The cold wind was without mercy, picking up speed and racing up the valley under an ominous, cloudy sky. One of the cows hadn't showed up at watering time and the temperature was falling rapidly. We had had some rain earlier on and with the moisture and the cold wind combined, a newborn calf would be in danger before too long. My dad, sister and I got on the back of the pickup while Grandpa drove along dirt tracks in the camp where the cows had been put to pasture that morning and we were standing up in the icy wind, our eyes searching carefully through the winter brush for a mother and her calf. The Simbra, a cross between a Brahman and Simmentaler, has always been our breed of choice. Excellent mothers that give birth to small calves that grow fast. They have the resilience of the Brahman combined with aggressive behaviour towards strangers but excellent milk production gained from the Simmentaler. With that you get an animal that can survive the harsh, dry winters and the long, hot Northwestern summers. Their powerful instinct as mothers were often demonstrated by a dead jackal or scavengers and we rarely lost any animals to stock theft. They were very well camouflaged but eventually we found them. The cow sniffed the winter air and snorted a warning as my dad slowly walked in a slight arc spreading some dried molasses in an attempt to lure her just far enough away from the calf for me to snatch it up and make a run for the truck, my sister waiting to open the tailgate and allowing me to get in quickly before getting my butt kicked by a pissed off cow. The mother did not understand that we were trying to save the calf from certain death out there in the cold and she would do anything to keep us away. The trick worked though and we slowly drove home, me holding the little calf while the mom followed the truck grunting and moaning all the way to the safety of the holding pen where she and the calf would be sheltered from the wind. My sister and father was following on foot behind the cow making sure we got them home safely. I remember the cracking of the winter grass, the heavy, dark clouds blowing in. The smell of the newborn calf and the trucks diesel fumes. I stroked the body of the calf and stared into the distance. I remember looking at my father, holding my sister's hand, flipping his collar up against the wind. It was starting to snow and the soft flakes got caught in his unruly head of hair. It was the most beautiful picture. Snow in South Africa, especially on the farm, is a rare occurrence and combined with a brand new, healthy heifer calf it was a joyous occasion.
I've been trying to capture that day in a song for years. I've yet to find the words or melody that will do it justice. It's something that happens daily across our country and the world. Nothing special, maybe, unless you are as sentimental and romantic as I am I suppose. There are so many stories, memories and lessons in that one occasion. All of them, I'd like to share with the world. There are lessons of hard work, gratitude, ownership and family. There are lessons about the passing of time, the loss of innocence and the fleeting nature of the human condition. Feelings of nostalgia and longing for simpler times. I'm grateful for my upbringing. We worked really hard and we were a team. We depended on each other and you not taking ownership of your responsibilities and doing the most menial tasks to the best of you ability meant letting the rest of the family down. The animals depended on us and we had to plan and manage our time carefully to be able to get our schoolwork done and participate in sport. Often, by the time I got to rugby practice I had already stacked some hay bales, cleaned some calving pens and milked cows. The nights were ours but my grandfather owned the days. To many, especially in today's world, my childhood sounds like something bordering on hardship and I've even heard some people saying it was child abuse. Always makes me grin. I think the world would be a better place if more parents pushed their kids harder and expected common sense, honour, diligence and respect. To make children part of the family team rather than the centrepiece of a dysfunctional operation of rushing from one piece of entertainment to another. I feel many parents expect too little ownership and commitment from their children and explain themselves too much. It takes away the opportunity for children to figure stuff out for themselves while observing credible examples and learning from their mistakes. I look around and I see very little ownership, grit and humility. But hey, what do I know? I'm truly grateful for the work ethic and discipline instilled in me from a young age. As well as attention to detail, empathy and humility. Without these things I would've never been able to do my current job and I find it interesting that these attributes are also necessary for being a credible songwriter and storyteller. You have to pay attention to detail, you have to have empathy and you have to show up every day. That's how you get the good songs and stories. That's how you stumble on an audience that engages with you and that listens to your work. By being out there doing the miles and putting in the effort. By doing your best and respecting your own work first and foremost. This goes hand in hand with respecting your audience. People that use their most precious commodity, time, to come and listen to you perform and tell your stories.
I've realized that there will never be more than obscurity for me in the world of music. I've made peace with the fact that my audience will have to be grown by ones and twos.....and thousands of miles. I'm grateful for the people that come out to the shows, stream my songs and tell their friends and family about it. I'm no Bob Dylan but I know my songs are honest and the best I could do at the time I wrote them. What I've got is enough. It has to be. I still write and try to improve. I play guitar every day and work on my stories between songs learning how to make it more accessible and interesting for my audience. I work at my craft like I work on the farm. Learning, observing, adapting and improving all the time. Applying what I've learned. It's my hope that I will be able to play songs for you again on a more regular basis. I'll keep the website and social media updated and if you book me I'll be there, you can bet on it.
The sun is setting over the city now and with the sky turning orange and purple towards the west I know there will be a day when I will no longer be prisoner of wall or street. I'll have work that is open to the sky and notebooks filled with stories. I will pick up the guitar and I will see them once again, in my mind's eye, walking through those winter fields hand in hand.....
JB (photo by @kschurrphoto )