From Paris to Keetmanshoop ... a real hot spot

Erna van Wyk de Vries

Meintjeskop Courier, Volume I, 1993

It is summer in South Africa. Everybody you come across is moaning about the terrible, intolerable heat. I just smile, put a smug "I know better" look on my face and reply: "On the contrary, this is wonderful. Very pleasant. Obviously you have never been to Keetrnanshoop."

I am not going to advise anybody to visit Keetmanshoop. Apart from being as hot as that place we do not want to proceed to after this life, Keetmanshoop has its one foot in the Kalahari desert and the other foot in the Namib desert.

When my husband and I were newly engaged and very much in love, I told him that I'd follow him to "Putsonderwater". Ha. I had to eat my words. Surely, Putsonderwater cannot be as hot and as isolated as Keetmanshoop is.

I do not like the smirks on the faces of some people when they learn that I had to move from "gay Paree" to Keetmanshoop. A friend of long standing suggested that I write a book titled: "From Paris to Keetmanshoop". Very funny.

I always inform these smirking people that at least, in Keetrnanshoop, the air is much fresher, there is lots of parking space and to top it all, I did not have to open, even once, one of the halfdozen umbrellas I had to acquire in London and Paris.

To get back to the heat. Wytze, my husband, put a thermometer in the official car, basking in the sun like all the others for lack of shadow space, and it reached 86 degrees Celsius. The veranda of the office, in the shade, measured over 50 degrees Celsius. That summer, the summer of late 1987 up to about April 1988, happened to be the hottest summer in living memory for Keetmanshoop. First, the birds started dropping out of the trees,' dood soos mossies'.  

Then the kids complained that their bunnies had keeled over, the poultry died and I have to confess that when I heard the first pig had died, I panicked. It is said that the human anatomy and that of the pig are very similar.

Inside the office it measured 42 degrees when we started at 08:00. We had the dubious honour of having our offices in a historical musewn. Die Kaiserliche Postampt , i e the old post office. A handsome building, built with thick rocks, each close to half a metre. These boulders would absorb the heat admirably effectively during the day and manage to retain most of it all through the night. 

These amazing boulders also had the ability to absorb cold in winter and retain it equally admirably during the winter nights. And you have guessed it. Being such a captivating historical museum, it could not be 'vandalised' by the installation of air conditioners.

We managed to work during the mornings, but just dropped down over our newspapers during the afternoons. One afternoon a funny feeling took hold of me. I had a very strong instinct to jump up and run away, to get out and to get as far away as possible. Of course I controlled myself - with effort 

The next day I discovered to my relief that I was not going crazy: the national newspaper. "Die Republikein" was kind enough to list all the symptoms of heat exhaustion. One of them was acute anxiety.

Going outside was like having a giant hairdryer turned onto you. Eyeballs burned. A water pipe broke on the gravel road one day and I saw the water streaming down the street, boiling vigorously as it streamed.

No, please do not complain about the heat. You might just end up in Keetmanshoop one day. Despite all this, the people are so very friendly, genuine and kindhearted, that I did come to love the place. I also brought along a live souvenir - my only son, who will forever be stuck with Keetmanshoop" indicated as his place of birth on his passport. ( oh well, it could have been "Putsonderwater" ).