Night ramblings

Its 23.44 here in Oman.  The rest of my family are sleeping.  The dog is curled up in the corner of my office snoring his Arabic head off. I think he really does bark in Arabic. Spikey the invincible, wadi dog of note.

And here I am.  I tried very hard to sleep.  Closed my eyes, counted sheep, nothing worked.  Every time I close my eyes I get a picture in my head.  Im tired of trying to sleep, so I'm going to bore you with the details of this picture simply to get it out of my system. Please excuse my grammar.

I see a chair.  Its a blue chair.  It has  fish and whales on it.  Its a beautiful chair that tells stories.  It is my chair.  The fish and whales are circular in motion, fluidly swimming around.  The fish and the whales are speaking to me, telling me, whispering to me, letting me know.  Its in the corner of my room and it's from there that the rest of the house gets its look and design.  The design is uniquely me. It's like I have found my purpose and it's now swimming around my head.  It's who I am. It's what I am meant to be.  The colours are blue and cream.  Johlene is smiling at me from heaven right now. She knew how I felt, even back then when I was a awkward teenager. I think I will always miss her.

Only I sit in my chair.  I can hear the voices of my children, my daughter Jayne is the loudest. I am home, finally. Jayne is still ungraciously cautious. I knew she would be. Jayne is the link to my past and my future.  Jayne knows my stories, I told them to her when she was young.  She has forgotten them, her subconscious my treasure chest.

People say one should follow ones heart.  This chair is my home, it is where I belong.  I feel it, I see it and I know it.

The chair is an armchair.  Firm and comfortable.  When I sit in it, the stories in my head come alive and I am able to write it all down.  My fingers will not type fast enough.  The story starts writing itself.  I am a mere vessel in the jungle of words pushing forward to come out.  I wish I could tell you of the things this chair has told me.  I wish I could express it all, release the burden of my heart.  Years of observation, years of questioning, years of searching. The fish show scenes of imaginings, hearing, reading, observing, obvious fiction, my prayers, my hope and my longing.    

It is the most beautiful of all chairs.  I am going to find it, sit in it, pray in it and most of all I am going to listen to it.  It is calling me.  That is why I cant sleep tonight. 

8th anniversary

Today is the day of the spring solstice in South Africa and the autumn solstice here in Oman. Today is also my wedding anniversary.   Eight years ago my love and I committed our lives to one another under a lapa on the most beautiful beach. There were colourful potted plants dotted around us, lots of champagne on the tables, and the sound of wind chimes in the distance.

It was a huge step for us as a couple and for me as an individual.  I was very hesitant after the disaster of my previous marriage. As a couple who already had one child together, it was a natural progression in our relationship.

I have learnt many things from our relationship.  My husband is a hard task master who does not take lightly to any feelings of insecurity.  This has spurred me on to become far more confident in my own abilities.  He also is the most gentle and kindest person I know.  He is my best friend and someone I can always relate to.  In short, he has taught me that love is more often than not, a doing word, a verb, not a distant, descriptive noun. He supports me and my decisions without fail.  I feel very lucky to be with him. 

So what are we going to do here in Nizwa to celebrate our anniversary?  This is a big question.  There is no appropriate restaurant in town so celebrating with food is not an option.  Perhaps a swim in the wadi, or a ride up the mountain, or a swim in the pool.

Next week we will be driving down to Muscat for the day, so maybe we will put off today's celebrations till next weekend.  We always have such a good time shopping in Muscat.

My beautiful gannets

One of my main interests in life is food.  I love to eat and I love to cook, expressing myself creatively in the kitchen.  I am faced, like most moms, with the incessant question every single day of my life…what can I eat, Mommy?

When I was younger and living in my parents’ home, my father used to call me and my siblings gannets.  These amazing sea birds dive from a height of 30 meters, achieving speeds of up to 100 km per hour, using unique, binocular vision.  They are able to dive the deepest and eat the most of all birds. Talk about focus!

My dad was right. I can see the situation at our table over dinner.  My kids devour everything that is put in front of them with their own brand of single-minded determinedness that would make my dad proud.  When they are finished I have to clean the walls, the floor and their seats. Cooking for them so satisfying I don’t even mind the dishes.

