Aaaargh! I shrieked in my head but “O-ka-ay” I said out loud, all calm-like, “Have you thought about it?”
Oh yes, lots.
“OK. What’s a tattoo? Is it safe? How much does it cost? Does it hurt? Who would do it? Have you got enough money? etc”
Oh, she hadn’t thought of any of that.
“OK. Do your homework and get back to me with the answers please.”
She did. Now that she knows more, she’s more nervous. But still determined. After all, Sindi has a lovely outline of Africa tattoo’d above her ankle.
The very next day she arranges a visit to the tattoo parlour with Sindi, where they are going to find out more and then come back for a final decision. They take themselves there by taxify.
The main thing I’m interested in is: Who’s the artist? Is he/she good? Does he/she do a skilful, safe job? Ask to see their work. Show me their work. This is for evah, don’t skimp.
So I’m furiously kicking for touch and I think I’m delaying things nicely. I went through enough trauma with the piercings, I hope to dodge this mutilation. I feel like I’m ‘handling things well’ as The Dad. I’m ‘in charge.’
So I get a message: Hey Dad please can I have mom’s birth date and her death date.
. . were delightful. But they were all chaperoned by big ugly ancient males:
– 6 centuries of old toppies (at least) guarding these lovely cherries in Lesotho –
Oh well, I made the most of it by looking for Vrystaat poppies. At least some of them were unaccompanied:
And the local birds were also obliging:
Saturday Supper was delicious. Cafe Chocolat hidden in a massive pile of priceless collectibles: or stuff someone threw out with relief:
– Barbara’s pic of the treasure –
We had a hilarious mixed message, crossed wire and different-planets outcome when I enquired about birders who might know where to watch birds around Ficksburg. The only ‘bird guy’ they knew was Johan and he replied to my sms asking where we could watch birds in the Ficksburg district thusly (translated):
Hey! Jong, in Ficksburg it’s only me and Martin and Willie. But its breeding season now and I don’t take people through my cages now, only end-January again.
~~~oo0oo~~~
Meanwhile, back at home some life lessons were being learned by my young adults:
Four generations and friends met at Mom’s house to celebrate her 90th today.
It was an all-day affair that included morning tea and lunch. Even when I got there after two there was cake and cheese and biscuits and olives and chips n dips, coffee and tea. Then champagne and sherry. Mom had to forego her nap!
Here’s Mom n Dad, three pensioner kids, an adult grandkid and two great-grandkids.
The Morons lived right next door to us! The Natal headquarters of the insidious infiltration of our lovely corner of Africa called KwaZulu by that cult cheekily calling themselves “Latter Day Saints” – saints! – lived next door to us in Windsor Avenue! Them who believe Christ appeared in America about one thousand eight hundred years after his death and resurrection, appearing with his father God in a little dorp called Palmyra in upstate New York to a dodgy character called Joe Smith junior to restore ‘the true faith’.
Right! Lucky Joe!
Joe Smith junior went on to ‘find out’ that the Garden of Eden was actually located in North America. How much time and effort had been wasted searching for it in the Middle East! Also that the New Jerusalem would be built in Missouri. Both places of course, conveniently located near to where old dodgy Joe happened to be.
I would see their minibus full of 19yr-old ‘elders’ depart in the mornings, and in Montclair I’d see their gangly young yank boy-men – always only boy-men, women are a lower rank – walking around in black trousers, white shirts and black tie with a black name tag with ELDER on it, busily proselytising, mainly among the young people of Umlazi. Did these ‘elders’ ever tell their prey the church was seriously anti black people, I wonder, I doubt. They would tell them, I’m sure, of Smith’s ‘First Vision’, in which God the Father and God the Son appeared to him in 1820 when he was about 14 years old.
This ‘vision’ is regarded by some Mormons as the most important event in human history. Excuse me if I snort at that. Later they changed that to “after the birth, ministry, and resurrection of Jesus Christ.” Modest Joe himself thought the First Vision the most important though: “I have more to boast of than ever any man had. I am the only man that has ever been able to keep a whole church together since the days of Adam…Neither Paul, John, nor Jesus ever did it. I boast that no man ever did such a work as I. The followers of Jesus ran away from Him; but the Latter-day Saints never ran away from me yet.” That’s bashful Holy Joe speaking, mightier than Jesus and modelled on Muhammad.
