The Cape of Stormers

©2012 Edward C. Lunnon

Tuesday 27 March 2012: 5 years 6 months on … Deuce

BA Flight 6324 on Wednesday 14 March 2012 was scheduled to leave Port Elizabeth airport at 09h50 – destination Cape Town International Airport.

Before I could board, I had to do my radio interview telephonically with Lance from the terminal building an hour earlier than usual – attempts to obtain permission to broadcast ED is in wED from the air at 10h30 had failed.

I sat chatting to Gareth Hunt until the broadcast was about to begin. Gareth’s brother Steven plays for the Springbok 7’s. Then the broadcast, then boarded, seated in 15F (at the right hand side window to see the coast!) and then take-off in an easterly direction over Algoa Bay towards East London.

But a sharp bank to the right put us in the correct westerly direction headed for Cape Town.  It was a beautiful clear morning – the light blue sky juxtaposed by the dark blue mountains, the Indian Ocean below, the white beaches, the green coastal plain and in the distance the brownness of the Little and Great Karoo’s framed by the various mountain ranges in between  us and them.  

We followed the south African coastline and passed over the Garden Route:  Jefferys Bay, St Francis Bay, the Tstsikamma, Nature’s Valley, Plettenberg Bay, Knysna, the Lake District and then George airport, 3 kilometres below us and more or less the halfway point between departure point and destination.

From there, and as we started descending into Cape Town, we followed the more inland route to the south of the Outeniqua and Langeberg Mountains. Places like Riversdale and Swellendam passed by on the coastal plain, and in the Little Karoo, Oudtshoorn, Barrydale and Montaqu.

Then my heart missed its usual beat as the dark blue mountains of the Western Cape moved into sight. First the Hottentots-Holland Mountains, then over the Drakenstein Mountains, and then a sharp bank to the right – and as the right wing pointed sharply downwards towards the earth, Stellenbosch – my birthplace – and Helshoogte, my university residence, came rushing up towards us. I thought the pilot had done that manoeuvre especially for me!

Three more manoeuvres to the left brought us from our westward flight facing back to the east and ready for landing at Cape Town International . During that process, the Atlantic Ocean and Robben Island  came into view and then the mother of all views, on our right, as we landed at 11am: Table Mountain flanked by Devil’s Peak and Lion’s Head. 

What was initially called the Cape of Storms and later the Cape of Good Hope was directly below me.

I was Home yet again!

This time for a school reunion at my alma mater, Hottentots-Holland High School  – aptly named after the mountains that surround the Valley, and Somerset West, Strand and Gordon’s Bay.

Whilst we waited for our luggage, I joked with Gareth about partying in Stellenbosch and being tempted to stay too long in the Winelands. We joked and parted, and when I turned on my cell phone, the first message to come through was to advise me of Gareth’s father’s death!

Gareth’s trip had nothing to do with partying in the Winelands – it had been all about his dad and yet he had kept a smiling face and not said a word to me! I felt so bad!

I phoned both Gareth and Steven to express my condolences, and by then Sebastian, my nephew-in-law was there to fetch me.

As usual, he had a surprise for me, and we headed straight to a newly found German pub in the foothills of the Hottentots-Holland Mountains, overlooking Strand, Gordon’s Bay and False Bay. Two litres of beer later, lunch and obtaining some business for my sister Lyn’s printing company, we headed for her home in the Strand – what had been our family home for some thirty years – and my base for the next four days.   

I was determined to keep this trip as easy and slow as possible – pace myself just to make things a little easier!

Thursday morning we took a trip to Stellenbosch, and planned to have coffee with my niece Jess at the café in the Botanical Gardens. She overslept, so we had a bite, then visited Helshoogte, and headed of home.

I went for a 5km walk along the Strand Beach and had a swim at Melkbaai (Milk Bay) – something I haven’t done in many a year! The weather was wonderful and the water was warm! It was so lekker being home!

 A short nap preceded a visit to the driving range restaurant where I was joined by ex-school and Varsity mates, Herman van Heerden and Jaco Olivier.

Later Herman dropped me off for supper at Estelle Jordaan’s home in Heldervue, Somerset West.

