There are aliens out there …
Words Bruce Pinnock
Teaser: Do you believe in Aliens? I thought so. And I can tell you just where you can go to encounter them. The quaint little mining village of Kaapse Hoop
Main: There is a circle of Megalithic rocks (called Adam’s Calendar by some, Enki’s Calendar by others.) It has been (not surprisingly, considering the touristy value of places where Aliens are believed to frequent) declared a Heritage Site. But beware: you are entering the world of archaeological whodunnits, including ancient peoples or even Alien Gods. This is not Colonel Mustard with the candlestick in the Library territory. This is far more sinister…
It was a cold and windy day when we set out for the Magic Rock Circle with some trepidation. Up on the escarpment it was miserably drizzly with opaque grey mist swirling around us. Visibility was nearly nil. And it was eerily quiet. If a hound fresh from the Baskervilles had sprung out of the fog at us we would not have been surprised. Shit-in-the-pants terrified, yes, but not surprised – it was that sort of day. A day to encounter Aliens. We were isolated out on the lonely moors. And vulnerable. All that was needed was Background Horror Movie Music.
However, we did have some protection. Dick, the veteran in our party, was armed. He was on crutches. The last time a mugger had attacked him (by grabbing at his cell-phone) he had instantly reversed the crutch to swing hard and connect his attacker with the business-end of the elbow grip. The would-be mugger yelped dismally, gave Dick a reproachful look and staggered off, no doubt to rethink his choice of vocation. Hostile Aliens could face the same fate.
And we also had his wife, Kiloran – a charming photographer with a state-of-the-art camera. Which would be her secret weapon. The lens extended to, oh, about the length of a medium-sized medieval cannon. No self-respecting Alien would ever doubt it was an industrial strength Ray Gun of bazooka proportions disguised as a camera. She would be like a Bond girl, beautiful but deadly.
We also had Mike of the Legal Profession. He could, no doubt, confound any alien hostility with legal jargon no human being, let alone an alien, could tolerate. After the fifteenth interrogative Are you or are you not in conflict with Article 13 subsection 57 of the law against alleged alien abductors here-in-after-referred-to-as … the poor alien would flee, hands over ears, screaming. Mike’s wife, Lynn, would be fine too – she could charm the aliens into submission with her beautiful smile. That only left me. I would have to run. But I thought, cunningly, one does not need to run faster than chasing aliens – only faster than somebody else in your group. As long as Dick did not trip me up with his crutch…
Our guide, Pierre, was also there, although if truth be told, he may have been on the side of the aliens. He resembled a sort of sloppy Wild Man from Borneo, complete with long hair and jeans torn in the front (discreetly covered by a grubby faded top, possibly originally pyjamas). Was he on the side of the Aliens? He informed us that only Aliens, probably Annunaki (ancient Sumerian) Gods from 200 000 years ago could have carved and set out the Circle boulders, which were of heavy dolerite, a rock foreign to the otherwise sandstone escarpment. Ancient peoples (Sumerians or some such) could not have moved them. He led us to the first important rock with the metal plaque announcing that the heritage site had been opened by no lesser personage than the Minister of the Environment (who was presumably not an alien.)
This rock was a male rock called Standing Man. You see, all the mystical supposedly carved megalithic rocks are either male (slender, erect and sort of penile, if you get my drift) or female (large and rounded suggesting broad hips and extensive posteriors – sort of fat-assed, if you get my drift. My, my – those aliens would have a lot to answer for if the anti-sexist lobby ever got hold of them.)
And then we arrived at the Magic Calendar Circle. It consists of rocks – huge carved boulders – formed roughly in a circle marking the points of the compass. Three of these monoliths could even be lined up with Orion’s belt, (but only as those were 75 000 years ago.) There is also a huge central megalith – a male and a female rock – whose shadow could trace solstices, and equinoxes and God knows what other Calendar events. Not only this: a compass reverses North and South when held between the rocks. Further proof, according to Pierre, of Alien intervention.
Nevertheless, we found it a bit sort of, how can I put it – under-whelming. It is small, certainly not Stonehenge proportions. However, Pierre assured us of the place’s spiritual aura for some people. At full moon, he once witnessed 28 naked women gather there. They danced – as they would, given the place and Lunar stimulation, and their attire, or lack of it – but in groups of seven at each cardinal compass point, representing the elements of Water, Wind, Ice and Fire.
It was at the central megalith that we encountered the Alien. We did not realise he was one at first, even though he just materialised out of the mist. You see, he looked human enough – well, as human as someone dressed like a cross between a 60s hippie and Tonto, the Indian, could look. Complete with braids and tassels, he also wore a hat last seen on a Mohican in a John Wayne Western. He politely asked if he could have time at the Central Megalith alone. (We realised later this was to work some Alien spiritual magic.) We moved away. Then we noticed something very strange: he apparently could not tolerate the oxygen of the pure fresh mountain air! He lit up a pipe of foul (to our Earth noses) substance – possibly from the Planet Zol in the Galaxy Hotbox. He inhaled and exhaled fumes no earthly lungs could surely tolerate – they had Lynn and Kiloran gagging and clutching their throats! Was he smoking his socks, wondered Lynn. It was possible – he wasn’t wearing any.
Then he proceeded with a ritual only aliens would understand. A flute materialised in his hand and, raising his head, he pointed the flute up to the heavens and, with uplifted arms, he proceeded to serenade the universe!
As he tootled away, I thought the Alien tune was a variation on Yankee Doodle. Lynn felt it had a Star Wars Theme ring to it. We speculated that he was possibly calling to Yoda, who, (my grandson had informed me) had returned as a spirit in the latest Star Wars epic.
And then he disappeared! Simply engulfed by the mist. Possibly beamed away – who knows? But he left behind some mystic crystals, obviously with magical properties, lightly hidden at the foot of the megalith under a Druidical knot of grass. We did not touch them – you can’t be too careful with Alien artefacts.
Somewhat chastened, we returned to the welcome Kaapsche Hoop Gastehuis fireside, where hosts Neels and Ria supplied the necessary fortifying restorative liquid to settle our nerves after the unworldly experience. What if Tonto was actually Enki the Alien, come back to frown on tourists like us doubting his Circle? What if he had detected our Philistine scepticism? And kidnapped and beamed one of us up to the Galaxy Hotbox for who knows what foul Alien purposes?
Maybe Dick’s crutch would not have been enough defence.