Mormons will tell you they are no longer anti black people. And that, actually, they do worship Jesus. Yeah. They changed cos they had to. They will tell you they regard Jesus now to be a higher authority than Joe. They changed cos they had to. They will tell you they no longer practice polygamy. They changed cos they had to. They still however, don’t condemn Holy Joe’s thirty-plus wives, some only fourteen years old, some taken from other men. In fact, the Mormon position on women has changed little since the early 1800’s, when the official view was that ‘woman’s primary place is in the home, where she is to rear children and abide by the righteous counsel of her husband’ (McConkie 844). This attitude, coupled with the doctrine of polygamy and the absolute power claimed by the men of the church, created a legacy of profound sexism which modern Mormonism has been unable to escape.
Did they tell the people of Umlazi of the holy magic underpants, I wonder? Of the multiple wives? How you can only get to heaven through Joseph Smith? Hopefully a lot of their target audience at this point say bullDUST and keep their money and their independence in their pockets! That ANYONE converts to mormonism in this day of easy access to knowledge is astounding. And sad.

See Christopher Hitchens exposé of the weird and sinister beliefs of Mormons.
See the New York Times story on the conversations Mormon leaders have when they think no-one – including Jesus, presumably – is listening; and their story on how the Mormons threaten their members if they go online and question things the church does or says.
Personally, I’d love it if the Mormons got the hell out of Africa and went back to Palmyra.
Here’s what’s gonna happen when they ring the bell at the pearly gates:

thanks cartoonstock
Don’t get me started on the Jehovahs!
And – worst? The Scientologists!

On finding out that Aitch had belonged to a ladies mountain bike group, a friend said (in Sept 2013) . . “I didn’t realize she was such a keen bean cyclist – seems there were not many things she did not try her hand at?”
Maybe we can fathom why Aitch got so keen on pedalling . .
The bicycle is just as good company as most husbands.And, when it gets old and shabby, a woman can dispose of it and get a new one without shocking the whole community" - quote attributed to Ann Strong-
"Marriage is a wonderful invention. Then again, so is the bicycle" (and - the bike comes with a far simpler repair kit) - quote attributed to Jacquie Phelan
“Life is like riding a bicycle. To keep your balance, you must keep moving”
” . . before mountain-biking . . (and electric biking) . . came to the scene, the biking scene was ruled by a small elite cadre of people who seemed allergic to enthusiasm”
“Work to ride – and ride to work”
“Four wheels move the body. Two wheels move the soul”
“If you don’t ride in the rain, you don’t ride”
“Don’t ride faster than your guardian angel can fly”
Here’s one of their guardian angels – who could ride MUCH faster than all of them . . He led their trail rides and looked after them. I never met him but she told me his name. And she’d kick me for not remembering it.
(The Quotes were written on a blackboard at Aitch’s “Angels Mountain Biking Club” coffee shop)
Jess was invited to accompany Lelam to his matric dance at her old alma mater Wendon Academy. Yes, she’d go; No, she wouldn’t; Yes. No. I won’t enjoy it Dad. You’ll love it my girl. Cold feet. But we got going:
We bought a dress.
We used her silver shoes from her own matric dance in 2016, then got (shh! cheap) jewellery and a clutch bag to match them.
Charmaine up the road did her hair.
– Jess all serious –
Her childhood friend Annabelle did her make-up.
– while Belinda took the pictures – – Jessica & Annabelle go WAY back –
Lelam’s Dad phoned and organised things. He would fetch Jess and take them to the dance. He sounded like a lovely person, but a dark secret cast doubt on that assessment: He is a Michaelhouse Old Boy! I’d be keeping a close eye on him.
Proud Dad Mphathisi and Lelam arrived with a beautiful bunch of roses and a stunning corsage:
They had a lovely evening. We fetched them afterwards, so we got to see the star-studded hall.
They had danced all night; We had eaten, drank and solved the world’s problems all night. Mphathisi is a lovely guy even if he did go to a dodgy school – the one Tom whipped at rugby.
Next morning a beautiful Pearl Charaxes found the single malt dregs:
. . . and a skein of birds flew overhead:
What a lovely day. The world is a good place to be.
~~oo0oo~~
Aftermath – I wrote to Mphathisi:
I enjoyed this little snippet from last night:
Lelam told me at the hall when we fetched them that ‘he had taught Jess to dance’. I thought that was brilliant and interesting, as I have paid for YEARS of dance classes for Jess!
So this morning I probed gently:
How was the dancing?
Fun, says the monosyllabic one.
Did everyone dance?
Yes.
Was the music good?
Yes.
Oh, and the DJ’s assistant was “hot” – she’s opening up here!
Did you do any different dances?
What do you mean?
I mean did you learn a new dance or something?
Oh, yes, Lelam showed us a new dance and we did it.
