Keep shining: SA’s oldest lighthouse is 200

AROUND 6.30pm tonight, the autumn sun sets in Cape Town. At the same time on Monday, April 12, 1824, the first light keeper of Green Point lighthouse climbed the building's steep stairs. He lit the two Argand lamps fuelled by sperm whale oil. And there was light.

The area was rugged and lonely. Perhaps there were banks of fog; the sea was rough, the sand damp. It was dark under a starry sky. Perhaps there was still a trace of phosphorus and enough living organisms in the ocean and it glowed softly.

There were no lawns or promenades, no street lamps, just a little house here and there. At night, from afar, you could see candles burning inside, and people moving silently without radio or television.

In this atmosphere the lighthouse was born. It was designed by German architect Hermann Schutte and cost £6,420 to build. To this day, there is confusion about the Green Point lighthouse's name, because it is located at Mouille Point.

However, Mouille Point lighthouse was further on towards Granger Bay and the Waterfront and was built only in 1842. In 1902 it was closed, and Green Point lighthouse remained standing. Its name has been retained.

From the earliest days, ships had been smashed on the rocks, driven by  stormy waters and winds from outside Cape Town harbour towards Green Point and Mouille Point. Vessels sank, people drowned.

‘Moaning Minnie’

In 1926, the distinctive foghorn known as “Moaning Minnie" came into operation. It had a wonderfully deep, melancholic sound, one that I remember well from my childhood. When it boomed, the area around the tower vibrated slightly.

In 1986, when more hotheads and parvenu started moving into this once lower middle-class suburb, they complained so much that a softer electric, howling signal replaced the hum of the sad cow. It sounds more like a soft, wet fart than thunder.

This has robbed this area of its seaside town atmosphere. These arrivistes still complain, also about the roaring sea and ships' lights. They don't care about boats that have to brave the high tide and depend on the foghorn's sound.

According to the book Under Lion's Head by Marischal Murray, the seabed here is filled with rusted wrecks and artefacts from mute drownings. In 1922, Union Castle's Gaika and the Norwegian ship Vinstra ran aground on the sharp rocks near Three Anchor Bay within a few hours of each other.

Murray writes that the vessel Basuto Coast caused great consternation in 1954 when it was lifted so high by the waves that it almost ended up in Sea Point pool. One evening in 1865 during one of the Cape of Storms' furies, the Athens beached just off Green Point lighthouse.

The drenched inhabitants of Green Point rushed to the ship to try to help and heard loud screams. Someone even galloped into the ocean on horseback but he had to turn round. The 29 people on board all drowned.

The SA Seafarer

One of the most recent ship disasters that people still remember was on Friday July 1, 1966. The website VoiceMap writes that on this day there was a terrible winter storm and the SA Seafarer with 63 crew members and 12 passengers sank about 50m offshore, beached near the lighthouse.

“It was unlikely that anyone would survive if they ended up in the water. Third Officer Richardson had his wife and six-month-old daughter on board — they came to South Africa as immigrants," VoiceMap recounts.

Little did they know when they left England that the last part of their journey would be by helicopter. Pilots of the 17th Squadron, Maritime Group, were the heroes of the day.

Three Alouette helicopters operated as rescue shuttles, bringing all the passengers and crew ashore without any loss of life.

The lighthouse's circuit was stopped and it was trained on the wreckage of the SA Seafarer to provide light for the rescue operation. The ship broke in two and sank.

The bygone Cinderella hood

When I was still finding my mind's bearings in the early 1970s, Mouille Point was not the vainglorious place we know today. One can now easily pay more than R20 million for an apartment there.

Progress is probably a good thing and brings in more money for the city. But something was lost. It was an insignificant, unadorned yet characterful neighbourhood with windswept streets and a delicious salty smell that you could inhale everywhere.

Now everyone living there keeps complaining about everything. The one thing they all want to be silenced is the foghorn. The seagulls squawk … and also need to buzz off. Boats make a noise … and this is getting out of hand. Helicopters should not allowed to fly past … they're a disturbance.

The worst is that so many people now live there that the sea stinks because so much sewage is being pumped into the water. On a hot, windless day it smells like a clogged toilet. As the English say: “Jokes just write themselves."

Once upon a time the place had many houses occupied by offbeat families and only a few blocks of flats, filled with people never seen. Strange, were they hermits?

Nobody really wanted to live here, the gusts were too unpleasant. Salt water stuck to the windows, cars rusted. Some of the old people's faces even looked like blotches of rust; years of sea winds had taken their toll.

Now the area is riddled with expensive eateries. You can pay up to R400 for bits of cattle carcass. How now, brown cow?

Oh, how I long for the Doll House. It was a cheap and popular drive-in restaurant just across the street from the lighthouse where you could sit in your car and order milkshakes, chips and hamburgers.

It was always nice to go on a foggy day so we could hear the cow mooing. Then we ran across the road and touched the lighthouse to feel it shake.

At the Doll House a tray was attached to your car window and you had to take care that the seagulls didn't swoop down and steal your food. There were many more than today. Where have they gone?

Oh, and then there was the Dragon Inn Restaurant, with Chinese food on its menu. It was considered just the place for adventurous foodies.

Abalone and crayfish were plentiful and cheap. Poor people's food. The highlight for me as a child was the fortune cookies, with bitter Chinese tea. Inside were messages like: “The fortune you seek is in another cookie." How true.

There was also the Harbour Tavern, where the Portuguese, Italian and Greek mafias hung out. Men who looked like Ari Onassis sat confidently smoking cigars. Next to them, women looking like twins of the blonde and smouldering Britt Ekland. They were smoking too, the sky was blue. Julio Iglesias sang To All the Girls I've Loved Before.

At the Bay Hotel, somewhat common, you could have curry and rice for 20c on Sunday evenings. After eating there, you could walk further down the street.

There was an elderly man who only sat in the living room of his house on Sunday evenings, by himself. People walking past could see and hear him playing his violin and sometimes a group of listeners formed in front of his house.

He closed his eyes tightly and played as if he were performing in an opera house. I often went there for a walk or a bike ride, just to listen to him. On rainy days, when the wetness was milder (we called it a drizzle), it was quite the atmospheric experience.

The sea, the rain, the foghorn, an old man playing his violin, his windows misting up. I imagine it all to this day when I hear a violin playing somewhere in the background. Where is that sad cow?

Whatever the case, the neighbourhood may have lost its distinctive character but the lighthouse with its old stories anchors us in its colourful past. Congratulations, dear friend, because it's your birthday, may the jirre bless you and keep you for many more years.

• Images of the SA Seafarer which sank on July 1, 1966.
• Stroll in the fog and look at Green Point lighthouse. Listen to the foghorn.
• Explore the Green Point lighthouse.
• More information on the lighthouse.

♦ VWB ♦

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