A VISIT TO PLUMBAGO

Plumbago in 2006 

My journey to Plumbago the last home of my grandparents fills me with emotion.  Strong emotions.  I have to find the truth about Huberta.

The house is empty, a musty smell from closed doors and age is strong as I walk across the "voorkamer" sitting room.  For a brief moment I look up and remember as a child visiting Plumbago.  I was fascinated by an old picture of the broad and the narrow way in life.that hung above the door of my grandparents bedroom.  That narrow way seemed so difficult and as a child I pondered about which road would I choose?

I cough, quickly my thoughts return to where I am.  Then I hear "Go home, forget about Huberta, she is dead."  What tricks is my mind playing?  What thoughts am I thinking?  This visit is far too emotional I need to get a grip on myself, I am not going home!

An eerie cold feeling comes over me, I shiver, goose bumps creep over my skin I have got to get out of here as I move towards the front door and the stoep.  A gust of wind suddenly comes up and the tall Cyprus trees on the side of the stoep sway from the sudden wind.  Then the wind stops. 

I HAVE A STRANGE LINK WITH HUBERTA

My paternal grandparents Johanna and Nicolaas Marx, lived on a small holding outside of King Williams Town called Plumbago. What I am about to tell you is descriptive of Plumbago, and is not fiction.  Did I really find a box with valuable information?  Yes I did and inside I found the evidence of the untold story of Huberta.