In saying the writing is on the wall, the person would usually indicate that there are clear signs that a situation is going to become very difficult or unpleasant, or that it could even no longer exist. Writing on the wall is not good. You do not want to be told the writing is on the wall. Not by your Mother, or Boss, and most certainly not by your priest or a road sign left on the grass.

The origin of The Writing is on the Wall saying, can be found in…yes, the most unlikely place. It pops up in the Old Testament in the Story of Daniel. Daniel came from privilege. He was a young Jewish nobleman, sent to Jerusalem, where he was headhunter by King Nebuchadnezzar. The King needed a person to learn the scriptures of Babylon. Those of you who remember your Sunday School lessons, will know that Daniel became the King’s favourite, until the relationship went south, and Daniel found himself in the Lions’ Den, with a couple of mates with unpronounceable names. The King himself must have been a nasty piece of work, as he was holding the Jews captive in a foreign land. Somewhere in the story, an invisible hand appears out of nowhere, and starts to write on the wall. Basically, I think the writing on the wall was a warning to old King Nebz to say: your situation is going to become very difficult and unpleasant. I hope the King paid attention, because the last King who thought himself above heavenly instruction, ended up having to deal with ten plagues. That story also did not end well.

But back to my story: Saturday was simply the most beautiful early summer day here in our little valley. I strolled down the drive, not really planning to walk very far or do very much. Then I spotted something on the grass outside of the barn, and I sauntered over to see what it could be. There it was. A whole pile of road signs, possibly just being stored outside the barn overnight, to be erected the next day. And it confirmed to me, what I already knew, but was hoping not to face: Our current situation (and by this I am refereeing to the N2 Highway that got washed away just outside our entrance) is about to become even more difficult than it already is, and most certainly unpleasant. In that moment, I realized that this is it now, and no-one was going to wake me up from all this and soothe my brow saying it most probably was just a bad dream.

The N2 highway, is a national route that runs from Cape Town all the way up to Ermelo. At 2 255km long, it is the longest numbered route in South Africa. It passes through 33 cities, and many more dorpies. This controversial road is dubbed as the country’s most dangerous highway. Travelling on it, you will have the most picturesque views, and you will see some of the quaintest towns in our country. But it has a dark side. It is not the first time that it has been severely damaged by heavy rain and mudslides. Heavy rain in 2006 triggered a mud slide somewhere between George & Wilderness, and in 2012 the road gave way outside of Grahamstown. Botrivier has now joined the Slip and Slide Club. Furthermore, The N2, often is the target of protest action, is notorious for a high accident rate, and crime, with Highjackings happening often. My word. The poor N2. What a reputation to have! Incidentally, the longest road in Africa is the Trans Africa Highway, which measures 8 636km and passes through just about every country on the continent, and in a non-alphabetical order, I would imagine.

Great. Now that we have that bit of trivia out the way, what do you do on a beautiful Sunday, when you have nothing to do, and all day to do it in? You take the N2, or what is left of it, and see where it takes you. Let’s go to Swellendam, I said. It did not take much to convince Colin, and we set off. Tourist brochures will tell you that Swellendam is the 4^th oldest town in South Africa. It will tell you quite a bit of the origins of the town, and how it came to be established. I will not give you the run down, one day, you will travel there yourself and some tour guide will tell you the history. What I can tell you is this: walking through Swellendam, is like strolling through a box of chocolates. On every street corner, there is a very old, very white walled and trimmed black thatch house, complete with a patch of the greenest lawn you could imagine and small wooden window frames. Each little house with its own detail that sets it apart. One had an old watermill attached to it. The next had a very bright red post box. Another a hedge of the deepest purple lavender, or a lane of iceberg roses. Scenes you do not expect to find next to the notorious, crime ridden, washed away N2 highway. Scenes that belong on a chocolate box.

But what is a dorpie without a NG Kerk? Old dorpies in South Africa always have very big, very imposing NG Churches. You can see them from a distance – a tall tower, with a weathervane on top of the spire. The rest of the dorpie may consist of a few ramshackle houses, a Pep Store, a Provincial Hospital (or what is left of it) and an overgrown “parkie” with a few rusty remnants of days gone by. But the NG Kerk, oh, that will still be there. As a Dorpie of some standing, Swellendam has a NG Kerk. Now, if the town reminds me of a chocolate box, then the Church can only be described as a multi layered wedding cake. The brochure said that this church incorporated four different building styles…We could tell. All it need was a miniature plastic bride and groom to top it off.

Very often in life, one will ask for a sign. Something that will help you decide, or smooth over a rough patch. If we were looking for a sign of what to do next, I guess we got it. In fact, several of them, stored on the lawn outside that lovely old barn.

I guess the writing is on the lawn.