Go Drive & Camp May 2019

http://www.weg.c o.za go! Drive&CampMay2019|^137

At exactlythe same timemy wife
switches on the light on the other side of
the bakkie. She’salso on her knees and
shines the light straight intomy eyes. In
thatmomentI’m blinded,Ibang my head
and my handagainst thechassi sasIjerk
in fright. It’sagood thing our pastor isn’t
around to hear me.
Fortunately, Idon’tdropthe trekking
pole, because the next moment the
badger starts growling, coughing and
hissing. I’m still struggling to see asmy
wife has notyetgot the message to not
shine the light directlyinto my eyes.
Ismackthe pole on the ground,my wife
movestoanother corner of the bakkie,
the stars disappear frommy sight... and
when Ican finally can seeagain, there
is no sign of the honeybadger under
thebakkie.
And then the light falls on something...
the biscuit tin!Irakeitc loser with the
pole,whilemywife walksaroundthe
bakkie todoublecheckthatthe badger
is gone.There’snosign of him.Ifully
understand becauseIwouldn’thave
withstood thatencirclement tactic with

the accompanyingwarcries andattacks

of light.Perhaps itwasmychoicewords

thatscared him off, butIdoubt he’s that

fluent inFrench.

WITH THE BISCUITthief nowgone, it’s

time to takestock.We’restill here for six

nights; so, there should be another twelve

biscuits ifwe eachwant to enjoytwo

every night.

Iplace the tin on the table to start

counting with trepedation and, typically

South African, alreadyexpect theworst –

the nightmare of none or too littlesweet

stuff for the rest of the holiday. Yes, Iknow

Ican buychocolateat the shop,but it

wouldn’tbethe same as our biscuits. And

Idon’twant to payparkprices.

We count–and ultimatelythere’sonly

one biscuit missing. Can it be?We count

again (it feels as ifwe’r einthe middle of

avoteofnoconfidence in parliament) and

again there is onlyone not there.

Ireleaseasigh of relief and gratitude

and manyother things.Thetin is

closed and putaway,and the coffee is

boosted withatot of brandyafter all

theexcitement.

Thefollowing nightwe eachtake

our twobiscuits. But tonight the tin is

immediatelystoredawayandthe biscuits

arekept safelyonmylap.We’re gazing

at the firewhen we hear another rustle

behind us.Igrabthe light and see the

honeybadger is back. And he looksat me

with questioningeyes, as if hewantsto

ask “So,where’smybiscuit then?”

Iput the light down, turn around and

settle onmy chair. Howcan Iblame him?

Thepoor animal has acquired the taste of

abiscuit andIknowifIwere him, I’dbe

coming backfor more, too.

Then Isee the culprit:

ahoneybadger that

disappears under our

bakkiewith the tin of

biscuits in his mouth.