Category Archives: Family & Kids

Generous Souls

Off we go to St Lucia estuary for a camping long weekend. Let’s take the minimum guys, we can buy food locally. Just clear out the fridge and bread bin and let’s go. We’ll buy charcoal and meat and etc from the local Spar. I won’t even take any wine! Rather we hit the road now, shop later.

Let’s take a tent for the three teenage girls, and the twelve year-old fella and I will sleep in the back of the pickup. The simple life.

Except I realise at the first tollgate that I have left my wallet in Westville. Complication. To turn back or not. In my rucksack I find Tom’s saving card, daily withdrawal limit R300. I had just changed his password, as we had not used the account for ages, so we were good to go. We just gotta be frugal, kids, we got R300 kuphela.

And that’s where they blew me away. All four of them said “Dad, we’ve got money! You can have our money, Dad”. They each had R200 pocket money for the weekend and offered it freely! What stars.

Thanks guys, I may need that, but I have enough to fill up with diesel and we’ll just go easy and discuss it before we spend anything, OK?

The next morning I managed to activate my eWallet and cellphone banking at an internet cafe so could now draw R1500 a day! Problem solved! I gave them each R100 to thank them for their generous offers. Their eyes looked like chocolates and ice creams!

Off we went to the game reserve (entrance fee R245) and to the water park (R120 for the four of them). We wuz rich! The girls bought swimming shorts with their own money.

St Lucia camping 2

The next day that amount I could draw had ‘kindly’ been reduced to R200 (“for my safety” – Thanks FNB!), so I had to make the speech again, and again they rallied around with their offer of chipping in, but with Tom’s R300 and my R200 we were fine. We ate boerie rolls both nights – cheap!

– St Lucia camping –

Here’s an isimangaliso* pan with buffalo, waterbuck and zebra (click on the pic). The Indian Ocean is just behind that high forested dune:

St Lucia Mar 2014 (5)

Tom got on with fishing . .

. . while the teenage girls did what teenage girls do . .

– Jess took a lovely picture of some grass – with a kudu as a backdrop –

~~oo0oo~~

*isimangaliso means ‘miracle, wonder, surprise’ in isiZulu

wu wei

My garden is a wonderful tangle of KwaZulu indigenous growth gone wild. Interfered with only by my best man Tobias Gumede’s earnestly-felt desire to do something besides pulling weeds! He’s a GARDENER, so why does he get told: Do Nothing!?

Recently he trimmed the undergrowth near the birdbath and the spot where beautiful turquoise Araneus apricus spins her web each night and takes it down every morning.

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

I had to sit him down and remind him:

Tobias, my good man, remember when we listened to the yellow-bellied greenbul’s complaints (nickname Belly-aching Bulbul) and you told me how it was saying “Don’t shoot the birds, it’s Spring and they’re nesting?” And how you would teach the kids in Jozini not to shoot birds in that season – and how they did anyway!?

Yep, he remembers.

Well, its Summer, and remember: We don’t trim or cut anything till the season fades and we’re sure no birds or other creatures are nesting. And even then we do it with great circumspection? Lots of ‘easy-does-it’?

Oh Yes, He Does Remember and Sorry, He Forgot.

But he forgot again and as I was leaving he asked, Can You Buy Me A Rake? Um, what for, Tobias? Oh, Yes, He Forgot, We Don’t Rake. Right.

Well, I mention this because I have recently found out that unbeknown to me, I garden according to the ancient principle of wu wei. I mean, I always suspected my method was brilliant, but wu wei! That is brill. Its the Zen (or Tao? – or something . . ) art of “masterful inactivity.”

I love it: “The Art Of Masterful Inactivity”! Wu wei! I can do this!

I’m reading a book by Esther Woolfson who lives in Aberdeen in Scotland, called Field Notes from a Hidden City. The review of her book made me want to write about all the wonderful hidden creatures in my garden and generally in Westville, so I bought it with the express intention of plagiarising it. I’ve got to the part where she writes about wu wei and I’m right behind her.

