According to the Internet the history of the farm “Vaatjie” is related as follows:
 |
| The entrance to the farm today |
The farm De Kleine Zoute (The Small Salt) originated in the early 1700’s as a grazing and hunting outpost for the Dutch East Indian Company. Its original name “Aan her overzyde van de Kleine Zoute Rivier” literally means “on the other side of the little salt river”. The nick name Vaatjie was given to the farm in the late 1800’s, when one of the owners, a Mr. Schietekat, sunk a well at an overnight camping spot on the transport route that crossed the farm. He used a keg (Vaatjie) to prevent the sand from filling the well. Mr. Schietekat loved his sweet wine, which he bought in Paarl (South Africa). The transport riders commented that the Vaatjie well water had a nice “sweet wine” taste!
My Memories of Vaatjie
I am 73 years of age and soon will
shuffle off this mortal coil, but before I go, I thought I would like to
record a few memories and stories that I still recall about the farm
“Vaatjie” and its one time owners Oom Hennie (a.k.a. Hennie Vaatjie) and
'ant Kittie van Niekerk. Oom Hennie was Hendrik Cornelius van Niekerk
03/08/1879 – 22/08/1964 and 'ant Kittie was Christina Maria Beyers
08/05/1879 – 15/03/1964. Both are buried at the Durbanville Cemetery,
South Africa.
Oom Hennie and my paternal grandfather were very good friends and when my grandfather passed away in 1931, the friendship continued with my father right up to dad's death in 1963 after which, my mother and I continued to be friendly with the van Niekerks. The van Niekerks only had two daughters as far as I can remember and it was almost as if they looked to my father as a sort of surrogate son. From memory, the one daughter was married to a Pickard and they had a son named Stephen / Steven who was some years older than me and was inclined to look down on me as a “townie” and not a sort of tough farm lad like he was. I do not recall ever meeting the daughters and always felt that there was not a happy relationship with the parents. Could be wrong. To me, Oom Hennie always appeared as a giant of a man, about 6'3” / 6'4” tall and very broad. He had a very strong looking face with a square jaw, snow white hair and a very bushy white moustache which he would continue to stroke while conversing. Having a pale skin, he blushed very easily and would turn quite red in the face. He was a man of considerable strength and could curl 100 pound scale weights with his little finger with his forearm resting on his leg. This he could do with both hands and often challenged visitors to equal the feat which none could achieve. He smiled often, spoke softly and I believe at heart, was a rather gentle person for all his size and bearing. He was renowned as a great sportsman who loved to play jokes on people and was a great story teller. 'ant Kittie on the other hand was a small framed lady, also with snow white hair to just above her shoulders, slightly wrinkled face with lovely eyes and a beautiful smile. She always referred to every one as “my kind”, meaning my child, and her touch on the shoulder was always gentle. She was renowned for her cooking and baking skills and all her meals and cakes were always a treat, most enjoyable and long to be remembered. Although she was small in stature, she was very much the boss and Oom Hennie never failed to adhere to her instructions.
The farm Vaatjie is situated on the R304 (Reygersdal Drive) and the entrance from the Cape Town side is on a slight bend turning off to the left with a slight rise. Memory of the farmstead is a magnificent old house with thick walls and an enclosed garden in front. No matter how hot outside, the interior of the house was always lovely and cool. From memory, towards the back of the house was a sort of breakfast nook where we always used to eat. On approaching the farmstead, on the left was a row of tall blue gum trees under which strewn about were old farm implements. The trees housed flocks of pigeons and on occasions pigeons were shot with pellet guns for pigeon pie. Further down on the left hand side just outside of a patio area was the stoorkamer, (store room), which housed the tack and also some wine barrels. These wine barrels contained a cheap wine that was given to the labourers after work each day. A tradition at the time. Die “horingwyn”, a horn, perhaps from a bull, was filled with this wine and drunk down in one go by the labourers. To me, it had the most vile taste and I remember the whole store room had this sour smell of the wine. The labourers seemed to love the stuff and were always smiling and joking when it was knock-off time. Next to this store room were more buildings but I cannot remember what they were for. It may have been that it was the rear end of the stables. Still further down of the left hand side about a 100 yards further on I seemed to remember was a penned-off area which may have been for cows. What sort of farming was actually carried on, I cannot remember.
