Die Malmokkies lê dik oor Port Nolloth

Saterdag 9 Des 2017

Die Malmokkies (seemis) lê dik oor Port Nolloth.  So asof die see die dorp wil toevou - die rustigheid, wat hier gewoonlik heers, wil beskerm teen die hordes vakansiegangers wat oor `n paar dae op hierdie deel van die kus toesak.  Die getong-tong van die boeie in die baaitjie net buite ons huisie, roep waarskuwend dat die rustige “laid-back” atmosfeer waarvoor so baie mense hiernatoe getrek het, binnekort gaan verander.  Daar heers `n onrustige opgewondenheid in Port Nollies en sy sidekick Mc Dougalbaai.  Gastehuis- en restauranteienaars hou die horisonne met glinsterende oë dop en begin vir oulaas nog hier en daar regpak.  Die toeriste is aan die kom...

Want sien, Port Nolloth het beter dae geken.  Ekonomies baie beter dae...
Hierdie was die hawe waarvandaan koper van die Okiepmyne en diamante van die Namakwa-kus verskeep is.  Dit was in die dae toe daar in die streke nog grootskaals gemyn is.  Sedert die 1970`s het baie dinge verander en het die hoof seevaartaktiwiteite vandag te make met vissery, kleinskaalse spoeldiamante en toerisme.  Vir `n tydjie het dit gelyk of die kreefindustrie Port Nolloth aan die lewe kon hou, maar ook dit het tot `n einde gekom...
Vandag verrys gastehuise soos paddastoele uit die grond op.

Dit is nie die seewater wat mense na Port Nolloth lok nie.  O nee! Daarvoor is die water hier te koud.  Ook nie die omgewing nie.  Daarvoor het die myne gesorg.  Dis eerder die weskus-atmosfeer, die stadige pas wat mense trek.  En die stories... En karakters van vroeër en nou.

Die eerste toeris, waarvan ons weet, wat hierdie baai beskryf het, was niemand anders nie as Bartholomeus Dias wat op sy epiese vaart in 1487 hier verby gevaar het.  Dit was die laaste land wat hy gesien het voor `n verskriklike storm hom diepsee toe geblaas het en hy vir 13 dae lank van koers was.  In daardie dae het die baai onder die inheemse Namaqua-mense bekend gestaan as “Aukwatowa”.  Dit beteken: “waar die water die ou man weggevat het”.  Wat egter daar gebeur het en wie die ou man was, kan niemand vandag sê nie.  Dalk iemand wat gaan seekossies uithaal het tussen die rotse...

In die 1800`s het die Namas wat toe hier woonagtig was, robvelle en gedroogde robvleis aan die kopermyn-werkers verkoop en het die baai bekend begin staan as Robbebaai.  Uiteindelik is die baai vernoem na sy opmeter, Kaptein MS Nolloth.

Dit was eers nadat James Alexander koper by Okiep, 160 km inland van Port Nolloth, gevind het dat die dorpie hier begin groei het.  Nêrens kon `n geskikter hawe gevind word om die koper te verskeep nie en `n eenvoudige kaai is gebou. Nie lank daarna nie het die eerste perdewaens met koper opgedaag.  In 1874 is die waens vervang deur `n 96 km lange treinspoor.  Die twee-wa treintjies is getrek deur vier muile op `n keer.  Wanneer die treintjies afdraande beweeg het, soos byvoorbeeld in bergagtige streke, is die muile uitgespan en het die waentjies afge”free”.  Net die handrem is gebruik om die spoed van die waentjies te beheer.  `n Mens moes seker jou storie geken het vir hierdie steroide-belaaide “kaskar-rit”!  Klein stoomtreintjies het later die muile vervang en kon groter hoeveelhede vervoer word.  Een van hierdie stoomtreintjies kan gesien word by die nuwe jetty.  Port Nolloth het floreer in hierdie tyd.  Die hawemuur moes langer gemaak word vir groter skepe, die dorpie het uitgebrei en hier was baie werk.  Maar die hawe was nie veilig genoeg vir die groot skepe nie.  `n Hele paar is beskadig of het selfs gestrand op die rif wat oor die kanaal in die baai loop.  Die herstel aan die skepe en die veranderings om die hawe veilig te maak sou te duur gekos het.  Uiteindelik is die koper vanaf Okiep na Bitterfontein vervoer, waarvandaan dit per spoor Tafelbaai-hawe toe is.

In die hoofstraat kan `n mens nog `n deel van die spoor sien en in die museum, `n paar geboue van die plekkie “Secret Place” waar ons loseer, word die geskiedenis van die dorp pragtig voorgestel.  Dit is hier waar George Moyses werk - `n legende in lewende lywe.  Maar oor hom sal ek meer vertel in `n volgende post.