“Less is more.” German architect Ludwig Mies van der Rohe popularized this slogan among designers around the world in the 1950’s. And the wisdom of this aphorism goes way, way back to the time of the great Lao Tzu, ‘venerable master.’ The concept of Wu Wei became mainstream in China, where great leaders came to see the power of “non-doing.”

I read a lot about books and then occasionally I buy one and actually read the whole thing. Often the book review is better than the book. I bought Everyone Loves a Good Train Wreck by Eric G Wilson. Well, it was a very good review.

Back to plagiarism: I will write to Esther and tell her what I’m doing if I get the book done. My wu wei credentials are not confined to gardening, however, so she may be safe.

Here’s the manicured bit for soccer, rugby and biking, with refuges for creatures in front and behind. When the kids stop swimming the pool will be made more frog-friendly. Made? Well, ‘Allowed To Go’ frog-friendly . . . .

Jess MTB small
– that chlorine-poisoned water needs to go greener –

So how did I know the beautiful little turquoise orb spider I found in my garden was Araneus apricus? I went to my saucers. This one is seldom in her cups: My favourite entomologist and arachnologist Tanza said:

Hi Pete – I think she is Araneus apricus, a little orb spider. Most are nocturnal, spinning their webs in the early evening and then removing them in the morning. Maybe she got out of bed late . . . ; It is probably a “she” as the males are often (but not always) smaller.- Tanz

I first met Tanza when she was working with social spiders on the Hella Hella bridge over the Umkomaas river. Hundreds of them obligingly spun webs between the aluminium railings, allowing Tanza to mark and measure at leisure. Usually they’d be in tangled bushes!

They’re fascinating. For one thing, like me they can balloon off and fly away!

~~oo0oo~~

Tanza Crouch’s 9 research works with 278 citations and 2,858 reads, including: The influence of group size on dispersal in the social spider Stegodyphus mimosarum (Araneae, Eresidae) – researchgate.net

Bribery & Disruption

Tom delivers a hot-off-the-grill rare steak, a breadroll and a lovely green salad with blue cheese dressing to me at my desk.

Plonking it in front of me he announces decisively: The kids have booked the lounge for tonight, Dad.
Have they paid a deposit? I ask.
Here it is, he says, planting a fond kiss on my cheek.
I’ll accept that in full payment, I say.

I was going to watch the Sharks’ game, but I’ll happily miss it.

 

=======ooo000ooo=======

The pic is a different day, same year. His mate is Francois. Both of their Dads are named Peter Swanepoel.

Jessie “in the wars”

Just in the last couple weeks Jessie has had three trips to the dentist, a flap of loose skin in her cheek, (I have to peer inside and tut-tut) –

Two teeth removed to prepare for braces!

. . slammed her finger in a drawer, needed lower back massaging and stubbed her toe. Badly.
She’s loving it.

Demands lots of attention from Dad and announces she cannot possibly go to school. “I’m in the wars, Dad”.
I agree. Take three weeks off and lie in bed, Jess, we’ll bring you your meals.

At which she sighs and demands “WHY NOT!?” as she knows that means fugeddaboudit.

But secretly she’s so chuffed at the impressive bandaging I did of her toe (binding it to the one next door) that she can’t wait to get to school to milk maximum sympathy, one school shoe, one pink slop.

Wild horses wouldn’t keep her home.

FFrightening

TomTom got a big fright as the injection approached. The dentist and her assistant had tried to sneak it towards him from behind, but he’s not polite like Jess. He swivelled his head right round and spotted it and let out a subdued shriek “What’s that thing?”

They started mumbling something, but I said “A big injection Tom, be brave now. No wimping.” So he took it like a man, gripping my hand tightly.

On the way home he’s playing with his rubbery lip, noting, “It’s dead on the left, Dad but I can still feel on the right. And I can’t say “effs” Dad, listen FF- uck FF-uck Fuck. Oh, I can actually.”

