Launch of my first Novel!!!

I have just published my debut novel on Kindle Books and am very proud of myself.   If I can you can too!  
After 7 years of hard work suffering writer's block and procrastination and interrupted by building a house, I have eventually realized my dream.

Please feel free to download a preview.   Go to

http://www.amazon.com/Twisted-Huguenot-Museum-Franschoek-Western-ebook/dp/B01E4HOSMA/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1460649965&sr=8-1&keywords=TWISTED+BLOOD+VINES

It is called TWISTED BLOOD VINES.

A STEP BACK IN TIME!

On our annual ‘trek’ to the Cape this year for husband to ride the Argus for the tenth time I decided that we would have to do a detour en route.   A step back in time for me!

I had been dreaming about the house and town I used to live in whilst a small child and had not visited in 50 years.   After my mother passed away I had found many photos of the town and civil society functions that both her and my father had participated in.   They are very important pieces of history and I felt compelled to deliver them into the hands of the people who would preserve them.   So a stopover in the city of WELKOM was planned.

At first my husband dismissed my request as ludicrous.   Who would want to visit such a backwater?   However he soon realized that I was serious and he capitulated and even entered into the fun of things mainly by teasing me a lot!

A bed and breakfast was found on the great Travelgound search engine and a very old friend of the family contacted to meet for dinner.   We set off from the heat of Maritzburg in March and arrived at midday in a very different heat zone.

In my mind’s eye Welkom was a dustbowl with very few large trees and shrubs and lots of wide roads and many circles.   I always remember the many dust storms we experienced when the ploughed mealie fields surrounding the town surrendered their top soil to the unrelenting wind and it swirled savagely through the centre.   I tried to explain to husband that he was not to worry about road names etc I would just lead him in the right direction as I expected the town to be exactly as I l had left it.   In fact I expected it to be a GHOST TOWN.  We had heard how mines were closing left, right and centre and how it was affecting small mining communities.

What a surprise we got!   The town had burgeoned to such an extent that the outlying ‘Koppie Alleen’, a small hill which was miles outside of the town and a real landmark, was now incorporated into the suburbs.   The streets were all still the same as the town planner had done an amazing job of laying out the town in the early 50’s and in no time at all I had guided husband to our old house.  

The house had been bought by an estate agent and was run as a business.   I went in to ask permission to take photographs and was welcomed with open arms.   They took us on a tour around the whole house and it was wonderful.   The house had been especially built for my parents by the company they had worked for in the 1950’s and a lot of the original features were still there.   The garden, originally designed by my mother had huge trees and many shrubs but what really caught my eye were the beautiful cannas and roses that bloomed everywhere.   They were my mother’s absolute delight.

From there I found my way to the school and the church my parents had been instrumental in starting and when I left were fledgling communities.   They were now green oases in the middle of the bustling city.   People from all walks of life sat on benches under the huge trees dotted all over the place.   Eating their lunches or just sitting contemplating.   We joined them and spent a wonderful few hours going down memory lane.   I was able to give the parish office photos of the church when it was just built and photos of the first service with the Bishop of the Free State of that time.   They were very excited to receive them as they had only recently started their archives.  

I also found the sports club my parents played bowls at and gave them the many photographs and speeches of which my mother had kept copious copies of. She had started the Northern Free State Bowling Association from there.  As a child I grew up on the banks of the bowling green and it was a huge endless world to me.   As an adult I looked at the area with different eyes but the memories it evoked were all happy loving ones.

The city of Welkom has become a thriving metropolis with malls and hotels, casinos and a huge Racing circuit for cars and motor cycles.   We were lucky to find a bed as the weekenders were arriving en masse for some big racing competition.

I have to say that we had a fun time exploring this backwater and would never have experienced this unusual city had I not been brought up there.   It was certainly a step back in time for me but an eye opener of how the new South Africa can work if we set our minds to it.

Road trip down memory lane!

Tomorrow we set off on a road trip down memory lane as we head to Cape Town for the Argus.
 
Our first stop will be Welkom where I grew up.   I have a lot of memorabilia belonging to my mother who started the Northern Freestate Bowling Association in the 1960's.   I intend giving it to Rover's Bowling Club where she was a founder member.

I am also meeting up with one of my brother's very old friends and we are going to dinner with him and his partner.
I cannot wait to see the old convent I started school at and the church where I had my first communion.   It is very vivid in my mind's eye.

From there we head to Beaufort West then the next morning we meet Hilda, my husband's sister, for breakfast in Laingsburg.   She farms close to the town.

What an exciting trip it will be!

