The misery of last week has ebbed somewhat, I seem to have adopted a stoic attitude of: am here now and have to make he most of it ,and trust in those hugely important relationships with all those that I love and hold dear and who are now [in distance terms]..thousands of miles away.
Thankfully humour, is always the great salvager of despair and there is so much here to either give or create joy or to make me just titter or guffaw with laughter.
On Thursday last, I decided to travel the 90 km to Upington.[hereafter referred to as UP] To do a food shop, get out of the office, and try and sort out the third, of 5 bath/shower rooms.
Arriving at the factory I was presented with a list of Upington tasks, to add to my own, by various people who I did and didn’t know [this is perfectly normal for this area] and a full sized bath was being loaded & strapped down, in the back of the bakkie.
The bakkie has THE RAISIN COMPANY emblazoned down both sides with full contact details…it tickles me pink that if, as the driver or front passenger, you open your door slightly and lean out of the window, you are framed in the window, with a bold title THE RAISIN underneath you. I can promise that I looked like a raisin traveling to Up with a bath covered in flapping plastic, flagging my every movement. Regardless of this, I enjoyed the drive, the landscape moves from craggy bare rock mountains that rear up either side of steep and winding roads, to open flat savannas of grey waving grasses and then sudden gashes revealing the orange red soil with the ever present mountains either side, in the distant margins of your vision. I must bring my camera along next time… and take photos of the weaver birds nests that ornament the telegraph poles, great complex haystacks constructed around the T of the pole, by these busy little birds.
Up is probably a third of the size of Newbury. Hardly a thronging metropolis and from its centre, radiating northwards, a sprawling industrial area, stretching out to the airport…Uptonians boast that theirs is the only airport in ZA where Concorde could land [it was there just the once and didn’t stay for long!].
I had to navigate my way to the centre of town, find Pick & pay.Up`s version of Tesco , then to the stationers/bookshop/bank/Post office,then out to the industrial zone, to deal with bath exchanges, decisions on floor and wall tiles, order some wood from Lumber City, SA version of Homebase and then onto a shop that deals in sleepers [railway and mine sleepers!]
Remembering to collect 20ltrs of paint on my way out of Up`, and then some urgent build supplies for the house in Kakenstein {hereafter referred to as Kak!!!]…..space was going to be an issue from the start. By hook or crook I achieved everything on the list and by now THE RAISIN looked like a sharabang, down on its axles with 35 sq meters tiles plus grout /adhesive etc. 7 sq meters decking, a basin and taps all mixed with a weekly food shop and in 33 degrees, by the time I exited Up at 4.00 pm, I was exhausted ,looked ragged and having skipped lunch, promised myself I would stop two thirds of the way home for a cool drink and something to eat at a little pad stall [side of the road café ….this one being very quirky and not dodgy in any way].
Didn’t call Bossy and tell him I was on my way back as we have something of an unwritten law that we don’t bother each other with this stuff like this.
Stopped at VAVAVOOM pad stall!!!! Purchasing coke zero and a slice of what looked like apple cake,As a result of language difficulties, the girls in the shop packed it in a little take away sac so that I felt I really had to take it away and consume American style at the wheel of the Raisin.
Concentrating on the long empty road ahead…I fumbled through the bags on the passenger seat and grabbed for the cake….to my horror, it gave only the impression of a piece of cake from the outside, and collapsed horribly as I grappled for it, it was the stickiest ,sweetest,sloppiest gungy stuff that oozed its way across the seat and over my lap, continuing towards the steering wheel, the floor, my face… everywhere. In spite of the car being at full capacity there was not a single wiping tool on hand…within minutes the car became full of flies settling everywhere that the gunge had landed, and I STILL had to pick up some urgent stuff in Kakenstein…why is it, that whenever you don’t want to meet anyone. you do! so having tried my best to clean myself down I crept into the DIY store in Kak`.It seemed to me, most of the Kak wives were there, initially, all keen to engage me in conversation, and all quite unashamedly looking me up and down …So Sorry women of England … I have done you no favours, they positively puffed up with delight to see the state of me and then The Raisin.
Whilst I am not a vain woman, caught under the searing gaze of the fearsome Kak wives, I felt like a grubby little girl in a grubby big Raisin.
Armed with more supplies, I managed to hurriedly squeeze them into the car, and capped off my day by being rather heavy footed on the accelerator pedal, creating a serious tyre squeal, and nearly upsetting my load, as I exited the car park…. the shame. Homewards, towards the factory, as fast as my load would allow. … Here there were an army of men waiting to offload the raisin…Bossy with a grin that stretched from ear to ear…approached and casually flicking a trapped fly out of my sticky hair…. explained that he had received a running commentary of my every movement from the start of my day to its finish…farmers had seen the Raisin on the road to Up and in Up, they had seen me on the road..fighting off flies , and last but not least one of the Kak wives had called to chastise him for not making the run to Up himself and suggesting I might like to know where the beauty therapist was next time I was in!!!!!!!!!!!....FAT CHANCE.
This little story serves as a further reminder of how tight this community is. Although the spaces around us are vast, the community tends to look inwards to its populace, this appears to be part of a code that the elders of the farming community [also church elders], proactively encourage [these people are the great-great-grandchildren of vortrekkers or frontiersmen]. Keeping an eye on each other is, I am sure, a survival mechanism and in no way malicious, sometimes the community can be a little overzealous in their attentions. I shall be very happy when we are quietly ensconced at the farm, away from the gaze of the Kakenstonians!
