Durban - “Why are you so sweet on holiday?” my four-year-old son asks, lacing his hand into my lap, “and not so sweet at home?”
We have been camping at Midmar Dam for two days, and life has pared down to a few bare necessities – hot water for coffee, fire for braais, a dam for washing, and bikes to ride. With these we are content.
“Well, I do have a lot of jobs at home,” I begin my defence. But he has run off.
With five children, ranging from two to 11, school holidays provide ample reason to panic. Midmar Dam provides ample reason to relax. Everyone can find something to do here.
Our older children spend a happy morning starting a fire. First, they heave huge logs into the dam, and float them downstream to our camp. Then they mount the logs on to two BMXes and push them up the bank to our fireplace. While they crumple newspaper, their younger siblings gather pine cones and twigs. When all is assembled, they strike the match victoriously. Their bodies are at Midmar, their spirits are on a deserted island, with wild beasts and savages.
Our younger children spend a happy morning baking mud. Old yoghurt tubs become coffee ice cream, juice bottles turn into chocolate shakes, margarine lids boast sloppy brownies. Mud is their food, mud is their seasoning. And when mud becomes their clothing, they wash in the dam.
The chilly water turns adults blue and splotchy. But children, my husband reminds me, are cold-blooded until 12.
Every morning we watch the sun come up from the safety of our sleeping bags. First, the horizon turns pink. Then the kingfisher spends 10 minutes fishing before our camp – hovering, diving, hovering, diving, and finally flicking a fish. Then the orange ball of fire bursts over the horizon and bounces on to the water. After that, the Egyptian geese honk, the domestic geese hoot, and the ducks turn their bums up in disgust. This is our cue that the show is over, and we set about making our tea.
Every evening we watch the sun go down. The cows huddle into the folds of their fields. Then the sacred ibis squawks, the fiscal shrike finds the tree where she has stashed her lizard biltong, and the kingfisher comes out for the one that got away.
Some nights we even think we see a cat. The identification ranges from a domestic tom, to a caracal, to a lynx. Some among us think it a tiger. This argument ends in a braai.
The days we spend riding, circumferencing the dam. All along there are places to sail, to canoe, to jungle gym, to swim, to fish, to picnic, and even to restaurant. On busy days you can still find a secluded spot, secluded enough to pull your siblings around on body-boards in ways that you would not be seen doing on North Beach, Durban.
And when we tire of this we turn our attention to camp. One of the great advantages of camping is everyone can do everything. Tightening strings, hammering pegs, repositioning gazebos can provide hours of entertainment. Washing dishes is a delight – splashing and frothing great lobs of water. Cooking is a treat – mixing custard, messing milk, threading kebabs.
Everyone can make their own tea and spill their own sugar and who will complain? You can even burn your own marshmallows if you want to.
For a few short days everyone is king at Midmar, and everyone is equal – with no place to rush to, and no jobs to do, except jobs you can do together. What’s there not to be sweet about?
Contact
If you’d like to visit Midmar in the next school holidays, the contact details are below. It’s also a great place for weekend camping, and it’s even worth a day trip from Durban or Pietermaritzburg.
Tel: 033 845 100
E-mail: [email protected]
Sunday Tribune