Monthly Archives: August 2013

Aug9

Post 120. Open house

Posted on by
Standard

Dudley Daniel couldn’t believe what he was seeing.  He sat in the corner of our lounge and watched.  Later on when it was all over, he said, “I don’t know how you live like this.”  It was just another Sunday.  Our house was jammed, wall-to-wall with bodies.  They were in every room, making chai in the kitchen, chatting on the veranda and on the roof.

When Chris and Meryl came, they brought notes on, “How to open your home.”  After a few days with us, Chris changed that to, “The importance of closing your home.”

Hospitality was one of the most important things for us in those early days.  For those who had no family it meant they belonged.  They had a house to relax in and a place to learn.   They knew they could pop in any time and there would be food and chai and conversation.

At one stage we felt we needed at least one day off, so we asked people not to visit on a Monday.  The response was interesting.  It was as if they couldn’t believe we wouldn’t want to spend our day off with them.  We were best friends.  We were family.  Why would you not want to spend your day off with your family?  We felt so awful but they were fine when we assured them that we still loved them and there were six other days to be together.

An open home meant an open life.  People could see how Tony and I were with each other.  They could see the fun we had and they could see when there was tension between us.  It was up to them to decide what things they would do and not do in their own marriage and parenting.  They watched how we raised our children and how we disciplined them.  It was helpful for our kids to know there were others watching when we weren’t around.  The couples that had children started to look just like us.  When their kids were naughty, they would make them look them in the eye, make sure they understood, put them over their knee, give them a couple of spanks on the buttocks with the bum woody, hold them, kiss them, make the child say thank you and off they would go.  When a baby was born, I got all the ladies together and demonstrated how to bath it and change it.

None of the village mums used nappies or waterproofs.  It was a revelation to me that those things were a Western luxury.  The babies were wrapped in any cloth available and they wee’d and poo’d all over everything.   We deliberately didn’t get carpets for our house.  It was easy to wipe the marble floors and it didn’t matter how much mess was made.  I taught the mums how to make cloth nappies and how to make waterproof pants with plastic bags.  The soft, thin bags worked best.  Small ones were perfect for new-borns.  I cut the handles in half and snipped the corners of the bag according to the size of the baby’s legs.  Once the bag was pulled on, the handles were tied around the baby’s waist.  All the mums started using them and it made their lives so much easier.  It was a good way to recycle plastic too.

Most of the discipleship took place over plates of food in our home and other’s homes.  There was a vulnerability about it; sitting on the floor, eating with our hands, hearing stories of parentless, fatherless sons and daughters.  Having people listen to our stories and struggles brought healing to them and us. Our house was their house.  Their house was our house.  Home sweet home.

Aug8

Post 119. The Cross, The Crook and The Crown

Posted on by
Standard

The Cross, the Crook and the Crown

The Cross:

In the desert of my own choosing

I find a banquet laid out for me

In my wandering, thirst and hunger

I chance upon a strange tree.

 

A tree without branches, without fruit, without leaves

Yet the shade and the comfort is more than I need

I sit and I wonder with my head on my knees

How my heart can be so happy

Beneath such a strange and stark tree.

 

Something like liquid pours over my head

My thirst is quenched and my soul is fed

I have done nothing, only wandered and failed

Yet this tree has provided such comforting shade.

 

The Crook:

In the valley of confusion

I walked around and around

Shoulders bent and dragging feet

The path could not be found

 

With breaking heart and empty soul

I hated every step

Every rock and every scene

My life was totally spent

 

Through the mist of sin and shame

A rod and staff appeared

And then a man, a shepherd man

With a band around his head

 

He extended his rod and I fell to the ground

Then with the staff He lifted me up

He gently lifted me around His neck

Out of the dirt and muck

 

“This is going to be hard,” He said

And I said, “That’s ok. 

You can break my legs

Or do what you will,

As long as I find my way.”

 

The Crown:

On the mountaintop of life

When all was going well

I thought I was the best

My fame was soon to tell

 

With my head held high in the air

And my heart pumped up with pride

I came across a crown

Just lying on the side

 

Its jewels were just amazing

I could hardly stand the light

My eyes were almost blinded

The brightness was so bright

 

What I saw, I wanted

I wanted it for me

I wanted it so badly

For everyone to see

 

As my hand reached out to touch the crown

Lying on the ground

It turned to blood and thorns and pain

My heart began to pound

 

The owner of both crowns came by

And offered them to me

“Which one do you want the most?

Neither one comes free.”

 

The thorny one was ugly

So dull, so brown, so cheap

How could I possibly wear this one?