Marika and Gerrart [our current landlord and lady] provide a small oasis of retreat from this gaze, they can only be described as individualists, doing stuff, very much in their own style, and they seem not to be swayed by the critical gaze of their community.
These are the guys who, having a son that showed promise as a water skier, became frustrated at supporting his slalom practice in The Orange River [!!!!!], and decided the only answer was to dynamite a hole into the mountain behind their farm and create a man made lake, …this they have done ,800 meters long X 50 meters wide.[ Interesting fact: he loses 500,000 liters a day through evaporation as a result of the heat!]
Nevertheless, a vast stretch of water, which will shortly achieve National status as a water sports venue, but most particularly have national water ski slalom credentials. They have their first national competition here in March… bringing much attention [and business] to the area,. Four guest houses are sandwiched between the semi desert and Game reserve to one end of the lake, and a large club house, to the other.
Much of this weekend, was spent with them by the sides of the lake, dipping in and out of the water, Bossy has moored his jet ski here, so he did all his very best tricks on that!!! Encouraging me to have a go, which I did! Its one of those stand up ones which when driven well, looks as though you are scudding effortlessly and rather elegantly over the water on a hover board, when driven badly looks like a sack of potatoes slopping around on a mill pond, you may guess what I looked like..But hey, I gave it a go!!!
Weekends are about informal socializing with others, no formal invitations are issued, it appears that the Braai holder simply mentions to a few friends it will take place at his house/farm/field and people simply turn up, they bring 2 large cool boxes, one full of cool drinks/alcoholic drinks and ice the other full of meats to braai with. The braai holder’s wife produces a spattering of salads that seem to remain largely untouched.
At a certain point, one of the men starts the braai fire [men appear to take the lead when cooking on braais…Bossy is going to have his work cut out!!!!], two hours later when by his meticulous study of the state of the coals, he declares it ready to braai,; the meats starts to be cooked. It’s generally dark at this point and everyone has become comfortably inebriated, and rather hungry.
The South Africans take their Braai seriously, the kids [boys and girls!] have Braai lessons at school and termly competitions, and a national Braai day!!! ..It’s regarded as an art and an essential skill for the Northern Capetonian man.
I am the girl who pre cooks BBQ food in the oven [especially chicken] and takes it outside to show it the flames, Marika tells me that I am forbidden to do this…as my newest friend, it is her duty to ban me from this abhorrent practice. Further, we may well have been pulled into the bosom of the community now, but sure as dammit we will be unceremoniously excommunicated if anyone sees us doing it. You can now see how serious they are. I have braai`d twice now [Bossy was working!!], just for the two of us to start with…first attempt nearly burned the stoop [thatched area that comes from the roof and which houses the braai area] and followed up by producing burned bore worst [farmers sausage]. Second attempt: 7 out of 10…TBones very edible thanks to Gerrart and Marikas gift of a digital thermometer/prongy fork ,it reads the temperature of whatever meat you have pre set into its computer…still think ovens are easier…but when in Rome!!!!
Thursday 16th October:
Things moving well on the farm now, the two new guest rooms have walls, and windows are going in. The new roof for these 2 rooms will connect to the braai room roof[ this is an area for outside eating, with a huge inbuilt braai. with one open side that faces where the swimming pool will be [currently a hole in the hill upon which the farm is situated] I imagine that we would call it a covered terrace . As to the main part of the house, electrics are in place, air co installed but worryingly not working. Kitchen being held up bay lack of work surfaces, which are being made up in C.T.
Curtains and blinds ordered for all rooms.
Bossy is fretting over the water system here, water is pumped from the river, through to a large dam at the front of the house …the name dam never ceases to confuse me as this is a huge concrete circle about 5 foot high and three X the size of one of those large plastic rigid sided swimming pools. From the dam, water is pumped through a series of filtration sytems,to clean and purify and make the water suitable for washing, baths/showers etc. We have installed a separate drinking water system in the main house. Bossy has become neurotic about making sure this system is working at its optimum and produces squeaky clean water [thank goodness]. Two separate companies have already been replaced as he was unhappy with their proposed management of the new system , until this is resolved…we will not be at the farm!
I’m so desperate to post photos of all of this, but we are still waiting for our container and its contents.
I fly for C.T tomorrow. Hopefully stage 1, of our possessions being returned will be accomplished…..the car will be released [you see Bossy`s priority!] and I have to collect it from the port, drive to the large VW garage in the centre of C.T, get its air co sorted [not working when it left the UK] ask them to put a GPS disc that covers ZA in, and collect Little at 1.00pm from school, from this point [and trusting everything has gone to plan], Little and I have the weekend at a beach hotel in Milnerton.
The deal is, that the weekend is his, and we can do anything [within reason] that he would like to do. Have to drop him back to school on Sunday night, so I will overnight in C.T and head back on 850 km trip to Marchand on Monday. All sounds fine on paper, wait for the update of what really happens.
Love to all, and thank you once again for the wonderful emails, I cant wait to get into the office every morning and check my emails and am set up for the rest of the day, by news…and valuable advice [Kim!!] from home.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
DAWN
Thursday, October 16, 2008
Sunday, October 12, 2008
The School run
On Friday 3rd we moved out of the guest house and into our new next door neighbours accommodation, varyingly called the flat and or the cottage. A two bed single storey block next to their office. Not as pretty or sophisticated as the guest house, but enough room in which to swing a Great Dane . And to Little`s delight, a small kitchen [I haven’t cooked for a month now!] a little more privacy. We are about 2 kilometers from our farm, so that popping over to keep an eye on progress will be easier.
