Brush with an aircraft, on the Road Trip to Cape FRIDAY 13^th Feb

Departing at 8.15, with Opa and Case, we set of on the familiar drive to the Cape. Bossy and I looking forward to collecting Little later that afternoon, and Case and Opa,looking forward to renewing their acquaintance with the “real world” in Cape Town ,for a couple of days prior to their return to Amsterdam, on Sunday evening.

A very uneventful trip, with the usual pit stops. Then….. Driving through the desert section, and approaching a steep uphill climb, with scrubby desert banking up either side, our eyes struggled to accept information being sent to them.

Just cresting from the opposite side of the hill, were wing tips!!! Becoming increasingly visible and closer! over the brow of the hill, and now immediately in front of us, the nose section, undercarriage and wheels [OUT!], all perfectly plain to see…the plane was attempting a “road land”, from the brow of the hill…..with us driving directly in his path!!!!!!!!, we could almost see the horror on the face of the pilot as he spotted us and banked heavily to his left, circling back across the desert, in the same direction from where he had come.

On the other side of the hill and at its base, were several police cars. As we approached, a policeman ran up to our window, looking understandably flustered…..breathlessly, he explained that the plane was in difficulty, and was at the point of making an emergency landing.

Why they hadn’t thought to send a vehicle ahead and stop any oncoming traffic? I don’t know for sure, but presume the urgency of the situation hadn’t allowed it.

As the policeman was speaking to us, the aircraft flew around again, thundering above us and very low, he lined himself up with the hill [now behind us…mercifully], and promptly set his plane down on the road, half way up the hill, that we had descended only moments before…it was a neat and effective land, clearly pretty desperate and incredibly dangerous, as he could have had little idea of what was approaching from the other side.

As we continued onwards, no one really said a great deal, the plane was not the smallest aircraft that I had seen, its wings stretched way beyond the width of the tarmac road….I was rather impressed by how matter of fact the entire car full of passengers was about this incident. Is the strangeness of this land de sensitizing us, from all things unexpected?

Sports day at Bishops

Little seemed very well on Friday afternoon, he was thrilled to see us and hopped into the car so that we could depart to the hotel. His sports day is tomorrow [Saturday] and we have to get him back to school for 7.00 a.m in the morning. Big ask after the long drive.

Thank fully the hotel made up a breakfast pack, which Edwin consumed on the way to school.We were dropped off by Bossy, who had an appointment at the harbor.

As we alighted from the car, I was promptly given a pot of blue face paint and instructed to paint two broad diagonal stripes across the face of any boy that approached me, as long as he was wearing a navy blue top.

.”Our” standard bearers, had blue faces, they were wearing blue tartan kilts and sashes and carried blue wooden swords in one hand and their standards in the other

Van De Bjyl [Edwin’s house & the boarding house], finding themselves suitably dressed then practiced their dance [a cross between the HAKKA and the HOKEY COKEY]along with a very rousing team “Chant”, whipping themselves up into an absolute frenzy. This was being mirrored in each corner of the pitch.

Then each “house” was hastily organized into ramshackle columns, and these “coloured and noisy snakes” began to wind their way towards the exit of the cricket pitch [where there were plenty of staff on call, to sort out the several fights that broke out between houses at the bottle neck] and walk about a quarter of a mile, through delightful leafy,well healed suburbs of Rondebosh,making for the main sports ground..

Sudden quiet decended and the event turned into a more familiar scene. The H.M, thanking parents and dignitaries et al for attending, predicting that the weather would stay fine, and declaring the 29^th prep sports day OPEN…at this prompt….. the holding pens exploded once more, the chanting and hooting and banging of drums was taken up with great gusto once again…so that, the first call for events had to be repeated three times in order for several of the painted faced warriors to take their places in the first of the under 13yr olds ,800 meters .

The morning was completely fascinating….to all intents and purposes the sports day was taking place, school records were being broken, events were being run, jumps jumped, balls thrown, hurdles hurdled.