Oom Hennie was renowned for his “jagperde”, highly trained horses used for hunting from whose back a double barrel shotgun could be discharged without the horse reacting. These horses were trained that when they halted, the weapon would be discharged. Because the bush on the farm was so thick, one needed the vantage of being on horseback to be able to see the game. Each day the horses were brought out for inspection to see that they had been properly groomed after their daily outing and Oom Hennie would walk round the horses running his hand over them to make sure they were clean. The story goes that one such day, one of the horses kicked him to the ground. He calmly arose, walked to the front of the horse and with his fist hit the horse on the forehead killing it instantly. Apparently the labourers who witnessed the incident all but wet themselves with fright at the strength of the man.
One thing I remember very clearly about Oom Hennie was that he never seemed to remember the names of his labourers and would stand on the back patio of the house and call out “annajong”, meaning any labourer nearby was needed to heed the call. He always treated his labourers very well and they were very fond of him. It was shortly after WW 2 when I was about 8 and it must have been about 1946, when Oom Hennie asked my father to come to the farm to witness the SAAF (South African Air Force) disposing of surplus ordnances in the sea. In those days the farm ran all the way to the sea and we went by car over some rather bad roads to the shore to watch what seemed to be an endless stream of planes flying over the bay dropping their payloads and that not far from the shore. The planes seemed to drone on endlessly as they followed one another over the bay.
Oom Hennie was a well known character in the nearby village of Durbanville where the Oxford Hotel at the time was the only hotel. When Oom Hennie walked into the bar, no one was allowed to leave and he would buy drinks all round and expected the patrons to drink with him. Each round saw a new glass in front the patrons and only when Oom Hennie was ready to leave could the patrons finally also leave. He could hold his liquor and the barman was also expected to participate. Often, patrons would pass out and were just left lying on the floor. Anybody walking into the bar, on seeing Oom Hennie would flee in terror at the thought of being stuck there for hours and having to consume the quantity of liquor that was just beyond most people.
Whenever Oom Hennie wanted to go on a hunting outing which included much drinking as well, he would phone my father to gather some friends for the occasion. Of course no one was told that they would have to consume vast quantities of liquor. 'ant Kittie would pack baskets of food which would be brought later to a particular area where the hunters would stop for afternoon refreshments and this was also when the drinking would commence. Of course, liquor was smuggled from the store room without 'ant Kittie's knowledge for she would not stand for such behaviour. On one such occasion, the story goes that father duly arrived with some chosen friends, one of whom was a magistrate of Italian origin and rather swarthy. For some time Oom Hennie viewed and studied the magistrate and suddenly came out with “jong is jy wit?”, meaning young man are you white? Father had to quickly step in to convince Oom Hennie that the magistrate was in fact white otherwise he could not have been a magistrate. They duly set off on horse back and after hunting for half a day, retired to a thicket from where they could not be observed in case 'ant Kittie sent a labourer to find them. First of all they had to dine and tea was duly brewed. Oom Hennie being the joker that he was, cut off the testicles of a buck and surreptitiously placed it in the mug of the Italian magistrate. Apparently there was much laughter and joking taking place when the magistrate after consuming some of the tea noticed the two little items at the bottom of his mug. On realising what it was and with Oom Hennie rolling on the ground in laughter, the Italian magistrate reached for his shotgun and it was only swift action by father that averted a tragic incident. The Italian magistrate then pursued Oom Hennie through the bush swearing in Italian and Oom Hennie running for his life laughing all the way with father not far behind trying to diffuse the situation and calm the magistrate. Once all was calm again, father took the gun away from the aggrieved magistrate and Oom Hennie, with red face from laughing and tear filled eyes still evident, the serious business of drinking started. Fortunately father was not a drinker and only pretended to drink and when no one was looking would pour the drink into a bush. And every now and then Oom Hennie would fire off his shotgun into the air so that he could the following morning tell 'ant Kittie that someone had been lost in the thick bush and that they were trying to find him by occasionally firing to attract his attention. One wonders if 'ant Kittie ever believed these stories.
