The falling Dutchman

The man stood just outside the town of Keetmanshoop at the turn-off to the village of Aroab, hitching a ride. He wore a gray coat despite the searing heat and had a small suitcase in his hand. He looked dusty with his hair uncombed. Uncle Hennie brought the green Landrover to a halt in a cloud of dust, asking the man whether he could be of help. The hitchhiker seemed to be a Dutch archaeologist in search of dinosaur tracks in the area surrounding the Aroab flatlands and dry pans in the deep south of Namibia.

The Dutch and Afrikaans languages are family and the two could understand each other reasonably well. Uncle Hennie offered the man a lift and they agreed that the hitchhiker – as part of his contribution to the exercise – would open the many gates on route to Uncle Hennie's farm. The only problem was that Uncle Hennie had a new (Australian) sheep-dog which arrived by train from the Free State in South Africa the previous evening. He had to keep the dog on the Landrover’s passenger seat out of fear that the new dog would jump off the car if forced to ride at the back.

So the Dutchman climbed onto the back and made himself comfortable amongst the few bags of maize and a drum of diesel.

The sun was setting and Uncle Hennie drove at a steady 40 miles per hour on the dusty gravel road. It was quite dark when they reached the so-called “floors” on the neighboring farm to Uncle Hennie’s and the first farm gates started showing up in the yellow headlights of the old Landrover. The “floors” were dry, smooth pans with sparse vegetation if any at all and the Landrover ran nice and quiet – happy to be off the corrugated main road which made it rattle and squeak.

As was customary, Uncle Hennie put the gear lever into "neutral" quite some distance from an approaching farm gate and let the Landrover roll freely, judging the distance until it was close enough to pump the brakes a few times, then gently pressed the pedal until the heavy vehicle came to a stop in front of the closed gate.

The Dutchman miscalculated a few things: Firstly, the speed at which they were traveling and, secondly, whether the Landrover was stopping or not. It was dark by now and when Uncle Hennie pressed down the clutch to engage “neutral”, the Dutchman decided it was time to disembark to perform the first of his gate-opening duties.

He stepped onto the outside round bar at the back of the load bay - characteristic of a Landrover's rear "bumper" - with his left foot and put his right foot on the ground.
He then realized (too late) that the Landrover was still running at a "stinking" speed and he started falling in installments.

His feet started dragging when his running failed to keep pace with the car. Then his knees started to drag across the dusty road, he sank lower, dragging on his thighs and finally his hands lost their grip on the upper side of the load bay and he seriously started to fall.

The fall converted into a rolling action. The gray coat made the tumbling worse by keeping the Dutchman trapped in a dusty bundle of clothing and tumbling human limbs. He could not ascertain which side of the world was above him and which below. Totally disorientated he kept tumbling for what seemed to be an eternity. The moment he thought it was over, his legs took another turn in passing over his head……

Uncle Hennie performed his last gentle press onto the brake pedal subsequent to the customary series of pumps. The Landrover came to a halt in front of the gate and the dust drifted slowly passed and into the yellow headlights. Uncle Hennie waited for the Dutchman, but nothing happened – no movement indicating that he was disembarking, no sound, nothing. He got out of the car, walked round to the back and peeped into the load bay – no Dutchman.

He started calling into the darkness. The sheepdog jumped down from the passenger seat and stared up the way they came. After the third calling attempt, Uncle Hennie heard a faint reply and detected some movement in the darkness. A little later the Dutchman shuffled into the yellow light, ashen, clearly shaken, but also quite annoyed.

In reaction to Uncle Hennie question of what had happened, the Dutchman retorted:

“Können uw tocht niet dieze fôkkon Landroover zijn brieke laten versienen ?!"

Directly translated:

“ Couldn’t you at least have this $#@#$*! Landrover’s brakes serviced..?!

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