CYRIL’S STORY
136 | September 2019 go! Drive & CampA
while back I read about
a teacher in the Western Cape
who slapped one of her pupils.
The online article and the
comments below it – a combination of
people defending corporal punishment
and allegations of racism – made for
unpleasant reading, but it did take me
back to my childhood when I received
my first hiding.
My mother will tell you that I am
responsible for each of her grey hairs,
and if you ask my dad whether I was
really that wayward, he’ll drop his chin
to his chest and point his indexfinger at the last three hairs on his shiny
bald head.
I got this paddling at the tender age of
five. We lived in Richards Bay, in KwaZulu-
Natal, in a suburb called Arboretum.
Many of our neighbours were fresh off
the boat, mostly Scottish engineers who
came to South Africa to help build
the Richards Bay harbour. (It was
the largest coal export port in the
world at the time.) My father
was a civil engineer at a firm
responsible for much of the
new port during the 1970s, and
he rewarded his hard work with
cool cars. Parked in our garageWhen you wreck your dad’s treasured bakkie, you probably deserve
the resultant spanking. Cyril Klopper remembers
one day in May only too well.
The amazing
Ranchero slide
ILLUSTRATION
FRED MOUTON
was a bright red Holden Monaro GTS with
black racing stripes down the bonnet.
Outside, between the garage and
a Vibracrete wall, stood a 1970 Ford
Ranchero bakkie – his second favourite.
Years later, I would come to learn that my
dad had planned to turn the Ranchero
into our holiday bakkie, since the Monaro
offered little luggage space. A Ford
Ranchero may not have been the most
practical holiday rig, but 1977 was the days
of disco and it was more important to look
cool than to be practical.
We never drove in the Ranchero and
I can’t remember my dad ever
starting up the engine.