Tag Archives: Jessica G Swanepoel

Open Sesame

Weird that a bakkie’s electric window winding mechanisms don’t last eighteen years, don’t you think? And that one can’t get spares after so short a time?

Being without a working driver’s door window made me a bit sad. That was OK, though as it made my kids even sadder. They were my automatic gate openers and parking boom and toll booth payers. Actually they did it with surprising good humour, enjoying rolling their eyes at me and sighing. I think, I believe.

Then Willie Panelbeater found an after-market window-winding mechanism for me. The driver’s door window is back in business. Once again I am rolling up to tollbooth windows nonchalantly.

Meantime, the two rear windows had been playing up for quite a while, and eventually conked. So far we’ve been unsuccessful in our search of Olde Parts Suppliers and scrapyards, so I have had to Heath-Robinson a fix for the left rear door.

– Window Closed –
– Window Open –

Now for the right rear. We’ll take turns sitting in the back, cos having windows like these, that don’t open all the way, is not fun! Shouldn’t be allowed. How can you look cool if you can’t hang your elbow out the window?

Update 1: Both rear windows have yielded to my mechanical skill and know-how and can open and shut again – and: All-The-Way open! Elbow-hanging cool can now take place. Also photography out the window in game reserves. Admittedly all very manual, no electric motors involved, and closing them if it starts to rain or a lion wants to stick its snoot inside entails stopping, opening the door and manhandling them closed.

I call it nostalgia, a wonderful throwback to Mom growing up on Nuwejaarsvlei and driving to town in Dad Frank’s yellow 1927 Erskine Tourer. Read about that here.

~~oo0oo~~

Update 2: I bought an exercise mat on special and quickly, before any exercise could take place, cut it up and covered up the gaping hole. Netjies huh?

– not levver like the seats –

Just a little Smoke . .

. . emanated from under the bonnet.

Dad! There’s smoke coming out from under the bonnet! Jess n Tom shouted in unison. It’s nothing, I said reassuringly, A lot of cars smoke like that.

No they don’t! Jess n Tom shouted in unison, ganging up on me. What? Suddenly you okes are automotive engineers? I asked defensively.

So I had to break one of my rules of touring and advanced automotive engineering and open up that bonnet – something I try and avoid, and advise against. Every time I do, it costs me money. A pint of oil here, a new head gasket there.

This time a smoking fanbelt, one that ‘drives the aircon.’ That ‘had seized.’ Who knew an aircon machine under your bonnet needs driving? Who knew the aircon machine under your bonnet has a clutch? Who knew it could seize? Whatever next?

The clutch. That’s what was next. The actual big clutch for gears n things, attached to the pedal for your left foot. So now the bakkie is up on blocks like an SA Navy submarine and we await spare parts from Pretoria, wherever that is. Come to think of it, when I was in the army, we were told that the SA Navy headquarters was in Pretoria, safe from any salty water n stuff. We were. Swear. Make this make sense.

So here we are, stuck on the South Coast in a comfortable cottage having to watch humpback whales breaching beyond the breakers and dolphins porpoising in the waves, and birds in the shrubbery.

And at night, Come Dine With Me, on OpenView satellite TV, with Jess giving stern advice and criticism to the participants. And saying ‘Sis’ and ‘Yuck’ about some of their dishes and some of their habits.

My next bakkie is going to be automatic, so the clutch won’t hlupa me.

~~oo0oo~~

hlupa – hassle

Jess in a Palace

When Jess hit seven weeks off her opioid addiction – and seven weeks of enduring Dad – halfway to her goal of beating her last record, I said, ‘You Choose a Place To Stay Tonight Jess!’ like it was something new. She mostly did that for us anyway, using lekkeslaap.co.za or booking.com apps. But her budget was usually Under R1000 and this time – it wasn’t.

I thought Here Comes a Luxury Game Lodge, but no. It was a suite in The Lost Palace at Sun City:

As we walked into our room she knew she’d made the right choice: Dad! Look at the size of the TV! she grinned.

~~oo0oo~~

What’s In A Name?

Jessica arrived as Jessica Gambushe, her name give to her by her Tummy Mummy Tembi Gambushe. Tommy arrived as Tommy Ngobese, his name given to him by the local magistrate.

When their adoption papers came through – wonderful papers with “legally they are asof uit u gebore” written on them in black and white! – we started to arrange new birth certificates, passports, etc at home affairs. We loved their names, and kept them, naturally; We also decided to keep their surnames as middle names, so Jess became Jessica Gambushe Swanepoel and Tommy became Tommy Ngobese Swanepoel. But Tommy’s had a twist. Much as we loved his first name, Aitch suggested we name him Thomas and then he could decide to be Thomas, Tom or Tommy in time to come. He has loved that. He was Thomas at school and formal occasions, he prefers Tommy at home.

They were both too young to argue, so although we consulted them formally, they just looked at us with a Can I Have Some More Cooldrink? look on their faces.

Years later, a different story. They had now been subjected to pale schools and their middle names had undergone scrutiny by pale people. Why is my middle name Gambushe / Ngobese? Change it if you don’t like it, I’d say, I still say. Go to home affairs, fill in a form and get it changed, don’t moan.

Back when Aitch was around I’d have to ignore a slight eyebrow arching in the background as madam overheard this. She had heard that story for many years when she would moan about her name Patricia! I’m Trish, NOT Patricia! she would insist. And I would say . . you guessed it: Go to home affairs, fill in a form and get it changed, don’t moan. Lead balloons have soared higher.

~~~oo0oo~~~

asof uit u gebore – as though born of you

Me, Tommy & Bella

Half a century earlier another name question had arisen

81 years of Matric

1938 – Dad – Maritzburg College, Pietermaritzburg.

Pieter Swanepoel 1938 matric
– Maritzburg College’s 150th -enary –

1972 – Me – Harrismith se Hoerskool, Vrystaat.

Science class - Elsie Campher watches me searching - Jean Roux on right
– looks like Elsie is chirping me as I pretend I might have done some homework –

1975 – Aitch at Muizenberg High – head girl!

– Mom Aitch was head girl as a Humphrey –

2016 – My Jessie – Wendon Academy, Westville, KwaZuluNatal.

20160307_072509
– eish! school! –

2019 – My Tommy – home schooling – did the GED course

– tutor Langelihle Dube and TomTom hard at work –

We went from steam power to cellphone power! Well actually, I spose the internal combustion engine was up and running when the ole man left matric . . .

~~~oo0oo~~~