I love to try new recipes and spend hours in front of my computer (we don’t have cooking magazines here in Nizwa) looking for new recipes and ideas.  Of course South African recipes are the best but I love and hate South African food blogs.  Their glaringly bad grammar and spelling mistakes deter my attention away from their purpose. It’s really bad and I am really ashamed of my country in this regard.  South Africa has some really outstanding chefs who show a dire lack of professionalism when it comes to presenting their dishes on their blogs.  To show my passion for this subject, I am even willing to edit any restaurant reviews, food blogs and food reviews for free.

Picnic food is really something that is high on my list of priorities too.  Interesting food that does not go bad in the intense Arabian desert heat, or soggy within a few hours and is nutritionally sound is hard to come by.  Perhaps there are some suggestions out there.

I find ambiance important when dealing with food as well.  I love sitting on my camper-chair with my feet in the waves, watching the intensely beautiful red sunset, drinking rooibos tea and eating homemade chocolate-chip cookies with my love.   

Now that is one of my main interests in life... 

Procrastination

Today is officially August and it’s time I write a new page on my blog.  We have all been very busy and I almost can’t believe that we have been back from Turkey for a whole month. 

We seem to have learnt so much in Turkey, about the food and the people.  I wish it was mandatory for everyone in the world to travel to another country at least once in their lives. It has made a perceptible difference to our lives and made us all grow in ways we least expected.      

The children are still on holiday and will be for another whole month.  We are all boiling hot here; the temperature seems to be mostly in the late forties.  Even going to the shop is a chore because one has to actually step outside. Thank goodness for electricity and aircons.  

I am teaching the boys how to cook. Matthew makes lunch for us. He can fix a salad, fry and scramble eggs, make 2 minute noodles, sandwiches, pancakes to name but a few.  Nicholas often ends up making pudding even though he does not eat sweet things most of the time. They both love to get hold of my hand mixer, sometimes with some disastrous and very messy results.  Martin always seems to be downloading the latest movies for us.  We also go swimming at the hotel, although the water is lukewarm.   

After our great time in Turkey, Martin is working again.  He has just completed the summer school session for some high school students.  It is the holy month of Ramadan now, and things are slowing down a whole lot. Because the local population is fasting from sun-up to sun-down, and because of the intense heat I think, the shop-keeping hours have been reduced.  People drive slow, walk slow, react slow.  It’s quite frustrating when you want to get somewhere quickly. Luckily this hot weather won’t carry on for too much longer.  We experienced a day of 59 degrees a week or so back and it is still pretty warm.

I am trudging forward with my studies.  This semester I took 5 modules.  I study most weekdays from about eight till one o’clock.  It’s tiring and it’s hard work.  I have a long way to go still but, I am determined to get my degree. I love it.  I love learning and I love reading so it is perfect for me.  Martin managed to find my setwork book in movie form - Disgrace by JM Coetzee. WOW, what a South African statement. It really blew me away. I had read the book before, so it gave me insight into what the characters were thinking.  JM Coetzee won a Nobel Literature prize for it.  Now I have to formulate an answer for quite a difficult question. I’m trying not to procrastinate…

Turkey

It’s our annual holiday.  Nizwa is smouldering in 46 degrees and we were all glad to get out of it. The children passed the year with extremely good marks considering they missed a whole month in the beginning.   This year we have decided to visit Fethiye in Turkey.  The holiday was initiated by extremely kind and generous friends who have a peaceful spacious haven amidst the bustling tourist hive.

We flew Turkish airlines from Muscat via Bahrain, Istanbul and finally Dalaman.   We then caught a taxi to Fethiye which is roughly 30 minutes away.   By the time we arrived in Fethiye it was dark and we were all tired.

The apartment is my kind of place.  The living room is lined with well-read books; the conservatory has an extra kid’s corner with a PS2. The apartment has everything we could wish for.  A huge bath, a shower, even aircons for the hot days and heaters for the cold ones.