The Butterfly

THE BUTTERFLY

It had been a hectic day for Tom and Jenny and as they made their way into the apartment the clock gonged the midnight hour.

‘Yipes we are late’ giggled Jenny, ‘I will never get to work on time tomorrow’.

‘Mm, I don’t know why they let these meetings go on so late especially as it is only Tuesday,’ coughed Tom.

‘Are you getting a cold?’

‘Not sure I think it is more like indigestion I have a pain in the middle of my chest’ Tom explained, ‘that’s why my speech was so bad this evening.   I just could not seem to get through my report.’ He started coughing again but this time had to run to the bathroom to throw up. 

  

‘I’ll get you some Eno’ said Jenny as she made her way to the kitchen yawning widely.

Suddenly there was a very loud snoring noise coming from the bedroom.   Jenny stopped in her tracks.   Surely Tom could not have fallen asleep so quickly, she turned abruptly and went to investigate.   As she went through the bedroom door she stopped and stared in horror.   Tom was arched backwards over the bed his eyes tightly closed, his face the colour of beetroot and his jaw locked.    The noise that emanated from him was like nothing Jenny had ever heard before.   Something was very wrong!

What happened next was a complete blur to Jenny but she must have called the ambulance, the doctor, her children and the priest because they all arrived within minutes and took over.

She had tried to administer CPR but battled.

Life as they had known it was shattered!   Tom died there in their double bed.   Jenny was numb.

The weeks after the funeral seemed to Jenny to happen on the periphery of her existence because she felt disconnected from reality!   She had gone back to work and she was there physically but mentally she was not.   It took all her strength to force herself to meet deadlines.   To sign the endless forms connected to winding up the estate.   To keep up with the many invitations of support from her friends and colleagues and her children were very worried.  

Not only had they lost their special father but their mother was slowly slipping away from them as well.

Everyone told her time would heal the hole in her heart.   Yet as time went on the hole just seemed to get bigger.

Circumstances made her sell the apartment and downsize.   Everyone said it would help her to de-clutter and start anew.   Yet that just seemed to open the wound and make her realize even more what she had lost.

It was at night that the loneliness pervaded her soul.   Jenny took to surfing the internet and kept up to date on her facebook.   She found solace in seeing the posts her children put on their pages and loved looking at the photos of her wonderful grandchildren.

Then one night as she was paging through the endless motivational stuff posted by her many friends she came across a poem.   It was like a jolt from the blue!   It read ‘Let me go!’

‘Miss me a little –but not for too long,

And not with your head bowed low.

Remember the love that we once shared

Miss me –but let me go.

For this is a journey that we all must take,

And each one must go alone

It’s all part of the master plan,

A step on the road to home.

When you are lonely and sick at heart

Go to the friends we know

And bury your sorrows in doing good deeds,

Miss me – but let me go.’

Author unknown

Jenny sat and read and re read the poem for hours.   Surely it was wrong.   Surely she should mourn her mate, her best friend, her lover.   Surely she should hold him close to her heart forever.  

Eventually it came to her in the early hours of the morning as she lay weeping into her pillow.   Tom had gone.   He was never coming back.   She would always have the memories they held so dear but she was alone now and needed to live her life.   Living in the past was not doing her any good.   Her heart was broken but she was still alive and she had to meet the mornings without him.   She fell into a deep sleep and slept fitfully for the first time since Tom’s death.

The following morning when she awoke she looked at Tom’s pillow on his side of the bed as she usually did and suddenly she sat bolt upright.   Hovering above the pillow was a beautiful butterfly.   As she stared at it a feeling inside her made her feel at peace.   She felt it was a sign from Tom to say that she had made the right decision or was it just a coincidence?

BIBLE STUDY TODAY

Today at Bible Study we watched the film called 'Son of God'.   It was a fascinating reminder of the story of Jesus.   From a small mustard seed a large tree will grow.   From one man's sacrifice we all learnt about life after death and the way to prepare ourselves for it.   From a small band of followers the Word spread until today when people are still being killed for their beliefs.
What are we doing to follow Christ this lent?

Dear Diary

15^th February, 2016.

Dear Diary,

GRANDPARENTING IS NOT FOR SISSIES!!!!

I was so looking forward to having Matt and Julia for the Valentine’s weekend.   I started preparing early on the Friday morning by getting out all the old toys I had collected in my ‘granny’ basket and giving them a good clean.   Then I prepared ‘stations’ of different activities all around the house so that they would not get bored.   The idea was to pack away each ‘station’ as they got bored with them.   Ha! Ha!   Maybe in an ideal world!

