Wide Horizons of Africa in the 1970s

Wide Horizons in 1973

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Rose and Giles Roques arrived at Wide Horizons in Swaziland in1973 and in Rose's words this is how it happened:

The winding, rough dirt road from Malkerns eventually led us to an impossibly steep and stony hillside. The track appeared almost suspended between encroaching dongas, which bled deep and red into the verdant valley below. ​

We stopped for a few minutes to drink in the vista below us. The view spread out from the saddle of the craggy hillside and stretched as far as we could see to the distant hazy blue mountains of Mozambique. Far in the distance we could make out a cluster of thatched buildings nestled into the hillside like an eagle's eyrie. Was that it? The place we were searching for? 

We drove on over several more river crossings and reached a faint track leading off to the right up the mountain. A small, faded and crooked wooden board declared "Wide Horizons". It was barely legible. Our hearts leapt as we began the last leg of our long journey between the mealie fields and Swazi kraals with curious children peering at us around bushes and shyly smiling and waving. 

Coaxing Rufus (our trusty Land Rover that Giles had driven overland from England to South Africa in 1972) up the steep track that snaked up the steep and boulder strewn hillside, we felt a real flutter of excitement and anticipation. What would we find? How long before had a vehicle braved this almost nonexistent road? Had they had to spend a while digging a way through the bank of the river to make it fordable? Had they one day, locked the door, and driven down the hill, leaving their beloved home, never to return again? Had they glanced backwards with regret?

Giles and Rose Roques

Deserted Wide Horizons - Our Dream House 
Driving through the leaning wooden gateposts, the gate hanging off its rusty hinges, we found what seem to be a ghost house. Deserted for more than 8 years we felt a sense of awe and wonder. Built in the shape of a straggling horse shoe, quartz stone rondavels joined together to take advantage of the 360 degree view. The tatty thatched roof, holed in many places by years of rain and neglect, gaped where the shaggy grass allowed the evening to shine through. The garden was bizarre. Neatly laid out and edged paths in patterns led to a terraced stone walled flowerbed with the odd surviving rose bush bravely still flowering. Drunken latticed arches festooned in draping grapevines, an empty lily pond and a small stone statue completed the picture of stumbling into a scene from a book.

Wide Horizons Kitchen 1974

Wandering around the outside of the house, we gazed in through the surprisingly unbroken windows at the empty echoing rooms full of unseen ghosts. A mulberry tree stood sentinel in the middle of what had once been a well tended lawn. Hardy geranium bushes with brilliant splashes of pink and scarlet blooms framed the house.

Wide Horizons Hopes and Dreams 
That night, as the full moon bathed the ghostly scene in brilliantly shadowed light, we made a small fire outside the kitchen door (firmly locked against intruders like us) lay out our sleeping bags and spent the evening gazing out over the aptly named "Wide Horizons" of farm 375, Manzini. Listening to the nightjars calling from one side of the hill to the other, we chatted long into the night about our plans, projects and dreams and how we could make them happen on this 1500 acres of mountainside paradise bush in the heart of Swaziland. 

I felt a thrill of excitement tinged with nervousness at the though. Isolated, far from tar roads, people, civilization so incredibly different from the life I have just left in the middle of the bustling city of Johannesburg. It was daunting to me. But I was soon swept up by Giles' incredible enthusiasm and conviction that this could be our idyllic home and launch site for so many rural schemes that were running through his energetic mind. 

Wide Horizons East View in 1974 with Rose Roques and Kim Roques at 1 week old

Wide Horizons Farm 
For two days we walked the boundaries of the farm. Exploring the mountain sides, dongas, boulder hopping down the cascading stream, which was the central artery and lifeblood of the farm. We discovered deep, cool pools overhung with shady trees. Stripping off our clothes we splashed and cavorted delighting in washing off the dust and stickiness from our long hours of walking through thick bush. We dug soil samples from each arable area and collected different grass species for identification. As we did so, we visualised the open spaces of gently waving grasslands teaming with herds of our own cattle.

​At night, as we lay exhausted from all our activities by the dying fireside and listened to the night sounds and watched the moon's shadows eerily moving over the landscape, my thoughts ran back to my past, as I lived the dream I had had for so long of being here in Africa.

Written by Rose Roques 

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