BINGO!
Mphathisi replied:
HAHAHAHA – oh the trials and tribulations of parenthood. 😊 – And HE has not shut up about how he taught Jessica to dance. Big moment for him, that – LOL!!!
~~oo0oo~~
feedback from friends and big supporters –
Terry: This made me cry twice. She looks just as Trish would have wanted Her too. What hugely handsome beaus too! Beautifully written Pete.
Rita: She looked amazing – both times. Jess has really grown into a beautiful girl. Aitch would be proud. And don’t run yourself down. You do a good job.
~~oo0oo~~
Postscript: Devastated to hear Mphathisi passed away a couple years later. We couldn’t find out any detail. Damn!!
Turbulence is interesting to anyone dealing with flow – any liquid flow, which includes airflow. Mathematician, physicist, pacifist and iceberg-detector LF Richardson wrote:
“Big whirls have little whirls, which feed on their velocity, and little whirls have lesser still, and so on to viscosity.”
“Great fleas have little fleas upon their backs to bite ’em, And little fleas have lesser fleas, and so ad infinitum. And the great fleas themselves, in turn, have greater fleas to go on; While these again have greater still, and greater still, and so on”
Which in turn, is a rewording of Jonathan Swift’s:
“So, naturalists observe, a flea Has smaller fleas that on him prey; And these have smaller still to bite ’em, And so proceed ad infinitum. Thus every poet in his kind Is bit by him that comes behind”
I was reminded of this when I saw a dung beetle with mites on his head in Manyoni Game Reserve in Zululand:
and today when an Emperor moth dying on my lawn had some zebra-patterned wasp or fly inspecting him with what seemed to me macabre interest. Ah, the circle of life!
Plaintive request from a colleague whose new practice name was challenged by – let’s politely say misguided – colleagues who claimed to have registered the same name before – even though they had never used it, nor had any use for it:
Please come visit me if Classic Eyes puts me in jail … I have my name reserved and they say they have the name reserved ….
~~~~
I’ll paint a box of wine brown and pretend its my briefcase – then I’ll “forget it” in your cell.
Little Azo – full name Azokuhle – has been a feature of our home all her life. At nine years old she still calls me “Dad’s Jess”. “Dad’s Jess, there’s a tick on the floor here!” she has just called out.
This reminded me of way back starting out with kids. I was 43 before I changed my first nappy, but – thanks to disposables – I was an old hand at it by the time this happened:
At River Drive ca. 1999, various Moms had dumped some children on me and gone off to play. Left me holding the babies, as it were.
From halfway down the passage came a yell “Jessica’s Dad! Come Wipe My Bum!” Took me aback somewhat, but I found the source of the shout, then it’s bum and did the necessary.
On Wednesdays always something new. Tonight Porterhouse, mushroom, roast potato and um, something green. Cecelia had hers delivered to her room; Jess and I had personal service too.
You would be SO jealous if you were watching down from your cloud right now. The kids are in SUCH a good space. They’re a pleasure to be with. Sure, they give me a bloody hard time often and sure, they manipulate the hell out of me but they love their Dad!
May this last a few more years and then may they depart and start sending money home. Hey, we gotta aim high.
We miss you and talk about you lots still.
Two sober kids in this picture – champagne on the shores of Lake Sibaya
Oh, and Sambucca has gone grizzly about the gills and eye sockets. Past grey, her muzzle is now white. Also her eyesight ain’t what it used to be and she’s deaf. Otherwise she’s fine. Still manages to fool one of us into feeding her twice by promising earnestly that she hasn’t eaten for DAYS, when someone else just fed her. She has recently discovered her bark (I think that’s about all she can hear now) so she has gone from a silent snoozer to an enthusiastic barker who can only be shut up by tapping her on the shoulder and signalling SHURRUP! That causes her to bounce around with glee saying “I KNEW there was someone here! So it’s you!”
Also, we found this in the garage this week: Sambucca’s pedigree! You hid it! So this is why she cost us R2000 when all our previous dogs had come free or with a R20 note tied on their collar!?
So now we know Sambucca was born 23 August 2006. Twelfth birthday coming up, greybeard!
Just because I’m not a good Godfather doesn’t mean I can’t have a good Godson. In fact I have two. Here’s an excerpt from the life of one: Gary Hill spent a few magic years as a MalaMala game ranger! His complete final blog post is here. Here’s a brief excerpt, featuring just four of his amazing photos.
