Going Incognito

Tom is wearing two name badges on his tie this morning.
Where’d you get them, my boy?

Found them on the field and outside a class.
Where’s your badge?
Dunno, but I can wear this nigger’s name, he says, pointing at Phila Zulu’s badge.
No way I can wear this one, he says, Who would believe I’m Josh McDougall?

Asks Thomas Swanepoel.

High School (2)

And – predictably – he got into trouble for wearing the wrong name badge.

*exasperation*

I’ll be Wafting

I used to have a simple beauty regimen:
For my face I would use Palmolive soap; For my body I would use Palmolive soap; For my wisp of hair I would use Palmolive soap; For my feet I would use Palmolive soap; Not to be too vain, but it worked for me, knowaddimean? I mean a quick glance will tell you:

Mkhuze Apr'14 (47)

Today was different. There was no Palmolive soap in the shower so instead I chose – from the vast array of expensive stuff that now fills the shower we’re all sharing while new bathrooms are being made –

Danger Time shower gel.

I came out smelling, so the blurb tells me, of

The Scent of Courage.

As the Axe ad said: A Step Up, Eksê! Watch out, damsels.

~~oo0oo~~

A Brand New Genre

Suddenly the music isn’t shouting out loud, telling me what to f*ckin’ do any more. I notice we haven’t heard I DON’T GIVE A FUCK ABOUCHOO! for a while.

On enquiring discreetly as to what occasioned the more pleasant sounds emanating from the boombox I’m informed by the 13yr-old that gangsta rap is SO history in his life. Over. Didn’t I know he has LONG been into “Deep House”? Silly me, I didn’t, but I’m very glad to take note and enjoy the more tuneful era we’re into now.

Still, I think I’m gonna miss the measured last line of that Big Sean ‘song’.

I. . DON’T. . GIVE. . A. . FUCKABOUCHOO.

—————-

Big-Sean

“I Don’t F**k With You” by Detroit rapper Big Sean.

You hadn’t heard it? Where you been?!

Opening Night

‘Break a leg!’

‘Hope you have lots of shit!’

Dusty Muffin’s blogpost on thespian good wishes.

I ‘met’ Dusty when I first started blogging. She gave me good advice – switch to wordpress.com – but I procrastinated and so lost everything on bewilderbeast.amagama.com. So then I finally switched to wordpress.com as Dusty had advised me earlier. Shoulda listened!

Luckily, I usually emailed my stuff to friends before posting it, so was able to reconstruct a lot of it.

Dusty now blogs at hakunamthatha.blogspot.com – go and check out her life in the Mthropolis of Mthatha.

~~oo0oo~~

That Institution

As we were going to have a small wedding out in the sticks, we held a Pre-Nuptial-Party at Kingfisher Canoe Club back in 1988 to celebrate with friends who couldn’t make it or who hadn’t cracked the nod. Who to invite and who to discreetly ignore is one of the things that makes the lead-up to tying the knot vrot with danger as anyone who has gone singing to the gallows well knows.

I was reminded yesterday about that happy gathering by Barbara Mason, who I only occasionally see as she lives a normal and sane life, parallel to the madcap canoeing world that links me to her hubby Charles (him a legendary paddler, me a used-to-be wannabe).

She told me she quotes from my speech of that night to this day. I had forgotten that I’d even spoken, but she assures me I spake thus:

“Aitch and I gave careful consideration to the pros and cons of getting married, but we decided to go ahead and get married anyway.”

Pre-Nuptial Party_crop

(Check the invite! Remember typewriters?)

Well, Are You?

Jess made a confession today.

When she got to Wendon she was eleven. In her class was Michael Z. He has a fulltime au pair who accompanies him to school and sits in all their classes. Mrs Tracy S soon became a firm favourite of the girls. They now call her Mrs S after a firm lecture was given to them about not thinking she’s their classmate.

But at the time they called her Tracy and Jess lurved her! (still does). One day after break in which the girls had been discussing a matter of some importance to them, 11yr-old Jess plucked up the courage to ask 32yr-old Mrs S – who had been in the staffroom at break – an important question:

Tracy, she asked, Are YOU going to smoke when you’re older?