Gerrart and Marika are delightfully eccentric and enormous fun [they of the pair of Namibian giraffe]…very relaxed about her ladyship, in particular her toilet habits!!!!!!!!! She has decided that she is really only comfortable to perform on grass .and there is so very little of it about. Some farmers have had special lawns planted…Gerrart and Marika included…a thick 1 acre of lawn, sprinkled every couple of hours with water diverted from the canal and their table grape crop, in front of their incongruous Palladian villa style farm house and now liberally peppered with Dane poo, which they refuse to allow us to clear telling us quite convincingly, its great fertilizer [I’m going to have to head out with a black bag & a shovel under cover of darkness]
On Sunday, we deposited her ladyship at Magda and Niki Van Zyles farm, a palpable degree of excitement there, as they has never had a House dog before. Bee, of course, knew we were about to leave her and settled onto her little piece of England [an increasingly dusty piece of black vet bed, that urgently needs a good wash now!] giving us evils.
Departed from Marchand at 11.00 am.Looming in the back of the company bakkie [open backed Toyota Hylux!]was Little`s huge suitcase, carefully packed with all his new school uni, a paltry, 3 sets of civvies: i.e. three T shirts and three pairs of shorts [all that is allowed for termly boarders], and various bathroom fitting that needed to be exchanged in C.T.
Our drive down to the Cape was stunning, the dry stony landscape from Marchand to Kenhardt and Calvenia, with its sandy colored flat semi desert landscape either side of the straight tar roads that stretch ahead of you for up to 10 kilometers, was liberally peppered with spring flowers that annually pop up and grow wild in this austere landscape, at this time of year. For those gardeners amongst you, great swathes of Namaquland daisies ,shockingly Day-Glo orange, cerise Lampranthus, and banks of Livingstone daisies ,all rather wonderful…even the boys were impressed.
This drive is something of a marathon school run, app. 850 kilometers from Marchand to C.T. taking between 6/8 hours, depending on how many breaks are taken. Not only do we need to refuel twice but min half hour breaks are essential every couple of hours to break the tedium of the drive. I imagine that perhaps the Wild West looked something like the this..but perhaps this is less green. On a Sunday afternoon, each of the small towns we drove through [and there are very few] resembled ghost towns, all single storey dwellings, clinging like urchins to the sides of the main road, with only the Kirk [church] punctuating the practical architecture of these little settlements, not a soul to be seen or heard, maybe the occasional barking of an unseen dog, disappointingly…… no tumbleweed.
Little and I could not believe how little traffic we met on the roads…maybe only 25 vehicles in both directions for the first 350 Km. Breaking down is really not an option here!
All still in good spirits, Little finished the book that Geordy gave him, and said that although very sad, it was the second best book he had ever read. [Huge thanks to Loops and Geordy].
Cutting across towards the N7 and following the road through to Clanwilliam,and its breathtaking dam, the landscape becomes greener with vast moving plains of grassland, herds of fat black shiny cattle, little white homestead type farms perched on the lower slopes of the mountains that form the backdrop to this greener altogether gentler landscape.
CAPE TOWN : ARRIVALS& DEPARTURES
Finally, at around 6.00` ish hot and dusty and tired, we arrive at the Winchester mansions in CT,. This is where we spent our first night on arrival in Z.A, and where Bee was offered 5 star treatment. With our complimentary fruit and wine in our suite, was a box of complimentary Boneo for her, and a personal note from the manager [addressed to Bee], wishing her a happy stay and a most welcome return!
All too tired to go out to eat at The Waterfront as we had planned, so we dialed 117 and magically club sandwiches arrived with Coca-Cola’s for the boys and a pleasingly large carafe of white stuff for me. As Little was the man of the moment, at his behest, we watched the latest Harry Potter movie…Big fell asleep!!
Crazy Monday, a million things to accomplish, most importantly to find Little 3X pairs of PJ`s, his Bishops ones, being holed up in a bonded warehouse in C.T, with the car & all of our furniture and belongings. The authorities wont release these until our visas are granted or we put up a substantial financial bond pending our residency status being finalized.[I am refusing to twitch about this and have handed over both the emotional and practical responsibility to Big on this front!] The only thing that really irritates is the lack of my extra camera battery, cables and software, to upload photos to the computer.
By 3.00pm [two hours before Little`s school check in time], we found ourselves at Cavendish Square [app. 3 blocks away from the school] a HUGE and rather racy Mall, Little starting to spin now, unable to concentrate on what he wanted for late lunch, what colour PJ`s he wanted, unable to choose reading books in the book shop. So I took over his decision making process for a while, suddenly he was a very small person indeed and Big and my hearts were breaking for him…Chocolate brownie desert and homemade vanilla ice cream went some way towards girding his spirits ,and we departed for Bishops. Greeted by a stooge [what those at Cheam would call a gappy], we were ushered to the dormitories and Matron’s domain.
The dormitory, holds about 12 boys in bunk beds, each has a bed which they have responsibility for making themselves, and a smallish wardrobe, which has to be stacked and hung in military fashion, with clothes following colour coded rules, and inspections each Wednesday. Matron helped Little with his uniform, making quite clear, all the while, what she would expect of him in terms of behavior and performance!!. Other boys started to arrive, greeting Matron as Maam[as in Ham ,and her preferred form of address],showing her conspicuous respect [ verging upon fright] . Edwin clocked it and we both exchanged subtly raised eyebrows. I have to admit to finding her rather fearsome.
After about 40 minutes of meeting and greeting, of complex systems and rules to try and digest, Little was caught in a turmoil of preparing for our departure [clearly wanting to be sick] and racing off to escape Maam [as in ham] into the grounds, to play before supper with his fellow boarders [ far more appealing].I asked him if he wanted us to go and he said YES!......So we did, all three of us smiling tightly and waving fiercely and all three of us wanting to howl, none of us did.
