CHANGE OF PLAN

While I established this blog for mostly my and my family's OWN paranormal experiences, I have noticed that I have SEVEN FOLLOWERS now and maybe I could vary my stories more widely. The title of the blog is in Afrikaans, so I thought to maybe include ghost stories from South Africa in general.

Did I mention I have 7 Followers??? LMAO!
Yes, I'm not used to being this popular, so I guess since I have not had any ghost hunting opportunities lately, my readers might get bored without a good juicy spook tale every week or so.....those of which I seem to have run out of for the time being.

So, a hearty, chilly welcome to my followers.
I shall tell you something from the country I reluctantly call home.......

Kaapschehoop, Mpumalanga, South Africa

I used to live in the Lowveld of the Mpumalanga Province and I always said that, if I have the misfortune of dying in South Africa, I would like to be buried on the mountain of Kaapschehoop, a beautiful little village on top of a mountain crest just outside Nelspruit in the eastern part of S.A.
Have you ever visited a place that feels like home immediately?
A place where you could virtually hear the faeries giggle?
Kaapschehoop was mine.



It is almost always cloudy, because of the altitude of the village and very much resembles Ireland when the mist is nigh and if you listen closely through the impenetrable white of the fog, you can hear the hoof falls of the phantom horses. I know. I actually heard it myself.
Right next to me, behind me, not a stone's throw away. Had it been real horses that close, I would have seen them. These horses are said to be the horses left by the British soldiers after the Anglo-Boer War, and still, the road signs warn of both the living wild horses, as well as the phantom ones :-)



Kaapschehoop used to be a tiny collection of houses where the gold prospectors of old settled.



To this day, most of the little homes remain unchanged, and there is a distinct vibe about the place, as if you are merely a visitor to another time. It is now the settlement of B&B's and art galleries, and of course, my personal favorite, a little biker bar where the locals welcome you with open arms, a guitar jam and a beer.....(maybe it was because I drove a 1972 Ford Fairlane V8 and looked all cool )

In the 1950's, a mother and her child burned to death in what is now one of the pubs. It is said that you can hear the child calling hysterically for its mother in the dead of night.
Also, the laughter of children can be heard among the rocks outside where I used to hike.



The graveyard looks like something straight out of a beautiful old ghost story.....about 200 years old, I often went to picnic there and reveled in the obvious presence of the curious spirits that would casually stroll through me at times.....it was both terrifying and absolutely magical.



And then of course, there was the horses.
You can hear their heavy hooves in broad daylight, sometimes a neigh a few yards off and upon investigation one would only find empty rows of trees.
This is the ghostly town, still caught in history, rife with the vibrations of inhabitants who refuse to relinquish it to a new era.
And I absolutely LOVE IT.



This was the jail back in the day.....
Can you imagine the EVP's and apparitions one would get from this building if one were to stay over night? Aaahhh....one of my wet dreams.