Jessie, Gareth, Tracy and tarryn
– Jessie, Gareth, Tracy –

Oklahoma Honeymoon

As I settled in the seat of the Delta Air plane en route to Texas and the Gulf of Mexico, I read in the newspaper that I’d scooped up where someone had abandoned it, that the one thing I did NOT want to be doing was flying over Easter.

When is Easter? I asked the stewardess. ‘Tomorrow’ she chirped brightly.

Change of plan Aitch, I announced: We’re going to Oklahoma instead of the Gulf. I explained and showed her the newspaper (airport congestion, overbooked flights – us on a cheap Delta pass). Aitch had been dreading going to Apache: ‘They’ll all know you and I won’t know anyone and I’ll feel left out and . . ‘

delta-small-plane

But now she had to face her fears. As soon as we landed at Dallas-Fort Worth we booked the next flight to Lawton Oklahoma, heading back north instead of carrying on south. There was just enough time if we scurried. Aitch decided she’d skip the loo and go once we were airborne. Mistake. It was a narrow little propeller plane like this, two seats a side, a narrow aisle, no airhostess, no loo. Ooh!

We landed in Lawton after dark and she made it. We set off further north for Apache in a rental car. Apache: My hometown for a year as a Rotary exchange student in 1973. Arriving on the Patterson’s farm outside town we saw a ‘yuge’ SA flag waving from the flagpole! Jim had borrowed an oversize flag from the SA consulate in Houston to welcome us!

ApachePattersonRanch (11)
Apache Patterson Lunch (1)

Jim & Katie Patterson, the loveliest couple in the whole of the USA were just the same as ever!

They welcomed us with open arms to their beautiful and comfortable ranch house and it was as though we hadn’t been apart for fifteen years (during which time I had received exactly two letters from them. ‘Well, Peter’ said Jim with his crooked grin and twinkling eyes, ‘We didn’t want to flood you with correspondence’).

Apache Patterson Ranch_cr

Katie took Aitch on a night drive in the pickup looking for owls. Both girls were already suitably lubricated, plus they took extra stocks of their tipple. They had the windows down and were hooting weird owl calls and hosing themselves. When they returned they were laughing uncontrollably, leaning against each other for support. They had seen a possum snuffling around and Aitch was fascinated – she always LOVED the little night creatures. Katie followed it offroad into the fields, keeping it in the headlights. When it stopped she manoeuvred so it could best be seen and whispered to Aitch “Shall I kill it?” She was surprised at Aitch’s distraught look of horror. Then she twigged: “No, no, not the possum! I meant the engine!”

They collapsed laughing when they both “saw it” and were still laughing helplessly when they got back home where Jim and I were shooting the breeze, drinking cold Coors and occasionally watching ‘the ballgame’ – Basketball I think; OU I think. Someone won, I think.

One morning I woke up to breakfast in bed. It was 1st April, my birthday – thirty three years young today – and Aitch delivered a tray of healthfood goodies. Mental health food, yum!

– Second birthday in Apache! – I had also turned 18 here –

Jim n Katie arranged a lovely barbecue poolside and invited my best mates from high school back in 1973. Jay Wood and Robbie Swanda had made the year unforgettable and here they were again, also with wives now; Robbie wearing the Optometry rugby jersey I had given him in 1984 when I visited after kayaking down the Colorado river through the Grand Canyon.

Jay Wood & Robbie Swanda come for a barbecue; Robbie wears my Optometry rugby jersey (that I gave him in 1984, then regretted doing so! My only one!)
– Jay Wood & Robbie Swanda come for a barbecue – Robbie wears my Optometry rugby jersey, number 8 –
Jim unwraps the winter covers - Early for Aitch
– Jim unwraps the winter covers early for Aitch –

Jim even unwrapped the Caddy convertible from its winter covering earlier than usual and presented Aitch with the keys. She drove as far as the gate and then said ‘I think you must drive now Koos.’

– Koos! It’s too wide! – You drive! –

All I got was this old tractor that I had driven for Jim back in ’73. Life is so unfair.