However, there was a palpable back drop of tribalism…whilst events were taking place…there were occasional outbreaks of frenzied activity from the pens,overspilling from one colour into the next, followed by a sudden surge of marshalling teachers ,and plenty of shrieked instructions to the standard bearers to keep their charges in order. I saw, one rather unpleasant “orange” scuffle, between a red and yellow boy, it was unceremoniously curtailed by a teacher wrenching the offenders apart, literally knocking their heads together, and sending them spinning back to their pens. Periodically, the huge score board, in the centre of the running track, was updated with “house points”, and the current winning house would explode from its pens…followed by the remaining three houses chanting their songs at the top of their voices to gee up their athletes.

When I had painted his face, he was happy to have two broad stripes of blue pasted across it ,just like his tribe mates, but insisted that in addition,I paint a blue moustache on his top lip…Clad in a Daliesque blue moustache, he competed his events with grace and humour and a certain degree of rather quaint embarrassment, at the nature of the fervor to which ,by default, he now belonged..

The entire event did have a very surreal feel to it, yet clearly Edwin did feel some sense of belonging. Some of his buddies came up and introduced themselves very politely…kind of strange when they were covered in assorted colours and looking rather fierce

And his new teacher, the delightful Mr. Foggerty, looking like a more rotund Harrison Ford ,in his battered and rather bleached leather bush hat, touched base, to say that our son was a star, hugely liked and respected by his class mates. Mr. Foggerty said that Little had the driest sense of humour he had ever encountered in an 11 year old, and that he [Mr. F] looked forward to his lessons with Little, as they inevitably brought him joy, and that the class seemed a better place for Edwin’s arrival .Wow, what a compliment, it does appear that he seems to have made an impact on his teacher, and watching him mooching around in a group of six or seven boys, laughing and chatting made me feel a great deal easier about all my worries.

His closest friend is a guy called Ross, this boy stands about ½ centimeter taller that Little, and is built like an ox as well, the two of them look like seniors…not prep school boys. I was slightly worried when Ross, announced rather proudly, that he did not take any steroids or drugs of any sort to achieve his physique! My reply was a very Mummyish “Well I should hope not!” and Little and I exchanged looks.

I noticed that they were both followed by little flocks of smaller boys; Edwin has responsibility for looking after a little Angolan boy and new boarder…Johnson, who lost both parents last year, and arrived at Bishops at the start of this term,without a word of either Afrikaans or English.

Johnson is seven…has a face that is utterly divine, but spells trouble,[ which Edwin confirms.] Clearly Edwin takes his responsibility as “Guardian”: to Johnson, very seriously, and clearly Johnson adores “Little”….Johnson had refused to allow anyone to paint his face first thing in the morning, [even the very scary Maam] until Edwin grabbed him by the hand and brought him to me, explaining that if he was his honorary “Big Brother” then I was his “honorary Mummy” and would make a good job of his face. This little kid just stared up at me with saucer eyes, brimming with confusion and all kinds of other emotions that just made me want to scoop him up and give him a hug!

Never the less he was daubed in blue and then dragged off by “Little” to join in the Haker/Hokey practice.

Whoever thought of giving Edwin, Johnson to take care of this term, played a master stroke…Edwin is a brilliantly responsible “Big Brother” and a fun one too;and it has taken his mind off of his own “losses”.

The morning ended as it had begun, with quiet being asked, for the HM`s closing speech…flowers being given to the head boys Mum…then the dignitaries were pushed hurriedly to a safe distance, as the winning “house” was announced as Van De Bjyl [Edwin’s House!!!!!!]…the noise was deafening, the commotion riotous, hooters and tambourines and drums being hurled indiscriminately into the air, sore throats were made even sorer, and the now wobbly blue stripes on the winners faces, were all but cleared by the sweat and the emotion of the win. The blue “pen” ,was filled with hugging warriors, frantic air punching, war screams and unbridled ecstasy.

Cautiously, parents began entering the mêlée, grabbing their horribly “pumped up” darlings, and forcibly dragging them back to their 4X4`s, destined for baths and a calming afternoon I imagine.

Wow!!!!! Quite the most extraordinary sports day I have ever attended!

The elusive S.A National Art Gallery

After lunch and swimming, the three guys went golfing and Edwin and I, decided to find the S.A.National Art gallery .The boys dropped us off near the centre of cape town and carried onto the golf course, and with the help of a rudimentary map [supplied by the hotel], Little and I began our search. I’m not good with maps anyway, but even Little confirmed that it was very hard to make sense of.

