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THERE'S no time for a brief prayer or a last wish.
It's a fast, fearless and ice-cold decision to dice
with death - but on his terms.
Funny, holding the steering wheel makes him feel free -
and certainly safer than a few hours ago when he
was attacked and tied up in his own farmhouse.
The two robbers are breathing down his neck. Then,
like a true daredevil, the old man hits the accelerator
and the next moment they're flying over the precipice
and through the air.
"Yho!"... "Thixo!"... "Kwewu!"... the terrified passengers
yell, their weapons of little use. He feels secure,
tied tightly into his seat.
About 30m on the car catches on something and crashes down.
It bounces - without rolling - for another 40m before finally
being halted by a huge rock and a wild olive tree.
For a moment everyone's speechless. The old man is shocked
to see they're also uninjured ... now they can do anything
to him. But he keeps his wits about him. "Sorry, I must've
fallen asleep," he mumbles.
"Get out," they order, one pointing a gun at him. They tie
him up again and unload the stolen goods from the boot
before fleeing back up the cliff.
OVERNIGHT Dick Bladen (73), who farms just outside
Grahamstown in the Eastern Cape, became a hero to his
seven grandchildren - as well as all South Africans at
their wits' end about our criminal society.
Instead of being a victim he coolly turned the tables on
his attackers and gave them the fright of their lives.
It took the brave grandpa four hours to work himself loose
that night and almost another two hours before he reached
his nephew's farm at 6 am.
But last Tuesday, despite his lack of sleep, he was
bright-eyed and bushy tailed as he showed us the high
cliff at Woest Hill he'd deliberately driven off.
"It's a miracle we all survived. It was a complete coincidence
I drove off here, where the cliff's fall is broken. Any other
place and we would've plummeted 150 metres to the bottom
of the valley."
He's wearing the same shorts and shirt he was wearing that
night, is covered in scrapes and bruises and has a badly swollen
right hand. He tells us what happened.
It was a hot Sunday night and he was alone on his farm, Gleniffer,
watching a 9 pm TV programme about birds (his wife was in hospital).
"It was so beautiful I was about to call my sister to tell her to
tape it," he says. The top sections of the front and kitchen doors
were open and he didn't hear anyone come in.
"The next thing I knew two armed, masked men were standing in front
of me. It was so sudden for a moment I thought I'd hit the wrong
button on the remote..." Dick says.
But he was destined to play the lead in this real-life crime drama.
"Turn off the TV," one of them ordered while the other tied his hands
in front of him, "Where's your money?"
Dick showed them a drawer containing R600. They wanted more.
"Where's your safe?" they demanded.
He took them to his office and showed them the tin trunk in which he
kept his insurance policies. They searched and found nothing more.
Then they tied his hands behind his back and locked him in a toilet.
"I was probably scared but I was so busy working out how to get out
of the situation I didn't panic," he says almost without emotion, as
if he's talking about a grandchild's birthday party. But he's not
without humour.
"They must have been hungry because I heard them warming something
in the microwave..."
He heard them open and close cupboards. He managed to loosen the
rope around his wrists but pretended it was still tight both times
they came back to him. Then everything went quiet. He'd got the
toilet window open when they burst in. "You're so clever aren't
you?" they mocked him. In Xhosa he answered he'd wanted air and
asked for water.
The robbers were ready to go and wanted the gate and car keys. Dick
enjoys telling this bit. "If only they'd been able to drive I'd have
been rid of them. But they couldn't come right and bundled me in the
back of the car so I - with a gun to my neck - could give them
instructions.
"They took turns trying. They'd never even heard of a handbrake,
never mind gears. "I suggested they try using the clutch but they
were rude and shouted 'f... you' and 'shut up!' "Eventually one of
them managed to reverse out of the garage but ended up so close to
a tree he got stuck. If you think the cliff was dangerous you
should've been in my car... "He charged back into the garage
at top speed, smashing my wood-work to bits, and almost hit the
back wall. He hit the brakes only just in time."