`n Karakter wat `n groot rol gespeel het in die geskiedenis van hierdie dorp en omliggende streke is Jack Carstens.  Hy was die man wat die eerste diamant in Namakwaland gevind het – in 1925 op die plaas Oubeep, net so `n bietjie suid van die hawe.  Sy pa was die stoorman hier op die dorp en ook die plaaslike Reuters korrespondent.  Deur sy pa se koerantkonneksies het die storie van die fonds baie vinnig versprei en het die eerste diamant-stormloop van Namakwaland plaasgevind.  Nie lank daarna nie het die fortuinsoekers op Port Nolloth begin toesak.  Die volgende fonds is gemaak deur Robert Kennedy, toe hy gaan swem het in die ysige waters by The Cliffs net noord van Port Nolloth se hawe.  Per geluk het hy opgekyk en iets gesien blink teen die rotse bo hom.  Toe hy gaan ondersoek instel het, het hy altesaam 14 diamante daar gevind.  

In sy boek “On wings of fire” skryf Lawrence Green oor twee buitengewone gebeurtenisse wat Port Nolloth getref het: 

“In the bad old days of Port Nolloth very early this century the Hottentots knew one brief interlude of delirious happiness.  East winds in April brought swarms of huge moths to the coast.  No one remembered seeing moths at Port Nolloth before.  They came like a cloud and dropped into the ocean, so that the beaches near the little harbour were piled high with millions of drowned moths, some were grey, others a dirty white.  This phenomenon gave Port Nolloth something to talk about, but a far more serious visitation was on the way.  Travelers who came down in the train said that the whole of Namaqualand was talking about locusts.  Moths were a nuisance but the locusts were a menace.  They were not the red locusts, the Eight Plague of the bible, but the small brown desert locusts.  No doubt some weather cycle encouraged the swarms for locusts had been reported over enormous areas along the fringes of the Sahara, moving resolutely in to the more fertile south, spreading right across the continent from Benin to the Sudan.  Old locusts died, but in warm and favourable weather the young locusts hatched out and began to use their powerful legs.  Colony joined colony until a new and irresistible army was marching boldly in column of route.  Each night the young huddled together for warmth.  Each morning they hopped on, guided by mysterious instinct towards the Orange river and its rich belts of greenery.  No one has ever been able to count these storm troopers of a locust army.  The breeding cycle is so rapid that the progeny of one locust may grow to six million within one year if all goes well.  That explains the prodigious swarms hundreds of miles long.  So the young “voetgangers” moved towards the luscious pastures.  They cast their skins, turn black and red, then yellow and brown, their wings growing out.  The whole landscape was alive.
Such were the stories told by the people who reached Port Nolloth from springbok and Okiep in that dark period.  The locusts were everywhere.  Upington and Kenhardt were suffering and all the river settlers were in despair.  It was a tale of despair from Steinkopf to Lekkersing.

“Anyway, the locusts won`t come here,” said everyone in Port Nolloth.  “Nothing for them to eat here.”  One morning Port Nolloth awoke to an east wind more annoying and hotter than usual.  Zebulon Pearce climbed the arm of a crane on the wharf to tighten a nut, and as he glanced over the rooftops of the village he noticed a black cloud making a strong contrast with the bright gold of the sunlit sky.  The cloud spread like the smoke of an explosion, and Pearce gazed at the horizon in wonder.  Still the cloud grew larger, whirling like dust, forming a curtain between Port Nolloth and the sun.  They were flying high in the grip of the wind, a great dark shape which soon become millions upon millions of silver torpedoes flying westward in a suicidal rush to the wastes of the South Atlantic.  Only when a startled Port Nolloth went to lunch did the swarms dwindle and disappear over the ice cold sea.  Then a silence fell over the harbour.  “A wind brought them and a wind carried them away,” said a clergyman thankfully.  But he spoke to soon.  The east wind dropped, and later that afternoon Port Nolloth watched the return of the locusts from the ocean.  This time the locusts landed in millions; landing on the green forage; landing on roofs and in yards; landing on the beaches and in the long waterfront street; landing and invading homes; striking their faces, clinging to garments tenaciously; hopping on their human victims so that women and children were terrified.  Pearce said the defence of Port Nolloth came too late, and that in any case it would have been useless.  They rang church-bells, hammered pots and pans and lit fires.  They beat the locusts down with branches in a futile way.

Port Nolloth cheered soon after daybreak, for unexpected help arrived while the locusts were still in possession of the village.  Thousands of birds had raced south from the Orange river mouth to feast on their favourite insects.  And when the harassed locusts rose and departed on an easterly course the insatiable birds followed.  Port Nolloth gasped with relief and licked its wounds.

When the east wind arose once more it brought to Port Nolloth a strange fragrance from the Hottentot location.  Some gargantuan meal was being roasted and very soon the secret was out.  During the night of the invasion the Hottentots had gone forth with blankets and sacks, bags and paraffin tins.  They alone had welcomed the locusts rapturously, for outside their wretched hovels there had appeared the feast of a century.”