WELCOME 2020

2020 is going to be a momentus one for us.   We celebrate our 45th wedding anniversary, our daughter's 40th birthday and our 70th birthdays!

But in my mind it is going to be the turning point in all our lives!

Two years ago our eldest son left this country with his wife and two children to make a new life in New Zealand.   It felt like they were going on holiday and it did not really sink into my reality until I went to visit them and saw just what a life they had. 

They had the life we had been striving for all our lives!

Clean, orderly, disciplined where everything works, where taxes are used to upgrade all the facilities for the people and most importantly where they are safe.   I wanted that life and I want my children and grand children to have that life.
Just yesterday our youngest son set off with his wife to the same destination.   My heart is so heavy to see them go.
It is so far away but we are not alone.

There are millions of young South Africans who have left these shores to pursue a better life.   They cannot find jobs here because of the colour of their skins.   Indians and Coloureds are not African enough and Whites are the Colonists and therefore the enemy.

Our youngest son spent a week with us before leaving and he contacted ten of his very close friends to say goodbye.   Of the ten only two planned to remain in South Africa.   Several were already out of the country and home visiting family and others were packed and ready to make the move to far flung places,

This can only do a lot of harm to the South African Economy as their tax base gets smaller and smaller.   However the government has only got itself to blame.   The policies they are passing left right and centre to try and rectify the wrongs that apartheid did are only going to shoot them in the foot.

How will we attract investors if they are continually being targeted?   How will they manufacture goods when loadshedding interferes with the daily running of our lives?   How will they consider bringing their families to this country where crime is the only occupation that makes money?

All I know is that I long for a peaceful, life where I can travel freely. where all amenities are up to date and all state owned enterprises work.

If I could I would follow my children!

THE RHYTHYM OF THE RAIN

THE RHYTHM OF THE RAIN

A TRUE STORY SET IN

KWA-ZULU NATAL

In Kwa-Zulu Natal we all know there is one constant – the weather.   It could be rain, hail, wind, snow or unbearable heat, you name it, we experience it! 

 Floods that ravage the lands and ruin lives, tornados that destroy buildings and crops, snow that blocks roads and cuts off communities for days on end, high tides and massive waves that eat away at our coastline.   Not to mention droughts that cripple farmers, ruin lives, human as well as animal, and fires, the horror of which leaves communities reeling.

The year was 1985.  

Kwa Zulu Natal had just recovered from a mean drought and South Africa from a major economic recession.   In Pietermaritzburg we had experienced water shortages never experienced before nor since.     Drastic measures were taken which saw all residents of the City using grey water to wash clothes, fill toilets, water gardens and wash cars.   Hosepipe use was banned.  

The relieving rains began early in the year and the dams filled.   The economy picked up and people were optimistic about the future.   Water restrictions were lifted and life started to return to normal.

One Sunday in February saw us awake with the sparrows, ready and eager to try out our new boat on Midmar Dam. Picnicking with our friends was our favourite pastime and having a boat was a real treat.   Dawn held the promise of a blistering midday.   A perfect family Sunday!  We packed the boat full of the necessities for the day and set off on our adventure.

Our newly acquired life jackets held the most important position in the boat together with an old miner’s hard hat which had to be worn by the person steering the rudder in case the boom swung around too quickly and hit them on the head – we were greenhorns!   Little did we know what awaited us!

Setting up camp took time but everybody pitched in good naturedly.   The quicker we did it the quicker the fun would start.   Family and friends started to join us and the party grew bigger.   Some brought their own boats and soon there was lots of activity taking place.   It was very festive.   There was hardly a breath of wind and at times the paddles came out to get the boats back to shore.

Braai fires were lit and soon the sweet smell of meat cooking filled the air.   What more could one ask of life?   Lazy, hazy, holiday days!

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The only shadow that blotted the day had been the arrival of a group of loud students who had parked next to our camp.   They opened their car doors and played their music at full throttle, they drank copious quantities of beer and were quite a rough lot but we ignored them and wished they would go away.  We would not let them spoil our perfect day.  

At around 2.30 I noticed a few of the more experienced sailor types starting to pack up.

‘Where are you going?’ I asked.

‘See those clouds over there.   They look ominous,’ was the reply.

