I have just returned from a most splendid trip to the mother city abound with pleasant memories of amazing times with my friends in the most breath-taking of scenery. However one memory remains rather bitter sweet in the chain of nostalgia that grew during my voyage.
We decided to take the Karoo route through OFS and were in awe of the majestic mountains that punctuate our beautiful country. Seeing a storm creeping up over the horizon by late afternoon, we decided to try and find accommodation nearby for the night, and not drive all the way to Cape Town. I was rather fortunate to find accommodation telephonically in Three Sisters, thanks to prompt and efficient assistance from the tourism office in the area. With renewed vigor we drove to our quaint little "guest farm" nestled within the mountains, a welcomed sight to the dry and dusty Karoo.
Our sanctuary for the night was a functioning sheep farm that had guesthouses for paying visitors. We immediately took in the weeping Willows, Koi pond and farm animals in the beautifully landscaped surroundings and felt rather chuffed on landing this place for the night on such short notice. As the sun began to set and mist crept in, we opted to have supper at the farm instead of driving out to eat. The price per head for supper was rather expensive, but by the end of the night…our experience carried a much heavier price tag!
After some puerile photos around the farm, we headed for the dining hall, feeling quite famished. A long lantern-lit dining table laden with fresh home-made bread and butter welcomed us into the cozy room. "Wow, we are going to have a true farm style dinner," I thought, till my wings were plucked as the farm owner led us away from the main table to the side. And there it was….a tiny table set for us, separately in the corner. I looked at him aghast, and my friends seeing my reaction and sensing that a storm was brewing inside me, sat me down before I could scream, "Nobody puts baby in a corner!"
As the other guests streamed in, it became overtly obvious why we had our own little table. All the other guests, now seated on the main table were white, and we were the only ones of color there! No, I am not being over dramatic and paranoid, this was as blatant as day! When I wanted to voice my distaste, my friends who were glad for some privacy where we can chat freely around our little table, convinced me to keep the bile in my stomach!
So there we were…merrily devouring our exceptionally delicious dinner of tender roast lamb and fresh farm veggies on our little table, next to a charmingly decorated Christmas tree. And in the fine company of my friends, I became lost in the moment….and didn't feel like a black sheep on this farm!
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