By this stage Dick was furious at the disrespectful way they were
treating his car. He was about to offer to drive when they bundled
him behind the steering wheel. "Buckle up so the cops don't stop
us," they ordered. Then they tied him to the seat with rope.
They'd put the stolen goods in the boot and he was told to take
them to Grahamstown 34 km away.
"Drive faster," they shouted.
"I'm an old man. I don't drive faster than 60 km/h," he answered coolly.
Didn't being on the wrong end of a gun make him panic? "I just hung on
to the steering wheel and drove," he says.
When the robbers told him to take them to Fort Beaufort instead and
that they'd give him another car in which to get home Dick knew his
end had come.
"I had to decide whether to go into that black suburb with them to
get a bullet in my brain or whether I could come up with another plan.
"We were driving up the Woest Hill pass and I thought, I'm 73 years
old. I've had lots of wonderful years and I'm on injury time. Enough is
enough. If this is the end I'd rather take control and take them with
me.'
"My chances of surviving were better in any case because I was the
only one strapped in. "I looked at the clock and saw it was just after
12.30 am. Then I hit the accelerator and we flew off the cliff at
80 km/h. It happened too fast for fear. The shock came when I realised
they were uninjured."
Luckily for Dick the men didn't shoot. They tied his hands behind
his back, tied his feet together and gagged him.
The gag was easy to get rid of. He used the sharp edge of a car
door and hooked it off. The rest took a full four hours. "I tried
fraying the rope around my wrists against some sharp rocks but it
was strong nylon - too strong, unfortunately." Dick was starting to
tire and rested for long periods between attempts.
"After a long while I got myself up and into the car. When I realised
I was behind the steering wheel and could honk the hooter I had to laugh.
Who would hear it? "I was uncomfortable so I struggled out again. I
hunted in the side pockets for a knife that was always in the car but
couldn't find it. My foot hit something in the grass and I thought it was
the knife but it was just my glasses."
The stony ground proved painful so Dick got into the car a second time.
Then he was out once again in search of a stone or something else that
might help.
At one point he even got the boot open in the hope of finding some
equipment but without success.
When he tried to get comfy inside the carforthe third time he
realised all the wriggling had loosened the rope around his
wrists and he was able to free his left hand. "The rest was easy," Dick
says.
At 4.30 am, barefoot, he began climbing back up the cliff. "I was a
little shaky," the indomitable old man confesses. Half a kilometre
away he happened on a farmhouse but it was surrounded by an electric
fence and there was no bell at the gate. He continued up the slope for
about 3 km to his nephew's farm on Stone's Hill. "I kept to the centre
line on the road because it was kinder to my bare feet," he says. Once
he had to climb an embankment for about 150 m on all fours like a
baboon.
THE sun was coming up and the birds had started singing. "They'd never
sounded as good to me as they did that morning," he says. "I enjoyed
those last steps and was grateful to be fit and healthy. "I was so
relieved to arrive at my nephew's door I pressed the bell and didn't
let go until he opened up."
Robert Hallier gave his black and blue, dirt-covered relative one look
and asked if coffee would do or if something stronger was called for.
It was 6 am. They called Dick's son Geoff at the farm and took Dick to
their house in town. He was given a hero's welcome and everyone was
in awe of his story. Dick then visited his wife Elaine in hospital. She was
deeply relieved he'd made it out alive.
Only late afternoon, after the matter had been reported to the police,
did he get the chance to catch up on some sleep. The next day his son Mike
came from Port Elizabeth to fetch him and Dick went straight back
home in a car Mike lent him.
For now he's sleeping at his son's farmhouse but he'll move home as soon
as security on his farm has been beefed up.
"I bought the place in 1982 and farmed for 23 years before Geoff took over.
I won't let those vermin drive me out," he says.
He's astonished people think he was brave. Not at all, he says. It's all
the walking, gardening and lawnmowing on the farm that's kept him
physically and mentally fit and helped him get through the ordeal:
A strong body and a clear mind can stop criminals, he believes, thankful
to have survived to enjoy the beautiful sunsets on his farm and watch
his grandchildren grow up.
At the time of going to press police had held one of the suspects.
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