Big and I simply found our way back on the road out of C.T and headed back on the long return run for Marchand, hitting rush hour at 5.40….there was absolutely nothing to say…both caught in our own bubbles of despair and imagining what our little boy must be feeling like. Safe to say…not a journey I wish to relate in any depth, we arrived home at 1.30am and crept into bed feeling very breakable…God only knows how Little, was feeling.
Tuesday simply brought despair, utter misery at being so far away from EVERYONE, great pangs of missing Jessie and Tommy and Finn and Little. Such guilt at having blown this family into little pieces of shrapnel. Avalanches of grief. Big did what Big does and threw himself into a busy working day.
Why is it, that when you feel like this, when others are kind to you, it promotes an immediate precipitation. Spent the day too tired and miserable to stop myself from weeping. Even more guilty for feeling so sorry for myself when my children and family are the ones taking the brunt.
The only thing to cause any relief, was collecting Bee, I have NEVER seen her so enthusiastic and joyful in her greeting…she actually smiled for at least an hour and kept pottering up to me to remind me that she was still there.
STRANGE DAYS
Being without Little, magnifies the absence of all of my children, quite apart from being a delightful person to be around [mostly!], he somehow provided a very physical and emotional link to all my children. I have had to firmly pull myself together, reassure myself that I am visiting him for the weekend of 17th Oct, and call Jessie, Tom and Finn to touch base.
Heartfelt thanks to everyone who sent me emails this week, if I ever needed a demonstration of what lovely friends I have, this weeks emails are testament to it .They meant a great deal to me.XXXXX
For all those who asked here is a brief up date on Jell,Tommy and Finn:
Jessie has just finished a cardio rotation and is moving onwards to radiology, her elective to Ethiopia looms in December, when, at least she will be on the same continent as us, and I will hear her heart beating a little stronger in my soul. I know that she is incredibly busy in her final year of medicine and it’s in her nature to throw herself into work and her love of hockey. So this bird is busy busy busy. It doesn’t stop me from missing her.
Most of you will know, Tommy left for Italy the week before we left for ZA, his contract to play professional rugby for La Vorno, freshly signed. In his first week of training he tripped over an irrigation pipe, left on the playing field and injured his knee. His physio and team doctor insisted on 3 weeks rest and them a slow build up to full fitness again. Last Saturday he was in his first match for his new team…the knee collapsed .After scan, it is revealed he has torn his meniscus and snapped his ACL. His op to repair this damage is on 18th October [Finns birthday!]. This type of injury requires serious rehab and means his season is finished. What a heartbreaker…, when I spoke with him he seemed uncharacteristically upbeat, he was very relieved that he had employed the services of a sports agent before he left, it is this gentleman’s job to make sure the club support Tom ,covering his medical expenses and rehab and continuing to pay him for the term of his contract. Poor, poor Tommy.
As for Finn, he has managed to re install himself back into Newcastle and his Economics studies. He is busy working on his business idea and I hope {!!!] studying hard. Having spent the entire summer in his company, I miss his caustic wit, his banter and his undeniable charm. Huge thanks to Kim, who arranged some work experience for him. He spent a day, on a box at Lloyds, watching how underwriters work, and thoroughly enjoyed the whole experience.
**********************************************************************AS soon as some resolution is found to “the possessions in the bonded warehouse situation”.I will be in a position to provide some images with this b
Gerrart and Marika are delightfully eccentric and enormous fun [they of the pair of Namibian giraffe]…very relaxed about her ladyship, in particular her toilet habits!!!!!!!!! She has decided that she is really only comfortable to perform on grass .and there is so very little of it about. Some farmers have had special lawns planted…Gerrart and Marika included…a thick 1 acre of lawn, sprinkled every couple of hours with water diverted from the canal and their table grape crop, in front of their incongruous Palladian villa style farm house and now liberally peppered with Dane poo, which they refuse to allow us to clear telling us quite convincingly, its great fertilizer [I’m going to have to head out with a black bag & a shovel under cover of darkness]
On Sunday, we deposited her ladyship at Magda and Niki Van Zyles farm, a palpable degree of excitement there, as they has never had a House dog before. Bee, of course, knew we were about to leave her and settled onto her little piece of England [an increasingly dusty piece of black vet bed, that urgently needs a good wash now!] giving us evils.
Departed from Marchand at 11.00 am.Looming in the back of the company bakkie [open backed Toyota Hylux!]was Little`s huge suitcase, carefully packed with all his new school uni, a paltry, 3 sets of civvies: i.e. three T shirts and three pairs of shorts [all that is allowed for termly boarders], and various bathroom fitting that needed to be exchanged in C.T.
Our drive down to the Cape was stunning, the dry stony landscape from Marchand to Kenhardt and Calvenia, with its sandy colored flat semi desert landscape either side of the straight tar roads that stretch ahead of you for up to 10 kilometers, was liberally peppered with spring flowers that annually pop up and grow wild in this austere landscape, at this time of year. For those gardeners amongst you, great swathes of Namaquland daisies ,shockingly Day-Glo orange, cerise Lampranthus, and banks of Livingstone daisies ,all rather wonderful…even the boys were impressed.
