Between the Outeniqua mountains and the Indian ocean

This year has been quite a year for me which is why I haven’t written in a while.  True to my previous prediction, life did change for me.  It took a while and things got a bit anxious, but it seems it is all over now. 

What do you call someone who comes from George?  A Georgian or Georgette?  When I lived in Worcester I was a Worcesterite.  Am I a Georgerite?  I am, we are, from George.  Martin and I have bought our forever-house here in George and I have decided I am never going to move.  I love it here. I love our house, a renovators dream.  It has its own magic forest at the back and a real South African stoep.  My own dream house.

 I live between the forests of the Outeniqua mountains and the Indian ocean.  It rains a lot here and there are quite a few waterfalls, but after the longest spell in the desert, rain is beautiful and refreshing. The Indian Ocean is warm.  George is in the garden route of South Africa. Victoria Bay, a surfer's paradise is only ten minutes away. Also, just over the hill is Knysna and its oysters, as well as Wilderness and some of the most beautiful, scenic coast-line in the world. Everything is green and lush. The district we live is called Eden. 

The town is small and has a great Afrikaans community.  Everything is within walking distance, except of course, the new mall, which is very far away. On Saturdays they have iron-man competitions; they run past my front stoep.  Watching it is exciting.  The neighbours get their camping chairs out, sipping coffee or beer from huge mugs; the police lights flash, the dogs bark and the children wave.  What an occasion!  After that, it’s Great South African rugby and lots of braaiing. The smell of boerewors hangs thick in the air as tunnels of smoke can be seen coming from almost everyone’s back yard.  At our house however, the children and I have started our own new Sunday tradition; First, Church in town, then we come home and Matthew lights a fire and we have a braai, finished off with a Sunday afternoon sleep.  It is a routine now. Traditions are good for the soul and predictability is grounding. Something to rely on. 

The boys are really looking forward to meeting new friends at the English school here in January. They have got a huge challenge ahead of them, but hopefully it will be easier to fit in here. Nicholas decided a while ago that he wants to be a pop star.  He definitely belongs on stage and has quite a presence.  Matthew, like his father, is more of a thinker and is quietly intelligent.

Andrew has got engaged and is starting a new business venture in Saldana Bay.  At twenty-years-old, this seems like an awesome responsibility, but he takes it all in his stride.  Krystle loves and supports Andrew. I can see that they are happy together and they communicate well. To me this is a good start.

Jayne is in Port Elizabeth and is doing very well in what she does.  She has just moved into Andrew's old flat.  I am looking forward to seeing her closer to Christmas when she takes a break from her very busy work schedule. She also has a dream of starting her own business one day, but is struggling with the path. I am very confident in her abilities and support her decisions regardless.

Martin is still in Nizwa.  I miss him every moment of every day. I know he misses us too.  He would have nine months left on his contract, if he resigned before too long. Martin has been promoted to TOEFL Lab Supervisor which means that besides doing the work he did before, he is now also teaching.

I managed to get a four month old Dalmatian-cross puppy whom we like to call Archie, who bites everything and is growing by the nanosecond. He is keeping our boys very busy at the moment.  He has one black eye. We have to take our little Archie down to the botanical tea gardens most days otherwise he sits by the door, leash in mouth.  Yesterday I bought him a huge cow leg-bone and he hasn't stopped grinding his teeth on it.  The whole night there was a kind-of grating noise coming from his bed. I think tonight I am going to let him sleep outside.      

Looking for a job is proving to be difficult.  The people around me tell me I should hang in there.  I will get one. It’s just a matter of time.  Since I am now in my third year of studies, I would like to somehow combine my love for psychology with my previous work experience.  I am struggling with this at the moment.  I do love to work and need to contribute to our finances.  To quote Rogers - Life is a struggle for meaning.

What has happened though, and this is important, is an imperceptible shift of consciousness here.  If I leave now, there will be a small space where I left. Because I haven’t been here that long, it’s only a small space, but I’m going to work on growing that space.  I am recognized as a person and I am important. The people at the shop, at church, at the library and even my neighbours, all recognise me. The call me by name and I am no longer invisible. I have found a very small space in the world that I fit into, which is mine. I have found my VOICE. 

Stoepstories

I read the other day, that the stories Athol Fugard wrote were mostly autobiographical, or stories of his own life although, he describes his work as fiction.  Some characters, certain attitudes, most noticeably that dehumanizing policy, apartheid, creep up in his work and fill his pages.  I ask myself what, as a white English-speaking South African, would I write about?

Would it be the controversial BEE policies, which is the reason I live in this dustbowl? - I am currently studying and living in the Middle East.  Would it be the mess the ANC government, with absolutely no consequences, has put South Africa in?  JM Coetzee wrote about the powerlessness of white males in his book, Disgrace. He writes that us whites should all start again from a point of disgrace.  Perhaps I should write my stories from that angle, since it is what we whites are all experiencing at the moment.  But these attitudes are easier to reflect upon, I am sure, while Coetzee is sipping his Australian wine.

If I were to write an account, my account, of apartheid, would the ANC government ban me from being too controversial?  Would I go live in America like Fugard, Anne Landsman, or Tony Prile. Perhaps they will ban me like the then South African government banned Breyten Breytenbach for marrying the wrong person and just being too outspoken.

Just lately Zuma has mentioned several times that if you toe the line with the party, your business will flourish. Is the converse also true then?  He does rather seem hellbent on giving all South African children his own peculiar measure of education, or is it ‘uneducation’. I ask myself, what is he doing to all of us as a nation, and to me and my children? Will they even be able to read the mutterings that I so dedicatedly put down. Will my grandchildren?

It is my belief that a child is brought up, not only by school, but by a myriad of experiences within the community where he/she lives - a kind of shared ubuntu.  Perhaps it is these other experiences I should write about then and not about the unequalness and reverse-discrimination policies; about how my children formed their own unique characters and attitudes.  As a junior nurse many years ago, I looked into dying people’s eyes, heard their regrets and achievements, all of which seemed to be centered about their own family. That is what I shall focus on - mine.  A kind of autobiographical essay with, of course, a lot of imagination to fill the pages.

I have started a new blog, a blog for my children, so that one day they will remember how it was.  They carry these stories inside of them. It’s in their eyes and in their attitudes. Thank you Athol Fugard, for showing me the way. I called it Stoepstories. Enjoy!

http://stoepstories.blogspot.com