Early in the New Year of 2024 I was invited to meet Lucky. He messaged me to say he had a gift for me.

A few months ago I was driving up to Tembe Elephant Park in northern KwaZulu Natal with Mike and Liz. The R22 winds along the flats from Hluhluwe north to Tongaland. Just before the town of Mbazwana you cross cattle grids into and out of a corridor of Isimangaliso World Heritage Park that connects the northern shores of Lake Saint Lucia with Mkhuze Game Reserve. There are raw concrete bus shelters on each side of the road before and after the cattle grates with speed bumps to slow the tourists and locals down.

As we crossed the northern cattle grate, I saw a road side stall that looked different. There were some iron braai stands and other implements, but I noticed old sheets of silver metal with black and which chequered patterns. We had slowed down because of the bumps but by the time I noticed the chess pieces, Mike had to reverse and we got out to investigate.

We shook hands with Lucky. He’s a well spoken, kind hearted gentle soul. His eyes were brighter when we asked about the chess sets.

“Are you selling them?”

“No, I invite the children to play.”

He has a 1980’s yellow Toyota Corolla parked alongside his wares for sale. The chess board was tilted on an old tired, but not enough for the pieces to fall off.

“Would you like to play a game?” Mike asked.

Lucky beamed. He motioned to Mike with respect to sit and they started. Mike plays chess, and used a standard beginners opening move to test Lucky.  The game was over soon with an invitation to play again. I bought a braai tripod from Lucky for Mike to use at his bush home, Twalambiza, to remember the day of chess.

Late last year I was driving to Tembe alone and on the way back saw a lone little boy sitting at the metal chess board. There was no Lucky, and I did not stop.

But a few weeks later I stopped at Makro in Amanzimtoti and bought ten chess sets, all made in China. 

Lucky was speechless when I drove up again with Mike and Liz and opened the boot of the car, saying “I have something for you”

“For me?” Like all we usually do is stop and haggle for a better price on his metal braai stands.

Lucky had a crowd of men he was busy with and we were on our way to Mkuze Game Reserve and could not stay.

Later that evening I received a grateful message from Lucky inviting me back.

I drove up alone. The rural R22 is in excellent condition and the landscape is dotted with homesteads and general dealers. Cows roam freely, proudly herded. It looked like rain and as I left Isimangaliso I saw a herd of zebra grazing with some illegally positioned cows.

Lucky’s car was there, on the other side of the cattle grate. There was a group of young girls huddled at a table next to the car playing chess. The on the other side was a long table and another, with eight pairs of young boys playing chess with the new boards, and at least as many watching.

As I got out of my car Lucky approached me. He was barefoot in jeans with a  white shirt and pin stripe waistcoat on. The smart waistcoat was a connection to another era and another time.

“This is your gift” he motioned to the players.

He had hired chairs for the to sit on and play. The winner of each set was given R10 as a prize. All the children received a small packet of potato crisps to sustain them. At the end of the games he challenged the winner to a game, wrapping his King in a shroud of the pink of a R50 note with a thread of green grass.

By now it was raining but Lucky won.