Ek kom uit een van die oudste families. Ons is die Hoenderdiewe. Die Karoo was ons voorbedding. Maar nou woon ons orals.

Ons loop terug tot voor die Kolonie. Toe was ons strandlopers. Antjie Somers was ín voormoer. Daar is die beroemde rym, vir die kinders, geskryf vir my voorvaar. Sy naam was soos myne en hy het die boere bang gehad.

Ek het al in die voorste galerye in die land uitgestal. Daar is die Hoekgalery. Dis waar Bandiet- en Struikstraat mekaar kruis, op die buitenste wyke van Prieska. Anders is ín beroemde spesialisgalery van my werk mos nou Veld-en-vlei, vyf kilometers buitekant Kimberley. Ek hang spieŽls in die bome. Jy kan my nie mis nie. Dis aan die linkerkant van die pad, as jy vorentoe ry. Die vinke sal jou wys.

Ek is hoeka nie onbekend in Voortrekkerstraat, daai een van al die stede. My waentjie was mos eerste op die stanings. Voor die rapportryers of voor die bespieders. Van waar het ek nie die mense verwelkom nie. Bring net julle eie wyn, mŰre soos gister. My prentjies noem ek mos nou metafoorposte. (ín Metafoor is oorspronklik van daai ou geelkoperkanne met die lang, geboŽ tuite wat staan op ín koperskinkbord wat in die lug ronddrywe. Een van die eerste gebruike was in Kana toe Jesus die water in wyn verander het. Sindsdien staan ín metafoor net reg vir die kunste. En heeltyd verander hy mos sy vorm. Natuurlik ook vir nagtelike gebruik.)

Ek heet julle nou welkom by my internetgalery. Al my prentjies is uit die lug gegryp. Selfs die windpolisie soek my (arme windeiers).

Maar dis hier waar ek is. Kom gerus binne.

O, nog iets moet ek bieg. In die ander wÍreld, van opgedroomde tyd, is ek iemand anders. Charl-Pierre Naudé. Hy is ín skrywer en digter. Diť opgedroomde kÍrel het my woorde vir my neergeskryf. Kry hom hier.

My gunstelingwoord? Keimoes!



I am a member of a very old family from the Karoo. We are the Hoenderdiewe (pronounced: Whoondah deewhe). It means chicken thieves. Fortunately we now live everywhere in the country.

We go back to the early days of the Colony. The famous Antjie Somers was my great-great-grandmother. An early rhyme to scare children with was written for another forebear. He had my selfsame name. The farmers of the area were scared of him.

I have exhibited in the foremost galleries in the land. Just think of Corner Gallery. You know, where Bandit Street crosses the Highway. On the outskirts of Prieska. Another famous gallery that specialises in my work is Veld-en-vlei, about five kilometers outside Kimberley. Normally I hang little mirrors in the trees. Catch me. I'm on the left side of the road, if you drive to the front. Ask the finches.

Neither am I unknown in Voortrekker Road (all of them, in all our cities and towns). After all, my cart was first at every stand. Before the merchants or the spies. Who else welcomed everybody from everywhere? Just bring your own wine, tomorrow like yesterday.

I call my pictures metaphor posts. (A metaphor is one of those old copper tankards, you know, with the curly nozzles. It comes with a copper tray that drifts in the air. One of its first uses was at Cana, in the Bible, where Jesus changed the water into wine. Ever since a metaphor has been good enough for the arts. Because it changes its shape. Of course, for night uses as well.)

Welcome now, in my internet gallery. All my pictures are grabbed from the air. Even the wind police (poor farts) have declared me an outlaw.

This is where you will find me. Step inside.

Oh, I must confess. In the other world, of dreamed time, I am somebody else. I am Charl-Pierre Naudé, a writer and poet. This guy that I dreamed up, wrote down my words for me. Find him here.

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