Biorythms

I think that our biorythms play a huge role in our lives.   I know for sure that June is the month that I always feel my worst.   If I look back in time it is always round about this time of the year that I fall ill or something major happens in my life.   My earliest recollections of being ill were in Winter in Welkom in the Free State.   Dry, arid, dusty days cooped up in our house in St Helena with my Gran looking after us and making us Barley Water to build up our strength.   I lost my dad in June.   I lost my Gran in June.   I lost a baby in June.   I remember the June of 1999 when I put together a fundraiser for Animal Anti Cruelty League at St Nicholas.   I got so stressed that I went down with the real 'flu and it took nearly 4 weeks to shake it off.

This June is no different.   I have been hit so hard with another strain of 'flu.   Not Swine flu but a swine of a 'flu none the less.   The doctor says this one hits the intestines as well as the lungs.   I may loose weight if nothing else!!!

The one saving grace is that my children are all out of this environment and having wonderful times wherever they are.   Kerri phoned from Athens to say she is sitting at a Taverna having a Greek Salad and a glass of wine.   The weather is fantastic and they had just visited the Acropolis.
Bryan and Robs and Matt are enjoying themselves in Underberg.   Hopefully the weather is not too cold there.  And Rob is watching the sardines pass from the cottage in Elysium.   

It is only Derby and Joan at home who have to contend with the dreadful lurgys doing the rounds!

MATTHEW

Our grandson, Matthew, is the light of our lives.   He turned 18 months yesterday and is a really busy and active little chap.   He has his grandfather wrapped right around his little finger because which Grandpa can resist a shiny little smiley face with a ball in its arms asking to be played with?

Of course I think he is the cleverest child in the whole world (which Grandmother doesn't?) but I am convinced!   He can listen to a command and follow it through to the end like 'Fetch your Peter Rabbit book, bring it to Nan and I will read you a story' and he will do just that.

But the best compliment he paid me, and it just warmed my heart, was when he smacked his lips at my egg and bacon pie the other day, brought his bowl to me and said 'More Nan!'   

If you know my cooking you will know this is high praise indeed and one compliment I will always treasure.

Another Short Story

A MASSIVE MIDMAR MEANIE

We all know that there is one thing we can expect in Kwa Zulu Natal and that is WEATHER!   It does not matter what colour or creed you are, if you live in Kwa Zulu Natal you are sure to be affected at one time or another by some form of 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 from which the Midlands is still 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 (bath and kitchen water) to wash clothes, fill toilets, water gardens and wash cars.   Hosepipe use was banned.  

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

 Our family decided to purchase a yacht as our favourite pastime was meeting family and friends out at Midmar or Albert Falls Dams over the weekends and sailing or ski boating, depending on who had what. 

 We were really greenhorns at sailing and bought a very old Winsome Monohull wooden yacht that had seen many, many seasons on the water.   We looked forward to spending happy hours out sailing on Midmar.

That particular Sunday in February saw us awake with the sparrows, ready and eager to try out our new boat.   Dawn held the promise of blistering heat midday.   A perfect family Sunday!  We packed the boat full of the necessities for the day, and more.   Chairs, tables, umbrellas, blankets, pillows, bicycles, picnic baskets, cooler bags, food and more food, hats, costumes, balls and lots and lots of sun tan cream.  

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 (I told you we were greenhorns!)

We set off early so as to secure a spot close enough to the edge of the dam yet with some shady trees.    We were light of heart and so eager to get onto the dam.   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.   Young mothers with toddlers sat chatting on the blankets.   They swopped child rearing anecdotes while fathers and older children braved the mirror-like waters.   There was hardly a breath of wind and at times the paddles came out to get the boats back to shore.

The 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!

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 drunk 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!

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 car and follow my husband into the water.  While the rain pelted them 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 out on 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 stopped.   The sun came out and before us lay the most amazing devastation.   Cautiously we got out of the car and surveyed the scene.

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.