TOM!

“I’m just sayin’ Dad . . .”

~~oo0oo~~

Elston Place Ster/Kinekor

Dad can we go to movies at the PuhVILLION? ask Jess n Tom. PleezPleezPleezPleez

Definitely not. We went to a shopping centre yesterday, no way I’m inflicting that on myself two days in a row.

Aaaaw!

Next minute they’ve run to the shops by their own selves, bought jelly tots and flavoured water with their own money, made a big bucket of real, home-popped popcorn, and they’re settled in on the couch on a rainy Sunday watching “UP” on DVD.

Better.

There’s a Blockage

Two showers for three people, so I decided instead of the kids having theirs and me mine, we’d change to 16yr old Jessie having her own bathroom all to herself and me & Tom sharing mine.

Well, mini-management ignored that ruling so we have Jess usually using my shower and Tom showering when whipped.
Which arrangement caused my drainage to block. Ha! Jess and her long hair blocking my shower, I thought, cleaning the hair off the grate.  I mean, she’s a likely culprit:
Jess Water Baby
Except it was GREY! 
And I think I have tracked down the source:

LoddersSoutars Baldy

Tom’s New Butler

I moved Tom from his vainglorious paediatrician to his helluva-decent-chap GP yesterday for oversight of his daily mutis.

Being a very thorough specialist GP, Dr Lawrence went through all the pros & cons, side-effects etc, plus we had a long chat about ADD, what it is and how one should handle these special cases. Shouting doesn’t help, don’t beat your head against the same wall over & over, sometimes its worth just putting their socks on for them in the morning so it gets done quickly, give them a quiet place to work, give them routine, make sure they eat breakfast, etc.
A proper consultation as it should be done. Hats off, and a breath of fresh air.

So this morning we had a good laugh as I tickled his feet while dutifully putting on his way-too-big hand-me-downs from friend James after he’d come up to me half-dressed and said: Dad, Doctor said you have to put my socks on.

Bloody Road Cyclists!

We hit the road at 7:10am this morning on the school run and Jan Hofmeyr was gridlocked. I turned down Salisbury and saw that was worse. Traffic came to a halt. Leaning out the window I had a few chats to fellow-detainees:

Seems it was a cycle race which had closed the M13 in both directions. A cycle race! On a FRIDAY!? And for roadies nogal, those humourless lycra-clad anal-obsessive cross-dressers!? Shee-yit!

Eventually I opted out and parked. The kids walked the two blocks home and I tried out the new coffee bar at the top of our road: Joomas. They said they’re the busiest they’ve ever been and they’re three hands short: Caught in this traffic snarl-up.
7:30
8:00
9:00 Still gridlock. Amazing. The kids walked back and we decided to move at 9:10 and joined the lane inching west.
Dropped the kids off at 9:55am! School is about 4km from home.
‘Mazing. Never seen the likes.

Jess the Spotter

Walking single-file to supper in Thembe Elephant Park camp one early evening with Jess bringing up the rear.
“Dad there’s a snake!” she said, and pointed out this vine snake at about her eye level two foot off the path. We had all walked past it.
Beautiful. Aitch took the pic.
She’s a great spotter, our Jess. While Tom waxes lyrical all the time, she’ll say “What’s that?” and we’ll see some new creature.

