Good morning SMIT Knives friends and families. The moment you have all been waitng for Toppies response to Corns story on the trip to our local dam. Here it is, unfortunately in his own words. If you don’t know what a word means use your imagination. This story is especially for ex-Zimbos who may be missing home. So put your tongue firmly in your cheek and enjoy – now you know what we have to put up with. One last thing, I won’t believe everything your cousin says about you if you don’t believe everything mine says about me. TOPPIES REVENGE Who the hell worked out that just because you’re sleeping with someone’s aunt or niece makes them family is beyond me. Anyway I am Toppie, Corn’s cousin by marriage and being his cousin can drive a monkey to bite its mother. As we had planned a memorable fishing trip for the year I took it on myself to rope the knife man in seeing that he knew the area well - or so he said!!! I gave him carte blanch to organize the whole deal. He checked the road conditions – just been graded was the report. My vokin arse. Some doos forgot to lift the ripper on the dozer and what bridges that used to exist had been washed away with the great floods in poor Noah’s days. Corn said that the moon phases were perfect for fishing. Where?????bullshit - the moon is always full around Corns shack. How is the fishing I asked him – he answered that there are no fish less than 6 pounds in the dam and there are illusive marimbas (barbell) that grow to 60kg and measure 24” between the eyes breaking marlin line like tooth floss - too many to land in one boat. I tell you now that scared the vokinkak out of me. I reckon Corn had checked and rechecked every detail from his fishing buddies that don’t even fish the Bassless stretch of water. The whole time I was there I also did not see one of those 35ft crocs Corn had personally named on his various unforgettable trips. I found a deserted truck tube which Corn argued was a bass boat build by a personal mate of his. I also found a mile long piece of Chinese net but no vokin poacher so I asked around the locals wanting to know if he had been taken by a 40ft monster croc but the reply I got vokin nearly tossed me into the drink. Hykona boss the owner katihenahima lo bass spawn for 2 years mangihenaiefa ne lo vokininzara boss. (No boss he died of starvation waiting for the fish.) When the day finally arrived everyone met at the Smit house before driving off into the morning sunrise. This should have been a warning to me because when we got lost at the last circle leaving Kwekwe on the great Bembazaan Rd I realized that despite his many years of bush he couldn’t tell the difference between East and North. Camp was set up fairly quickly by my right handman Blessing, while Corn sat on his arse trying to light his pipe with two not vokin one cigarette lighter. The one Bic lighter had gas but no flint and the other had a flint but no gas… what a combination for a fukup if I ever saw it. Finally cooler boxes were filled (- - but not too much in case they needed the space for excess fish,HE HE HEHEHE HEEhEEEEEEE ( FISH what vokinfish ) and the boats were launched. Off we went and from being still and calm the dam became a wind ravaged and wild river. Within 5 minutes everyone had tangled up in the overhead branches – no use to anyone and the only fish we found was being consumed by a Cormarant at break neck speed. I blamed Corn for the dead trees in the dam because he had told us that dam is so remarkable that the trees are ever green and the 60lb barble love resting under them. After eating an excellent breakfast made by Stoffel and myself the boats went out again. And yes you guessed it - up came the wind more furious than before blowing the vokin pigment out of our skin and almost forcing us to change our nationality to mrunguduno.( Albino ) We gave up fishing and took up drinking. Many scotches later when we went to bed Corn was still trying to convince Stoffel that he had hooked and landed a maramba that had a 16ft dug out with occupants in its intestines. 5.30 am Wednesday morning and my living hell all kak broke loose in that camp, I skriked myself clean out of a perfectly good babalaas when two male lions broke into a punch up right in the middle of camp. Vok I flew out of bed in a flash and a hurry thinking I must make the only vokin tree in camp before the great white bow hunter, I was sure someone above me in a tree would be a messy smelly doing so early in the morning. Half way to the tree and above all the noise the lions were making I heard that the distinct sound of snoring and knew the hunter knife man was still asleep and climbing that lonesome tree would be safe. I personally thought that death bellow snoring of Corns pulled the Lions in from vokinSanyatigoerge. When I scouted the area from the top of that vokin thorn tree to see where the Lions were I saw that Dik Dutchman Koosie rolling around on the ground and his personal tracker Klopas rolling next to him. I tell you I broke out with a language that made the kormorants kak themselves and realized that bladdy Pondo was playing a Lion war cry on his bakkies CD – bastart. Now to get out the vokin thorn tree. When I passed Christo’s cruiser I saw him and his inherited son Onimos hidden under the blanket holding hands. Although he said he didn’t, I am sure Corn the bushman had slept through the whole vokingamors. When we told him what happened he broke out with his stories of huge herds of elephant and lions that walk through the camp hence the reason why one of those hacksaw bladed knives he makes is called the bembazaanshumba slayer. The lions roaring, the great bushman promised us was the far away mating call of the klitorisvokingagoostasepsleonorus LION for short.. After coffee and rusks or would I say wind dried vokin bread from the previous days breakfast were eaten we went out again. Up came the wind and Christo and I came in. It was official, there were no vokkin fish in this vokkin dam and we were not going out again. This proved to be the only sensible thing we had done all the time we were there. Corn and Kobus missed breakfast that morning as they had hit a wind torn Chinese gill net which Corn begged Koosie to call a honey hole. They did pull out 5 and 6 pound bass – I know this because he weighed them personally on his great grandmothers 1895 bathroom floor scale. I went home thinking how the donner am I going to explain to the minister of home affairs how I only managed to catch 6 scrapper bass in all those vokin days in one of the country’s most outstanding bass dams. I know Corn says if anyone wants to go fishing with him this year he has a wonderful spot but trust me people – just trust me. Now on a brighter note and a lot of vokinJohnieBalekawiskey I must say that Bembazaan is a very nice dam to fish in as long as you take your own fish with you. It is really a beautiful unspoilt paradise and thanks to all the guys who made that fishing trip a memorable one. If I live until I die I will always talk about it and who knows we may be back there this year in October as Corn has already told us of 15lb Bass and 9 lb Nillies being caught by those Kwekwe anglers who I still have to have the pleasure meeting when they all home from their favorite honey holes. If anyone wants to hear the story about another of Corns vokin honey holes they can bring along a bottle of 2 keys wiskey cause its going to be a long vokin interesting story. So long until the next time. Cheers Toppie
Posted on: Mon, 08 Sep 2014 13:01:41 +0000
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