Vote NO for Bush

My parents have a house (or whatever the dwelling in the bush is referred to) in a game farm in the Eastern Transvaal. Yes I know it's no longer referred to as the Eastern Transvaal but the thing is, I'm not sure whether the farm falls in Mpumalanga or Limpopo, and I know in circa 1985 it was still referred to as Eastern Transvaal so we'll stick to what we know.

Their house on the farm is quite lovely. Very bush. Thatch, lots of wood, more thatch and still more wood. It's a house in the middle of the bush, so that's what to be expected. Oh and animals. Lots of wild animals. Lions, elephant, hyena, buffalo, giraffe and the rest of the zoo too.

Now here's the thing. I'm not a bush person. In fact I'm not an outdoor person; unless the outdoor is a flea market, a swimming pool or a beach. I don't do the khaki and the binoculars and the mosquito nets and the polaramine and the malaria. I also don't take well to being chased by a bloody maternal cow; elephant that is; nor do I fancy being faced with a spider any larger than the pinky nail on the baby toe of my little size three's. And if I wanted to see a lion I'd go to the zoo. Even better, I'd Google it.

I am a city girl. I take long hot bubble baths with my portable DVD player perched on the toilet seat under a white fluffy towel; showcasing the latest in my favourite series. I am quite comfortable using up all the hot water in the geyser and not feeling guilty about it. There are no baths in the bush. Or at least not at The Parents bush anyway. There's a shower. Did I mention there's no electricity? No electricity = no hot water. Ok, so there are solar panels on the thatch. Big deal, what happens when it's overcast, huh? On one of the three occasions I bit the bullet and roughed it, The Parents bought me a small round three ringed baby splash pool to put in the shower so that I could 'bath'. Lovely thought, but even at 5'1" I could not comfortably relax.

As for game drives, don't even get me started! First of all you have to up at the crack of dawn. Not figuratively, literally. At 4:30am you're expected to be dressed in your khaki's (which seriously clashes with my hazel eyes.) comfortable walking shoes (my stiletto's are very comfortable thank you very much) and a wind breaker. Binoculars, Roberts Bird Book, walking sticks and water bottles are optional.

The next problem is eating out. There are no restaurants, no take-away joints, no Mr Deliver not even a corner cafe. All meals are eat in, and when I say eat in, I mean eat out because every meal is braaied. Now I love a braai as much as the next SA chick, but three meals a day? Day in and day out. There's only so much boerewors that even I can handle.

So while The Parents and my five male siblings head up at least ten times a year and do the bush as only they can do, I'm quite happy to take walks in my garden in my comfortable walking shoes, all 5", whilst watching my cats (read: lions) prowling. And the only time I will face 4:30am is coming home from a good party.