Roadtrip

Verby Slingerfontein Witput en Brandvlei
deur hotnotsnot en gousblom
verby die ouvroukind sonder taal
my bors ruk oop en span `n koepel
kantel in die aarde terug welbehaaglik
keer terug as dorper, gorra en kokerboom
die lug is puur jonggras
haar aorta klop afrika-afrika
kwesbaar soos `n vuis
upington olifantshoek rooisand en roadkill
in die mik van haar bene `n versamelnes
warm soos `n jong voëltjie
once upon a time was daar `n draadengel
en `n lug vol helder wolke
bikergirl hippie vroedvrou en hoer
vrugbaar soos `n plaasdam in die reëntyd
skaapwêreld weskusklong weer op pad
om die wêreld om haar vinger
te draai

Bodily speaking

1.    i long for colour laughing

juices from my fingertips

no feeble washes rather

the strong stubborn stroke

a bold cut over virgin

canvas the pigment

of desire is

within

2.    i long for the intimacy of

a slow indian summer

sun kissing skin

uninhibited courtyards

veiled afternoons

stained with doves

3.    footsteps like petals through

long cool passages

open doors

drowsy rooms speckled skin

pillows plump with sleep

a mirror

reminiscing 

E tempu pra voce ko me sa tu a vida: it is time to start his own chapter in life

Tears have a way of retreating and raining down the inside of your body, I soon discovered. Too soon. And now I`m not speaking of  the extreme type of tears, doused in trauma and blood, but the softer, shakier type, the ones you discover inside yourself upon having children.

He was born two weeks early. A mewling piglet, a red and blue baby dumpling suckling like a pro from the start.

And last night, twenty years on, he held a banquet for eighteen friends and loved ones. The room decked in red and white and silver candle holders. Smiles and cheers and love and music. A red headed boy working with his blonde sidekick to plate up ambrosia, the menu planned a week in advance and tested on family members.

My fork melts into the hare pie prepared so precisely. A bit of my heart starts leaking. The taste of beetroot coulis makes my palate bleed. Black and white chocolate mousse ice cream, cut into delicate wheels of delight, makes me choke on tears.  E tempu pra voce ko me sa tu a vida. The taste of my child is within.

Travelled this morning

travelled this morning through a landscape

criss-crossed with ley

my body humming as

trees knelt in the

soft first light

shadows of silence

roaming our tracks

and I could believe

foolishly so, that

you will follow my scent

Wanderer

The soul of a sailor, you say

and the words, salty on your tongue

spill into my dreams

i can breathe underwater

rush of indigo and slivers

of sun sweet memories

-the more you live the less you die -

womanfish with skin of a

thousand patterned mirrors

blinking fair winds and tall ships

and freedom and forgetting

and how the world feels to us

swimming gypsy free priest wanderer

hooligan fey facing stern

sailor soul and a canvas of dreams

and you

For my children

• 

  
  

  
  
  You are a river of
  words beneath my skin
  the gasp before a wave strikes
  languid as sun on my knees
  my arms have become an ancient cradle
  
  
  Man is the son of heaven
  and woman will inherit the earth
  off you go, my children
  and don`t look back
  there is but hollow memories
  of love, decay and
  forgetting
  
  
  Link

Visit to Vingerkraal

Hot, red and dusty. We looked at each other and laughed. The dirt road to Vingerkraal was not going to give us any respite. Larry and I were to spend a few days with Theresia, Regina, Christina and Faustimus Maronga. The visit taught us valuable lessons, such as that in any community, however under stress, there can still be dignity, educated conversations and hospitality of the highest level.

Vingerkraal farm is home to a couple of thousand residents, consisting of ex-Koevoet policemen and their families. They are originally from Namibia. Both Larry and I, during our visits, experienced them as a displaced group or a lost tribe, caught between their violent past and an unforgiving and exciled present. The farm is situated about 30km from Bela Bela on the road to Thabazimbi.

Their socio-economic situation is a dire one. They receive small pensions but have been written off by both the Namibian and South African governments, because of their alliance with the S.A. Police Force during the bush war. At present they are living with little water, no electricity and without sanitation. Having said that, we were impressed with the orderly state of living. The Vingerkraal residents have a hierarchy of power, in which the Headman, Lourens, makes the important decisions, such as allocating new stands for houses, etc. Their corrugated iron houses are well tended to and a sense of empathy abounds as widows and orphans are cared for.

Leon Bezuidenhout, co-writer of the book Shadows in the Sand, with Sisingi Kamongo (an ex-Koevoet policeman who was injured during the war), has been making a concerted effort to place the spotlight on the plight of these people. Through their efforts, help on various levels has been elicited.

Just one example: during July 2010, due to alleged illegal fire breaks by neighbouring game lodges, eleven children burned to death and seven other were severely injured. These burn victims need special care but in debilitating circumstances such these as stated above, such care proves to be particularly burdensome. We met Joseph, a sixteen year old with severe scarring to his face, arms and legs. So many ways in which one can be sixteen, I thought as I remembered my own sixteen year old daughter at home, facing a totally different future from the youngster in front of us. We spent a few hours together, listened to Dolly Parton (his favourite music) and laughed at life.

This is a group with varied needs. In the bigger picture, they are in need of jobs and sustainable living conditions, with access to water and electricity. In the interim, their situation is quite desperate, and any clothing, blankets, foodstuff and medicines will be much valued.