Here's what I get to drive (memories of 1973)
– here’s what I get to drive (memories of 1973) –

OK, in fairness, he also gave me the keys to the Chevy Suburban you can see in the background with the door open. Which was so much fun I missed the Rotary meeting! Now THAT was embarrassing! Unforgivable! Everyone was forgiving / understanding (‘well, you ARE on honeymoon, after all’) but that REALLY was a major gaffe! Damn! Fifteen years later and ten thousand miles away I have ONE meeting to remember and I forget it! *blush!!* We were out in the countryside looking for a Vermilion Flycatcher and I just clean forgot. We did see a lot of birds that day, but not this one:

Vermillion Flycatcher in flight by . .

Well, our five day trip to Apache stretched to a week. Wherever we went all I got was an elbow in the ribs as the local inhabitants shoved me aside and crowded around Aitch. Every now and then one would mutter over his shoulder at me: “Now you look after this gal, boy! Y’hear?” Aitch’s dread of going to “my” hometown had turned into a reluctance to leave “her” hometown!

After ten days I sat Aitch down and said “Now listen girl, we still have things to do, places to go and people to meet. We can’t stay in Apache forever!” She was having a ball, reveling in the attention and she and Katie were getting on like a house on fire. I suspect on all their jaunts when they would breeze off in the Lincoln saying,s “Ya’ll stay home and watch the ballgame, y’hear?” that Katie was teaching her how to manage me and telling her how she managed Jim. Aitch obviously soaked up the lessons! It was Katie who had asked me as a seventeen year old back in 1973: “Peter, who do you think chooses the marriage partner?” Following my confident (wrong) answer she put me straight, telling me how, when Jim arrived for his first day of work at the bank in Oklahoma City she had turned to her friends and announced “I’m going to marry that man!”

So it was very reluctantly that Aitch agreed that I could book for the next leg of our extended honeymoon.

~o0o~

PS: I needed a haircut, soI took myself off to Oscar and Sonia’s barber shop. I had dodged them back in 1973, letting my hair drop down onto my shoulders. Their son Dallas was in my second senior class. I did three senior years, or matrics: Harrismith in 1972, then the second half of the 1973 class in Apache, then the first half of the 1974 year in Apache again.

Oscar and Sonia were full of beans and mischief and could ‘stir’ wickedly.

I walked into the barber shop and said to the man while he slaved over some oke’s scalp – in my best Okie accent – ‘I have a complaint! I had my hair cut here in 1973 and I’ve never bin satisfied!’

He stopped snipping, stared at me over his specs for a good while; then his eyes widened and he said “Peedir!”

..

That I remembered. What I hadn’t remembered was a prank I played on Oscar back in 1973. Sister Sheila recently (2020) returned the letters I had written the family back then. One of them had this story:

Oscar loaned me a projector to give a slide show and talk. I asked if he wanted it back tomorrow. ‘No,’ he said, ‘That’s too late.’

I said How’s midnight tonight? ‘No,’ he said, ‘I’d prefer four in the mornin’.

We left it at that. I gave my talk. With me was my good Apache mate Robbie and fellow Rotary students Eve from Durban and Helen from Zim. We went back to Robbie’s house and jol’d. Then at 3.15am, we drove out to Oscar and Sonia’s farm outside town in Robbie’s Mustang. I knocked persistently and Oscar dragged himself to the door where I said, Hope I’m in time! I thought you might be wanting to show some home movies?

He blinked, gulped, then fell right in: ‘Yes, Yes,’ he says ‘I did. Come right in.’  He led us in shaking his head muttering ‘This Boy’s Alright, inne?’

He and Sonia then insisted we sit down and proceeded to show us way too many slides with total bullshit commentary : ‘This is a picture of Mars taken on our second trip there . . ‘ This (a picture of their farmyard, or of Dallas as a kid) was Paris France on our third trip there . . . ‘

Robbie and I were hosing ourselves, Eve and Helen were falling asleep. Sonia then announced it was actually Oscars birthday, so we sang him HBD and left after 4am!

..

Remembered thanks to a letter written in Oct ’73!