‘Just a few little clouds,’ I scoffed.

We said our goodbyes to the ‘party poopers’ and carried on sailing.   The wind that had suddenly sprung up made our sailing so much more fun.   We were dipping and rolling all over the place.   Balancing the yacht by hanging out over the edge became quite an adrenalin pumping exercise.   

Eventually it was my turn to sit out and I gave the gathering clouds a cursory look.   A little worm of anxiety started to snake its way around my gut.   Maybe it would be a good idea to pack a few things into the car just in case the heavens did open.   The clouds were, by this time, banking up quite ominously and the wind had whipped the dam into a sea of high waves.

I managed to attract my husband’s attention out on the dam and beckoned to him to return with the children.   The feeling of anxiety was now growing as I watched more and more people hurriedly pack their cars and leave.   I did notice though, that the students were not moving!   In fact they looked as if they had all died.     They were draped in various positions under the car, in the car and half hanging out of the car.   Only the music reverberated from the speakers.

We debated the situation and decided that, as we were having such a good time, we would batten down the hatches and wait out the storm.   It probably wouldn’t amount to anything!

Quickly we pulled the boat up to higher, dry ground, let down the sails and, after stuffing all our things into every nook and cranny we could find in the car, we climbed aboard and parked the car under a tree for protection in case it hailed.   The heavens opened!

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And open they did!   Sheets of rain, blown by gale force winds, hit us unrelentingly.   Lightening streaked the sky and frightening thunder claps hit the air.   Mayhem ensued.   Trees around us were being uprooted as we watched helplessly.   The car rocked from side to side with the force of the wind.   We were at the elements’ mercy and there was nothing we could do.   Suddenly I heard my husband cry ‘the boat, the boat’, and with that he opened the door and literally flew out of the car as the wind whipped the door from his grasp. ‘Come back,’ I cried, ’don’t be mad, you can’t do anything.’ But he was gone.

The yacht had literally taken off like an aeroplane.   It lifted up into the air and flew straight into the dam.   My husband ran after it.   I saw the students all clamour out of their vehicle and follow my husband into the water.  While the rain pelted and the wind howled around them they formed a human chain and with incredible strength managed to pull the yacht out of the water back onto dry land.   Somehow they managed to secure it and while patting themselves on their backs and shaking hands they started making their way back to the cars, doubled over against the force of the wind.

Then the strangest thing happened.   For some reason the students, and my husband, ran back into the dam.   They were shouting and diving in and out of the water like mad things.

It seemed like forever that they just kept on diving into the muddy, churning waters over and over again.   Then one of the students ran out of the dam and went to their car, looked into the window and then yelled at the others.   That stopped the antics in the water.   They all ran back to their car laughing hysterically, including my husband.

Later, when he was towel dried and safely back in the rocking car with his very worried family, my husband explained that the students had thought that one of their friends had drowned because they did not see him get out of the water.  That was when one of the more sober students went to check the car and found that the friend had, in fact, not been involved in the rescue at all but had passed out on the back seat of the car and had missed  all the fun!

The storm raged on regardless!

Cars were being crushed by falling trees.   Boats had capsized out on the water.   Caravans were crabbing towards the edge of the dam as they were pushed by the force of the wind and the rushing storm water.  

Just as it had come so the storm suddenly abated.   The sun came out and before us lay the most amazing devastation.   Cautiously we got out of the car and surveyed the scene.

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The sky was an incredible cobalt blue.   The wind was fresh and strong but no longer held any danger.   The dam had risen by at least three meters.   Boat hulls were scattered all over the dam, broken masts and crushed cars could be seen, even an ablution block had been hit by a fallen tree.  An eerie stillness hung over everything as shocked and traumatized people slowly emerged from their hidey holes.     

 A mutual camaraderie was formed among us as shocked stranger talked to stranger and neighbour helped traumatized neighbour. We had survived!

It was only the next day when we read the headlines in the Natal Witness about the real horror and mayhem created by the storm that we fully realized what danger we had been in and how lucky we had been to come away with no injuries or damages to the car or the boat.   Others had not got off so sparingly.   Communities around the area were flooded and many wattle and daub homes had been destroyed.   People had lost their possessions and were left destitute.   A disaster area was declared!

