James is a white Afrikaans in his 40s. His wife is of mixed race and referred to as "colored." Philippolis proper is a straight-laced sheep farming village of two parallel paved roads and a handful of gravel cross alleys. Whites have lived since 1823 in the town's neat, flat-topped Karoo houses, all fenced and gated. Blacks live on the outskirts of town in abject poverty. The fact that James' pub attracts a mixed-race clientele (of mostly males) is evidence of the passing of apartheid, even in the most remote, conservative corners of this country.
At the far end of the bar, wearing a loud shirt, gold necklace, and mass quantities of aftershave, sits a smiling Ethiopian man who owns a clothing shop on the edge of town. The town's one lawyer is standing nearby, chatting in Afrikaans to the town's one doctor. The town's one accountant is here. Missing tonight is the town's policeman, Henny.
"If a place has more than one garage and one supermarket, it's too big for me," Varty had remarked when we first drove through Philippolis on our way from Bloemfontein airport to the tiger sanctuary.
In its heyday, Philippolis used to be on the main north-south route between Johannesburg and Cape Town. Then the main drag was moved and Philippolis became the sleepy little place that it is. James, for years, has listened to promises from bureaucrats for a connector road to the new highway, but it has not come to pass.
Philippolis' claim to fame is being the oldest settlement in the Free State. Its famous son is Laurens Jan van Post, an adventurer writer who was a mentor to Charles, Prince of Wales, and godfather to William, future king of England. Its most idiosyncratic attraction is a water labyrinth in the heart of town.
Of course, the tiger sanctuary threatens to pre-empt all other lures as it gains fame and notoriety. The town brochure, available for free in Boetiek Elegant, is a treasure of understatement: "The area is rich in wildlife where various species roam underneath the African Sun. The vast landscape also provides a sanctuary for tigers and endangered wildlife like the blue crane. ..."
Having no more stores left in which to shop, as is my habit when I have a day to fritter away, I stroll to the labyrinth and walk its serene maze of water, first inward, then outward. I contemplate the fact that this community of 7,000 people is a mere speck in a province that's a mere dot in a country that's a mere fragment of the continent of Africa.
The population of Philippolis is, coincidentally, about the same as the number of wild tigers believed to populate this entire world — optimistically speaking. That's not many. Not many at all.
<< Previous Dispatch | Next Dispatch >>
