As a young sport-loving journalist, I was born long after the booming time of rail transportation, and quite frankly, deserted buildings are not very high on my list of places to visit.
As a young sport-loving journalist, I was born long after the booming time of rail transportation, and quite frankly, deserted buildings are not very high on my list of places to visit.
It must’ve been fate that led me to the old Grahamstown station. As it happened, I was merely accompanying a fellow student as a bodyguard after she was sent to take photos of the vandalised building. As I walked into the ruins, I immediately felt something had been lost.
The faded departure board, painted in black and yellow, still read “Port Alfred, Port Elizabeth, East London, Transvaal, Zimbabwe and Botswana” – the only evidence of the far-reaching places the station was once connected to.
I started visiting the station on a weekly basis. The more I researched it, the more it came alive.
I wrote numerous articles about it for Grocott’s Mail and felt obliged to continue researching the building so rich in history.
I didn’t want to abandon it as so many of the townsfolk already had. I mourned the loss of the trains and the once vibrant station, and began meeting people who were once connected to the decaying former hub.