This drive is something of a marathon school run, app. 850 kilometers from Marchand to C.T. taking between 6/8 hours, depending on how many breaks are taken. Not only do we need to refuel twice but min half hour breaks are essential every couple of hours to break the tedium of the drive. I imagine that perhaps the Wild West looked something like the this..but perhaps this is less green. On a Sunday afternoon, each of the small towns we drove through [and there are very few] resembled ghost towns, all single storey dwellings, clinging like urchins to the sides of the main road, with only the Kirk [church] punctuating the practical architecture of these little settlements, not a soul to be seen or heard, maybe the occasional barking of an unseen dog, disappointingly…… no tumbleweed.
Little and I could not believe how little traffic we met on the roads…maybe only 25 vehicles in both directions for the first 350 Km. Breaking down is really not an option here!
All still in good spirits, Little finished the book that Geordy gave him, and said that although very sad, it was the second best book he had ever read. [Huge thanks to Loops and Geordy].
Cutting across towards the N7 and following the road through to Clanwilliam,and its breathtaking dam, the landscape becomes greener with vast moving plains of grassland, herds of fat black shiny cattle, little white homestead type farms perched on the lower slopes of the mountains that form the backdrop to this greener altogether gentler landscape.
CAPE TOWN : ARRIVALS& DEPARTURES
Finally, at around 6.00` ish hot and dusty and tired, we arrive at the Winchester mansions in CT,. This is where we spent our first night on arrival in Z.A, and where Bee was offered 5 star treatment. With our complimentary fruit and wine in our suite, was a box of complimentary Boneo for her, and a personal note from the manager [addressed to Bee], wishing her a happy stay and a most welcome return!
All too tired to go out to eat at The Waterfront as we had planned, so we dialed 117 and magically club sandwiches arrived with Coca-Cola’s for the boys and a pleasingly large carafe of white stuff for me. As Little was the man of the moment, at his behest, we watched the latest Harry Potter movie…Big fell asleep!!
Crazy Monday, a million things to accomplish, most importantly to find Little 3X pairs of PJ`s, his Bishops ones, being holed up in a bonded warehouse in C.T, with the car & all of our furniture and belongings. The authorities wont release these until our visas are granted or we put up a substantial financial bond pending our residency status being finalized.[I am refusing to twitch about this and have handed over both the emotional and practical responsibility to Big on this front!] The only thing that really irritates is the lack of my extra camera battery, cables and software, to upload photos to the computer.
By 3.00pm [two hours before Little`s school check in time], we found ourselves at Cavendish Square [app. 3 blocks away from the school] a HUGE and rather racy Mall, Little starting to spin now, unable to concentrate on what he wanted for late lunch, what colour PJ`s he wanted, unable to choose reading books in the book shop. So I took over his decision making process for a while, suddenly he was a very small person indeed and Big and my hearts were breaking for him…Chocolate brownie desert and homemade vanilla ice cream went some way towards girding his spirits ,and we departed for Bishops. Greeted by a stooge [what those at Cheam would call a gappy], we were ushered to the dormitories and Matron’s domain.
The dormitory, holds about 12 boys in bunk beds, each has a bed which they have responsibility for making themselves, and a smallish wardrobe, which has to be stacked and hung in military fashion, with clothes following colour coded rules, and inspections each Wednesday. Matron helped Little with his uniform, making quite clear, all the while, what she would expect of him in terms of behavior and performance!!. Other boys started to arrive, greeting Matron as Maam[as in Ham ,and her preferred form of address],showing her conspicuous respect [ verging upon fright] . Edwin clocked it and we both exchanged subtly raised eyebrows. I have to admit to finding her rather fearsome.
After about 40 minutes of meeting and greeting, of complex systems and rules to try and digest, Little was caught in a turmoil of preparing for our departure [clearly wanting to be sick] and racing off to escape Maam [as in ham] into the grounds, to play before supper with his fellow boarders [ far more appealing].I asked him if he wanted us to go and he said YES!......So we did, all three of us smiling tightly and waving fiercely and all three of us wanting to howl, none of us did.
Big and I simply found our way back on the road out of C.T and headed back on the long return run for Marchand, hitting rush hour at 5.40….there was absolutely nothing to say…both caught in our own bubbles of despair and imagining what our little boy must be feeling like. Safe to say…not a journey I wish to relate in any depth, we arrived home at 1.30am and crept into bed feeling very breakable…God only knows how Little, was feeling.
Tuesday simply brought despair, utter misery at being so far away from EVERYONE, great pangs of missing Jessie and Tommy and Finn and Little. Such guilt at having blown this family into little pieces of shrapnel. Avalanches of grief. Big did what Big does and threw himself into a busy working day.
Why is it, that when you feel like this, when others are kind to you, it promotes an immediate precipitation. Spent the day too tired and miserable to stop myself from weeping. Even more guilty for feeling so sorry for myself when my children and family are the ones taking the brunt.
The only thing to cause any relief, was collecting Bee, I have NEVER seen her so enthusiastic and joyful in her greeting…she actually smiled for at least an hour and kept pottering up to me to remind me that she was still there.
STRANGE DAYS
Being without Little, magnifies the absence of all of my children, quite apart from being a delightful person to be around [mostly!], he somehow provided a very physical and emotional link to all my children. I have had to firmly pull myself together, reassure myself that I am visiting him for the weekend of 17th Oct, and call Jessie, Tom and Finn to touch base.
Heartfelt thanks to everyone who sent me emails this week, if I ever needed a demonstration of what lovely friends I have, this weeks emails are testament to it .They meant a great deal to me.XXXXX
For all those who asked here is a brief up date on Jell,Tommy and Finn:
Jessie has just finished a cardio rotation and is moving onwards to radiology, her elective to Ethiopia looms in December, when, at least she will be on the same continent as us, and I will hear her heart beating a little stronger in my soul. I know that she is incredibly busy in her final year of medicine and it’s in her nature to throw herself into work and her love of hockey. So this bird is busy busy busy. It doesn’t stop me from missing her.
