Deon Barnard

An ATKV resort for those who might not know is a holiday, caravan, camping venue run by the Afrikaanse Taal en Kultuur Vereniging, and for those who need further translation that is the Afrikaans Language and Culture Association. I recently took my three kids on a 5 day camping trip to one of these resorts in the Limpopo province of South Africa. This was not my first time at an ATKV and every time I visit one I’m always very impressed, and at the same time amazed, and entertained, and educated in some of the finer points of one of South Africa’s incredible cultures. So let me explain.

On arriving, the first thing you notice about the place is that it is efficiently and professionally run by a crew of well groomed white Afrikaans females who are all exceptionally polite, and white, and Afrikaans. After receiving my elaborate gate pass which was not far off my Facebook profile I meandered my way down the scenic drive towards the camping sites, past the golf course which seemed to be kept well trimmed by a random herd of Zebra which casually strolled among the competing golf-foursomes who were evidently mostly a father with three sons hacking their way around the course (more than I can achieve by the way).

As we drove onto our clearly marked site among a throng of other campers and caravaners, six black (well actually chocolate brown) attendants clad in reflective bibs surrounded the car. Coming from Jo’burg I thought we were either being hijacked or attacked by a bunch of overeager car guards – I was wrong on both accounts. The attendants promptly opened our trailer and proceeded to erect our two large tents and canopy in about five minutes – a job that would have taken me and the kids two hours – so I handed them R40 not knowing quite what was appropriate and they disappeared into the resort to assist elsewhere. So, having budgeted the remainder of the day for setting up camp we were now free to do something else and decided to try out the pools. We all got into swimming costumes and walked up the central road past friendly campers who without fail would call out “Middag!” which translates to “Middleoftheday!” or more meaningfully “Good Afternoon!” My very English kids quickly realized that their ‘C’ grades in Afrikaans this year at school counted for nothing here and kept asking, “What language are they speaking dad?” and, “What are they saying?” and, “Where are all the English people?”

And it wasn’t just the language that was unfamiliar, it was everything! The way they dressed, the music they listened to, the way they interacted and the way they ate and drank. One thing Afrikaaners do really well, in fact better than anyone else in the world, is braai (barbeque) – the Americans and Australians have nothing on these guys! Around the pool, at the tents, at any time of the day or night, you could find any number of these folk standing around a fire and cooking perfect pork chops, chicken drumsticks and miles and miles of boerewors. Many of the young men liked to remain topless at all times, flaunting six-packs (or as Robyn observed, occasionally eight-packs or just one…pack) – the middle aged men wearing what seems to be the eternal fashion of the two-tone khaki farmer shirt. Another never dying love of the Afrikaaner it would seem is Tina Turner’s “Simply the Best” which could be heard being played somewhere on camp at almost any time.

Another phenomenon of Afrikaans camping culture is how much stuff they bring. My camping style is minimalistic and rustic – just pitch a tent in the bush somewhere and survive off the land, possibly my Boy Scout training coming out. This is NOT how Afrikaaners camp! At least half the caravans and even some of the tent sites had portable satellite dishes – heaven forbid someone miss 7nde Laan or the latest rugby fixture. Gadgets and appliances ranged from large water coolers and hectic sound systems to microwave ovens and electric bug zappers which turn innocent insects into molecular powder by a zillion volt lightning bolt… or something of that nature. These people just move their home into the country for a few weeks – maybe a throwback to the days of the ‘Groot Trek’. One particular tent must have brought R3000 worth of Christmas lights with them which they wrapped all over their caravan, tent, car and the nearest tree and which flashed all night like a beacon in the dark with a sign that said “Santa stops here”.

The most memorable part of camping among the Afrikaaners however is not their strange tastes in clothing, food or music, but their community spirit and generous neighborliness. They are always smiling and conversational and a night around the braai will have you in stitches laughing at their dry, tactile and descriptive stories and jokes. What continually blows me away is how eight Afrikaaners will all switch to English (of a sort) for the sake of one Englishman who can’t speak their language, and they will do it with grace. If you’re thinking of visiting SA or have lived in SA in one of the other thirteen cultures all your life I can heartily suggest visiting an ATKV for a few days of authentic South African culture.

Tags: Afrikaans, ATKV, camping, culture, language, South Africa

This entry was posted on Monday, December 14th, 2009 at 11:37 and is filed under South Africa, about Deon. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.