The wheels turn slowly to my brother-in-law’s farm in one of the more desolate bits of the Cederberg. The last 30km over the Easter weekend, a trek on rutted dirt tracks, took almost as long as the journey from Cape Town to Citrusdal.

My daughter and her friends drowned out the bakkie’s engine whine and undercarriage bumps with some really obnoxious gangsta rap — a fitting soundtrack, as my wife observed, to the sparse, scrubby landscape. Equally jarring was the news that there are plans to reopen an old manganese mine at the next farm, with a handful of young entrepreneurs purportedly wanting to quarry for iron ore. ..

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