To this day as I watch the clouds form over Midmar in the early afternoons I am reminded of the mayhem the storms can create and I think of the rhythm of the rain, gentle and kind to the crops in the fields, the gardens in the suburbs and life giving sustenance to the many rivers that flow to the sea but it can be wild and unexpected bringing death and destruction to all in its wake.

It is the rythym of our home – Kwa-Zulu Natal!

THE PORT OF KATAKOLON

THE PORT OF KATAKOLON

Many people are embarking on cruising holidays these days and one of the many stops on all the Cruise Liners’ itineraries is the Port of Katakolon in Greece.  It is the gateway to Mount Olympus and the many wonderful excursions around the area.   Yet there is nothing ever written about the Port of Katakolon itself.

My husband and I signed up for a wonderful cruise from Genoa back to South Africa via the Suez Canal.   A trip of a lifetime!   We stayed a few days in Rome en route to Genoa and spent our days on the hop-on-hop-off bus exploring the beautiful city.   So by the time we got on the cruise at Genoa we were ready for some good ‘r and r.’

Each port we stopped at there were excursions organized by the tour group and as our boat had 2500 guests and crew members you can imagine the logistics of getting them on and off the boat.   We had decided earlier on that we would wait until everyone had disembarked then we would take a leisurely stroll around the ports to find what was interesting.

We entered the Port of Katakolon during the night and when we awoke we were delighted at the sight of the little village nestling in the side of the mountain.   Several larger Cruise liners were docked in the port and the thought of hustling with all of the tourists at Mount Olympus was just too much.   We decided to have a leisurely breakfast and make our way into the village after all the buses had departed from the quayside.   It was a beautiful day and the azure waters of the Mediterranean beckoned.

The walk from the boat to the heart of the village took five minutes and although there was a municipal strike on and many large black bags lay waiting to be collected the village still had a wonderful charm about it.   Little houses with many colourful pot plants lined the streets and the interesting shops displayed their wares outside on the pavements.  It was bright and beckoning I felt quite giddy with excitement.

We walked around the village quite easily feasting our eyes on the many activities to attract and interest the tourists.   Train rides, horse and carriage tours, restaurants and a very innovative beer and bike pub on wheels where for the price of a beer you got a bar stool attached to a pair of pedals and collectively the pub would be pedaled around the village.   It looked very festive.

We found the Museum of Ancient Greek Technology right next door to a delightful coffee shop with wifi.   We proceeded to enjoy the most interesting tour of a museum of our whole trip.   The Greeks were the creators of the most advanced technology in their time.   We saw how the use of the first belt driven motion picture was used in the automatic (cinema) theatre of Philon in the 3^rd Century B.C.   The Hydraulic clock of Archimedes also from the 3^rd Century B.C. which was the first application of gears and perpetual screws and many musical instruments and toys dating back to ancient times which used motion application of many different forms.   It was mind boggling and completely fascinating.  The museum claims to be the most authoritative and complete exhibition of its kind.

For a bit of light relief we enjoyed a lovely cup of coffee as, although the boat had coffee on tap 24/7 it was not the most appealing coffee in the world, and we missed our daily tipple.   We caught up on our Whatsup messages and emails while relaxing.

During all this time I had patiently held in the desire to go shopping albeit with my eyes only!   However the bug got the best of me and we set off to explore all the tourist shops.   Icons for Africa!   Leather goods for Africa!   I was roped into trying on some leather jackets while my husband was placed on a chair outside the shop to watch the passing parade.   He thought that was the best idea in the world.   More shops should provide husbands with the comfort of a chair and even a newspaper so that wives could spend more quality time shopping.

After a while he got really bored and left me to my own devices while he went for a swim on the beach where I met him an hour later.   He looked refreshed and thoroughly relaxed and happy.

If anyone should have the opportunity to visit the Port of Katakolon do not just drive through it on the bus to visit Mount Olympus.   Stop and enjoy what it has to offer. 

It is a gem of a village with interesting people and places to visit.

Hard times –strange times!

Hard times –strange times!

Kwa-Zulu Natal has been my home for the past 43 years and I love it!

South Africa is in my blood yet I have been through many strange times in my journey through this life.  

As a young girl I experienced the assassination of the country’s president, the architect of the abdominal apartheid, and the euphoria people felt that this would end and a new era would emerge.