Estelle and I last saw each other in 1969 when we were in Standard Five at Hendrik Louw Primary School in The Strand. We had spent our primary school years vying for academic positions 1 and 2 in the class. She went on to Rhenish in Stellenbosch and Rhodes University in Grahamstown and I went on to Hottentots-Holland in Somerset West and Stellenbosch University. (She calls herself a nurse and is, in fact, the Nursing Executive on the Executive of the private hospital Medi-Clinic group.)

We spent the evening eating, drinking and reminiscing about the 43 years that had passed by!

On Friday morning, I paid an all too brief visit to my Primary School, Hendrik Louw. Unfortunately, it has been completely rebuilt, so other than a few photographs to jolt the memory, there is very little to reminisce about.

Then on to see Sonja van Rhijn, who was as school a year or so ahead of me, and now has MSA (Multiple systems atrophy). We spent a great two hours together, although anyone listening to us would not have thought so. We discussed and compared our diseases, our symptoms, our ups and downs, and our joys and concerns. It makes it so much easier to know that other people out there can understand what we are experiencing and going through! We can laugh and cry with each other, and yes, we can understand each other. It makes our burden so much easier.

I was late for the usual Friday lunch braai at the Ridgeways Furniture Store, but enjoyed the hotdogs anyway (and was delighted to see Sebastian’s Railway Stand season tickets)! So another power snap nap before we headed off for Newlands to watch the Stormers take on and beat the Blues in a Super 15 rugby game. There is always a great atmosphere to experience at the home of the Western Cape’s rugby, and which may not be the home for much longer, what with talks aplenty about moving to the newly built World Cup Soccer stadium in Green Point, Cape Town!

Then the big day arrived – our reunion at the De beer’s Football Club. I deliberately spent a quiet day so as not to overdo things.

Lyn and Anton dropped me off at the venue and by the time Anthony West took me home at 1am, there had been a spitbraai by Lappies Labuschagne, dancing, 70’s music, talking and laughing about the preceding 40 years and the seventies that we had spent at school together.

It was a tremendous boost to meet up and reminisce with friends of yesteryear. What had started off as a page by Karen Holthauzen on Facebook, “Somerset West Nostalgia”, a few years ago, had ended up as a real-life get-together of so many of us who have been privileged to grow up and be schooled in the Hottentots-Holland Basin.  

On Sunday morning I transferred from Strand to the Wüsts in Durbanville – almost my home from home! After a lunchtime braai with Willem’s mother and their daughter, Anagret, also joining us, we headed off for Greenpoint and a long 4 km walk along the Atlantic seaboard towards Sea Point and back. A latte at a local coffee shop, in the shadow of Cape Town’s Soccer Stadium, finished off a wonderful weekend in the Cape!

After a quiet Monday morning of taking stock of myself, Gretel and I went for lunch at the Tyger Valley centre.

Then, a visit to my Std Five teacher, Mr Peter Preuss and his wife, who now live in Monte Vista in Cape Town’s northern suburbs.  Although only two handfuls of fingers separate our ages, at the time in 1969, he had seemed so large and intimidating!

It was two of the most wonderful hours that I have spent in a long time, talking about family, friends and fellowship – of growing up in The Strand. It was emotional, too, and I wiped a tear or two away as I headed back to Durbanville …

… and on to Cape Town International at ten on Tuesday morning 20 March. We left on time at 11h30, flying off in a westerly direction over False Bay and The Strand and this time in an A seat on the left-hand side of the plane (pre-booked by my niece Nicky who works for BA at Cape Town airport).

This was in order to get that last view of our family home in Gordon’s Bay Road, Strand, the Helderberg and the Hottentots-Holland Mountains, before heading straight back over the Overberg, George, the Garden Route and the direct  short landing from west to east into Port Elizabeth at 12h45.

Sean was there to fetch me. We went home and then directly to Gary Hunt’s funeral, back home, and then back to the airport to say goodbye to Pera who was heading off to Italy that very evening.

Sean and I then decided to have a 2-for-the-price-of-1 sushi at the Cape Town Fish Market.  There he was also able to put his First Aid skills to the test when a patron, allergic to sea-food, dropped over stone cold within seconds after eating the stuff … 

It had been just another “quiet” weekend in the Cape of the Stormers!

 

 

Live AlgoaFM Broadcast: Wednesday 28 September 2011

Broadcast No 76:

 

If you missed this broadcast, you can listen to it now.

Click here:

http://edlunnon.wordpress.com/2011/02/26/ed-is-in-wed-live-algoafm-broadcasts/

OR:

Go to www.edlunnon.co.za/content/18 and click on the link there.