Most of you will know, Tommy left for Italy the week before we left for ZA, his contract to play professional rugby for La Vorno, freshly signed. In his first week of training he tripped over an irrigation pipe, left on the playing field and injured his knee. His physio and team doctor insisted on 3 weeks rest and them a slow build up to full fitness again. Last Saturday he was in his first match for his new team…the knee collapsed .After scan, it is revealed he has torn his meniscus and snapped his ACL. His op to repair this damage is on 18th October [Finns birthday!]. This type of injury requires serious rehab and means his season is finished. What a heartbreaker…, when I spoke with him he seemed uncharacteristically upbeat, he was very relieved that he had employed the services of a sports agent before he left, it is this gentleman’s job to make sure the club support Tom ,covering his medical expenses and rehab and continuing to pay him for the term of his contract. Poor, poor Tommy.
As for Finn, he has managed to re install himself back into Newcastle and his Economics studies. He is busy working on his business idea and I hope {!!!] studying hard. Having spent the entire summer in his company, I miss his caustic wit, his banter and his undeniable charm. Huge thanks to Kim, who arranged some work experience for him. He spent a day, on a box at Lloyds, watching how underwriters work, and thoroughly enjoyed the whole experience.
**********************************************************************AS soon as some resolution is found to “the possessions in the bonded warehouse situation”.I will be in a position to provide some images with this b
Wednesday, October 8, 2008
2nd October 2008. Marchand. ZA
OK..so almost a month in and it most defiantly does not feel like being on holiday, despite most days averaging around 30+ degrees, our highest day so far has been 35 degrees and it felt like being under a grill all day. The farmer who’s guest house we have been living in, told me that when Summer really hits [in December] the temperature is daily in the 40`s, accompanied by a hot wind. It seems the locals relish the task of frightening visitors & potential residents with tales of extreme weather conditions. I have in the recesses of my mind that every day I am acclimatizing as the temperature slowly creeps upwards. Bee, very sensibly, snoozes through the hotter days, making the most of early mornings and late evenings, when she takes a stroll through the vines which surround the guest house.
Her “Doggles” have arrived and she is VERY unhappy in them, she doesn’t understand that she is meant to keep her eyes open, once they are on and insists on keeping them tightly shut and therefore walks into walls,vines,metal poles etc, as a result she feels that everyone/thing is assaulting her the moment that she is forced to wear them ,hence her reluctance to have them fitted each day, which I insist on doing for at least half an hour in the hope that eventually common sense will prevail and she will open her eyes!
It looks as though we will move to our new next door neighbors’ farm on Friday; he has offered us a “small” cottage on his farm, whilst ours remains uninhabitable. Things are looking brighter on this front, there are about 12 men working on site every day with 5 or 6 visiting tradesmen. Things are happening, the air co system is being fitted [thank the Lord, in view of my opening comments!] most of the tiling to the main floors of the house is done. Electrics in the process of and I’m now charged with choosing finishes for the walls.
Moses, is our man “who does”, he is our handyman, our security, at his own behest our gardener, he is certainly as tall as Big, and twice as wide. I imagine he is in his late 30`s, never seen without a white beanie hat. Despite speaking about three words of English, he manages to make Little and I laugh, he is something of a comedian and we have begun to like him a lot, despite his calling me “Missus” every time he sees me. I have decided there is no changing it and have simply chosen to accept with as much grace as possible
my new title.
It causes me a great deal of delight that Moses calls Big “Bossy”........ never was a man more
aptly named and I have to stifle whoops of delight, whenever Moses speaks to Bossy.
A few days ago I had two of the ladies from the factory, helping scrub some of the huge windows, we were getting through jay cloths at a rate, so these were being rinsed and hung to dry before they were put to use again, I happened to be walking around a corner of the house to find Moses and Edwin cleaning down the sides of a very dusty Quad..with our clean Jay cloths…the embarrassed grin that stretched across Moses face was enough to make even the stroppiest of souls laugh. Suddenly he found another English word ‘Sorry Missus”…”Sorry Missus”…his apology was very half hearted and mixed with guffaws from both Edwin and him…they were like naughty little school boys.
I started pruning a great bed of roses in the garden which were looking very sorry for themselves [clearly someone has loved this garden!but a few years ago now], whilst I am no great fan of rose beds I cant just stand by and let these go to rack and ruin…amidst all this heat and sand and dust they stand in a bed of good top soil with good Irrigation and I rather admire them.
I started to severely prune them [August is really the month for pruning here], Moses came racing up to me, his eyes as wide as side plates…”No Missus..No missus”, trying to wrestle the pruned pieces of rose out of my gloved hands, causing us both to be scratched. He bustled off with an armful of rose and spoke to Big on his way past…Edwin laughed and returned to me,”Moses is shocked to see a white women working in the garden.”,my response…”tell him he better get used to it!”, the next time I visited the farm, Moses had taken it upon himself to complete the job! He had used a pen knife, and a most unusual technique of taking out all the new growth, and leaving all the straggly old growth…because…he later told Edwin in Afrikaans they had rose buds on them. He also decided to plant onions between the rows of roses!!!!Clearly he enjoys being in the garden, we have now pruned the rest of the roses together and he has
weeded several flower beds amidst all his other duties. I have asked Big to explain that we will plant a vegetable patch where his onions can go as soon as we are settled in the farm.