To our horror, not one person that we approached…not even the policemen…. knew of the National Art galleries existence, I knew that it was very close to the government buildings ,and in the end, kept asking for these. After 45 minutes of tramping, we eventually found it. An oasis of calm, in what was threatening to become a rather frightening expedition.

They were showing an exhibition of William Kentridge`s “I am not me, the horse is not mine” a multi channel projection installation of 8 film fragments. Very amusing and clever, and Little and I sat in the cool gallery in absolute delight watching it. Loops we talked of you and wished that you were with us…. you would have loved it.

A rather racy exhibition of the later works of Andrew Verster…fascinating but rather explicit [toyed with covering Little`s eyes! but decided if I had made a decision to take him into a contemporary art exhibition, I should also have the courage to explain the work].

Many works in the “ Intimate distance” exhibition, were singularly “African” and I was enjoying them for their distinctiveness, when Little came and dragged me away to watch a video piece entitled “Pissing”, unsurprisingly….. it was exactly as its title suggested, we jointly decided that the best thing about this piece, was that it was fortuitously sited next to the toilets, and we were both bursting .

To our great surprise we realized we had been in the gallery for three hours, and really ought to be getting back to the hotel to meet the golfers, so grabbing a rickety taxi, and Little insisting I put my seat belt on as he “didn’t like the sound of the engine”, we made our way back.

We did have the most wonderful weekend, full of lots of laughter, plenty of surprises,& supper in a stunning sea food restaurant in Clifton, Saturday night.

So wishing Little farewell on Sunday afternoon was hard…neither Big nor I were ready to give him back at 2,.00 on Sunday, nevertheless we walked him up to the computer room to join the other boarders and it was heartwarming to hear them all greeting him as he strode through the door before us. Shrieks of “EDDY”, “Eddies back” were very good to hear, and by the time we entered the room, Johnson was already by the side of his “Big Brother”, clutching his hand and staring rather crossly at us for taking him away for the weekend!

The Consequences of Bored Dane puppies!

In our absence from the farm, Bee and Bongo [& Binky], had been looked after by Valencia [from the office]she , and her family, had moved in on Friday night for the weekend, but had to be home on Sunday morning, so Moses had taken up the responsibility of the dogs from 10,00am.

When we returned at 8.00pm, Moses was looking very crestfallen and concerned. Bowing and ducking and wringing his hands, as we wearily, jumped from the car.

He tried to explain in Afrikaans and broken English that all had been fine, until he walked the mile or so into Marchand, during the late afternoon. But by the time he had returned:

“Little doggy…he eat the sofa!’….Bossy rather ridiculously repeated “Little doggy eat the sofa?”……

“Yes Bossy…..Little doggy…he eat up the sofa” replied Moses, delighted to have been understood!

So we raced into the farm, and sure enough Little doggy DID eat up the sofa!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Bongo has managed to excavate a large portion of one of the seat pads, tearing great strips of leather off and burrowing into the white foam underneath with great enthusiasm…huge amounts of little foam pieces having been spread liberally around the room.

Bee was sitting looking utterly ashamed of Bongo, who was so delighted at our return, he forgot that she had told him to look utterly crestfallen ,and was wagging and racing in circles ,doing rabbit ears and bringing little gifts of foam and leather to us…causing Bee to wince in horror.

As unfortunate as this is….I cannot see the point in getting furious with a great Dane puppy, who is left with far too many hours alone, in which to entertain himself…we cannot expect to have a “puppy saint”…all of his toys had been hidden away, both dogs had been left with complete access around the house, and there was already a small rip in the sofa from Bees claw…what is a bored 14 week old Dane going to do? RIP THE LIVING DAYIGHTS OUT OF THIS SOFA, GIVEN A FEW SPARE UNSUPERVISED HOURS. And this he had accomplished with alarming effectiveness.