Image

My Final Words (in Inuit)

So I’m teaching TomTom to make sealed exits from his new Fluid kayak playboat in our pool. As a prelude to learning to eskimo roll. He was a bit nervous when upside-down in his lessons, so I want him to wear a diving mask and relax as he looks around and orients himself.
Long chats about how cold the water is and much procrastination, but we finally have the shortie wetsuit and the splashcover on and he steps into the boat.
Step into the middle and sit right down, boetie, I instruct him, get your centre of gravity low as soon as possible.
So he stands more erect. You look like you’re about to make a speech, I say.
“I would like all to know that if I die I want my will given to my Dad,“ he pronounces solemnly, standing even more upright in the boat. “And also to my big sister Jess; And I also want people to know I didn’t want to die.“
Sit down, you goat! You’re such a drama queen.
He sits, hosing himself, and it’s a few minutes before we both stop laughing and can get to the next stage.
SO: I’ll flip you now; Sit tight, brace yourself in the boat; Look at me underwater; Give a thumbs up; Look at the water surface; Only THEN pull the splashy release handle, put your knees together and slowly emerge from the boat. Slide, don’t kick. Then swim to the top; OK?
“Dad, you’ve got man-boobs!” he says, triggering another round of helpless laughter as we proceed nowhere fast . . .
But he did it. Three times. Whattastar.
Afterwards, we showered under the hot outdoor shower, so it’s no longer a complete white elephant and goes to prove I was right: You NEED a hot outdoor shower.


Kof kof grin

Jessie’s desperately ill. Can’t move. She’s suffering badly from unfairness: Lots of her friends have stayed at home sick this winter and she hardly EVER has.

You haven’t even coughed, I say, dismissing her request firmly.

So that’s that.

.
I’ve just made her tea in bed and she’s settled in for the day, earphones on, smiling.
Gives a feeble cough every now and then to appease the ole man.

Dream On

Wake up TomTom, time to get up.

Ah no Dad, just let me finish my dream.

OK, but fast forward it, fella.

Five mins later: Come on, up you get!

It’s about Father Christmas, Dad.

Well, to stay on his good side you better get up, my boy.