Yesterday we were in the huge storage facility which sits outside of the fence of the farm, by the side of the vineyard. Big has purchased some very dodgy furniture that he has picked up at the Port on Cape Town, through a friend, ex damaged shipping stock. I have told him NONE of it is going into the farm….all looks very corporate as though destined for offices. He is cool about this saying he purchased it to sell locally. We were standing in this vast place with Moses, moving some bits around, when he started to screech at the top of his voice and become extremely agitated, grabbing a handy iron bar from the floor. I immediately thought it was a snake and my fight flight instinct was also starting to kick in, when I saw what all the drama was about…a gecko..about 4 inches long. I promise he was absolutely petrified of it….Edwin had to grab at the flailing iron bar to prevent the instant death of the gecko [and potential smashing of several of the old windows removed from the farm and being stored here] Moses is meant to protect us from all evils…and it does not bode well. At the weekend his son “Smallie” arrived for a weeks school holidays, Smallie is about 7 and Moses is very proud of him, Little is getting very irritated by Smallie, who follows him like a shadow and copies every single word Edwin sais..its like having a parrot shadowing you, I can imagine how irritating it is but I have had to explain to Little, that this kid has come from a small community deep in the wilderness of Kwazulu land and hasn’t seen a white kid in his life.
Such a huge culture shock for us with every part of the population here, still trying to get to grips with it all, the first major one was that the South African kisses hello on the lips [they are kept shut you’ll be pleased to hear], no air kisses on each cheek, just a simple smakeroonie on the lips!!!!! Somewhat overwhelming to start with but I’m getting the hang of things, Little gets smackeroonies on the lips from the farmers wives and great bear hugs from the farmers..all physical contact is unrestrained and BIG. Their hospitality is similar..unrestrained and big…we have been to so many different peoples houses for Braais and lunches and suppers I have lost track now. Everyone jousting for our time…I`m making the most of it because I`m sure that they will be bored sick of us in a few weeks time.
WE were invited to the opening of Kakensteins only hotel "THE GATEWAY TO THE KALAHARI" ..catchy name !!, who had refurbished their outside eating area, and had employed the services of a South African rock star and something of a local celeb , judging by the delight in every ones eyes when they spoke of "Wille Windpomp" and the opening of the "Kalahari Braai area" { remember that the "W" here is pronounced as a "V", which makes this name even more hysterical]. So to the evening of rock and celebration..... about 50 or so local farmers their children and various others..Willie was very "cow boy" with gingham shirt, overly tight high waisted denims[the sort that leave very little to the imagination...fortunately it gets dark here at 7.00] , he arrived for his performance, fashionably late, by which time most of the ensemble were gagging with excitement. The moment he started to play [what I would describe as very"soft rock"indeed] I was amazed to see couples taking to the dance floor, they didn't engage in soft rocky kind of dancing, but very formally clasped each other and began waltzing and/or foxtrotting to the soft rock our friend "Villie" was putting out. I kept having to blink very hard and reassure myself we were not in some kind of parallel universe. Little could not suppress his giggles of delight. The hardest rock of the night was Villies version of Shaky Stephens "This Little House".
This Sunday, we depart for Cape Town as Little starts at Bishops on Monday, he has to be there suitably “suited and booted” for 5.30 in the afternoon. So we will have Sunday night at the Waterfront and a luxury evening in the Winchester Mansions [ one of our favorite hotels] then off first thing on Monday to sort out the kitchen work surfaces, our last lunch for a little while together.Then a mooch around for some replacement PJ`s for Little...his being in a box in a bonded warehouse at the port,awaiting customs clearance.
Will keep you up to date with progress, love to all
“Missus”,”Bossy” “Little”& Bee
OK..so almost a month in and it most defiantly does not feel like being on holiday, despite most days averaging around 30+ degrees, our highest day so far has been 35 degrees and it felt like being under a grill all day. The farmer who’s guest house we have been living in, told me that when Summer really hits [in December] the temperature is daily in the 40`s, accompanied by a hot wind. It seems the locals relish the task of frightening visitors & potential residents with tales of extreme weather conditions. I have in the recesses of my mind that every day I am acclimatizing as the temperature slowly creeps upwards. Bee, very sensibly, snoozes through the hotter days, making the most of early mornings and late evenings, when she takes a stroll through the vines which surround the guest house.
Her “Doggles” have arrived and she is VERY unhappy in them, she doesn’t understand that she is meant to keep her eyes open, once they are on and insists on keeping them tightly shut and therefore walks into walls,vines,metal poles etc, as a result she feels that everyone/thing is assaulting her the moment that she is forced to wear them ,hence her reluctance to have them fitted each day, which I insist on doing for at least half an hour in the hope that eventually common sense will prevail and she will open her eyes!
It looks as though we will move to our new next door neighbors’ farm on Friday; he has offered us a “small” cottage on his farm, whilst ours remains uninhabitable. Things are looking brighter on this front, there are about 12 men working on site every day with 5 or 6 visiting tradesmen. Things are happening, the air co system is being fitted [thank the Lord, in view of my opening comments!] most of the tiling to the main floors of the house is done. Electrics in the process of and I’m now charged with choosing finishes for the walls.
Moses, is our man “who does”, he is our handyman, our security, at his own behest our gardener, he is certainly as tall as Big, and twice as wide. I imagine he is in his late 30`s, never seen without a white beanie hat. Despite speaking about three words of English, he manages to make Little and I laugh, he is something of a comedian and we have begun to like him a lot, despite his calling me “Missus” every time he sees me. I have decided there is no changing it and have simply chosen to accept with as much grace as possible
my new title.