Enjoy!

Who Painted the Moon Black?

Sunday 19 June 2011: 4 years 9 months on … Advantage ED

Father’s Day 2011!

This has arguably been the saddest weekend of my entire life.

Over the last two years, I have written a great deal about the wonderful days spent at St Francis Bay. Yesterday morning, we were headed there again for the weekend.

After the recent rains, the world was green and clean. Coming over the rise just before the descent into the Gamtoos River valley one gets to see Jefferys Bay in the distance, and because it is so clear today, beyond the Bay of J is the beauty of Paradise Beach, Aston Bay, St Francis Bay and, at the farthermost point, the peninsula of Cape St Francis. What a splendid sight on this magnificent warm winter’s day!

In the car there was silence. Behind us, you could hear the hum of the wheels of the Venter trailer that we were towing. It was empty because the purpose of the trip was to collect the last of our belongings from our house in St Francis.

Our holiday house has become the latest casualty of my illness.

Like a thief in the night, the CBD has slowly been taking away from me. First it was the use of my left hand. Then it took my job and my ability to work, to earn an income and to make a contribution to society.

Slowly it has taken not only my physical and mental abilities, but also my independence, my self-worth and my self-esteem.

It reminds me of the total lunar eclipse that we had witnessed on Wednesday night. On a clear dark cloudless night, we had slowly seen the fullness of the bright moon disappear as the shadow of the earth moved across the face of the moon. After about an hour it became totally black!

(On a “lighter” note, someone said the moon was being switched off for three hours in response to the national load-shedding call by ESKOM to save power! Another comment was that VODACOM had paid millions to turn the moon red as a part of its recent advertising campaign to advise the public that it had changed its corporate colour from blue to red!)

Be that as it may, it was the longest total lunar eclipse seen in the last one hundred years. At the slowest of paces, the darkness crept across the moon until eventually there was a total blackout.

It is just like my CBD – at the slowest of paces, it is stealthily and silently taking more and more.

And now, it has started taking our possessions.

As the disease has progressed, it has become increasingly difficult for me to keep maintaining two homes – from a practical operational point of view but also from a financial perspective. And so, on the Easter weekend at the end of April we decided to put the house up for sale.

I don’t think any of us were prepared for what happened next. Bearing in mind the economic situation right now, and the fact that almost every second house in St Francis is “For Sale”, we did not know what to expect.

But early on Wednesday morning, Freedom Day, we had two prospective buyers view the house, and by lunch time the second viewer had made an offer to buy, which we accepted!

Tears rolled freely then. The paperwork was signed, but it would take a while for the transfer to go through, so the reality of the decision didn’t really hit home.

Not until this weekend. As the transfer is imminent, we needed to move. Suddenly, reality set in.

The weather was perfect. Those warm, windless picture-perfect days in St Francis when the reflection of the houses in the canals results in one not knowing which the top is and which the bottom is of the photos that you have taken! It made our decision to sell and the packing-up process so much more difficult to accept.

I have kept blaming myself. I have let down my family because I did not adequately prepare for an eventuality such as the CBD. I had always hoped that the boys would have continued with the traditions of No 6.

We have so many happy memories from our years of visiting here:  from the first red and black blow-up boat with the plastic oars, through Rusk with its 15HP Johnson engine to Rolls with the 125HP Mercury; from the paddling through the ski-ing and wake-boarding, from the canals through the river to the sea, from the skottels through the braais, from the fishing through the tanning and beach walks, from the empty house in winter through the “House (and garage) Full” at Christmas and New Year!

As a family, we have been so privileged by the experience and have been even more privileged to have been able to share it with so many of our family, friends and neighbours. They are too many to mention here (I will include my nephew-in-law Sebastian, only because he asked me to), but hopefully most have signed the Visitors’ Book that we have kept over the years.

In amongst the packing, it was a special treat on Saturday evening, and we really value the kindness, when our neighbours supplied a pork “skottel – braai” dinner to celebrate the “Last Supper” at No 6.  Mike and Jenny Rishworth (from No 4) and Brett and Jenny Parker from across the canal arranged the evening and joined us (and Pera’s brother Paul and his wife Debbie). Thanks so much for the evening, but even more, thanks for your friendship and the many happy memories. We know you will keep an eye on No 6 for us.

