The holiday almost started with a bang in the Burger household, with me not being able to track down the vehicle registration documents for the Fortuner. THE documents I that was numero uno on my list of things to do and fetch in Johannesburg the week before the trip. THE documents that I was 100% sure I did pack in my backpack. THE documents that Hennie swore on his life he never touched. Well, I packed, unpacked, moved, lifted and shifted every piece of furniture in this house I desperately phoned my mom to drive to our house in Johannesburg to go and try and find it in that mess I left behind. She eventually found a colour copy in our “pristine” filing system back home (a complete miracle on its own). Please bear in mind that my mother only drives her car in about a 1 km radius around the retirement home, so this was a big favour! I then asked her to go to the Post Net and ask them to scan it at high resolution and e-mail to me. She did not understand the reason for the high “revolution” but in the end followed my instructions and I received a perfect copy that I was sure was going to fool any border official that was having a day off or a hangover. Hennie started to plot a new route of us going to Noordoewer border, and if we get refused we will drive all the way round to the other border post at Ariamsvlei. If they reject us again we will drive back to Noordoewer, and hope the second shift is less diligent. Our last resort of the Pont at Sendelingsdrift in the Richtersveldt has apparently washed away in the January floods and is not yet operational.
At 14h00 both my mother and I had stomach ulcers of us not being able to cross the border and will be staying at home. At 15h00 Hennie phoned from work to tell me that “the documents he NEVER had in his hands” were actually in his computer case at the office. Problem solved, and I started packing with a vengeance.