Ruah Vosloo spent at least some of the empty days of the pandemic wondering about his future. He had time, so he turned over his options carefully, as if reading the pages of a book.
His friends were enthusiastic and full of ideas. He had always loved reading tales of exploration and adventure, biographies of David Livingstone or books by US conservationists Mark and Delia Owens. Why not become a bookseller?
“The public library was my happy place,” says the man who grew up and went to school in Strand in the Western Cape. “I started going to the library when I was 12 and maxed out my card.”
In 2016, while working in “fancy-ass restaurants”, he took off for two months to travel the country. He visited all nine provinces, slept in the back of his bakkie and splashed out R20,000 on second-hand books.
“When you consider that I only spent R10,000 on petrol and food and bought 536 second-hand books, you can see my priorities,” says Vosloo, 39.
At the beginning of 2021, after much Covid cogitation, Vosloo decided to start a new chapter. A location (outside Olympia Cafe & Bakery in Kalk Bay) was selected and a date set. He was all ready to go when fate intervened and he broke a foot on New Year’s Eve.
“I had no stock,” he says. “My friends needed to advance me that month’s rent. I hobbled down to my delayed first day on crutches. The 150 books I started with were from my own library. Some were from my trip in the bakkie back in 2016.”
Vosloo had no idea if the project would work. He displayed his 150 books. When the world blinked awake from the pandemic a couple of months later, he was still standing. He survived his first winter. Much to his amazement, he discovered that his adventure in books was becoming a page-turner.
Five and a half years later, business for Vosloo is booming. The appetite for quality, well-curated second-hand books is undiminished in this age of soaring prices. He now displays over 500 books (mainly nonfiction, with a smattering of classic fiction) from his ankle-height shelves, with about the same stored in reserve in the vineyard nearby.
The best months, he says, are the first eight or nine; spring is a dead time for books. Turnover is key. He spends about R2,000 a week at second-hand bookstores replenishing his stock. On some mornings, when he isn’t selling, you see him walking barefoot on the pavements of the southern peninsula. Depending on the direction in which he is heading, the military green rucksack on his back is either empty or full. Sometimes he rides a purple bicycle.
“For me it feels good to put fresh bread out there. This whole adventure is about being bold. I wouldn’t be proud of myself to have stagnant stock.”
The books in Vosloo’s pop-up bookshop under the towering Norfolk pine are beautifully arranged, one half in predominantly blue covers, the other in white. Every book, irrespective of size and length, costs R100. Each book cover is polished with Mr Min before going out into the sun, and each book is tied with a single thread of coloured wool, which conveys the idea that he is giving a gift to the world.
“I tied the books up because the pages were flapping open in the wind,” Vosloo says. “Some customers can be difficult — they want to know why all the books cost the same — and some disagree with my choices. Mostly, though, people like to come and browse. I’m a good listener. I like the weather and the sun and the dogs coming past here under the Norfolk pine.”
Vosloo doesn’t only have a good range of titles (Kahlil Gibran to Jack Kerouac, Paul Theroux to Annie Dillard), he offers an inclusive experience. After close to six years he’s part of the fabric of the place, like the fishy tang in the air and the smell of poppyseed cake wafting from the bakery.
All of this isn’t bad for a bookshop that many know but couldn’t name. That’s intentional; Vosloo believes his store should remain nameless. “I like to be invisible,” he says.
Of course, Vosloo’s pop-up store isn’t invisible, because if it were, it wouldn’t be there. We’re grateful for that. And so are tens of others who come to browse, talk and sample the lekker Kalk Bay vibes. They might even leave with a book.