Fethiye is mainly a tourist resort and an unforgettable experience. The people are friendly and very welcoming.  In the evenings, they sit outside enjoying the last of the sun, playing board games with their neighbours and chatting away in Turkish. To my astonishment, every so often I hear an Afrikaans-sounding word between sentences. 

There is a waterpark here that has slides of every description: There are tunnels, open ones, steep ones, curvy ones and gradual slides all running down to a deep splash-pool - a kid’s paradise.  We were there until poor Nicholas couldn’t walk up the stairs anymore.  He had told us that he had never encountered a slide before (he was too small to remember the slide in Salalah) and Matthew was running up and sliding down at the speed of light.  It was a lot of fun.

The drive to the cool waters of Saklikent Gorge took us through some Turkish countryside where there were acres of olive trees and tiny little restaurants that seemed to pop up everywhere.  It seems Turkey is a nation of gardeners.  The water runs freely here and the soil is fertile.  Everywhere one looks there are flowers, plants and fruit trees.  What is remarkable for me is that the roses smell of rose, the fruit smells of fruit and even the bougainvilla smells like flowers.  These fruit and vegetables are sold twice weekly at the local market where you can buy almost anything else as well.

The Mediterranean Sea is clear, cool and the boats bob up and down in the quiet water.  There are numerous stony beaches dotted along the shore.  There are boats which seem to be on every beach. One can hire one in order to go to most of the islands dotted around the coast.  One can even take a trip down to Rhodes Island which is Greek territory to see how the other half live. It is very beautiful here. I am looking forward to visiting the famous Oludeniz beach very soon.  It is said to be the 5^th most beautiful beach in the world.   

The sign says ‘You can’t leave Fethiye without watching a sunset on Calas Beach’ and so last night, as we dined on the water’s edge, eating everything Turkish -  lamb, ice cream and coffee, the sun went down behind the mountains displaying a crimson glow over the water. Even the Turkish music playing in the background seemed to lull us into a Mediterranean haze.

Well, we have eighteen more days to go.  I will write more, but for now I need to pack that picnic basket to head off on another adventure. Wish you were all here.

 

               

Those terrifying exams

I have all the symptoms.  Sweaty palms, bad mood and a far away terrified countenance of total anxiety.  My face seems permanently distorted into a frown. My ever shaky fingers scattering over my keyboard, eyes anxiously searching for clues about the exam as if the lecturers would post them online for us too read.

And its not just me.  My young Matthew is seemly getting more and more lethargic as the exam days approach.  His insolence unjustified in the light of my nervousness.  Only Nicholas seems uncaring and unperturbed as he sits on my lap eating whatever is in sight.  Chomping away as if he has never eaten.   Of course the irony of it all is that Nicholas, my little sausage, achieved the highest marks which will very definitely be repeated.

In just over two weeks this too will pass.  I look forward to leaving this desert of summer rainfall.  Every day the rain comes, as if mocking the dry infertile sand.  The rain forms huge swollen rivers that form the breeding grounds of those irritating buzzers that bite one in the night.  Masses of water everywhere.  Whoever said that wadis were dry river beds?  Abundance is not in the sunshine this summer, but in the thick heavy dark grey clouds that expel their energy in short quick busts of light and  low afternoon rumbles.

Yes, I even find the weather irritating.  However, the cradle of humankind beckons us. Excitement creeping up on us, fully testing our ability to concentrate on the matter at hand. This brings to mind this mindless paragraph, procrastination to its fullest extent, by virtue of a wonky, slightly skewed suggestion that perhaps it is time to call today final. After all, my brains feel like fried bananas.  Frazzled from the most boring book on Gods good earth. Too much thinking makes it go soft. I bid you all a good night sleep.  I will kiss my boys with all your love.

I stand before my God

I stand before my God

I stand before my God

In my silent abandonment  

I have crucified myself

Filled only with Gods grace

He forgives me

He says all is new

That I am a blank slate

Since His resurrection

But here I stand

Unforgiving

Imperfectly scarred

Alone

But my God sees only my perfection

He sees only my strong spirit

And then He anoints me

To be me