~o0o~

The thick old honeymoon photo album has been discarded in my downsizing and selling our home, but not before recording all the photos. Here are the Oklahoman ones:

On, northwards, to Ohio to see Larry.

~~~oo0oo~~~

The Urgent Impatience of Youth

. . and the Wilful Slackness of Old Toppies.

Soon after 16:44 yesterday Tom found me in Sportsman’s Warehouse.
“Dad! Why do you wait so long before you answer me? I whatsapp you and then you take AGES before you respond!”
Oh! How long about, TomTom?
“Hours! Or maybe ten minutes or more.”

Let’s check, shall we?

I show him the time sequence below: Three minutes total.

In his defence:
1- he was wanting me to check out a new speaker for his Rap Noise and it was really important and urgent – and he suspected I was going to say No! And he NEEDED it because today they’re travelling in the bus to play KES in Joburg!
2- he did look sheepish when he realised the enormous delays were in his head!

Impatience2 crop

Recent Hella Hella History – Including a Wedding

My potted history of the two farms on opposite banks of the Umkomaas below the Hella Hella:
About fifty years ago when The Beatles were still The Quarrymen, a Pom family Wimbury hopped on to the mail ship in Pomerania to boldly go forth and do work in the colonies for the Great White Queen.
On board that ship was an 18yr old nubile South African on her way back from a gap year before they were called gap years, in Europe. Especially Italy where she learned some Italian, some Italian cooking, and did you know Lyn had a magnificent opera singing voice?
The Pom family and the Seffrican lass hit it off on board ship and soon the Wimbury family of England met the Payn family of Hella Hella on the banks of the mighty Mkomazi.
Hella Hella 2016 (5).jpg
– the Payn homestead at Hella Hella –

Meantime elsewhere a Jo’burg architect called Porter was making a good living and buying farms as a hobby. One of them became the Harold Porter Nature Reserve in Betty’s Bay. He sent his son Barry off to PMB varsity to get a BSc agric and then bought him a farm on the right bank of the Mkomazi opposite the Payns. This magnificent 5000 acre farm had the imposing Hella Hella mountain on it.

They called it Game Valley Estates and stocked it with nyala, impala, zebra, wildebeest and blesbok to add to the bushbuck, duiker, warthog, reedbuck and oribi that were there. That was the only time they ever stocked it. ca 1970.

Well, Barry had a Landrover cabriolet and wore short pants and long socks, and Lyn wore dresses so it was inevitable. They spotted each other across the mighty Mkomazi, their eyes locked and the two families were united in a river dynasty, solving the problem of parts of Barry’s farm being cut off from him and him having to traverse the Payn land to get to ‘Ottos.’

Hella Hella 2016 (15)
– ‘Otto’s’ homestead nowadays –

Except not really, as Barry and the Payn parents had quite a prickly relationship, kinda like porcupines meeting and sniffing but not embracing. So the farms were never united, Barry would grumble about how they didn’t appreciate the value of game fencing; when Mrs Payn put the farm up for sale and Barry could have negotiated they never got round to discussing a price and Trevor English bought it for a good price and Barry STILL had the prickly feeling of having to traverse someone else’s land to get to the other half of his farm! And English didn’t appreciate the value of game fencing.

Barry the bachelor stayed at Otto’s, so his and Lyn’s eyes actually probly locked while he drove his Landie across their lawn, not trans-river. Once they got wedlocked they moved up to Highover.

Barry & Lyn's old Highover homestead from 1974 (Warren was a 1yr old!)
– Barry & Lynne’s old Highover homestead from 1974 (Warren was a 1yr old!) –

Where they had a little porcupine – rescued when a Ford F150 did a caesarian section on its Mom at 65mph. It used to scurry around in the walls of their house between the corrugated iron and the rhino board inner walls. They also had Warren there. We bumped into him by chance visiting Hella Hella a couple years ago, and together we checked out the ruins of the house up on Highover where he was born forty years prior.

Later Barry and Lyn built a lovely new home at the foot of the Hella Hella, and the little Wimbury baby girl was growing shapelier and shapelier and she went nursing at Addington where the Weermag had sentenced a newly-knighted luitenant in the Medical Corps to hard labour: “You arre herreby sentenced to live in Doctorrs’ Quarrterrs and test eyeballs, including those of the 600 nurses ensconced in the Addington Nurses Res”.