He LOVES me Dad, I’m his best client!

~~~oo0oo~~~

A letter from an earlier time – dictated to Ma Aitch:

Tom letter Father Xmas

Dragging Them Up

Off to the Palmiet River with Josh, James, Lungelo & TomTom. I’m the Dad.
Crossing the stream I took their kit so they could cross unencumbered. And so who dropped Tom’s bag but me. It fell below my feet in a little rapid, and – luckily – got stuck. Dad! He shouts. My Walkman is in there! I should have carried it myself!
Reaching down I find there’s something big and rubbery caught between my lap and my chest preventing me from getting down past my toes to snag the bag. It’s my boep.
This sets me giggling, so now I have a jumping rubbery thing stuck between my lap and my chest and an irritated son who can’t understand why I don’t just reach further and grab, but I’m perched on a rock, short on reach and laughing, so I’m not much use.
Bliksem! I’m going to touch my toes ten times this evening. Well, reach towards them anyway. After supper.

After catching & releasing their usual crop of dragonfly nymphs, fish fry, freshwater prawns and water beetles, they get bored and turn to throwing with a stone. Each throw is accompanied by a triumphant YES! and a fist pump.
Oy! I remonstrate. Focus, you lot! Set a real target and hit it, don’t just gooi and shout YES! like you scored a goal for Arsenhole, you wengers.

SO I line them up. RIGHT: Five stones each and I’ll nominate a target. See that big white rock in mid-stream? (about a metre high, 1.5m wide and 15m away). That’s your target. Easy Peasy, Dad!
Not one hit. NOT ONE. Twenty consecutive misses. They were humble for a full three seconds.

They were much better at catching. I got each one to perch on a rock in the rapids and threw marshmallows at them from 10m. They each caught three and only a total of two dropped in the Palmiet (and got eaten anyway).

And you can see they’ve all had caring Moms: Here’s your cooldrink (a 2litre bottle of 7up Zero). Drink up and pass on.
Where are the cups to drink out of?
Just sip and pass on. Make sure there’s less, not more in the bottle after you sip.
I’m not allowed to let it touch my lips.
Why not?
Germs.
Germs are good for you. DRINK!!
They all drank.

Gonna have to take them camping. Toughen them up.

And yes I did gooi stones at that rock and I hit it dead square every time. I grew up gooing wif a stone.

Palmiet Josh (1)
The Palmiet on our doorstep

Moving? Don’t use Swanie’s Van Lines!

We were moving don’t ask me why. I would happily die here, I said to Aitch. “It’s outside the best schools’ catchment area” Aitch said to me. Which was why I was loading stuff into a rented trailer after fifteen years in River Drive.

Look, it wasn’t a bad trailer. It was – OK, it was a BIG trailer. And it was cheap. It was covered, too, in case it rained, which it didn’t. We had picked Pickfords to do the bulk removal, but I was doing the fragile and precious stuff, me being reliable, dependable, organised, punctual – OK, slightly some of those. We were only moving about 4km to our new temporary home while Aitch searched in earnest for her ideal place.

Picture frames, certain favourite big terracotta pot plants, some old furniture was expertly packed by me, learning as I went.

So I hitched it to the kombi and off we go. River Drive is right at the bottom – where you have to be to be on a river – so I gunned the kombi up the steep hill. She battled at first but then seemed to catch power and roared off lustily. I started humming that song from the removals ad on TV. Y’know: The toothless ou driving along oblivious that his load is falling off the back . . ?

– there go all my posse-essions –

A glance in the mirror showed the trailer right there behind me. Except it was getting smaller . . . Whoa! The trailer had escaped! Which is why the kombi had suddenly felt quick! I watched in horror as it careered down the hill heading straight for Geoffrey’s new gate and wall!

Yanking up the handbrake, I leapt out and ran after it in slow motion, like in a movie. Pointlessly. What would I have done if I’d caught it? Luckily it slewed to the right and hit a small palm tree on the pavement just before Geoff’s gate and smacked to a halt.

Ignoring the big gouge out of the tar where the disselboom had hit the ground, I reversed the kombi up to it, hitched it up again (checking the ball hitch more closely this time), and gunned the kombi up the steep hill . . .

Moving-Truck-Losing-Furniture

I would clean the potting soil off the pictures later.

footnote: 
We found a lovely new home in the Palmiet River valley right near “the right schools,” just as Aitch had planned. Then – Murphy's Law - the kids were sent off to a remedial school in town 20km away!! The best-laid plans of mice and Aitch . . .

Aitch did have the last laugh, though:

~~oo0oo~~

Money’s Worth

Hey, I went haring round on my bike on Sunday – first time in a long time! A friend took the kids on the 10km fun ride, so I had no-one to shepherd and could indulge meself.

This was just like the old days. Single track, through pine forests, up and down rocky paths, across streams and along game trails. Flat-out downhill, bones shaking apart and quite often thinking Oh, sh*t, now I’ve gone a bridge too far and I’m going to see my arse!” But I only fell once and then in slow motion down a very steep rocky path when my front wheel jammed against a rock and I slowly went over the handle-bars to land safely in the grass.

On some of the tight turns they had banked the corners, so you could hit them leaning right down and squeeze your back brake and skid round and jerk upright just in time for the next corner. Lekk-aah!

The trail started near the Umtamvuna river and the high point was on the cliff-edge overlooking the gorge in the wildlife reserve with the white-water rapids far below – stunning! (see feature pic – not mine).

Uphills, though “r not us.” I get off and push and enjoy the scenery. Everyone granny-gears their way past me, then I whizz past many of them on the downhills.

Gravity likes me.
~~oo0oo~~

Gayle, who had accompanied the kids gave this report: At the top of the first long climb, not 2km into their 10km ride Tom turned to her and asked:

Gayle, how much did it cost to enter this?
Twenty Rand Tom, she replied.

Well, I think I’ve had my Twenty Rands’ worth, he puffed.

Gayle managed to get him to the finish.

They huffed . .
– Tom of the NY Yankees into his stride through the bananas – aged six, 2008 –

The next year we did it again, the kids old hands by now:

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA
Tom puffed to Gayle after the first hill: How much did this cost? “R20” Well, I think I’ve had my R20 worth!