This, and a companion sofa,are the pair that Edwin had “sold” to The Raisin Company,from his “Exotica Range”, for the foyer, but which we had “Borrowed” to tide us over until we can find suitable sofas of our own!. They are of poor quality leather and are foam filled…clearly not able to withstand the demands of great Danes! [Mercifully Bossy has already located an upholstery company in UP, that specializes in re covering leather furniture!]

It doesn’t bode well for our planned departure next weekend for Little`s birthday…but hey…perhaps we can find an alternative solution. Maybe we will have no furniture left at all to worry about by then.

Adieu for now

Before I forget, I have been having a little trouble with my mobile…and can’t collect any messages from my UK mail box. So if you call and leave a message there is no way of my accessing it.

Jessie is now safely back in the UK, Finn has his ticket booked for his trip our here at Easter, and Tommy continues to make great progress in the recovery from his knee op.

Can’t wait to see my family and as many of you as possible in less than a month now!

Love and kisses to all

DawnXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

PS: The man came yesterday {tues 17^th Feb],to suss out our internet line and mast…its looking likely, that I may have some sort of connection at the farm by the end of the week………I cant quite express how overly excited I feel. Cusping on doing a Hakka/Hokey and chanting at the top of my voice!

7^th Feb 2009

RAIN a most familiar and welcome friend!

Almost 5 months since our arrival, and this morning [sat 7^th Feb] we awoke to rain!, heavy burgeoning rain, that slaps and bounces of all the hard surfaces ,making everything shine and glisten and turns the bleached ,sandy landscape several tones darker.

This is only the second time that we have seen any serious precipitation from above. Hurrah!!!!

Over the past two days the expected dry heat of mid summer, has turned into such oppressive and intense humidity that everything and everyone has sagged under its weight. Even the washing has refused to dry!. This mornings rainfall is perhaps going to clear the air, and supply all living things with a backbone again!.

I’m shocked that you are all still in the grip of heavy snow storms and the consequent disruption the weather brings….I imagine any joy at seeing plenty of white stuff”, has long since lost its charm, for all but the children.

I

had been avoiding making my second trip into UP, this week, because of the heat, however it couldn’t be postponed any longer.Edwin s father and colleague,Case, arrive from Holland on Monday for a week, and I have yet to get bedding, and all manner of “other necessities” for the third bedroom and bathroom. Armed with a long list, I hit the road at around 9.00 am.on Friday.

Arriving in a bustling Up at 10.00, I began to attack the list, cracking on through it and rewarding myself with a much earned coffee break at “DROS” ,[well known chain of steakhouses ,the name makes me titter every time I see it emblazoned across the building].

Here I received a surprise call from Di…what joy.

Fortified in every sense, I continued with my list, I managed to get a book on South African birds, one on indigenous plants and another of Cape Malay cuisine.

To my serious disappointment there were no suitable ” Bronco Lane throwing knives” in Tracker…some massive machete style knives in long leather sheathes. Knowing how accident prone I am, I could visualize this weapon, being nothing other than disastrous… and wasn’t remotely tempted.

The man in the shop assured me that he would be getting new stocks of “exactly the type of knife” i.e: “Bronco Lane throwing knives”, that I wanted, in the next two weeks…and that they had had “something of a run on them since Christmas”…As far as I’m concerned, this simply goes to prove that I am after the right kind of knife, and that all sensible souls out here are arming themselves against the seasonal hazard of snakes.

Disappointed, I turned my attention to accessing an internet flash stick…alas….not one to be had in the entirety of UP. Making me unusually grumpy.

At around 2.00 I gave up and made my way back o Marchand ,gliding along happily in a world of my own, following the car ahead of me at a safe distance as he was spinning along at a speed that did not need exceeding.

About 15 miles before home, I became aware of his break lightsurgently flashing, I then spotted the silhouette of what looked like a large animal ,further up,in the middle of the road [sun was in front of me]. It was, in fact, a very large policeman.. Waving at both cars, to pull over.

I had no idea of what speed I had been driving , just pleased to be heading homeward out of the heat, which I am sure had encouraged a little extra pressure on the accelerator.

After a conversation with the driver in the first car, the large policeman sauntered towards me. At the same time, the other driver got out of his car, opened his boot, and, crossed the road carrying a large box, heading towards the policeman’s female colleague, who was standing by the police car with a speed gun, on the opposite side of the road.