Another story worth telling about the van Niekerks was that on an occasion, one of 'ant Kittie's relatives came to visit but did not seem to be in a hurry to go home again. After a while the van Niekerks both started to get fed-up with the relative and hatched a plan to get him off the farm. That particular Sunday, 'ant Kittie was to prepare a lovely meal. The idea was that at table, Oom Hennie would complain about the food saying this and that was wrong with it and that this and that was not good. 'ant Kittie on the other hand would argue back that there was nothing wrong with the food. Oom Hennie, in a pretended rage, was to turn to the relative and ask his opinion. If he said the food was bad, 'ant Kittie would throw him out and if he said the food was good, Oom Hennie would throw him out. No sooner had the meal begun when Oom Hennie started to complain and 'ant Kittie pretended to get quite cross with Oom Hennie. After sometime of arguing with one another, Oom Hennie turned to the relative and demanded to know what he thought of the meal. There was silence for a while while the relative gazed down at his food and then replied. “I won't say the food is good and I won't say the food is bad, but if I continue to get food like this, I will stay another fourteen days”. Well that was the end of that little scheme by Oom Hennie and 'ant Kittie.
It was sometime in 1947 when father purchased a brand new pale green Frazer motor car. To me it looked like a monster of a car after our little Austin 12 and what's more it clocked just over a hundred miles an hour which at that time for a production car was some feat. Oom Hennie immediately fell in love with the Frazer and wanted it. I do not know if there were any more vehicles available but at the end of the day, father exchanged his pride and joy for a portion of Oom Hennie's farm on the R304. Oom Hennie was so proud of the Frazer and as he had never learned to drive himself, had his chauffeur drive him every where at the slightest excuse. Where ever they stopped, the chauffeur would be constantly wiping the car as Oom Hennie insisted that it be constantly kept clean. What happened to the Frazer in later years, I do not know.
Some years later and it was prior to December 1963 when father died, that Oom Hennie and 'ant Kittie sold Vaatjie and moved to a spacious home in Durbanville where my parents would visit at least once a month, on a Sunday afternoon for tea and 'ant Kittie's famous cake. After father passed away, mother and I continued to visit the van Niekerks on a very regular basis as they were extremely fond of us. Oom Hennie had a cigarette tin wherein he would keep all the coins he picked up and there must have been about twenty coins in this tin. He seem to enjoy showing this collection to me and each coin had a niche cut into it to show it was “optel geld”, (money that had been picked up). The largest denomination coin I remember was a shilling and I was surprised that he would keep a shilling in the tin and not spend it.
 |
| Hendrik and Christina's grave at Durbanville Cemetery |
Come 15 March 1964 and 'ant Kittie, now very frail, passed away. The loss of his life long partner hit Oom Hennie very hard and after that he started to loose interest in everything and health wise went down hill very quickly. On 22 August 1964 we received a frantic call from the live-in maid to say that if we wanted to see Oom Hennie for the last time, we should come as soon as possible as he was fading fast. Unfortunately by the time we arrived, Oom Hennie had passed away. Mother and I spent some time in the room with the body. It is said that he died of a broken heart at the loss of his dear Kittie. By this time all the family had arrived and it was not long before arguments erupted amongst the members as to who would get what and what had been promised to who. It absolutely sickened me that there Oom Hennie lay, not even cold yet and the family running from room to room claiming what they could. Although we were invited to stay for tea, we declined and went to say good bye to the maid who was sitting in the kitchen crying. Mother was also crying and I must say that I was pretty choked up myself and upset more by the way the relatives were carrying on than anything else. It was the end of an era but the memories and stories lived on in my memory and over the years have often thought about Oom Hennie and 'ant Kittie and the farm Vaatjie.
Adrian Louw Ackerman
June 2012