Eventually we packed up our drenched boat and with the help of the now very sober students and our new ‘best friends’, we cleared away as much of the debris we could to carve a path back to the road.   At that stage we did not comprehend the death and destruction that had taken place all around us.   We were tired, exhilarated and pleased with the success of our first foray into the sailing world.   We had survived, hadn’t we?

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.  

From that day on we developed a healthy respect for the storms that prevail over Midmar Dam and learnt to pack up with the rest of the ‘party poopers’ at the first sign of an ominous cloud, no matter how small!

There would be no more waiting out those Massive Midmar Meanies for us!

SHORT STORIES

Writing and reading Short Stories has become a passion with me.   The sting in the tail and a story well told holds a facination for me.   It is that time of year again where I start to think of my contribution to The Witness Short Story competition.   I have entered this competition for years now and once made it to the Finals.   It was a great experience.   I am going to include some of my entries to share with you.

THE FISHNET TIGHTS

My friend Deb is the most inspirational and innovative teacher I have ever met.     The children just adore her and would move mountains to make her happy.    One morning in a staff meeting she asked for some ‘oldies’ on the staff to join her in a Tap class with the ballet teacher, as some extras were needed in her annual  show.    Several of us fell about laughing at the thought but eagerly attended the first lesson.    If Deb could do it – we would do it!

The minute I put those tap shoes on my feet became inspired!   I had not tapped since I was six years old but, just like Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz and her Red Shoes, my feet did their own thing.    They danced and spun like demons and I loved every minute of it.   Unfortunately the back and the feet had a huge disagreement and by the end of the term, after x-rays and many hours of physiotherapy, I had to pack up my tap shoes and be content to watch the others having all the fun. 

Deb was the leader of the pack and after every class there were many hours of practicing during lunch breaks and after school.    The troupe became adept and lithe and I envied each and every one of them.

At last the BIG day arrived and I dragged my husband ,kicking and screaming, to the Hex to observe this wonderful band of ‘oldies’ do their thing.   The drums rolled and from behind the curtains out walked a wonderfully voluptuous Marilyn Munroe look-alike in a little black number with fishnet tights.   Deb in all her glory was the narrator on the night and she wove the magic of the night with her voice.   The music started and Deb turned to retreat behind the curtains but something was wrong!  Very, very wrong!    Apart from not finding the opening in the curtains she appeared to be walking very strangely.   A very good impersonation of a duck!

Eventually she disappeared into the meters and meters of fabric and the show began.   We were entranced and admired the tenacity of all the dancers, never mind the ‘oldies’ who conducted themselves with aplomb.  The babies were a delight and had us giggling with their strange antics on the stage, especially the little plump ones!   The young ladies were beautiful, elegant and serene and the Irish Tap Dancers held us spell bound.   The ‘Sound of Music’ scene was the best as we all knew the music and the story line so we were completely enthralled.

  After the show I sort out my friends and found the cast in stitches of laughter.   The story was that everyone had been asked  to wear  black fishnet tights for the first scene and, as you can only buy ‘one size fits all’ tights, this proved to be a huge dilemma for Deb who, being a rather larger than life lady, had a problem putting them on.   The legs parted company with the panty!  

The intrepid, innovative teacher came to the fore and Deb decided to tuck the stockings into her passion killers.    However this became highly impractical as she was moving all the time.   The stockings started sliding down.    Then she pinned them to the legs of her magic panties with small safety pins.   Thinking all was under control she sailed out onto the stage in her wonderful costume to begin her narration.   When she turned to go back through the curtains she found her thighs had welded together like steel!    The pins had locked and intertwined making movement almost impossible, hence the duck walk impersonation.   The mind boggles at what happened backstage at that point but hats off to the cast, they put their best foot forward and went on with the show.  

To this day the story evokes much joy and laughter in the staff room and Deb, although the butt of the joke, is always ready to share her story with us. 

 A true leader – in fishnet tights! 

AND THE ONE THAT REACHED THE FINALS

The man with the toothless grin.

