Episode 1: My Introduction to the Pitchfork Club
I don’t make New Year’s resolutions, so I suppose I’d call it a promise to myself. The older I get, the more I realize how limited time truly is. We only get one shot at life, and if that’s all we get, the least I can do is get better at living it.
So, I decided that 2025 would be my year of telling truths. Too much has been said in the dark about me—half-truths and outright lies. I’m no social butterfly, but the few people I met when I first moved here can vouch for how enthusiastic I was about starting fresh in Hopefield.
I don’t doubt that I must seem like an anomaly to some. I am unmistakably Indian—and as far as I know, the only Indian woman in Hopefield. (Forgive me if there are others; I haven’t seen you!) On that note, if you’re out there, do get in touch. We could swap breyani recipes… I’ve been craving curry like crazy!
In some ways, I guess I’m not a “typical” Indian. My wild hair with its streaks of white stands out, and I unapologetically refuse to dye it black—despite my mom’s protests that it makes me look old. Old se moer. I practically live in my worn vellies, which I affectionately call my “Johnny Depps” because of the state they’re in. Every stain and scuff tells a story. These shoes have taken me from Cape Town to the Richtersveld, from Paternoster to Durban, and everywhere in between.
One of my most cherished memories is the 3,000-kilometer solo road trip I did across the country with my trusty 4×4. Out on the tracks, I feel alive. I even have legitimate qualifications in 4×4 driving, and I can confidently say I can outdrive most people I know.
But back to my story… I’m sure people wondered why an Indian woman would choose to move to Hopefield. I had been living in Paternoster, and when I announced my plan to relocate, one friend’s reaction summed it up: “But why Hopefield???”
I mean, who voluntarily moves from Paternoster to Hopefield, right? Well, this Indian did—because I fell in love with the hotel. It’s a child of the 70s, and as someone born in that era, I couldn’t resist its retro charm.
I suppose my love for the hotel extended to the rest of Hopefield in my mind. Turned out to be ‘n verskriklike fout. My family and I moved here in December 2023, and everyone said it was the hottest summer in years. I was not prepared for the heat—it was oppressive. I felt comatose for most of the season and probably gained 10 kilos in water weight from the sheer dors’heid. But I was determined to settle in and make life rustig.
From the outset, we resolved to contribute meaningfully to the community. It felt like the right thing to do. My resident geek spent countless hours that first month creating something special. On 2 January, we launched this platform that was entirely free to use. It was our gift to Hopefield—a place for local businesses to promote themselves, advertise, sell, communicate, and add value. We thought it was a meaningful contribution to the community.
But, as life often does, reality had other plans. Despite our efforts, not a single business advertised on the platform. Eventually, one business did—but it soon abandoned the platform after joining the Pitchfork Club. And so, our journey in Hopefield continued.
