Syd Kitchen and I, and how we survived...

What a long and strange journey it has been... My brother Wren and I began playing music together some 4 years ago, shortly after his return from travelling through Israel, Egypt and Jordan. During that time, I had been performing solo and touring with Syd Kitchen, who had taken me on as a musical son under his rather unstable wing... A dream I had one night a year or two before while still living in Johannesburg became reality on one of these adventures through the Transkei with Syd. I came as close to death as I had ever been before, or have been since. 

We were struck from behind by an ambulance that was flying (funny thing is they had no emergency, they were just cruising around normally for a Sunday in the Kei) and were spun and propelled off the road and flung off a bridge. My car was to end up on the driver side in a dry river bed some 30 metres or so off the road the road, and I remember those moments as some of the most vivid of my life... Syd was groaning and not all together there...  I just chanted Hare Krishna and managed to undo my seatbelt and crawl out of the boot, to the amazement of some onlooking Rastafarians who had observed the whole accident as if watching a film while chilling out on the wall of an old church. After I had helped Syd out of the wreck, the Rastas were so shocked that we had both survived, they couldn't help shouting encouragement to us and calling to everyone in the area! 

A crowd soon gathered, and Syd and I staggered up the hill to the roadside. The community helped get our belongings out my poor car. Guitar luthier Ian Corr collected us from Butterworth and afforded us a few days recovery at his home in Morgan Bay. Physically we were fine except for the usual whiplash, bumps and scrapes and Syd had a few broken ribs! My car was a write-off, my guitar smashed (Syd's Maingard survived thanks to my guitars sacrifice). It was a day of a strange and miraculous event 30 November 2008,  Still, the tour went on...

Aden

An Old Tale from the Road

It is only fitting that the first tale in The Wanderer Journal begins with a past-time which took place on a long road between East London & Port Alfred in the South African landscapes known to most as pineapple country...

An Old Tale from the Road  Excerpt from 'Hinds Bros tour blog 2011'
19 January 2011
 
So, yesterday we were on the road for some 14 hours or so in total – we maintained sharing the driving. Around midday between East London & Port Alfred, the sun beating down upon the harsh and desert-like pineapple country on a long desolate road that seems like its taking you straight to hell, one of those roads that remind you of Highway 61, we overtook a truck with a sudden burst of speed - and a little figure suddenly ran into the road waving us down –a dancer? a bum? A thirsty pilgrim? A baddy? – No… the little figure was that most dreaded sight for any modern day journeyman - a traffic cop...

Anyhow, we got out the car, and he asked in a kaap accent, “do you always speed around like this?” He informed us we were driving 120 in an 80 zone & sent us to his accomplice, who was casually half-sitting in the backseat of the police car ready to issue our fine. He pointed to his clipboard with a rusty knife and informed us the fine was R1500! :(  We explained to him that we are just traveling musicians - he said “the singers must pay their fine then”. We told him we are simply poor singers, then he asked what music we make. “Guitar music”, we says, and told him we have the guitars in the car - he said to bring one. Indeed we did, and proceeded to sing in harmony: "Jesus, won't you come by here/now is such a needy time"-an old folk song we learnt from our friend Syd Kitchen (dankie oom) .

The cop looked a little perplexed, then a little happy. He asked us a few questions, then said he's not going to fine us... We thanked him sincerely-  he smiled inquisitively, and we proceeded on our journey. That night we performed @ Surf Café in Plett...