The Cango Caves Poem by Gert Strydom

One holiday on route to visit Cape Town
we first visited the High Gate and Safari
ostrich farms in Oudtshoorn,
where we saw jockeys racing ostriches,
to the sounds of a cheering crowd,
birds pecking everywhere
in huge camps
and round stones, coins
and shiny metal things
coming from their stomachs
displayed in can fruit bottles.

There were ostrich leather shoes,
handbags, wallets and purses
and ostrich stakes
and biltong for sale
and different kinds of curios,
but my brother and I were happy
with some ice cream
and a cool drink or two.

We had to cross
the Swartberg mountain range
to get to the Cango Caves
and at the entrance
I felt like a adventurer,
like Jacobus van Zyl
the local farmer
who according to myth
first explored these caves.

On entering a faint musty odour
and increased humidity caught me
and immediately I was aware
that some bats
were still living here
and heard that Khoisan bushmen
lived in the cave opening
at a time in centuries past
and I saw some disintegrating
blue-black rock paintings.

Ancient formations of stalactites
in the form of tobacco leaves
hang blue-grey in a chain
decorating the limestone roof
while I got the first glimpse
of Van Zyl’s hall.

Two columns rose to the ceiling
in Botha’s hall
and we ascended
past a hollowed out stalagmite
know as the pulpit
and in the rainbow chamber saw
a cliff of stalactites.

Following some steps
we were in the bridal chamber
with the bridal bed
and the weeping bride
in a kitchen at the rear
and in the drum room
we turned back.

But being young boys
who had grown up
on a farm,
we had heard
about the other tour
of which the name
spelt out adventure.

We begged our mom
to let us go on that tour as well
and although
she didn’t want to crawl
through narrow places
somehow we convinced her.

We raced up the two hundred steps
of Jacobs ladder
past the grand hall
to Lot’s chamber
and looked at some stalagmites
and the hollowed-out King Arthur’s throne.

Coming out of a tunnel with a low ceiling
fine textured roof crystals
decorated the roof
looking like ice
with some twisting helictites
and a crystal wall glowing translucently.

In the cellar chambers
of King Solomon’s mines
we looked at a formation
with a crystal crown.

We went up an iron ladder
crawled through
the love tunnel
and from a ledge
looked at a shallow pool.

But in the devil’s chimney
we had to wriggle through
to the light at the top
to face a still smaller opening.

Leopard crawling I went
through the ruler high slot
while my brother
went feet-first
sliding down the sloping wall
to the furthest point
of that adventure tour.

We scrambled back to the coffin,
the tunnel of love,
went down the iron ladder
and followed the route
to the glare of bright daylight.