Thank the Lord, I had my driving licence.Taking a look at my plastic licence,this large black policeman began to quiz me as to what the“MS” stood for, before my name, assuming that “Dawn” was part of my surname.Ie : M.S Dawn-Evans.

Instead of being intimidated, I started to feel a little irritated and slightly rebellious, actually toying with the idea of inventing a fictitious set of details and taking advantage of his confusion ….Gerrit and Marrika have warned both Bossy and I, on many occasions, to keep our gobs firmly shut in just such a situation, and whatever we did to “tow the line”.

…out of the corner of my eye, I was vaguely aware of my “co captive”, placing his box of “whatever”, into the now, open boot, of the police car.

Once again. irritation surged up inside me; I made an instant decision, that I was certainly not prepared to hand over the duvet, pillows ,the sheets , towels and soaps that had been so hard won, during a hot shop in UP. Nor was I prepared to forgo the half case of red wine [Opa prefers red!] that I had purchased in a “deli” way out on the Olifant Road heading towards the airport,and that had taken me ages to find.

So I firmly set my jaw. Towing the line was one thing; being dragged over it by the nose was quite another. Just give me a ticket and let me be on my way!

After a few more questions the policeman decided to walk methodically around the car. So I decided to light a cigarette and watched my co prisoner being released and waved on his way, by a now….very chirpy lady policeman, …Why is it in these situations that the oddest things pop into ones mind! I couldn’t help but notice, she had the most enormous derriere , that I have EVER seen, it was squeezed into the tightest pair of policepersons trousers, the seams of which must have been screaming under the pressure of the repressed buttocks and thunderous thighs, underneath!…

In my mirror, I saw, the policeman was staring in through the back window at the contents of my overloaded boot. Prickles of protection for Opa`s bedding and wine starting to run up and down my spine now and I was bracing myself for a tousle…..He returned to my window and said.” In England you drive on the same side of the road…Yes?” I nodded. He continued

“The Tuareg is a fast and comfortable car,yes?”,another nod,”& I imagine that it is very easy to drive over the speed limit on these long straight roads.” No nod.

“There IS a speed limit of 80 kilometers in force here, please observe it in future…and have a safe trip home” with this he waved me onwards….Clearly he neither liked my white duvet covers nor did he drink red wine! Bossy and his friend Nikki ,who were both at the farm when I returned, were utterly gob smacked, that I escaped without having to hand over anything! I have relating this story in a slightly flippant manner, however I really never felt remotely threatened , was quite prepared to “pay a speeding fine”, but was and AM adamant ,that I would and will hand nothing else over. The moral of this tale, is to watch the speed limits and stick to them…… of course!

INTERNET ACCESS DENIED.

The reason for my grumpiness over not finding an internet device is as follows..

At the end of January, the office ran out of its internet quota three days before the close of the month.[as it had done in December], I was accused of being the cause, and fought my corner, as I had only managed to get into the office three or four times.

On Sunday 1^st Feb, knowing we were back to “full capacity”, I went in and uploaded my pre written blog from my flashstick.

On Tuesday and Wednesday I spent a couple of hours catching up on emails and uploading some pictures to the blog. Apparently we have now, already, used 75% of our monthly capacity and it’s all my fault. Edwin is furious with me, it being “busy season” . Whilst I cannot believe that I am wholly responsible. I shall have to find some alternative means of interneting.

Kak has apparently got an internet café, so I may have to avail myself of this, until the mast [that has been promised since November] is erected, and functional on Gerrit`s farm. Although deep in my waters, I have a sneaky suspicion that this will disappoint.

In all seriousness, this blog, with all of its photos, does take up a huge amount of internet energy, and I may have to put at least the first half of it into “cold storage”, I had no idea of quite how many pages of “blog” there are now.

After I have printed them out [I don’t keep copies] ,I will put the data in cold storage if I can. I may even have to start a new blog; if this is the case I will put the new address on this one.

I really am feeling really very anxious, as this blog along with my email facility, is ,as far as I am concerned a “core” need, for my continued existence out here,and.I WILL NOT SURVIVE FOR LONG without it!

