Dudu Busani-Dube

Probably one of the greatest benefits to come with the success of my books is finding myself with access to things I cannot afford.

One of those things was a recent trip to the Franschhoek Literary Festival in the Western Cape. Having been duped by Googlemaps into believing the small town

is a stone’s throw away from Cape Town, I stood at the car rental company counter at the airport and asked for the smallest and cheapest car they had.

It was, after all, going to be a mere 40-minute drive. I believed this because I was told by the guy at the counter, who, on top of lying to me about how far I was going, claimed he drove the same distance every day.

I should have taken a bigger car. I know that now. When I drove briefly on the N2, then the N1 (where I was eventually freed from the traffic and finally joined one narrow road), I started really seeing what the Cape looks like. And please, I’m not talking about the sea; I’m from Durban.

I should have rented a bigger car with a bigger boot, not only because the road I was driving on was lined with wine, but because it was a beautiful Thursday afternoon, the road was open… and I didn’t deserve to be holding my breath every time I approached a speed hump or steep hill. But let me tell you why, despite having been lied to about that drive being 40 minutes when in fact it was an hour-and-ahalf, I am not complaining.

I had never been to Franschhoek, but I knew that to get there you had to pass Stellenbosch. I, however, did not pass Stellenbosch. I found myself driving past

wine farm after wine farm and road signs pointing me to Paarl. Not a single sign saying Franschoek.

I was probably lost. I figured this out when my navigator took me to Pniel, a small town with only one road, a residential country estate, a school and a big church. You can literally see all these things from the only main road.

There clearly aren’t many things to do in Pniel, but there are many things to see – including the big white church built in 1843 by missionaries who housed freed slaves from the surrounding farms.

I saw no more than 20 people during that brief drive through the town, but I left curious. I have always been fascinated by those ‘my great-grandparents built this house’ conversations.

That’s the type of place Pniel seems to be, the type that has a strong bond with its inhabitant(s).

At that point, I was actually about 20km away from Franschhoek, but I had still not seen Stellenbosch, only a T-junction pointing me to Paarl on the left and Franschhoek on the right.

I switched off my navigator. It was clear that it was the enemy here. That 20km drive to Le Franschoek Hotel – yes almost everything’s name in that place starts with Le – was nothing but

serenity. The road was still lined with wine, mountains and random water things. The annual literary festival is unarguably the biggest event the town hosts every year.

I got the feeling that on a normal day, you’d find more tourists than locals wining and dining in the many restaurants that line the pavements of the little Francoesque (“Francelike”) town, which apparently was once home to French Huguenots more than 300 years ago. There’s a monument to prove it.

Just like Pniel, Franschhoek seemed to be one of those tight communities who are nice to strangers – well, judging by its allowing writers to use its churches for book sessions.

When I take that trip to the Cape again, it will be for the food. By the way, I did see Stellenbosch on the second day, when I decided to visit a friend in Blue Downs but ended up driving between Khayelitsha and the ocean.

I also bought my wine, two boxes because they were cheap, but then I had to pay for extra luggage on the flight. Sigh.