I did not sleep much on Saturday night. There were too many thoughts going through my diseased mind and too many tears sliding over my cheeks. Sunday, Father’s Day, was not much better. Seeing the boys walking around taking their last pictures and posting them as their profiles on Facebook , made it even more difficult for me.

I had never imagined that one could become so attached to a place and to a house, and that it would be so difficult to say goodbye to a memory and a thousand dreams.

I had also never imagined that we would have accumulated so much over the years. So much so, that we will need to go back again to collect the rest (maybe just an excuse for one really last visit to No 6 later in the week!)

To all our immediate neighbours, the Macs, the Fishers, the Kemps, the Fouches, the Nortjes, and to the numerous others who crossed our path, our grateful thanks are extended  for so many good times and for being part of the tapestry of our St Francis Bay experience. We eagerly anticipate being your “day visitors” in the future!   

To the new owners, Mike and his family, we sincerely hope that you will treasure it and enjoy it as much as we have, and that you, too, will continue to hoard happy memories at No 6 (and maybe not so much junk as we have!)

And to ourselves, we need to remember that the moon did not stay black forever. After the darkness, it turned to the most beautiful red and then slowly returned to its normal bright shining self (and maybe even looked just a tad brighter after the darkness than before!)

We, too, must now look forward to the next exciting era in our lives that begins today.

 

 

 

 

 

SAY WHAT YOU WILL

Saturday 23 April 2011:  4 years 7 months on … ADVANTAGE CBD

In HOME AFFAIRS, written last year in March, I discussed how difficult it was for me to manage my “normal” responsibilities as a husband and father against the background of ever-deteriorating physical and mental abilities (and ever-deteriorating service levels in our country!).

A year on, this is becoming my biggest challenge. My physical abilities have deteriorated further, my mind and my short-term memory are playing all sorts of tricks, my emotions are running riot, my temper is explosive and my well-being is at an all-time low.

There are problems at the bank that need to be sorted out, and their standards have gone from bad to worse. The municipality appears to be non-functional and the work on the sewerage pipes that has gone on in our garden (and the accompanying damage to our garden) over the last few months does not appear to get finalised. The car has to go back five times to the garage to have the air-conditioner repaired properly.  The school ignores requests of more than a year, refuses meetings and does not answer correspondence. The home maintenance never stops! The family demands become more.

I have often said that it is easier for me to handle my illness than it is to handle the daily strain of living.

We live in a tense home environment and even the noise from the vacuum cleaner, a strong wind or a wrong word sets me off. I feel as if I am no longer in control of anything – not my environment and definitely not my body.

And all this comes to a head this week just before the Easter Weekend. I decided I needed time out, so when the family left for St Francis Bay on Thursday afternoon, I opted to stay home alone.

SOMETIMES WE NEED TO FALL APART …

We don’t always have to be strong. Sometimes our strength is expressed in being vulnerable. Sometimes we need to fall apart to regroup and stay on track. We all have days when we cannot push any harder, cannot hold back self-doubt, cannot stop focussing on fear, and cannot be strong.

There are days when we cannot focus on being responsible. Sometimes we cry in front of people. We expose our tiredness, irritability, or anger.

THOSE DAYS ARE OKAY!

Part of taking care of ourselves means we give ourselves permission to” fall apart” when we need to. We do not need to be perpetual towers of strength.

WE ARE STRONG. We have proven that.

Our strength will continue if we allow us the courage to feel scared, weak, and vulnerable when we need to experience those feelings.

Today, help me to know that it is okay to allow myself to be human. Help me to not feel guilty or punish myself when I need to “fall apart”.

Mike Lacey-Smith says:

“We live in a noisy world. It is noisy physically, emotionally and spiritually. Often there seems to be no escape from the barrage of sounds that invade our space and our minds. How often have you heard yourself and other people saying they need some “peace and quiet”?

Blocking out the din from the outside can be hard, but what is harder is dealing with the noise inside our own heads. Irrespective of external clatter, unhealthy and unwarranted noise in our minds can be disturbing and terribly unsettling. We need to find a way of dealing with it by creating some silence in our minds and learning to manage it.

“Learn to get in touch with the silence within yourself and know that everything in this life has a purpose”. Elisabeth Kubler-Ross

Creating the space for quiet is nothing special as Elisabeth Kubler-Ross again says, “There is no need to go to India or anywhere else to find peace. You will find that deep place of silence right in your room, your garden or even your bathtub.”

Once we find that quiet space, we need to use it and manage the things going on in our heads. Noise and silence both are part of our life journey and getting in touch with the stillness and silence within us is a blessing.

So today, find the silence inside yourself and enjoy the peace and resolution it brings.”

 

So being alone allows me to do just that, some private time for myself and for some introspection. It also allows me more time to sleep and to rejuvenate what is becoming an increasingly weary body. It is no longer just my arms that feel like heavy cement bags – my left leg is also becoming increasingly heavier and I think, for the first time, my right leg is starting to show signs of weakness.

(There’s always going to be another mountain, another uphill battle … is playing on the radio! Miley Cyrus – The Climb)

But, being alone also allows me time to attend a meeting this morning with Justin Hines.

Justin is a young Canadian singer whose song, Say what you will, is currently in the No 1 position on the AlgoaFM hit parade.

He is no ordinary singer! Confined to a wheelchair as a result of Larsen syndrome (a condition that affects the joints of the body), he has been instrumental in initiating an upliftment project in twenty disadvantaged schools in the Uitenhage/Despatch area. It is known as the JustInspired campaign.

He has come to South Africa to see the work that is being done, and also sang this afternoon at Hobie Beach as a part of the 21^st annual Port Elizabeth Splash Festival.

His address this morning, and the subsequent responses from school principals, teachers, learners, helpers and the project co-ordinators did not leave a dry eye in the house.

The message is simple: despite our problems (and we all have them – whatever they may be!), we can still make a difference in our world. The Power of One is just incredible if we harness it and channel it into the right direction. I have seen that recently in this school project, and also in the Karoo anti-fracking campaign that I have previously written about.

(The good news there is that the Government, on Thursday, has decided to bow to public pressure and to stop any fracking in the Karoo until proper and comprehensive tests and studies have been completed!)

“Get InvolvED” has been my message on ED is in wED on AlgoaFM. Each one of us CAN make a difference. And it is by giving of yourself to your community and to your fellow human-being that you come to realize just how blessed you are.

Say what you will before it’s too late!

That was Justin’s final song this afternoon that bellowed out over Shark Rock Pier and the Indian Ocean to the thousands who had come to Hobie Beach to listen to him sing.Port Elizabeth again provided one of its best autumn days.

To see the change that Justin has affected in those schools and to see him “rocking” in his electric wheelchair, leading up the young Afro singers and the Despatch School Choir, is truly an inspiration and a wake-up call to those of us who so easily bemoan our lot in life!

In Luke 23:49 we read “All those who knew Jesus personally … stood at a distance to watch”.

All through your life keep watching Jesus. Stay close to his side. Stay within reach. Stay within sight. Hang in and hang on. (Faith for Daily Living)

This is an Easter with a difference. A Happy Easter to you all. And I hope you CAN find your Easter eggs …

SAY WHAT YOU WILL

If I were to die today my life would be more then okay
For the time that I spent with you
Its like a dream come true
If this was a last goodbye
No more tears to dry
I would say it one more time
Its been more then fine
How could’ve known
How could’ve shown

Say what you will before it’s to late
Say what you will mmhmm
Say what you will before it’s to late
Say what you will mmhmm
If you were to walk away
Know you couldn’t stay
Think of all the times we’ve had
All the good and bad

How could’ve known
How could’ve shown

Say what you will before it’s to late
Say what you will mmhmm
Say what you will before it’s to late
Say what you will mmhmm

All the time that I was holding back
Just trying to protect myself
I want you to know
I loved you more then that

Say what you will before it’s to late
Say what you will mmhmm
Say what you will before it’s to late
Say what you will mmhmm (x2)

If I were to die today my life would be more then okay

 

I’m Legal Now (and Responsible?)

Friday 16 July 2010: 3 years 10 months on . . .

Life in the Eighties was so much fun! I was in my mid-twenties and just finishing off at Stellenbosch University.

 In our winter academic holiday of 1981, a group of eight of us from Stellenbosch embarked on a summer tour of Europe. Charles and Diana had just become engaged, and Royal trinkets were sold all over, much like the World Cup memorabilia has decorated our shops and streets for the last month. But we had no money for trinkets!

Working on a shoestring budget and a Eurail Train Pass, we visited England, Holland, Denmark, Sweden, Germany, Austria, Switzerland, Italy and Greece – all in three weeks!

Our motto was All for one and one for all. No one was permitted to do anything that everyone in the group could not afford to do. It also applied to meals. We were only to eat out once at a traditional restaurant in each of the countries we visited. For the rest, we had a blue Cadac gas burner, sachets of Cup-of-Soup, tea and coffee and a lot of student initiative.

At least, that was the way it was supposed to be and that was the way the tour started.

We would raid the tables at breakfast time and take with whatever was left to help out at lunch and suppertime. In Amsterdam, we even took leftovers from another table when those tourists got up and left – only to have them return a few minutes later to continue their breakfast, which had miraculously disappeared! (And we were the only other people there – we pretended we couldn’t understand them!)

As the tour continued, the rules were bent somewhat. In Rome, I desperately needed an egg! So I broke away from the group, entered a café just opposite the Coliseum and bought a toasted egg sandwich. In Italy, they charged you a tax to sit inside and eat, so I took my sandwich and sat outside on the kerb.

What more could I want? A freshly fried egg and a view of the magnificent Coliseum!

But so much for cheating! As I put the sandwich in my mouth, the egg slipped off the bread and landed in the dirty Roman street! But, in desperate times, so much for hygiene! I picked up what I could save of the egg and just popped it straight into my mouth – and here I am to tell the tale!

 

In Copenhagen, before we visited the famous Tivoli Gardens and rather than buy the beer, we visited the Carlsberg Brewery. A free tour and lots of beer to taste – free –  made good economic sense! Tourists from all over the world visit there and they have this huge beer hall where everyone gathers at the end of the tour for the tasting.

 National flags decorate each table and you sit at the table that has your country’s flag on it. So there we were, with a number of other South Africans sitting with the now old South African flag.

Thank goodness, unlike wine tasting, beer tasting does not require spitting out but does require swallowing! But, we also swallowed hurriedly and left when it was discovered that the SA flag had “disappeared” and all the South Africans were asked to remain behind to have their bags searched! (We were honestly not the guilty party!)

 This week, I have thought quite a bit of that tour and those carefree student days.

One reason being that, last night, our Men’s Group (known as Fred’s Must have Beer Group) and a few others, visited the local Ibhayi SAB Brewery.

Unfortunately, the CBD affects one’s short-term memory and so I can’t remember all the facts and figures given to us last night. What I do remember is that only some 120 people operate this fully mechanised brewery that supplies millions of litres of beer to the Eastern Cape from George to Umtata. (They are still crunching the numbers to calculate how many extra litres were consumed during the 31 days of the World Cup!)

There is also the ever-present communication of responsible drinking!

Kilometres of carefully planned stainless steel pipes carry the precious cargo from tank to newly washed reusable glass bottles that arrive at the right place at the right time on kilometres of carefully planned conveyor belts. I could have sat there for hours watching everything going up and down and round and round . . . it’s quite a process to get that beer into your throat!

There was no reason to take a flag because we all have our flags left over from the World Cup now! But we did taste, until quite late last night, and then just had to stop at Dagwoods on the way home (only because we were responsible and had parked our cars there!)

Another reason for reminiscing was because earlier in the week, I spent time with a group of almost 50 students from Helshoogte Residence at Stellenbosch University. I had lived there when I was a Matie and became the Primarius, the head of hostel, in 1981.

 

This group is currently touring the Easter Cape in the last week of their winter holiday. It is a 30 odd year-old tradition that a rugby tour is undertaken at this time. I met up with them on day 2 of their 6-day tour (no one seems to be quite sure!)

The tour is now called a sports tour – what sport, I’m not quite sure because I was told that only one pair of rugby togs was packed in! But, thanks to Kipper Halbert, the tour operator in St Francis Bay, we managed to take them on a boat tour of the magnificent St Francis canals, and later had a beer at Cob’s Cove in the village.

There was also no money for food, but they seemed to manage well on the two bags of oranges that I passed on to them (with courtesy of Eppie and Lande Ferreira from Patensie with whom we had a wonderful braai earlier in the week). There did appear to be a substantial amount of money for beer though (and other liquid food!) and I was a bit concerned that the weight of the packets carried onto the boat would see them all swimming in the ice cold sea water!

Many of the tourists are sons of student contemporaries of mine, and it was amazing to remember those friends when seeing their peas-from-the pod sons. One thing worried me though – I was convinced that as students we definitely did not drink as much as these youngsters!

I phoned Noel Basson, a contemporary of mine and now a father of two students. After leaving Stellenbosch, he became the private secretary of FW de Klerk and later Nelson Mandela. With such authority, I wouldn’t question his integrity, and he concurred with me that we definitely did not drink as much in our student days as they do today!

Anyway, after a fines meeting on Tuesday evening (which also brought back many good memories), we parted our ways. Me back to Port Elizabeth, and them, on to Grahamstown, Rhodes University and the Rat and Parrot, and then to Somerset East for the Biltong Festival.  Indeed, a “sports tour” of note!

My thoughts turned to Sean. He has had quite an eventful few months. It started off with him being awarded his Colours Blazer for service to his school. In all probability, he will also be a student next year. In May, he turned 18 and that made him “legal”, meaning, of course, that he could now legally, in terms of the law of the land, purchase alcohol.

It also means that, in terms of the law of the land, he could now get his driver’s licence. And, because he could get an appointment much earlier in Humansdorp than in PE, that’s where he went on Tuesday morning. After a three quarter of an hour test, he appeared with a large smile on his face that told me everything. Another ten minutes and R200 later, and he became the proud owner of that document that also now makes him “legal” on the road. (He is, since 16, with his Skipper’s Licence, also “legal” on the water!)

On the way back to Port Elizabeth, we discussed this “legal” thing, and I reminded him that despite now being legal to drink and legal to drive, that it was not legal to do these things at the same time! (Possibly, I should phone Noel and get him to affirm that we never did do that as students or as adults either!!)

Maybe the Americans have it right. At least, you can get your driver’s licence there at the age of 16 (and earlier in some states), which gives you at least two years to get more driving experience before you become legal to buy alcohol at eighteen (or even later in some states).

Whatever, with the freedom comes the responsibility, and I guess, as parents, at some stage, we let go and hope that we have met all our responsibilities!

To Sean and all your friends who are now attaining that magical age of 18:

May you drive many happy kilometres, may you experience many happy tours in our wonderful world, may your beers always be cold, and may you always be responsible!

Happy driving, happy touring, happy beering!

Looking for a Job? (or else The Job Description)

March 2010: Three years six months on …

The southern coastline of South Africa is made up of a number of bays. Almost at the centre is Algoa Bay and Port Elizabeth (now referred to as Nelson Mandela Bay). Just to the west of Algoa Bay is St Francis Bay which stretches from Red Rock, Kini Bay and Laurie Bay in the east all the way westwards to Seal Point at Cape St Francis.

A number of small, mainly holiday towns have developed on this western side of St Francis Bay (mainly thanks to the foresight of Leighton and Anne Hulett). Today they have grown into one contiguous mass of holiday and some permanent homes – a confusing number of names to the uninitiated. At Seal Point is the village of Cape St Francis with the lighthouse as its outstanding feature. Northwards, from there, is Port St Francis with its recreational and working chokka boat harbour, then Santareme with its pink Spanish style architecture, then St Francis Bay (the “Village”) – previously called Sea Vista – with its characteristic white- walled houses with black thatched roofs, St Francis Bay (marina) (previously called Marina Glades) where the black and white theme is continued in the houses along the man-made Hulett canals leading from the Kromme River. And then the houses along the river itself which forms the northern border of this development and which is commonly referred to as being The Kromme.

We are very fortunate to own a home – the smallest – on the Marina. Only an hour’s drive from Port Elizabeth, this is where we head to get away from the rush and stresses of city life. As one drives across the bridge that crosses the Kromme and the river stretches away to the mouth and the Indian Ocean in the east and the many riparian homes that box in the river to the west, one’s shoulders drop, the neck softens and the back relaxes.

So this is where we found ourselves last weekend together with John and Wendy Clarke and their twin sons, Graham and David (Sean’s contemporaries) and Dayne Bonnage, a friend of Phil’s. The boys have what is called a “boarder leave-out” and the normal hectic school sports routine is placed in abeyance for a short while. We have known the Clarkes for many years since our teaching days in the mid eighties. They have become a pillar of strength for our family in the circumstances that we now find ourselves.

Normally, when the Clarkes join us at St Francis, we have rain and we often laugh now about me braaing outside in the rain whilst John and everyone else sat cosily inside watching me through the sliding doors onto the deck. Needless to say, in my true fashion, the bottom lip dropped and the humour of the situation was lost on me! However, we are now in the midst of a drought on the south and east coasts and have not seen rain for months. Our dams are down to 30 percent capacity and we are told if the rains don’t come we have enough water to get us through to June, and the World Cup!

In Port Elizabeth, we are restricted to 500l of water per household per day. So, we have become accustomed to not flushing toilets after a wee, and collecting grey water in buckets from sinks and showers and throwing that down toilets and onto gardens. Showers are a short wash and rinse cycle (almost like the economy setting on the washing machine!) and consist of water and soap/shampoo, switch off water, lather, switch on water and rinse. And all this whilst dancing over and around the large dish in the bottom of the shower which is collecting the grey water destined to be thrown into the toilet or onto the garden!

However, the restrictions in St Francis are not so severe (mainly because the municipality has not yet got their act into gear), and this despite us getting our water from the same supplies! So this weekend, we also have a bonus in that we can revert to flushing toilets normally and having a normal decent shower, albeit feeling a bit guilty about wasting this precious and ever-dwindling resource. Paradise is gained!

However, I guess in all human experiences, just when life can’t get better and appears to be running along smoothly, paradise IS lost! On Saturday morning, I woke up to a sore left foot. By lunchtime, I could not walk on it and my big toe looked like an enlarged over-ripe tomato. Gout! The most unbelievable pain that not even the Kennedy Brothers prescribed Myprodol, the Colchachines and the Dicloflams could suppress for the first few days. The rest of the weekend was spent on the couch and the bed, gliding around on my backside on the floor and up and down the stairs! Luckily, the weather was not good and the wind howled (no rain!) so not much time could be spent on the canals and river. As usual, however, this did not put John, David, Phil and Daine off the obligatory fishing trips to the Point (although the fish are as scarce as the rain! – is this also as a result of global warming?)

On Sunday, after a relaxing weekend, everyone left for PE and I stayed behind, mainly because of a meeting that I needed to attend on Tuesday (but also because it’s so lekker in St Francis!) However, not being able to walk meant being restricted to the house, and I started feeling very down and sorry for myself. How much more am I expected to endure over and above the CBD, the broken elbow and now the gout? Looking for a Job? That’s how I feel right now and, at the moment, I don’t believe that you need look much further than me! (Job, the book in the Bible, tells the story of Job, the man of God. It is a gripping drama of riches-to-rags-to riches, a theological treatise about suffering and Divine Sovereignty and a picture of faith that endures. NLT)

BUT, this is when I have to analyse my life and check my foundation yet again. I have to keep my wits about me and keep my mind clear and positive. It’s so easy to get caught up in that downward whirlpool spiral of despair that just tends to suck you in even deeper and deeper. Writing helps, reading helps, music helps, setting daily tasks and goals help, staying busy helps.

But what helps the most, is when I return to Port Elizabeth later in the week and have to visit the physiotherapist and occupational therapist at Aurora (Rehabilitation) Hospital. Their motto is If there’s a way, we’ll find it.

Looking around me, I see so many people, old and young, with all kinds of disabilities, amputations, wheelchairs, crutches, bandages, lack of limbs … the list is endless. So much pain and suffering surrounds us and yet we become oblivious to it.

But, taking a good look at life around me, is far better medicine than any of the Myprodols or Dicloflams. I have so much for which to be thankful. The Job is not yet completed and there is still much to be done.

Prayer of St Francis

Lord, make me an instrument of your peace,
Where there is hatred, let me sow love;
where there is injury, pardon;
where there is doubt, faith;
where there is despair, hope;
where there is darkness, light;
where there is sadness, joy;
O Divine Master, grant that I may not so much seek to be consoled as to console;
to be understood as to understand;
to be loved as to love.

For it is in giving that we receive;
it is in pardoning that we are pardoned;
and it is in dying that we are born to eternal life.

St. Francis was born at Assisi in 1182. After a care free youth, he turned his back on inherited wealth and committed himself to God. Like many early saints, he lived a very simple life of poverty, and in so doing, gained a reputation of being the friend of animals. He established the rule of St Francis, which exists today as the Order of St. Francis, or the Franciscans. He died in 1226, aged 44