This did not happen.   Things got worse.

The years of the struggle were certainly not as difficult for me as they were for our fellow black countrymen and women.   Yet we tried to fight the juggernaut that perpetuated this scourge.

I experienced the inauguration of a president who had spent 27 years in jail branded a terrorist and the euphoria people felt when he brought wonderful positive changes to our beautiful country.   He gave us such hope.

He was replaced by a president who was a sound economist but who should be held accountable for the deaths of many young South Africans who died unnecessarily of HIV Aids.

He was replaced by a president who dragged the country so far down that I fear we may never recover!

Yet the strangest and saddest thing that I have experienced happened just the other day.

We were driving down to Ballito to spend time with our daughter when I realized that I had forgotten all the meat for the braai back in our freezer at home.  This was a really silly mistake as the roads were extremely busy and my poor husband who had worked all morning and was now dodging the flying trucks along the highway did not appreciate having to make a detour.   Lunch was waiting!

I suggested we nipped off the highway at The Gateway Mall and make our way around the back of the complex to the SPAR to avoid the Saturday midday traffic and people in the mall.  So we did.   We were driving slowly around the back of the complex past the parking garages, which are four storeys high, when we were assailed by the sight of a body falling from the top storey!

‘My God, look!’ I shouted.

‘They must be filming.   It must be a stuntman,’ replied my very practical husband.

But as we rounded the corner there before us lay a young man half on the pavement half in the road.   We skidded to a halt our hearts beating to burst.   There was no one else in sight.   I was frozen to the seat.   The young man did not move.

‘Phone 082 911 for an ambulance,   I will go and see if he is still alive’ my husband said in a very subdued voice.   He, being a medical man, would know more about these things than I do.

With shaking fingers I managed to phone the number and explain the situation.   The person on the other side of the phone was very practical and very kind and very professional.   He got as much information out of me without my even being aware of it.   I was shaking like a leaf.

By this stage people started to arrive and form a circle around the unconscious, supine young man.   The sun baked down on his face and there was an eerie silence all around us.

‘Bring me a blanket’ requested my husband and luckily we had one in the car.   We stood holding the blanket over him so as to keep the sun off his face.   People just stared.   The circle of people around him and the people lining the parking lot parapets!   No one spoke they all just stared!

I prayed.

 ‘Where is that ambulance?’

While I stood there holding the one side of the blanket I speculated on what had happened to this young man.

Had he stolen goods from a shop and been chased by security?

That did not seem to be the case as a plastic packet had been found on the top storey of the parking lot with a jersey and some old clothes in it but nothing to identify the poor chap.   The person who found the packet just tossed it over the edge of the parapet without any compassion, down to where we were standing and it nearly hit the patient on the head.

What could have caused a young man to be so desperate as to jump off a building?   A low building at that!

What happens if he was one of those many graduates who have degrees but cannot find jobs?

What happens if he has a job but because of all the Black Taxes he is expected to pay he could not see the wood for the trees and could not see his way to paying everything?

What happens if he was infected with HIV/Aids and could not bear to live with it anymore?

The thoughts whirred around and around in my head.

Eventually the ambulance arrived.   In fact three arrived at the same time.   I was given a reference number and the professionals set to work stabilizing the young man who had by this time started regaining consciousness.   He looked as if he was in a lot of pain.   People started to make their way about their business.  They set off to find another spectacle to go and stare at!

We made our way to buy the meat with very heavy hearts.

I wish I could say that I had found out the reason why this poor man took this huge decision to try and end his life or even if he survived at all but I did not.  

It remains a mystery to me! 

Yet I read in the newspapers that a brilliant cardiologist took his own life because of the fact that he worked tirelessly for his own people yet they turned against him.   The students from the #feesmustfall organisation invaded his offices at UCT and treated him shockingly.   His family said the students were ‘vandals of his soul’.   He suffered from major depression because of it.

Doctors, Dentists, Veterinarians suffer terribly from this illness.

Children are committing suicide as they cannot cope with the pressures of their schoolwork.   Abused people commit suicide because they cannot live with the feelings of being violated.

Anxiety and depression are very real in South Africa.   Violence, poverty, abuse and racial tensions are some of the factors fuelling these illnesses.   It does not matter whether you are one of the highest educated people in the land or just a lowly paid serf we all have something to worry about.

