Very sadly for the Van Zyle clan, they lost their 88 year old Mum last week and we were invited to the funeral. Quite aside from it being an incredibly sad occasion it was a great eye opener into the culture of the people around here.
Around 200 people packed the tiny church [first time I have set foot across the threshold]. The ages ranged from ancients who were wheeled in in chairs to the very young. There were many families with small children there, who sat rigid and quiet and appeared to be taking in every word of the service.
The Kirk is quite fearsome in its austerity.With whitewashed walls and a few strategically hung tapestries encased in glass, shrieking silent orders at the congregation, in capitalised Africans.
As the temperature was approaching 40 degrees outside and there was no air co inside ,Bossy and I soon found ourselves melting into the pews..it was difficult to concentrate as the address was being made in high Africans, and I felt unable to use the service order to fan my face for fear of drawing attention.
Bossy and I had dressed so that we would camouflage..very understated, as there were many there that frowned on "infidels" even attending to show their respect, but Niki and Magda were insistent upon our presence.
At one point I was aware of the Reverend directing his comments towards us,and people staring from under their eyebrows at us. After a suitable pause Bossy whispered that we had just been highlighted as foreigners who had turned their backs on the Good Lord....Nice.
By this stage we had sweat pouring down our faces, necks backs...the only comfort was that the rest of the congregation seemed in a similar position and we hadn't been singled out for the treatment..either by the Reverend or a greater force!
To my amazement we went to the burial.
The burial ground is a drive away from the church and is surrounded by vineyards on a large plot of flat sand. This burial ground is for "whites only" which was the first rather shocking realisation. When I looked around the graveyard , I realised that no expense had been spared on any of the headstones and very grand mausoleum type, family structures. In such stark surroundings it all seemed rather incongruous.
There was a mechanical coffin lowering device that was encased in plush velvet and had plenty of shiny golden bits of scaffolding under it to support the coffin..and as it rather spookily lowered itself into the cement lined hole in the sandy earth, a choir of workers from Niki's farm started the most baleful rendition in a range of different harmonies. It was incredibly moving but also quite strange..watching the biggest most flashy coffin being lowered into the desert sands accompanied by the strains of pure African voices singing a rhythmic tribal lament.
All very sad as you can imagine.
I was aware of the great bond of "Community" with these farm people..they support each other to the hilt through life`s tragedies and joys, and the church is the centre pin upon which they are anchored.
Despite Niki and Magda`s insistence on our being there....never more have I felt like such and outsider and despite empathising hugely with the families grief, I came away feeling that even in death there is a vast chasm between those who "Have" and those who "have not".
Sorry to end on such a maudlin note..but the next story may cheer you.
AUTHONOMY
As you know I am enjoying the upward trajectory of ARK on Authonomy.
There is a forum on the site, for the writers to discuss writing issues and swap hints. Bitch about each others work and wail that their book is not moving "up the charts".
On this forum someone has started "the longest ever poem by the largest number of people" thread.
Now having always dabbled in a little poetry writing myself, I decided to go and have a look and see what it was like..well it rather caught my attention, and after the first cautious stanzas..I have become a "regular"contributor. The person who started the thread emailed me and thanked me for my valuable contributions and explained that they were away for several days and would I "look after" the thread and make sure that I didn't let it fizzle out. " Of course I will" I replied.
My problem is that the prose seems to keep falling into the dour and miserable rather too readily,and after towing the line for the past several weeks I have begun to tire of all the misery. A fellow authonmite clearly felt the same, and lifted the Longest poem by writing about dragonfly's.
Since the idea is to be inspired by the last few lines of the latest post, I was delighted to continue on the dragonfly theme.
The person who posted after me then became maudlin again.
I lost the plot big time yesterday, and wrote a catchy little ditty about a DUNG BEATLE.
I am now expecting to be unceremoniously drummed out of the Poetry club without further ado!
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