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On a dusty signboard in the middle of nowhere, Toast Coetzer learns about the lives of travellers gone by.
On long road trips, I often pull over at places where people stand or sit while waiting for lifts. In the leafier parts of our country, these are always under a tree. In the Northern Cape, however, there are no such luxuries. Here, the best a hitchhiker can hope for is a road sign that might provide a slice of shade.
In June last year, I crossed the border from Namibia at Onseepkans and drove south along a dentistry-busting road into the dry expanse of Bushmanland. About 7 km south of Onseepkans, my eye caught a dusty, sun-bleached road sign indicating that Pofadder, Springbok and Bitterfontein were ahead.