Any assistance would be highly appreciated.

The person to contact is Mr Leon Bezuidenhout at 0823260405, or at leon@mboneni.co.za

Eenmaal `n Takie, altyd `n Takie

EENMAAL `N TAKIE, ALTYD `N TAKIE

Witbank Skydiving klub, Saterdag 4 Februarie. `n Groep oud-Taakmaglede en `n paar vriende kom bymekaar, sommige om te spring, ander om gholf te speel. Die derde groep, met onder andere Larry Hanton  en Roelf Pretorius, maak seker dat die “Skydive Inn” se voorraad Hansas en Castles `n ernstige terugslag beleef. Natuurlik kon die manne weer “drinking coins” aanskaf by Koos (daar loop `n gerug dat Larry syne vir R5 verkwansel het by die Taakmag 35 jaar reunie...). Herhaaldelik probeer Genl Mike Fryer vroeg spaander, om net weer deur die manne voorgelê te word.

Twee vriende van die Takies, Anemari en Carina, doen tandemspronge wat deur Jason Richardson van die klub gereël is. In haar woorde:

DIE EERSTE KEER

Corné (24 jaar in die lugmag) “brief” vir my en Carina, en daarna is ons met die tweede vlug op, blou overalls aan. Hy sing vir my “Anemari my skat” en ander songs terwyl ons vlieg. Ons is agt in die vliegtuig en sit tussen mekaar se bene. Met die inklimslag maak Corné my by die heupe aan hom vas. Ek sit naaste aan die deur en kan die wêreld wat al hoe verder wegtrek deur `n spleet beskou. Op sy altometer sien mens hoe ons vorder ... 0,9 voet, 2000 voet, 5000... Op 8000 voet word ek vir die eerste maal benoud. Corné maak ons aan die regter en linkerskouer vas. Sit `n plastiese bril op en hou Caryn se been vas. Toe is ons op 10 000 voet. Die deur gaan oop en ek skrik my in `n stilstand in. Yskoud en móérrr hoog!!! Maar daar is geen omdraai nie. Drie ouens klim oor my. Toe swaai ek my bene oor. “Onthou die piesang maak met jou lyf, skop sy boude...” wil ek nog dink toe is ek en Corné in vryval. Dit was verskriklik en `n “rush” soos nog niks anders nie, gelyk. Ek skrik weer toe die valskerm oopgaan...en toe die stilte ... vry ... vry ... en ek moet beheer, en draaie maak, en rondkyk ... en toe is die grond dáár, “flare”, bene op, land op die boude, veilig. Wow. Wow.

Groot dank aan Fanie Jacobs vir die reël van die dag, Jason Richardson en aan almal wat daar was en die dag onvergeetlik gemaak het. EENMAAL `N TAKIE ALTYD `N TAKIE.

Eenmaal `n Takie, altyd `n Takie

EENMAAL `N TAKIE, ALTYD `N TAKIE

Witbank Skydiving klub, Saterdag 4 Februarie. `n Groep oud-Taakmaglede en `n paar vriende kom bymekaar, sommige om te spring, ander om gholf te speel. Die derde groep, met onder andere Larry Hanton  en Roelf Pretorius, maak seker dat die “Skydive Inn” se voorraad Hansas en Castles `n ernstige terugslag beleef. Natuurlik kon die manne weer “drinking coins” aanskaf by Koos (daar loop `n gerug dat Larry syne vir R5 verkwansel het by die Taakmag 35 jaar reunie...). Herhaaldelik probeer Genl Mike Fryer vroeg spaander, om net weer deur die manne voorgelê te word.

Twee vriende van die Takies, Anemari en Carina, doen tandemspronge wat deur Jason Richardson van die klub gereël is. In haar woorde:

DIE EERSTE KEER

Corné (24 jaar in die lugmag) “brief” vir my en Carina, en daarna is ons met die tweede vlug op, blou overalls aan. Hy sing vir my “Anemari my skat” en ander songs terwyl ons vlieg. Ons is agt in die vliegtuig en sit tussen mekaar se bene. Met die inklimslag maak Corné my by die heupe aan hom vas. Ek sit naaste aan die deur en kan die wêreld wat al hoe verder wegtrek deur `n spleet beskou. Op sy altometer sien mens hoe ons vorder ... 0,9 voet, 2000 voet, 5000... Op 8000 voet word ek vir die eerste maal benoud. Corné maak ons aan die regter en linkerskouer vas. Sit `n plastiese bril op en hou Caryn se been vas. Toe is ons op 10 000 voet. Die deur gaan oop en ek skrik my in `n stilstand in. Yskoud en móérrr hoog!!! Maar daar is geen omdraai nie. Drie ouens klim oor my. Toe swaai ek my bene oor. “Onthou die piesang maak met jou lyf, skop sy boude...” wil ek nog dink toe is ek en Corné in vryval. Dit was verskriklik en `n “rush” soos nog niks anders nie, gelyk. Ek skrik weer toe die valskerm oopgaan...en toe die stilte ... vry ... vry ... en ek moet beheer, en draaie maak, en rondkyk ... en toe is die grond dáár, “flare”, bene op, land op die boude, veilig. Wow. Wow.

Groot dank aan Fanie Jacobs vir die reël van die dag, Jason Richardson en aan almal wat daar was en die dag onvergeetlik gemaak het. EENMAAL `N TAKIE ALTYD `N TAKIE.