For six hours we shot through the b

For six hours we shot through the barren landscape of the Karoo desert in South Africa. Just rocks and sand and baking sun. Knowing our journey was ending, Daniel and I just wanted to remember all we had seen and done. He used a camera. I used words. I had already finished three notebooks and was into the fourth, a beautiful leather notebook I'd bought in a market in Mozambique.
Southern Africa was full of stories. And visions. We were almost drunk on sensations. The roaring of the water at Victoria Falls, the impossible silence of the Okavango Delta in Botswana. And then the other things: dogs in the streets, whole families in Soweto living in one room, a kilometre from clean water.
As we drove towards the setting sun, a quietness fell over us. The road was empty - we hadn't seen another car for hours. And as I drove, something caught my eye, something moving next to me. I glanced in the mirror of the ar; I glanced sideways to the right, and that was when I saw them. Next to us, by the side of the road, thirty, forty wild horses were racing the car, a cloud of dust rising behind them - brown, muscular horses almost close enough to touch them, to smell their hot breath. I didn't know how long they had been there next to us.
I shouted to Dan :"Look!" but he was in a deep sleep, his camera lying useless by his feet. They raced the car for a few seconds, then disapperaed far behind us, a memory of heroic forms in the red landscape.
When Daniel woke up an hour later I told him what had happened.
"Wild horses?" he said. "Why didn't you wake me up?"
"I tried but they were gone after a few seconds."
"Are you sure you didn't dream it?"
"You were the only one who was sleeping."
"Typical," he said. "The best photos are the ones we never take."
We checked into a dusty hotel and slept the sleep of the dead

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Vir ses ure wat ons geskiet deur die dorre landskap van die Karoo-woestyn in Suid-Afrika. Net rotse en sand en bak son. Wetende ons reis is eindig, Daniel en ek wou net alles wat ons gesien het en gedoen te onthou. Hy het 'n kamera. Ek gebruik woorde. Ek het al klaar drie notaboeke en was in die vierde, 'n pragtige leer notebook ek in 'n mark in Mosambiek. Gekoop
Suider-Afrika was vol stories. En visioene. Ons was amper gedrink het op sensasies. Die gebrul van die water by Victoria Falls, die onmoontlike stilte van die Okavango Delta in Botswana. En dan is die ander dinge. Honde in die strate, hele gesinne in Soweto woon in 'n kamer, 'n kilometer van skoon water
as ons gery het na die ondergaande son, 'n stilte het oor ons. Die pad was leeg - ons het nie 'n ander motor vir ure gesien. En as ek gery, iets het my oog gevang, iets beweeg langs my. Ek loer in die spieël van die ar; Ek loer skuins na regs, en dit was toe ek hulle sien. Langs ons, aan die kant van die pad, dertig, veertig wilde perde wedrenne die motor, 'n wolk van stof stygende agter hulle - bruin, gespierde perde byna naby genoeg is om hulle aan te raak, om hul warm asem ruik. . Ek het nie geweet hoe lank hulle daar langs ons was
ek geskree Dan: "Kyk!" maar hy was in 'n diep slaap, sy kamera lê nutteloos deur sy voete. Hulle gejaag die motor vir 'n paar sekondes, dan disapperaed ver agter ons, 'n geheue van die heldhaftige vorms in die rooi landskap.
Toe Daniël wakker 'n uur later het ek vir hom gesê wat gebeur het.
"Wilde perde?" hy het gesê. "Hoekom het jy my nie wakker word?"
"Ek het probeer, maar hulle is weg na 'n paar sekondes."
"Is jy seker jy het nie droom nie?"
"Jy was die enigste een wat slaap is."
"Tipiese, " hy het gesê. "Die beste foto's is die mense wat ons nooit te neem."
Ons nagegaan in 'n stowwerige hotel en geslaap die slaap van die dooies