The Kowie is an ancient river; it flows through land where dinosaurs once roamed and where cycads still grow. At one time this land was covered by the sea with marine deposits fifty million years old. It is a wild, tidal river, dynamic, forever changing and diverse. This diversity lies not only in the different types of country through which it flows, but also in the changing seasons, the differences between wet and dry years, between high and low tides, and the rich variety of the forms of life it sustains. The Kowie River has not received scholarly attention from historians, nor has its beauty been acknowledged by poets or writers, except for one noteworthy exception. In his poem ‘The Rivers’ (1982), Chris Mann celebrates this diversity:

The term ‘holy waters’ refers to the enduring and sacred importance of the Kowie River to many Xhosa people today.

One of my most magical river moments was at dawn one morning in 2005 as I was crouching in the lush vegetation lining the beautiful deep green pool that marks the confluence of the Kowie and Lushington rivers. A friend and I were waiting to see the otters whose holt I had discovered in this particular pool. After sitting motionless for a long time, we saw the whiskered head of an otter break the surface and then turn, swimming on her back with a crab in her front paws, followed by three otter cubs. My friend and I didn't move or speak, but after a while the golden silence was broken by the sound of rhythmic chanting and the beat of a drum. Five figures, all clothed in white, their faces painted with white clay and their heads covered in white cloth turbans, suddenly appeared.