By the time they arrived in the afternoon their beds were made up, their supper cooked and a lovely apple pie and custard waited for them on the kitchen island.   I WAS ALREADY FRAZZLED!

They hit Garlington running.   Matt joined the cricket game on the green that was already in full swing.   Julia grabbed the pram (bought at the SPCA shop for next to nothing and already a great hit) and made off onto the promenade to take her babies for a walk because ‘as you know, Nan, babies need to walk’.   In fact she so enjoyed the walk that it took a lot of persuasion to return to the house as it was getting dark.   Luckily Grandpa was home and was watching the cricket game.

It took much cajoling to get them into bed that night as they were both so excited.   Matt pushed the envelope even further when he declared he was starving!   Despite not eating any of the food prepared for him as he was ‘allergic’ to everything except the chips.   The apple pie went down like a ton of bricks ‘we don’t eat cooked apples!’ they cried but the custard was eaten.   Matt declared he had a ‘leaky’ tummy until I offered him ‘muti’ to help the affliction.

The next day was much the same as we were up at the crack of dawn and I found myself at the shops by 8 am to buy Valentine goodies for grandpa with grandchildren in tow.    I had prepared lots of red card and accessories for them to make Valentine cards for their mom and dad and for grandpa.   This took up a few hours of the day.  Julia was totally absorbed and wanted to ‘stick’ all day.

  After lunch and a rest we set off for the pool.   Lots of fun was had by all of us and by the time we got home the weather had turned.   The Valentine’s picnic on the green we had planned did not come about.   The wind howled and the rain spat at us every time we ventured outside.   What a damp squid!!!

Not to be thwarted we had a picnic on the front verandah and just enjoyed each other’s company.   It is not often that we get to spend time alone with them and they have quite strong personalities and are quite enchanting on their own.

Bedtime was easy that night as we were all exhausted!

The next morning, Valentine’s day, was very exciting and much chocolate was consumed before breakfast.   BIG MISTAKE!!

Grandpa had to go to work so I had taped ‘The cat in the hat’ for them to watch while I cleaned the house and started preparing a special lunch for their parents for Valentine’s Day.   The children were going to be my little helpers.

I went for a shower while they occupied themselves and while I was enjoying the peace and quiet in the steamy shower I thought I heard a noise but I could see nothing.   Afterwards as I was drying myself and listening out for any squabbling or crying something on the side of the shower glass caught my eye.   A bright red plastic bullet with a sucker on the end of it, one usually used for target practice from the el cheapo guns bought in the Chinese stores, was placed exactly at the height that my nether regions would have been.   A real easy target!    My peace and quiet had been violated!

When I was dressed and had my face on I went into the lounge and casually asked who ‘shot’ me.   There was much giggling.   ‘Not me’ ‘Not me’ but they both looked as guilty as hell.

The rest of the day deteriorated from there.   They were tired, bored and had eaten too many sweets and by the time mom and dad arrived full of the joys of spring they were met by two uncooperative hellions dressed in red trying to be coerced by a sweating Nan to play along and be the darling little helpers for Valentine’s Day.

Madiba's Circus

MADIBA’S CIRCUS

A True Story set in KZN

Written by

Marilyn Mills

For the

OPEN Category

of the The Witness Short Story Competition.

It was Madiba’s 75^th birthday year and the town of Pietermaritzburg was chosen as the venue for his party.    A circus had been hired and disabled children and their carers from previously disadvantaged communities had been invited to attend.

The venue decided upon was that of Hilton College and the circus was to be set up on their rugby fields.   I wanted to go!

Rumour had it that a friend of mine had won the contract to cater for the luncheon Madiba was hosting for 300 dignitaries before the circus performance.   Many dignitaries of the new government would be attending and I wanted to be there so badly.

Why?  

I wanted to catch a glimpse of the man I had grown up hearing was a terrible bad terrorist who led an army of monsters who would kill us white people at a drop of a hat.   This is what the media of the time tried to brainwash us with.   I wanted to see the man who had been released from prison after 27 years and preached forgiveness and reconciliation.  

I was lucky.   They needed waitresses to help on the day and I volunteered.

Wear black and white, I was told, and be there early.

The day dawned bright and chilly.   It was a July morning and the drive up the hill to Hilton, which has always held me in awe at the best of times, was a most memorable and exciting one.  My thoughts were all over the place.   My little ‘muk and druk’ camera was placed firmly in my handbag and I was on my way to a great adventure.

A middle aged white woman living in South Africa was about to experience an adventure of a lifetime!

There was not much activity when I arrived at the gates of the school even though such a high profile person would be arriving.     No stringent security checks were in place that I could see.  

