WHEN the town dam dies, there’s always a feast.
It’s happened twice during the time I’ve been living in this little Free State dorp and I’m learning the rituals.
At its fullest the dam, just outside the town gates, is more than six kilometres in circumference. Several streams from neighbouring farms empty into a wide depression and many years ago a stone wall was built across the lowest point to make a very large earth dam.
Over decades it has been used for recreation – there was a caravan park on the edge, the fishing is good and locals used to bring their boats along for a Sunday outing. Now the buildings have been vandalised and cattle graze the banks. No-one except dog-walkers and bird watchers goes there any more.