs, humans and even a brave surfer or two all pop up in the space of an hour and greetings and shooing is required to maintain some peace. It’s only another six weeks or so of this and it’s still beats being anywhere near the urbanised East or West coast fishing villages where the crowds are in multiples of this small bunch of mostly pleasant people taking a December break on the cold, windswept West coast of the holy land.
Another upside of this swelling population is that if you’re into talking to other people, then there’s a whole lot more people around to talk to. If that’s your thing. If not, it means leaving earlier for longer cycles further into the veld to avoid the crowds that eventually gather anywhere and everywhere in the holy land.
Crowding seems to be a popular habit and maybe it’s got to do with the old days when the laager and kraal was a security measure but in the present moment, the crowding feels a little less benign. Still, I remind myself that this is a temporary situation and the crowding groups of holy landers will soon disperse to their urban centres and resume their binge TV and series watching, pill popping, mall visiting, UberEats based lifestyles and the locals will be left in peace again.
Sterkte Oom!
As I was sharing these thoughts, a local reminded me that The Swelling is yet to peak and all indications are that we should prepare for a busy season!
© Jesh Baker, 2022 for Oppi Stoep