Birds in the” Dry Bushveld Savannah”

Armed with my “pocket guide to South African birds ,by the wonderfully named Burger Cille and Ulrich Oberprieler,I have begun the task of identifying some of the birds around the farm.

The doves/pigeons that appeared in the last post are rather sadly, “Speckled Pigeons” and can be found on cliffs, rocky hills and kloofs. [In our case on our garage roof!]

I say “Sadly”, because seeing a very similarly marked pigeon on the same page of the book, just underneath my speckled boys, I noted this brand of pigeon are called ”Feral Pigeons”…the idea of pigeons being “feral” fills me with delight…manic wild birds that fly around the desert landscape, reeking havoc and fear. Sadly it’s not to be, this “feral type”, can only be found haranguing the locals off the East coast. So I shall have to be content with my mild mannered speckldy boys, and hunt for more exotic birds, somewhere other than the garage roof!

In this respect, I decided to study the book, and ascertain exactly what I can expect to see in this “Dry Bushveld Savannah” that I now inhabit.

Henceforth, I shall dispense with pigeons and concentrate on:

Chestnut-vented Tit-Babblers, [how I look forward to seeing these!!!!!]

Zitting Cisticola[ sounds like a Fizzy” ladies” complaint!],

Long Billed Crombie [avant garde Hat!],

Black chested Prinia, [Evil ballerina?]

Violet eared wax bill,[ear buds needed I think!]

Rufous eared warbler, and the “Laughing dove”…I think that messrs Cille and Oberpieler are “joshing” me.

Nevertheless, after my early morning swims and armed with my Christmas binoculars, I shall take my coffee and survey the area behind the farm ….from a safe distance of course…...being clad in only in a black “one piece” , flip flops and without my BroncoLane throwing knife![for the moment]

RETURN HOME

I have booked a flight home for two weeks in March. I arrive on 10^th and return to ZA on 22nd, Finn will be returning with me to spend much of his Easter hols here.

I am bursting to see Jessie, Tommy and Finn, Jane, Taz and and David and as many of my brilliant and wonderful friends as I can. I always knew that I had an exceptional family and group of friends. But its only now, that I am several thousand miles away, that I realize quite how many very special people surrounded and quietly supported me, it has meant such a great deal to me to have constant stream of emails and photos, letters, texts and phone calls from home. I can’t quite explain how fortifying they are, and how much I appreciate them.

I was chatting to Di, who moved to Malta for four years, in response to her husbands job commitments, and she knows exactly that feeling of separation …there are so many very kind, and good people out here…but apart from Bossy and Little, none that I have any cherished connection with…maybe its early days, but I feel the ties of home pulling at me almost continually and accepting this “distance” grows harder and harder ,as the weeks pass.

But hey…I`m British and stoical, and my stiff upper lip is pert and strong [about the only thing that is !] ,I continue to be amazed and fascinated by this land and its people, that I find myself sharing .

Having forced myself back to my art. I have found enormous comfort in immersing myself once again in Phalo green and cobalt turquoise and the rainbow of tubes in my art boxes… I had quite forgotten what a messy artist I am, and how much I enjoy being covered in colour or charcoal dust. Clearly its an important part of the creative experience for me! I did [temporarily] resolve the issue of “lack of supplies”…necessity being the mother of invention…but am building up a worryingly long shopping list for the UK. I think that I shall have to bring an almost empty and very large, suitcase, and will undoubtedly return with it hitting the scales at “excess” point.

I am going to post this now [without the usual pictures], but I will sneak them on at some point in the future.

We depart to Cape Town, tomorrow [Fri 13^th!] to take Opa and Case to the airport and then the following weekend for Little`s birthday bash, followed by a few days with Leynie back at the farm, so the next two weeks are going to be very busy.

As promised: here is an exact replication of Jessie’s account of her experiences in Ethiopia, I imagine written at speed, in a dingy internet café, somewhere in deepest darkest Ethiopia. She is traveling with fellow Imperial medic and final year student Jess Longley,and they had already spent 5 weeks working in a hospital in Gonda prior to departing for their hill tribe treck.

Take care in the “melt down”.

Blowing kisses on the lips to all [lets hope the wind is going in the right direction!]

DawnXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX