Ma Wa Gray

My first experience of ever really loving children inside and out was when my legendary high school English teacher, Moira Lovell, read 'To Kill A Mockingbird' to the class and introduced us to Scout and Jem.  I can still hear her commanding voice change into that of six year old Scout, making that fiesty little creature come to life in a hot Maritzburg classroom. It's a skill I was to later share in life with my Westville girls in our oven of a prefab classroom. Those lessons reading Mockingbird are still some of my most treasured.  And now, its several years later and an English colleague got me thinking about my favourite novel again.  Our conversation began with me explaining that this holiday Eva taught herself to read and write. She's a January baby and let's just say that she's whizzed through all her milestones. Being a second born, a girl and having a brother four years older than her helps. As a teacher I'm well aware of the burden literate kids ca...

Last night as Stephen and I were getting ready for bed we got a message from our security company, Ensure, to say that there was a porcupine at the bottom of our garden. The message came with the above picture. While we scrambled to put shoes and coats on we watched the elusive creature rummaging around with the help of our camera monitor. By the time we got to the bottom of our garden it was gone.  We then got a message from our security company (who obviously watched us trying to view the porcupine) saying that we must be careful because they are dangerous creatures. They were also worried about our dogs. We assured them that the dogs were locked inside.  Two nights ago our dogs went berserk in the middle of the night and I immediately contacted our Ensure team who did a quick reconnaissance of the footage and confirmed that it might have been the security guard walking across the Kearsney field who kick started their response.  Our Ensure team also warn us when it's go...

Goodness me, and like that I'm nearly done. One more blog to go tomorrow and I have honoured my Lent commitment.  I've just read over my 42 blogs. That's over a month of thoughts. Thoughts that I would normally keep to myself, or thoughts that are so fleeting that they barely cross my consciousness.  It amazing what can happen in 42 days - I started at the end of a very torid term (aren't they all?) and I ended with a huge adventure. In between there has been loss and difficulty, and rashes and recipes and RnRs.   When one starts to document one's life day by day one starts to notice that, if we take the time to stop and reflect, God has designed moments for us in everything we do, even the hard stuff. And sometimes the moments are glaringly obvious, and sometimes they only shyly sneak out as we write a sentence.  I suppose that's actually the best way to describe a relationship with God - sometimes He's so obvious that He is physically tangible and sometime...

Today Eva and I set off to fulfill Gray's request for a Squishamellow for his birthday. Eva's outfit was made up of various layers of clothing, all with varying prints, colours and patterns. She looked like a rainbow's vomit. I love her sense of style.  We ran in to various friends on our quest. I've given them nom de plumes... 1. The first friend we bumped into was Claire. She was shopping with her little girl who is the same age as Eva. Her girl was wearing bright new white shoes and looked very pleased with herself. Claire rolled her eyes and explained that her daughter 'accidentally' left her shoes at home and so had to get a new pair for her morning of shopping. I then asked after Claire's mom who is very ill and who is in organ failure. It's been a really difficult journey for Claire as she has faced several family tragedies during this time making it one obstacle after another. She explained that her mom is now starting to lose the plot and is tal...

First of all I want to state that I thought Lent was supposed to be 40 days. It would appear that a sneaky three days have been added. I'm sure in the greater workings of the cosmos three days isn't a lot... but three days, in this particular Lent story, are actually universe changing. Three days start with death and end with everlasting life.  I'll tell you someone else who is finding the days to be a bit long in the tooth - my Gray. It's Gray's 10th birthday next week. I can't believe that my boy, the one whose whole existence changed my reality and being (and inspired the name of this blog) is hitting the double digits. Like I said many years ago in a blog - having a son is like going through a very slow breakup. As they grow they get more confident and strong and independent and dad starts to be more important and that's how it should be. But a mom will always treasure that soft little vulnerable thing whose first love will always be her.  I must say thi...

When I sighed and said I needed to write my blog Eva suggested I write about the following conversation we had in the bath this evening... Eva (in a perfect Southern accent), 'Hello, my name is Naked Terror and I'm going to give you a foot massage.' Gingerly stabs one foot with her index finger. Me in my best version of a southern belle accent, 'Hello there I'm Blanche and I haven't had such a good massage since I left Belle Reve.' Eva looking at me judgementally with a raised eye brow, 'Blanche?' Me, 'Yes. It's the name they gave me on the plantation.' I stop for a moment to listen to what I think is gentle rain starting to fall. Me, 'Is that rain outside?' Eva, 'No sorry ma'am, that's just my accent.' My how we laughed. 

I watched the sunset from our verandah this evening. After ten busy days of holiday it was quite something to get home, unpack, do a load of laundry and have a cup of tea.  I always find it interesting to get home after a long absence. I see the house with fresh eyes. I notice things that are not where they should be, I'm suddenly ruthless with nick nacks, I see spots that could do with a new coat of paint or some TLC. I generally do a mental inventory. And Stephen starts to sweat because I'm the ideas person, I'm not the person who makes the ideas come to fruition. And when he gets home all he wants to do is read his book. The poor guy had to restring the washing line this evening.  While watching the sunset and making mental 'to do' lists I decided to listen to my Lectio app- something I haven't done for too long. And then, to my shame, I realised that it is Palm Sunday. I had no idea. I've been very out of time for the last while. I suppose that happens w...

This morning we woke up in Umfolozi to the stillness of creation. Few moments are more peaceful than a dawn where humanity is sparce. Sitting on our little verandah in the freshness of the day I was almost duped into forgetting how bad our night had been and it made me realise how inverted survival is in the wild.  Last night Gray developed a UTI and I spent the whole night panicking about whether we needed to rush him to the hospital, at some point Eva climbed into our bed with us and wriggled for what felt like an eternity, there were mozzies and at 10pm the generators got switched off denying us our much needed fan and so we had to basically sleep in what felt like a hot armpit because opportunistic animals could climb in through even an asscrack of a window opening. And then of course, with all this anxious damage control happening around me when everyone did eventually settle down and sleep I was left wide eyed and reliving every unfortunate thing I've done and said since I wa...

We drive through the gates of Hluhluwe game reserve. Bets have been made as to what animals we'll see first. Stephen- warthog Gray - elephant Emily - rhino (reaching for the stars) Eva - all the animals will come to welcome us (Lion King style) ... or impala..  Within ten minutes we have seen two rhinos wallowing in water next to the road, a herd of elephants with six babies have ambled past, we watch a herd of buffalo down in the valley snuggled together against the rain and then we spot a magnificent male lion and his lioness sleeping on the road.  Eva wins. 

1. The walk must begin with a child crying because they don't want to go on the walk. 2. The walk must end with a different child crying because they didn't enjoy the walk.  3. The magical bay to which you are headed must be less magical in person, and potentially covered in bluebottles. 4. The family selfie must actually be several selfies, each one with a different family member either subtly pulling a peace sign, grimacing into the sun, smiling with teeth covered in chocolate or shouting at children to smile because the timer is about to go off. in the end there must be no good selfies. 5. Everyone must eat the insipid apples at the bottom of the beach bag (that have been there for a good week) before they can have a marshmallow Easter egg. The eating of the apples must happen 'met lang tande'.  6. Said marshmallows must be melted.  7. Only Stephen must find a cowrie shell. 8. A wind must pick up in the death throes of the walk making the final sprint from the wet be...

Our heroine languishes in her canvas tent, a sarong covering her body in the midday heat. Patterns of sunlight pierce the darkness of her shelter and she is sure this head splitting headache must be malaria. It could also be the fact that she has PMS and was woken five times by her daughter while she was trying to have a nap – a very very bad two piece combo. Or its malaria… Our heroine does what one does when one has a headache that she thinks is definitely something worse… and not the after effect of the RnRs she drank yesterday… she starts to relive every bad thing that’s ever happened to her. She also starts to catastrophize and think of worst-case scenarios. And worst of all she starts to write the imaginary introduction to a novel in her head. She is sure that at some point the two myprodols will kick in and she will feel less anxious about the fact that there was a glitch in the matrix of the menu planned by several families on holiday together and that the tuna salad sh...

 RnR drinking, Hot flushes and turquoise sea, This is Mozambique.

Piles of wet clothing Are shoved into plastic bags, Farewells are at hand. 

We saw you yesterday Sammy. As we walked along the shady beach path that smelt like the trails of our childhoods - over the train track, through the bush and onto the beach – I saw you flutter down into the only dappled patch of gentle morning sun. You perched there on the emerald leaves allowing Eva and I to marvel at you. Bright blue luminescent wings hemmed with a glorious gold, a marvel of a butterfly. I explained to Eva that I was sure this was you, visiting us as part of God’s perfect creation, a renewed part of Eden. I told her about you, about your glorious golden hair and your twinkling eyes and your humour and your laugh and about your love for butterflies. I explained how illness took you from us early but that we still find you in the rainbow of a butterfly’s wings. I explained all of this while you sunned your wings in the patch of sunlight, you patiently waited for me to honour and remember you, and most importantly to bring your existence and your presence into Eva’s l...

  Eva found an abandoned boogie board in the bushes along the beach. We dragged our boards, plus the adopted one, to the high sand dunes. As the children’s courage grew so did the heights from which they threw themselves, Careering down the dune, faces mixed with panic and glee. The fun got too much for the two boys on the beach who came sniffing around furtively, like dogs at a park, ready to zoom at any given moment. We offered them our boards but at first they pretended that they had just come to roll down the dune. Their pretense didn’t last long as the first boy gingerly accepted the leash of a board but then shot up the top of the dune like a rodeo cowboy. Once the ice had broken, names swapped, school rugby teams and positions discussed – mainly wings and fly halves – the friendship was sealed and we spent the rest of the morning racing down the dunes together. I wish adult friendships were this easy.  

  An emerald gem of forests wraps itself around the small bay, Beneath her branches lie the nests in which we sleep. By day we are beach goers - snorkeling, fishing, sand boarding, swimming. By night we light our fires under the milkwood trees and we feast, Anticipating in advance the lullabies of the bush babies.

  My greatest barometer that measures the worth of a human being is based on how children instinctively respond to them. To me children are fresher from heaven and know which adults still have a bit of heaven in them. Two-year-olds are pretty spot on in this measurement process. They’re like raw purveyors of humanity – they’ll call you out on everything, unashamedly let all their emotions hang loose, they’ll throw a tantrum like no ones watching and they’ll gravitate towards safe people that they’ve only met five minutes ago with zero skaam. Our friends Tanya and Izolda Visser are baby magnets. Last night around the braai fire, while Tanya braaied every different cut of meat known to man in the presence of three men, our little two year old Finn (who had only met her that afternoon) kept calling her name. She would crouch down in front of him and then he would forget what he wanted to tell her and just gaze lovingly at her. Now some context about Finn – being the youngest of 7 ...

For the next ten days we are going to be in places with very little, if no signal. And part of that time we're going to be out the country.  I should have thought this through when I devoted my lent season to blogging everyday.  I am going to endeavour to write every day and then do a wild upload in ten days time. I must say, the thought of no signal is a glorious one even if it makes logistics a little tricky.  Let's see how I manage.  Until then Emily is not available. Please leave a message at the tone... BEEP

This morning I spent too much money on all the food required for our upcoming holiday. It's the only time I don't begrudge spending money on groceries because I keep imagining where and who we are going to be sharing meals with and it gives me a real surge of joy.  To be honest one of my best feelings is the feeling before an adventure. I love the planning and the anticipation. I love sitting with Stephen and the kids day dreaming about how it's all going to be. Sometimes the anticipation is actually more enjoyable for me than the actual holiday.  So, having loaded all my groceries into the car I was preparing to reverse my pajero out of its parking. A wiry, bald man a few years older than me (sound familiar?)  walked up and inspected the back of my car. I then opened my window and the stranger explained to me that my tow hitch was incorrectly attached to the car. He said, 'My wife... my late wife, had a car like this...' And then he described some complicated thing...