Ivor Markman

Ivor Markman

 

Nestled in the shadow of the Compasberg, in the fertile valley of the Sneeuberg, lies Nieu-Bethesda, the village that time forgot.

Synonymous with the name are images of dusty streets, quaint little shops, old houses, the famous Owl House, and, believe it or not, donkey carts.

Brought to the world's attention by Athol Fugard's play, Road to Mecca, the town has become a much sought-after haven for artists and tourists.

Eight years ago Jakob van Staden started his rather unusual donkey tour business, taking tourists on jaunts through the town.

Today his operation is thriving.

Although his business is seasonal, Van Staden earns enough to see him through the lean times.

Apart from his tours around the town, his creative mode of transport has seen him taking brides to their weddings and campers on three-day trips into the surrounding countryside.

Van Staden, who also organises the popular Donkey Derby in the town in November each year, revealed how his business began.

It all started with a dream about two donkeys and an old donkey cart, which proved to be the turning point in his life.

He remembered telling Betty, his wife, about the dream.

“Betty, last night I had a very bad dream,” he said.

“Don't talk about bad dreams, because we are in a bad situation,” she replied.

Explaining why it had been a bad dream, Van Staden revealed that one of his brothers had once said dreaming about donkey carts and bicycles meant problems in the future.

The afternoon following his dream, he stood at Pienaarsig, the township on the outskirts of Nieu-Bethesda, looking at the animals in the municipal kraal.

“I saw beautiful donkeys drinking water next to the trough,” he said.

“They looked the same as those I dreamt about.”

Van Staden called Betty over and told her about the donkeys, but she was busy with the washing and didn’t want to be disturbed.

Later that day Van Staden's nephew, Henry, who was in the business of buying and selling donkeys, passed by the house so Van Staden asked him if he knew to whom the donkeys belonged.

“They're my friend's (donkeys),” said Henry.

The two set off for the “pondokkie” (a ramshackle hut) where the man was living and Van Staden enquired if he wanted to sell the animals.

“I talked big even though I didn't have the money,” recalled Jakob.

“He told me if I gave him R150 I could get both the cart and the two donkeys.

“So I went to my son, Derrick, and I told him about the cart and the donkeys. He works in Cape Town as a security guard but he was here on holiday."

Van Staden told his son that if he got the cart he would start a small wood-carrying business.

Derrick gave his father the money, but when Betty found out, she was furious.

“Ja, you bought that bleddie (bloody) thing - you overpowered Derrick to use his taxi money and bought this rubbish of a cart,” she screamed.

Undaunted by her anger Van Staden explained his decision.

“When I'd fixed my cart, I took it out for a test drive with Grys and Ripper, the first two donkeys," he said.

“When I left the township I saw a sign that was put onto one of the trees.

“The municipality was looking for people to cut the bushes on both sides of the furrow that leads the water from the spring to the village.

“The people could take the wood as pay,” he said.

Van Staden took on the job.

“One day, I'm on my way to chop bushes when (village guesthouse owner) Denise Hope stopped me at one of the guesthouses."

She told him some of her guests had enquired about donkey cart rides around the village.

“So the next morning I fixed my cart, grabbed one of the benches, put it on the cart and drove around with them.