The worst of it is that it is not being taken nearly as seriously as it should be.   People just treat it as being a phase.   ‘Just pull yourself towards yourself’.

That poor young man just needed help.   I can only pray that he found it wherever he was taken by that ambulance.

We are certainly living in very hard -strange times!

SAILING THE SUEZ.

SAILING THE SUEZ

High on my husband’s bucket list was the desire to cruise down the Suez Canal – or up!

It did not seem possible as the Middle East was often a no-go zone. That was until the Mediterranean Shipping Company advertised their Grand Voyage Cruise from Genoa in Italy to Durban via the Suez Canal.

The MSC  ‘Sinfonia’ was making its maiden voyage back to South Africa after reconstruction and the planned trip included visiting Greece, Crete, Egypt, Israel, Jordan, Seychelles, Mauritius and Reunion before heading back to Durban.

So as a treat for our 65^th birthdays we signed up for a voyage of a lifetime.   We worked out that if we did not sink with the boat on its maiden voyage, if we were not taken out by a military coup in Egypt or taken captive by pirates along the Somalia Coast we would be fine!

The highlight of the trip was sailing the Suez the day after my husband’s birthday.  We spent the day of his birthday celebrating but by 5 p.m. that night we had arrived outside Port Said where all the ships wait to travel in convoy through the Suez at first light.  The level of expectancy was palpable.   Sipping wine on the back deck watching the sun set and the moon rise was spectacular.   ‘Arabian Sunsets’ ‘Arabian nights’ all came to mind.

Unfortunately we were not able to disembark in Port Said because of political instability.   In fact we were not able to visit Egypt at all.

The Suez Canal was inaugurated on the 17^th November, 1869, (my birthday is on the 17^th November so all the more special to us).   It was built by the French making it possible to connect Europe with the East avoiding circumnavigating the African Continent.   It is 193 kms in length and the Egyptians had recently widened the canal so that the two convoys moving in opposite directions could pass each other at one point.   Previously the one convoy would have to move into the Great lakes area to wait for the other convoy to pass.

We left Port Said at 3 a.m. and entered the Suez Canal with an entourage of 3 tug boats and 2 pilots.   A fine haze prevented us from seeing the other ships in our convoy.

What an interesting trip ensued!

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On the Port Side was the Sinai Desert.   Desolate.   Mountains of sand and more sand!

Every 500 metres we saw military barracks and individual sentries posted on top of lonely mounds of sand.   Their solitary footprints in the sand told their own story.  

White bakkies packed with soldiers waving flags were racing up and down the road that ran parallel with the canal.

Occasionally we would see a palace made out of sand stone or a memorial of some sort.

On the Starboard side was Egypt.   Lush and green with palm trees and palatial estates.   A huge wall separated the canal from the road which was very busy with trucks and cars.      A direct contrast to the Port side!

We also noticed military barracks every 500 meters and soldiers and sentries with guns teemed around.   Every so often they would whistle and wave.   A helicopter flew over us crisscrossing from side to side.   We were very impressed when supersonic jets flew over us as well.   Security was paramount.

The ships passing through the Suez Canal definitely enjoyed a high level of security.   We presumed that because they paid so much to travel the route this was what they actually paid for.   We had been told that it cost our ship some $700,000 to use this route.

The bridges that spanned the Suez were majestic in their construction and unique in their design.   We were fascinated and intrigued.

Eventually with aching eyes and stiff necks we returned to our cabin to find  there was no TV.   It was a bit annoying as we had been enjoying CNN news and the Italian TV channel.   We seemed to be cut off from the world.

That evening the chef outdid himself or should I say the chefs, as there are about 70 of them on board.   They treated us to an amazing array of Middle Eastern dishes.

It was only the following day when we had come out of the Suez and into the Red Sea and moved into Israeli waters that communications from the outside world reached us.   We were horrified!

A Russian plane had been blown up over the Sinai Desert the previous day and they were considering it to be an act of terrorism.

No wonder there was so much visible military action all around us through the Suez!

What a target we would have made!

Despite the threat we were very impressed with the whole experience and continued to enjoy a wonderful cruise back home.

