By Roxanne Reid
It’s getting dark. The main street is almost deserted. Out of the quietness emerges a dramatic figure in a long black cloak, seeming to float above the pavement rather than walk on it. We’ve asked to meet the ghosts of Prince Albert in the Karoo and if this is a way to set the scene on this cold evening, it’s working.
It’s getting dark. The main street is almost deserted. Out of the quietness emerges a dramatic figure in a long black cloak, seeming to float above the pavement rather than walk on it. We’ve asked to meet the ghosts of Prince Albert in the Karoo and if this is a way to set the scene on this cold evening, it’s working.
Luckily, it’s just our guide and story teller, Ailsa Tudhope. She came to the small Karoo village of Prince Albert in 1998 and started collecting stories. Now she’s going to introduce us to some of the local characters who have lived – and died – here over the years and whose ghosts don't want to leave.
Ailsa calls herself the ‘story weaver’ and she knows her stuff. She may not have met all the ghosts of Prince Albert personally, but she knows their stories and presents them with a flourish. ‘I heard this story from two different people at different times … so it must be true,’ she says. Then she launches into a good yarn, with the appropriate sense of drama and timing – the creak of leather and the sound of footsteps, the scraping on floorboards as furniture is moved around by an unseen hand, the thud of a window slamming shut, the icy chill that local residents have felt when a ghost is near.
‘All the stories are light-hearted,’ she says. ‘Nothing sinister here. I think they just loved Prince Albert and didn’t want to leave.’
Ailsa calls herself the ‘story weaver’ and she knows her stuff. She may not have met all the ghosts of Prince Albert personally, but she knows their stories and presents them with a flourish. ‘I heard this story from two different people at different times … so it must be true,’ she says. Then she launches into a good yarn, with the appropriate sense of drama and timing – the creak of leather and the sound of footsteps, the scraping on floorboards as furniture is moved around by an unseen hand, the thud of a window slamming shut, the icy chill that local residents have felt when a ghost is near.
‘All the stories are light-hearted,’ she says. ‘Nothing sinister here. I think they just loved Prince Albert and didn’t want to leave.’
The Fransie Pienaar Museum has two rooms that are haunted
Since we meet outside the Fransie Pienaar museum, she leads with the story of two nurses who used to work in the building when it was still a hospital. They would hear a sash window being closed in a room where the window was never opened. Who but a ghost could have been opening and closing that window?
There’s a ‘ghost room’ in the museum too, where people have seen a ghostly girl in white. She’s thought to be the young niece of the Haak family who lived here, and who was killed in a cart accident just before her wedding.
There’s a ‘ghost room’ in the museum too, where people have seen a ghostly girl in white. She’s thought to be the young niece of the Haak family who lived here, and who was killed in a cart accident just before her wedding.
A gentleman ghost haunts the dining room of Onse Rus, moving things around for a reason only he knows
Further up the road, Ailsa tells of people who have heard a treadle sewing machine in an empty room, horses coming from down the street, and an old gent who haunts the dining room, sometimes moving things from one place to another.
We make a stop at the old graveyard, the first to be used as a church graveyard; up till then people used to be buried on the farms. There aren’t many fancy headstones here because they were expensive, just mounds of stones and markers that were probably wood which has now rotted away.
‘Locals call it the “no name graveyard” and there are many conversations that go on here in the dead of night,’ Ailsa insists.
‘Locals call it the “no name graveyard” and there are many conversations that go on here in the dead of night,’ Ailsa insists.
The 'no name graveyard' is far less ghostly during the day
She tells stories from the Anglo Boer War and you can almost see the British soldiers peering out from the church tower. A ghost from those days is the uniformed soldier who patrols the area between the barracks and the bank, guarding the soldiers’ pay. ‘Watch out if you meet him,’ she warns, ‘because he’s always armed.’
Down another street we hear about a phantom called Charlie. When the current owner moved in and put some furniture on the stoep, Charlie kept moving it around. Eventually she asked him nicely not to, and he obliged. Now, if she lends chairs to a restaurant for a function, she always makes sure one chair is left behind for Charlie to sit on, there on the left-hand side of the stoep where the air is so much colder.