What could I do? I obeyed. One of them was called Richenda Wimbury and she said you must come with me to a farm called Hella Hella. I took a peek at her legs and said OK. And so I met Lyn and Barry. It was 1980.

Me, Barry, McDuff, Richenda, Warren and Lynne at Hella Hella
– Me, Barry, McDuff, Richenda, Warren and Lynne at Hella Hella –

Later Richenda did audiology and moved to Wentworth hospital where she met a cardiovascular perfusionist called Trish Humphrey in 1985, arranged a Sunday braai and introduced her new friend to me and my friend Bernie the Jet. That was Aitch and the rest of that part of this tale was history.

Barry now had two young girlfriends, and this latest one would botanise with him! They would spend hours with their bums in the air and their noses in the grass. He wrote a love letter to his Botanising Buddy:

Dear Trish ,
In memory of past pleasant hours spent botanising on Game Valley ;  and in appreciation of your enthusiastic company and assistance on numerous trips up to Highover .
I hope you enjoy the CD ROM , it’s unfortunate that my scanner can’t scan 35mm slides , I have a far larger collection of slides and many are of better quality than the photos used in this presentation .
Just enjoy ! Some of the identifications may be a little off the mark so don’t let that worry you .
Love , Barry
Porters Hella Hella (1)
– Aitch – Beaming Barry – Richenda –

See here for more.

In 1988 Aitch and I got married at Hella Hella. We had been frequent guests and would continue to visit often for years to come. The farm meantime had been declared a Natural Heritage site. It was going to be the first marriage on the farm, but a Pee Aitch (professional hunter) and his chick got excited one night around the braai fire and suddenly got married. Technically, you could call theirs a shotgun marriage, right?

Here you can see their Natural Heritage Site plaque and certificate on the wall behind the bride-to-be:

. . and you make sure he knows who's . .
– Ma Iona teaching Aitch how to sort a husband out –

KCC mate Andre Hawarden made our wedding invites, complete with named rapids on the Dusi, Umgeni and Umko in case any guest wanted a quick paddle on the way!

Invite by Andre Hawarden (see how he has Duzi, Umngeni & Umko rapids named)
Hella Hella. Game Valley Estates. Lyn & Barry Porter our hosts
– that imposing Hella Hella behind us –

We started raising kids around 1998 and that led to less visits. Later Barry & Lyn sold the farm to a consortium who finally united the two Hella Hella farms into one logical unit, doing what I wished Barry could have done decades earlier. Of course it’s always easy with someone else’s money! Oscar Wilde said “Advice is wonderful stuff – in the giving.”

They bought a lovely unit in a complex in Umzumbe on the KZN South Coast, and Barry hit the trail, traveling far and wide on birding trips. Their son Warren was selling big trucks nearby; Barry’s brother’s Litchi Farm was close – outside Port Shepstone; McDuff, the younger son did heavy duty diving (oil rigs n stuff) all over the world; Lyn got busily involved in the local ‘Akward Society’ as we joked – orchids – and other affairs. Barry kept busy with birding, atlassing and other avian pursuits and committees. 

After Aitch’s first chemo in 2007 we went to Hella Hella for the first time since those days, staying in the lovely new cottages next to The Approaches. We woke up one morning and there was a big furry creature on Aitch’s pillow. It was her hair!

Then in 2011 Lyn died of breast cancer, Barry got a leg infection and died, and Aitch died – also breast cancer. February, April and July. Annus horribilis.

Recently a vulture hide in Oribi Gorge was unveiled: Barry would be delighted that it’s not just called “Barry’s Hide”. It’s called

The Barry Porter Memorial Vulture Viewing Hide.

You’ll understand why he would have loved the full formal title when I tell you he made us a tool to dig up plants. It had a handle like a motorbike, footsteps to step on to dig deep and the blade was made of the high-tensile steel of a cultivator blade. A Plant-Digger you might think? No. It had a neat label on it:

Porter’s Powerful Patented Plant-Pincher.

He also made us an intricate bird feeder labeled:

Barry’s Bizarre Balancing Bird Bistro. I found a photo with a bit of the bird bistro in the background behind Kiza Cele holding Jessie in the garden at 7 River Drive Westville. Note the dead branch for photography so you didn’t get artificial metal in your pic; the platform for seed; the various arms had spikes for oranges, cradles for bananas and pawpaws and small holders for suet and nuts. A full-buffet Barry bistro indeed!

River Dr Kiza Jess Bizarre Bird Bistro

 