  

Cafe La Rose -Oh La La!!!

Café La Rose –Oh La La!!!

There is a hidden gem in the middle of Howick that hardly anyone knows about –Café La Rose!

I happened upon this quirky little coffee shop cum gift shop in Mare St away from the hustle and bustle of the busy CBD and was transported into another world.

The gift shop has genuine antiques as well as less expensive ‘bric a brac’.  There is something for everyone.   A florist shop called ‘The Antique Rose’ is also run from the premises and next door is a handmade furniture shop.

But it is the coffee shop that I really enjoy.   Their logo is ‘The little GEM where good friends love to meet’ and they really live up to their vision.   Quirky tables and chairs inside and out on their veranda invite you in and beckon you to sit and stay.

The shop is only open Monday to Fridays from 9 a.m. and on warm days patrons are invited to join them for High Tea (R65-00) from 4 to 6 p.m.   You are welcome to bring your own wine and chill on their verandah while enjoying their Sundowner Cheese Platter (R65-00) which includes breads and biscuits, butters and cheeses, chutneys, olives and pickles.

I have enjoyed their breakfast and lunch which were reasonably priced and very high in taste.   The menu is not vast and every day the main meal changes.   Monday is Pot Luck, Tuesday they serve a delicious quiche and mixed salad, Wednesdays are Pie chips and gravy days, Thursday Liver and Onions with Mash and Peas and Fridays they serve their special – Steak Strips on crisped croissant with Mushroom Sauce and Salad/Chips.   This is their most expensive meal at R95-00.

A soup of the day and a salad of the day are on offer as well as delicious toasted sandwiches.

For sweet treats there is a host of homemade cakes, scones and muffins.

Howick and Hilton are spoilt for choice as far as coffee shops and restaurants are concerned so it is a real delight to find this little hidden gem with affordable prices, healthy helpings and quirky décor.

To book phone 0795263940

Ms Millaround.

MY WRITING JOURNEY…

I am not afraid of writing.

It is being read that frightens me!

During my 67 years of existence art and writing have been like breathing to me.   Pencils and crayons, paper and ink are the objects most desired.   My first job was as a stationery supervisor at a large newspaper and the smell of the stationery cupboard was my motivation to go to work.

In those days mere women were only offered secretarial jobs, bookkeeping, nursing and teaching if you were lucky!    There was no need for you to go to University as you would soon be married off and then your husband would have to provide for you.

I had studied art and bookkeeping at school and when push came to shove I chose bookkeeping as my profession.   However this did little to satisfy my creative juices. Working at a prominent newspaper in their Accounting department exposed me to another world.   The world of the journalist!   

I penned letters to newspapers.   I wrote articles in local rags.   I studied Freelance Writing courses and dabbled, yet life kept getting in the way.   Husband, children, moving house, the daily grind of putting money together to help feed, clothe and educate!   It wasn’t until I started on my debut novel that I began to really take myself seriously as a writer.

I wrote a thank you letter to a magazine who had published a very practical guide to writing a novel and they in turn featured me in their magazine.   This was real inspiration because if they believed in me then I should do the same.   The pressure was on to finish the novel.

It took me five years to complete it, have it edited and send it to publishers.   It took another year to come to the realization that I had to self-publish it if I wanted it to be out there.   The launch was a heady affair and friends and family were very supportive but while signing the books I realized they were all going to read my work.

Horror upon horror!

What if they did not like it?

What if they thought the whole story line was ridiculous?

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Self-doubt set in.  My confidence disappeared. Then the wait began.

A few weeks passed then the comments came in.

Amazing!   Riveting!  A page turner!

When are you doing another one?

My editor had recommended that I take one of the characters that popped up in the book and write her story as a sequel so another book was already writing itself in my mind but my self-doubt, my lack of confidence and my insecurities kept getting in the way.

I got Writer’s Block.

I tried every other genre to get back into writing.

Poetry, short stories and a Children’s book which I thoroughly enjoyed writing and even illustrated myself.

Yet the pressure is now on to finish that second novel.   Calls are coming in daily.   Oh why did I ever start this process?

I have cleaned the house, put out the washing, fed the man and the dog, checked emails, checked Facebook and played my Scrabble games up to date so no more procrastinating…

Second book here I come.