I get to meet many interesting people in my line of work.   All have a story to tell if you have half an ear to listen.

The day I met the toothless man I had been hurriedly walking through the foyer of the school where I work and just happened to notice someone knocking at the front door.   I automatically opened the door and offered to help the person.   It was an old man who, after snatching his cap off his head in respect and showing his recently shaved, bald head, broke out into the merriest of smiles and gave me a huge , toothless grin.

“Goeie More, Nonnie”, he said. ‘Kan jy Afrikaans praat, want my Engels is nie so goed nie?’

I assured him that I had a smattering of Afrikaans in my vocabulary and asked him what the problem was.

‘Nee, nonnie, dis a lang storie!’ 

I offered him a seat on the bench in the foyer and sat down next to him.   The sooner we started this long story the sooner we would get it over with and I would be able to go back to work.  With that I started to listen to his tale, with half an ear I might add as I was distracted and wanted to get back to my work.

‘I am in a huge predicament he went on.   You see it is like this…’ (you must remember this was all in Afrikaans so I am giving you the shortened version!)

‘I work for the Ou Baas.   We go back many years.   We worked together on the mines in Sishen and I was his right hand man.   We grew old together and the Ou Baas bought a farm in Kaffirland.’

He must have seen my face and he laughed his huge, toothless grin.   ‘Nee nonnie, ek vloek nie’ (I am not swearing) ‘there is a place called Kaffirland, it is over there… (pointing towards the West) near to Sishen.’

‘Now, there comes a day when the Ou Baas tells me that the Jong Baas, who stays in Camperdown and has a farm there, wants the old Land Rover.   So he throws me the keys and tells me to take the ‘Blerry, ou Land Rover’ and drive to Camperdown.’

The  look on this poor old man’s face when he was presented with this expedition was a picture.   It was painful.     He almost had tears in his eyes.   HE HAD NEVER BEEN TO KWA ZULU NATAL BEFORE!

‘I took the keys and the money for the petrol and I drove from Kaffirland to Camperdown.   It took me a ‘hell’se tyd, nonnie’, and he wiped his face with his handkerchief .

‘Many hours later I found the farm where the Jong Baas lives and I drive the ‘Blerry’ Land Rover up to the front door.   There I find the Ou Nooi (presumably the Jong Baas’s mother-in-law) crying her eyes out.’    Eventually he finds out that the Jong Baas and his wife had been involved in a car accident and were somewhere in hospital in Pietermaritzburg and she, the Ou Nooi, had no way of getting to them because she could not drive.   The Ou Nooi was hysterical!

At this stage the Zulus on the farm began gathering around the man from Kaffirland, whom I presume could not speak Zulu.   They took one look at the situation and put two and two together!   Obviously the man from Kaffirland had made the old lady cry and for that he must be punished!!!

They began beating him and attacking him.

He decided then and there to get the hell out of the situation and ran for his life.   He made it somehow back to Pietermaritzburg and spent the night at the Loop Street Police Station and the rest was history.   He looked for a good Christian place that would help him in his dilemma.

At last we had come to the gist of the story.

How much help did he need I asked.

‘Net R65-00’, he said.   That was all he needed to catch a taxi back to Kaffirland and away from the marauding Zulus!

At this stage I relented.   R65-00 was not going to get him anywhere near Sishen in these days of recession but for a story such as the one he had just told with such expression and such colourful language I would happily give him the R65-00.

I was rewarded with the wonderful, toothless grin and a huge twinkle in his eye!

DIVORCE

I never ever thought that I would have to deal with Divorce in my family but it happens and that is just what you have to do - deal with it!

Today Kerri and I met with the Advocate at 8.30 a.m. who briefed her as to what would be expected of her when she appeared in the High Court as the Plaintif in her divorce case.   We walked with him through the filthy streets of Pietermaritzburg to the Supreme Court.   That was an experience in itself.   We have a beautiful City with such architecturally wonderful buildings but all I saw were the holes in the pavements and the litter and filth lying everywhere!