I had expected to be frisked and my car checked but nothing like that happened.   Our little band of ladies was put to work setting tables, arranging flowers and helping set up for the luncheon.   We were all so excited and nervous at the same time.   Not knowing what to expect.

I remember going for a walk during a tea break and seeing the activities all around the circus tent which had been set up the previous day on the rugby fields.   Police had started arriving with the bomb squad and their sniffer dogs.   They searched the circus tent and surrounds then came down to the marquee where the luncheon was going to be held.   They searched in the kitchen and the surrounding clubhouse where we had set up serving stations. 

Then the buses full of singing children started arriving.   It seemed like hundreds of them.   The school fields were soon bumper to bumper with buses from far and near and children on crutches and in wheelchairs with their carers looking after them were milling all around.   The early morning solitude was quietly disappearing and the excitement and anticipation in the air was palpable.

Rumours circulated that Madiba was flying in by helicopter at 12 noon.   We all got ourselves spruced up and the wait began!

Huge pots of curried beef, breyani and chicken curry were bubbling on the industrial stoves together with pots of rice.    Salads and sambals were made and rolls buttered and covered.   The puddings were being prepared with just the last minute assembly to be done.    Everything was under control.

The shout went up ‘Madiba had landed!’

We all went outside to see if we could spot him.   Eventually after a long time a golf cart came trundling by and in it sat a formidable white woman and a stately old man.   My heart did a flip.   There he was in the flesh and although I was quite far away I could still see him clearly.   His body guards surrounded him which prevented people getting too close.  

The Pietermaritzburg contingent welcomed him and then he was led away by his secretary to rest for half an hour.    I was agog.   Imagine him having a white secretary and Afrikaans at that!

With that a murmur started circulating from the kitchen.   Disaster was happening.   The breyani had turned.   It was bubbling and frothing.   That is not what breyani should do!   My poor friend was as white as a sheet.   How was she going to be able to feed the 300 dignitaries?   We all offered her our support and love and said it was one of those things.   The instructions went out to serve sparingly.

Eventually the marquee started filling up.   There were so many people I had seen on TV and in the newspaper.   Madiba came out from the back of the clubhouse and as he walked down I tried to take a photo of him with my trusty camera but his bodyguards pushed me out of the way.   None to softly either I might add.   I had not realised that his eyesight had been affected by the work he had been forced to do in the quarry on Robben Island and that he suffered badly when flashes went off around him.   This was explained by the master of ceremonies when everybody was seated.

We were all waiting at our stations, ladles in hand ready to serve.

The speeches went on for a very long time and as I watched Madiba rise to deliver his speech I got quite emotional.   It was surreal.   Here was the man we had been told to be really afraid of and when he spoke he spoke so gently and what he said made so much sense.   Eventually the tears were running freely.   What an injustice had been done to so many.

After his speech things moved rapidly and I cannot remember much more of the events as there were only a few of us and a lot of them to feed.   Messages kept coming from the kitchen to dish sparingly in case we ran out of food.   We should not have been worried there was more than enough and lots left over.   Madiba’s eating habits were very frugal and simple.   He requested a banana and a bit of fruit salad as his pudding.   The lavish puddings and lashings of cream were left for his guests.

Eventually as the time drew near for Madiba to make his way to the circus where hundreds of excited children waited to greet him he started making his way back to the clubhouse for another rest.   He was helped by his secretary and surrounded by his bodyguards.   All of a sudden he broke ranks and started walking towards us as we stood behind our stations.

That great man stopped and spoke to each one of us, shook our hands and thanked us for the hard work we had put into making his luncheon such a memorable one.   I remember an almost electric shock went through my body as he took my hand.   I answered ‘It was a pleasure and thank you for being you.’   Madiba just smiled as our eyes met.

He ambled to the kitchen and there were screams of delight as the kitchen staff realised he had come to visit them and to shake their hands.  They broke into song and he did a little ‘Madiba’ shuffle with them.

The rest of the day was a blur as we cleaned up and packed away cutlery and crockery.   Each one of us was touched in such a way that we would never be the same again.   I could only imagine what fun those dear children had that day and the influence he had on them and their carers.

As we have reached 21 years of democracy we have seen many good things and a lot of lousy things in our rainbow nation.   We have been affected by so much and one often wonders where to from here?   I sometimes despair about our lost children and the education they have not received and wonder what Madiba would have to say but on the day of Madiba’s Circus the hope and the love that abounded in those school grounds was certainly a red letter day for me and the disabled children of Kwa Zulu Natal.

 (Semi finalist in the Witness True Stories Competition 2015)