Gary Hill pays tribute to the animals he encountered at MalaMala
As guides at MalaMala, we often feel as though we are personalities in an ongoing wildlife documentary. Following the journeys of the animals as they move through their daily lives is a tremendous privilege and an experience that will not be easily forgotten. The script of the documentary cannot be predicted. Every excursion into the bush reveals dramatic discoveries, and one is constantly engaged in a roller-coaster of emotions.
During my time as a guide, I have been lucky to witness some incredible sights. I have always said in the blogs that to see any of these animals is amazing, and the interaction between the species is really special. This is the ‘MalaMala magic’, and it is always out there waiting to be found. There have been too many fantastic sightings to share, but I have been sure to record each and every one, no matter how seemingly insignificant, in my journal and have tried my best to keep a photographic collection.
Lions: The Selati pride gave us a sighting of a lifetime when they brought down a kudu bull in the Sand River, in broad daylight and in plain sight for us to all see.
Following the movements of the powerful Manyelethi males has been incredible. They are a formidable coalition that are likely to dominate for the next few years. To shadow these four beasts as they move on a territorial patrol, or to have them roar in close proximity to the Land Rover, is a humbling experience.
Leopards: It is unfair to single out one species as a favourite. However, there is nothing more spectacular than a leopard. Their beauty is astounding. Their hunting ability astonishing. And, their cunning and intelligence is tangible. They have individual characters, and have been my favourite animal to view. The rich history and heritage of the leopards of MalaMala makes these animals even more fascinating.
As a guide at MalaMala, you are a small part of a such an efficiently run camp. Thank you to all the staff of the camp who make everyday routines run so smoothly. MalaMala is a world class destination, and that is due to all your hard work. I would like to thank all the rangers for playing such a huge role in my experiences. We have become great friends and I will miss being part of such a dynamic team. I have crossed paths with many wonderful guests along the way and it has been a great pleasure sharing the magic of MalaMala with you all!
Me ole Mum has slowed down somewhat. Walks with a walker now. But she’s still young – only turns 90 in September. We were discussing mobility this morning as she had a friend visit her who ‘can hardly walk’ according to Mom. ‘It took ages to get her into the house from the car and then just as long back to the car’ says Mom. ‘I told her she should get a walker like mine’ she said.
I said she should actually get a wheelchair. Makes it easier for everyone. Mom fully agreed. I said ‘For example: If you and I were to leave your house, walk down the driveway, cross the road and then walk back, it would take us ages with you and your walker. With a wheelchair I could whizz you there and back at normal walking pace’. Absolutely, she agreed. Quite right.
‘So shall I get you a wheelchair?’ I asked.
“FOR ME? OH GOODNESS NO! I DON’T NEED A WHEELCHAIR!” she said emphatically.
When we’d stopped laughing we agreed: Advice is only good in the giving.
~~oo0oo~~
Come to think of it, over my lo-ong career of listening to old bullets I wonder if I ever heard a one of them say “I need a wheelchair”. Nope. Not one. Just like I don’t think I ever hear a single old goat say, “I think I need a hearing aid.”
Jessie’s Tummy Mummy Thembi became a good friend thanks to Aitch and her conscientious follow-up and ‘adoption’ of Thembi. Aitch nurtured her and encouraged and empowered her. She arranged classes such as computer and sewing courses; she had her teeth seen to and hugely improved by the state orthodontists at Addington and King Edward hospitals.
Once a month she would take Jessie – and me and Tom sometimes – to meet for lunch with Thembi. Aitch would also take her supplies and goods to sell; Jessie loved those lunches. She and Thembi would gossip and giggle and point at people walking past commenting on their looks, dress, gait, whatever. Scandalous! They loved it!
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Once we took Thembi back to Port Shepstone so she could show her Mom and Gran that Jess was fine. She had left them at age thirteen to go and work as a domestic servant for a family in Chatsworth.
– Thembi’s Mom and Gran seated; Thembi’s long hair –
Thembi longed for a boyfriend, and when she met a guy who was very good to her she was very happy. But tragically she then contracted AIDS; Aitch pitched right in and arranged to meet the chief HIV / AIDS doctor in charge at King Edward, who saw to it that Thembi got good treatment and got it in time. She sickened rather quickly though, and grew weak.
Jess wrote to her when I visited her in Addington:
She died on the 19th of August 2010 in the Albert Luthuli hospital, after a stay in Addington hospital. I took her boyfriend and her brother Dumi in the kombi to buy a coffin and then to fetch her body; then arranged for them to get her remains – and themselves – to Port Shepstone.
Thanks to Aitch’s calendars and the death certificate, I now know Thembi was born on 2nd July 1983 and was fourteen when Jess was born.