The Supreme Court has palisade fencing all around except at the front door and you have to go through a turnstyle to get into the court itself.   High security.   Very intimidating.   Everything inside was dark, dank and dirty especially the toilets.   I remember them building this lovely modern building and remarking what a wonderful work of art it was.   That was then, this is now.

The Advocate showed us into Court H and there we waited.   Kerri's case was the last on the list and we heard case after case of house bonds not being paid and houses and vehicles being repossesed and people being evicted!.   The judge, Acting Judge Gerhard Robberts, was an amazingly knowledgable man and made mincemeat of the advocates who had not prepared properly.   Half the cases were held down until the advocates had the correct papers and knew what they were doing!

Then the recording machine went on the blink!!!

Court was adjourned until further notice!

We panicked a bit as we were paying the advocate by the hour, however I am sure he spoke to the Court Clerk and when the court  proceeded some 20 minutes later we were next in line as the others had asked for ajournments. 

We had sat there for 3 hours and it took 3 minutes to grant a decree of divorce.   The Advocate asked Kerri a few questions, the judge asked nothing.   It was all unemotional and clinical.   For them that is!

I have done many things with my kids.   I have spent hours by their beds in hospitals, I have watched them writing major exams.   I have enjoyed their highs with them and been there at their lows but this has to be the hardest thing I have ever had to endure.   You are only as happy as your most unhappy child!

Hopefully that is an experience we never have to go through again.   Every cloud has a silver lining and Kerri's silver lining is going to shine brightly one of these days.

 

Today is the day!

I have had writer's block for so long now and my friend, Deb, has been such an inspiration to me.   She created her own Blog called older people with active lifestyles.blogspot.com and I enjoy reading it so much.   I have a really good laugh sometimes because I can just picture her getting up to such wonderful antics.   She shared with me over breakfast last Saturday how, by having a Blog, she has to be disciplined to write every day or every other day and now I can see why.   I have not written for such a while because I have not had the discipline to but now with my own Blog started I can do just that.

Today is the day that I restart my journey,   I am a writer!

FAMILIES

FAMILIES. (12^th June, 2011)

Today I felt very nostalgic.   I think it was because 41 years ago in June my father died the night he handed over his chain-of-office as the Pretoria East Rotary President.  He died at the age of 52.    Last night my brother, Richard, handed over his chain-of-office as District Governor of KZN Rotary at a gala function at the Elangeni Hotel in Durban.   He has completed a very successful year visiting and counseling every single one of the Rotary Clubs in Kwa Zulu Natal.   He and his wife, Moira, have made the most amazing friends.   They have linked up with so many like minded people in their quest to reach out to the wider community.   Just as my father did!   Had he lived longer he would have gone on to do great things for Rotary and for our country.   He was a man cut down in the prime of his life and one wonders WHY?

We celebrated Father’s Day today as my oldest son leaves for Holland tomorrow and will not be here next weekend to celebrate with his dad.   It was very special to be together.   To watch Rob surfing off Addington Beach, a new sport he is pursuing.   To walk along the Promenade with Bryan and Robynne while pushing Matthew, our grandson, in the pram.    Special to have Kerri join us at the fabulous ‘Moya on the Pier’ for lunch.  I always think of the many South African families who are parted, so many families whose children and grandchildren live overseas and who communicate by Skype and only see each other so rarely.  

I give thanks for the days and weeks we have to be together because who knows what waits around the corner for us?  Kerri takes a group of her Art students over to Europe on a cultural tour in two weeks time and Rob flies to Australia and New Zealand in August for the World Rugby Cup and who knows what wonderful opportunities await him there?    Greg and I have mini holiday breaks on a Saturday afternoon and Sunday when he is off and we have lots of fun planning them.   Each day brings a new challenge but each minute lived to its fullest makes for a wonderful memory tomorrow.

 I give thanks for being sixty-something and still living!