It causes me a great deal of delight that Moses calls Big “Bossy”........ never was a man more
aptly named and I have to stifle whoops of delight, whenever Moses speaks to Bossy.
A few days ago I had two of the ladies from the factory, helping scrub some of the huge windows, we were getting through jay cloths at a rate, so these were being rinsed and hung to dry before they were put to use again, I happened to be walking around a corner of the house to find Moses and Edwin cleaning down the sides of a very dusty Quad..with our clean Jay cloths…the embarrassed grin that stretched across Moses face was enough to make even the stroppiest of souls laugh. Suddenly he found another English word ‘Sorry Missus”…”Sorry Missus”…his apology was very half hearted and mixed with guffaws from both Edwin and him…they were like naughty little school boys.
I started pruning a great bed of roses in the garden which were looking very sorry for themselves [clearly someone has loved this garden!but a few years ago now], whilst I am no great fan of rose beds I cant just stand by and let these go to rack and ruin…amidst all this heat and sand and dust they stand in a bed of good top soil with good Irrigation and I rather admire them.
I started to severely prune them [August is really the month for pruning here], Moses came racing up to me, his eyes as wide as side plates…”No Missus..No missus”, trying to wrestle the pruned pieces of rose out of my gloved hands, causing us both to be scratched. He bustled off with an armful of rose and spoke to Big on his way past…Edwin laughed and returned to me,”Moses is shocked to see a white women working in the garden.”,my response…”tell him he better get used to it!”, the next time I visited the farm, Moses had taken it upon himself to complete the job! He had used a pen knife, and a most unusual technique of taking out all the new growth, and leaving all the straggly old growth…because…he later told Edwin in Afrikaans they had rose buds on them. He also decided to plant onions between the rows of roses!!!!Clearly he enjoys being in the garden, we have now pruned the rest of the roses together and he has
weeded several flower beds amidst all his other duties. I have asked Big to explain that we will plant a vegetable patch where his onions can go as soon as we are settled in the farm.
Yesterday we were in the huge storage facility which sits outside of the fence of the farm, by the side of the vineyard. Big has purchased some very dodgy furniture that he has picked up at the Port on Cape Town, through a friend, ex damaged shipping stock. I have told him NONE of it is going into the farm….all looks very corporate as though destined for offices. He is cool about this saying he purchased it to sell locally. We were standing in this vast place with Moses, moving some bits around, when he started to screech at the top of his voice and become extremely agitated, grabbing a handy iron bar from the floor. I immediately thought it was a snake and my fight flight instinct was also starting to kick in, when I saw what all the drama was about…a gecko..about 4 inches long. I promise he was absolutely petrified of it….Edwin had to grab at the flailing iron bar to prevent the instant death of the gecko [and potential smashing of several of the old windows removed from the farm and being stored here] Moses is meant to protect us from all evils…and it does not bode well. At the weekend his son “Smallie” arrived for a weeks school holidays, Smallie is about 7 and Moses is very proud of him, Little is getting very irritated by Smallie, who follows him like a shadow and copies every single word Edwin sais..its like having a parrot shadowing you, I can imagine how irritating it is but I have had to explain to Little, that this kid has come from a small community deep in the wilderness of Kwazulu land and hasn’t seen a white kid in his life.
Such a huge culture shock for us with every part of the population here, still trying to get to grips with it all, the first major one was that the South African kisses hello on the lips [they are kept shut you’ll be pleased to hear], no air kisses on each cheek, just a simple smakeroonie on the lips!!!!! Somewhat overwhelming to start with but I’m getting the hang of things, Little gets smackeroonies on the lips from the farmers wives and great bear hugs from the farmers..all physical contact is unrestrained and BIG. Their hospitality is similar..unrestrained and big…we have been to so many different peoples houses for Braais and lunches and suppers I have lost track now. Everyone jousting for our time…I`m making the most of it because I`m sure that they will be bored sick of us in a few weeks time.
WE were invited to the opening of Kakensteins only hotel "THE GATEWAY TO THE KALAHARI" ..catchy name !!, who had refurbished their outside eating area, and had employed the services of a South African rock star and something of a local celeb , judging by the delight in every ones eyes when they spoke of "Wille Windpomp" and the opening of the "Kalahari Braai area" { remember that the "W" here is pronounced as a "V", which makes this name even more hysterical]. So to the evening of rock and celebration..... about 50 or so local farmers their children and various others..Willie was very "cow boy" with gingham shirt, overly tight high waisted denims[the sort that leave very little to the imagination...fortunately it gets dark here at 7.00] , he arrived for his performance, fashionably late, by which time most of the ensemble were gagging with excitement. The moment he started to play [what I would describe as very"soft rock"indeed] I was amazed to see couples taking to the dance floor, they didn't engage in soft rocky kind of dancing, but very formally clasped each other and began waltzing and/or foxtrotting to the soft rock our friend "Villie" was putting out. I kept having to blink very hard and reassure myself we were not in some kind of parallel universe. Little could not suppress his giggles of delight. The hardest rock of the night was Villies version of Shaky Stephens "This Little House".
This Sunday, we depart for Cape Town as Little starts at Bishops on Monday, he has to be there suitably “suited and booted” for 5.30 in the afternoon. So we will have Sunday night at the Waterfront and a luxury evening in the Winchester Mansions [ one of our favorite hotels] then off first thing on Monday to sort out the kitchen work surfaces, our last lunch for a little while together.Then a mooch around for some replacement PJ`s for Little...his being in a box in a bonded warehouse at the port,awaiting customs clearance.
Will keep you up to date with progress, love to all
“Missus”,”Bossy” “Little”& Bee