We love a braai. In fairness, what warm-blooded South African doesn't. It's the perfect reason to get some friends together, old and new, share a few drinks, and let the hours waste away (in the best possible way). Maybe our favourite part of a braai (other than the meat) is that after the first spark is struck, they take on a life of their own.
It started in the ice and snow on Matroosberg and ended in a ditch in the dirt somewhere in the Tankwa Karoo. We had been celebrating the start of something new – Jeff’s impending wedding – and then were faced with the destructive end of something else.
A funny thing happens to time in the Karoo, it kind of stops mattering. You don’t notice it at first, probably because you’re not even thinking about it, but it steadily sneaks up on you and soon it becomes all but irrelevant.