Down another street we hear about a phantom called Charlie. When the current owner moved in and put some furniture on the stoep, Charlie kept moving it around. Eventually she asked him nicely not to, and he obliged. Now, if she lends chairs to a restaurant for a function, she always makes sure one chair is left behind for Charlie to sit on, there on the left-hand side of the stoep where the air is so much colder.
The house where a ghost called Charlie lives appears bright and happy in the morning sunlight
Charlie is a useful sort of ghost; he looks after the house when the owner isn’t there. Twice when the neighbour, a craftsman, was doing some work on the house, he closed the door, not bothering to lock it when he went next door for his lunch. ‘When he got back the door was locked, his keys still in his toolbox inside so he had to break in,’ says Ailsa. ‘It appears that Charlie didn’t like him bringing a labourer into the house so he locked him out.’
A short walk away at the house of Dr Mearns, we hear tales of squeaking in the loft. If we investigate, it will turn out to be a girl dressed in white, with lace at her cuffs, jumping on the bed. No one knows who she is or why she jumps on the bed, but she’s a playful ghost and no one minds.
Mountain ghosts
Anyone who has driven the Swartberg Pass between Prince Albert and Oudtshoorn knows how steep it is. In the days of donkey carts, people used to get out and walk uphill to lighten the load. One day Chrisjan Swanepoel and the other passengers were walking alongside the donkey cart when they met a constable taking a prisoner to Prince Albert for trial. ‘Aren’t you worried he’ll make a break for it?’ they asked. ‘No,’ said the constable, I’ll just shoot him dead.’ He waved his gun in the air – and it went off and killed poor Chrisjan Swanepoel. Today his lonely ghost still haunts the mountain.
A short walk away at the house of Dr Mearns, we hear tales of squeaking in the loft. If we investigate, it will turn out to be a girl dressed in white, with lace at her cuffs, jumping on the bed. No one knows who she is or why she jumps on the bed, but she’s a playful ghost and no one minds.
Mountain ghosts
Anyone who has driven the Swartberg Pass between Prince Albert and Oudtshoorn knows how steep it is. In the days of donkey carts, people used to get out and walk uphill to lighten the load. One day Chrisjan Swanepoel and the other passengers were walking alongside the donkey cart when they met a constable taking a prisoner to Prince Albert for trial. ‘Aren’t you worried he’ll make a break for it?’ they asked. ‘No,’ said the constable, I’ll just shoot him dead.’ He waved his gun in the air – and it went off and killed poor Chrisjan Swanepoel. Today his lonely ghost still haunts the mountain.
Swartberg Pass, where the ghost of the unfortunate Chrisjan Swanepoel still wanders
The creepiest story is of ‘a cold presence in the mountains’ when a farmer driving home later than expected, and thus in the dark, felt the reins of his donkey cart slither from his grasp. Not once but two or three times. There was an inn in the mountains nearby. ‘If you arrived in a big party, you were treated royally and offered a soft bed inside; if you arrived alone, you’d be murdered in your bed and your goods taken and sold off,’ says Ailsa. It’s thought that the ghost of one of those murdered souls took over the reins that night to guide the farmer to safety and prevent him stopping at the inn. The innkeeper was eventually tried for murder, but who knows how many travellers the helpful ghost saved from his clutches.
Anyone who has visited Prince Albert knows there are lots of things to do in the area. On your next visit, don’t miss the story weaver’s ghost walk around the village; you may not actually meet any of the ghosts face to face, but you’ll get an hour and a half of first-rate entertainment.
Need to know
Ailsa Tudhope
Tel 023-5411211
Email story@storyweaver.co.za
Website http://www.storyweaver.co.za
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Anyone who has visited Prince Albert knows there are lots of things to do in the area. On your next visit, don’t miss the story weaver’s ghost walk around the village; you may not actually meet any of the ghosts face to face, but you’ll get an hour and a half of first-rate entertainment.
Need to know
Ailsa Tudhope
Tel 023-5411211
Email story@storyweaver.co.za
Website http://www.storyweaver.co.za
Like it? Pin this image!
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