~~~oo0oo~~~

Paddling the Umkomaas

I only paddled the actual race once (1983 Hella Hella to Goodenough’s) but I was lazy and slow, and the long days with cut-off times didn’t suit! Getting-a-move-on is not my forte.

So I used my tripping excuse to volunteer for sweep duties. We would paddle ahead of the start at Hella Hella bridge in our ‘tupperware’ craft and wait below No.1 rapid. Soon the river would be filled with flotsam, jetsam and bobbing heads. We would pull boats, paddles and paddlers to the side separately or altogether. It had not yet dawned on SA canoeing that maybe helmets and lifejackets would be a good idea for river ksyaking not even in the Umko! That came later (a bit like the story that ballboxes came to cricket 100yrs before helmets).

Once the last paddler had passed us (or pulled out) we would drift on slowly to No.8 rapid about 17km downstream of No.1, leaning back looking up at the magnificent scenery. Now that’s more my style. On the way we would do more salvage and rescue.

scan0106

These pics were in the 1988 program, taken during the 1987 race. So I didn’t see them: I was in the USA on honeymoon.

~~oo0oo~~

After the big 1987 floods there were rescue operations on the Umgeni and we went to help, ferrying people cut off from their homes or work across the swollen Umgeni. They hung onto us and we ferry-glided across. My big old Perception Quest was like a freighter, so one trip I ferried a person and a sack of mealie meal across!

Here’s Corran Addison having fun while helping out:

Umgeni Rescue ca1988

The Wages of Sin

My Mom is Mary Methodist. She’s 86. Let’s call that 4300 Sundays old. Of those Sundays she’s probably been to church 4299 times, maybe more, cos she was the organist for 100 years and the choir leader and she probly went twice a Sunday quite a few times. I know it felt like I did.

In the week she’d also go to Double-You-Ay meetings (Women’s Auxiliary, the church’s way of keeping women occupied and out of the pulpit).
This morning she phoned me. Says she missed church today cos she woke up at ten to seven for seven o’ clock church.
I said, I hope you rolled over and went back to sleep?
No, she got up and spring-cleaned a bit cos her great-grandaughter Mary-Kate is coming to visit while her grandaughter LindiLou plays hockey.
Oh.

Yesterday, she tells me, they went off to watch the rugby on their neighbours’ TV next door, and when they came back they were on loadshedding. AND the Sharks had lost.
And do I know the electricity didn’t come back on two hours later?! They had to use gas to heat up their meal and it only came on over four hours later. Her friend Winnie’s also went off, but it came back on after just two hours!

Well, I said, maybe SHE went to church.
~~oo0oo~~
Here she is with Aitch a few years ago:
– Mary and Aitch at 16 Ivy Rd PMB –
~~oo0oo~~
Ha! Family secrets! You may think you know them all, but there are always more. See https://vrystaatconfessions.com/2021/07/12/sinner-mary/ – MAYBE . . it was less than 4299?

Coffee with Jess

Breakfast with Jess and her friend Jordi at the Pavilion shopping centre. Tommy’s playing rugby.

20150516_114919

Drinks? Black coffee for me. Jess & Jordi will have hot chocolate. As our waitress Progress buzzes off to place the order Jess exclaims “Oh, wait! Can I change, Daddy?”

Sure love. Hop up and chase Progress (I think that’s good advice in general actually my baby, but I don’t say it. Don’t want her to say Huh?). As she gets up she mutters to Jordi “I want an apple martini”.

Hang on, what Jess? “A martini” she repeats, looks at my face and says “Why? Has it got alcohol in it?”

So we have a chat about what’s in various drinks and agree she can have a martini soon.

I’ve little doubt she’ll say Yuck! (she has just added two spoons of sugar to her hot chocolate).