The humiliation would be deep.

 

But the gold one, yes

That would be fine

That would be just great

It fits me and it looks so good

Hey, this must be my fate.

 

The owner of both crowns

Looked down, at my expectant head

”Oh, you want the costly one,

The one that fits your head?

Come, let’s try and see

The truth of what you’ve said.”

 

As His hands came down,

The golden crown,  was held above my head

And then it changed to the ugly one

And with that the owner said,

“Greatness is the thing you want

And the glory and the gold

But these things will come to you

When the other crown you hold.

 

Without the thorns, the pain, the blood

The glory cannot be

That is why at this point in time

Both crowns will stay with me

 

It is clear that death is not for you

So where you are just pray

That you will see the thorny crown

As my only, perfect way.”

 

This was from a dream/visiony thing I had.  I woke up and wrote it down just as I had seen/heard it.  Written in a poetical season of my life.  First and last rhymie one.

Aug7

Post 118. Lunch on the mountain road

Posted on by
Standard

Some called it the road from hell.  There was definitely something demonic about it, especially for those who suffered with chronic car sickness.   For those who didn’t, it was an amazing mountain drive.

Some got sick on the way up, others on the way down.  Some, both up and down.

There were those who insisted on keeping their windows down for fresh air.  That also helped when the driver refused to stop for any reason.  It didn’t help when you were driving past a dead carcass.

Others swore blind that keeping their heads dead straight and their eyes on the road helped.  They lost it when the road disappeared around a hairpin bend.  There were over a hundred hairpin bends.

The theories were amazing.  Some kept chewing gum, some sucked on nimbus (sweet limes) others thought mints helped.  Those who didn’t believe in sucking anything became compulsive swallowers.

People on tour buses seemed to believe that the more they ate before going either way, up or down, the less sick they would feel.  They only believed that once.  It was an experience they never wanted to repeat.

For us, we tried to eat as little as possible. On our way down we usually left in the early hours of the morning so there wasn’t time for breakfast.  I seemed to need a banana quite soon after getting through the foothills.  If I was sitting in the front looking straight ahead, it seemed to help a bit but with two small children in the back seat it wasn’t possible to not look around.

On the way home from Delhi we would stop half way and have lunch at Cheetal Grand.  It was a small dhaba where we had delicious pakodas and sweet, milky instant coffee.  By the time we got to the Shivalik range, the food had settled nicely.  We tried everything.  Fortunately there wasn’t much actual throwing up but there was lots of queeze and swallowing.

Our almost joint-family-car-sick-experience was when we were driving up the mountain after a long trip.  We were tired and Tony was overtaking anything in front of him.  That happened whether we were tired or not, but that is beside the point.  There was a lot of swerving and speed involved.  The more I complained the faster he went.  We had all had enough.

A local tour bus was really irritating us.  It was going quite fast and wouldn’t let us pass.  The name of the tour company was “Panicker’s Travels.”  We kept getting stuck behind it on the bends and I was making up stories about how it might have got its name.  As we got to a straight bit, Tony put his foot down and started to overtake it.  As he did, a woman put her head out of the bus window and threw up all over our windscreen.  We all started screaming things like, “Oh Lord! How disgusting! Aaaah!” and other exclamations I have chosen to forget.  Tony was the only one who didn’t have his hands over his face.  We were all gagging.

Tony couldn’t see properly, but managed to overtake the bus.  With all the noise and commotion, he did what anyone in their panicking mind would do to get rid of the mess.  He turned the wipers on.  He found out a second later that the water pump to clean the windscreen was empty.  We drove all the way home with someone else’s lunch smudged all over our windscreen.

Someone started giggling; a gagging kind of giggle.  Then someone joined in and then we all started laughing hysterically.  By the time we got home, all the tension of the trip had gone but for some reason we all felt the need to have a soapy bucket bath.

Aug6

Post 117. Boys and ladybugs

Posted on by
Standard

The girls were squealing so loud we had to ask them to tone it down.  We were on the road to our house and they knew it was just around the corner.  They couldn’t wait to see everyone again.  They had missed Sarita and Angie and their puppy Sasha.  As we turned around the tight bend above our house they couldn’t contain themselves.  They were bouncing up and down and screaming.  We were all so happy to be home.  It had been a long, amazing trip in South Africa but we were ready to get back to our house.

We had given out a lot.  There was a lot of talking and answering the same questions over and over, which was exhausting.  At the same time, we were glad people were interested in our lives in India.  I found myself getting peopled out quite quickly and a bit overwhelmed with the intensity of all the meetings.  I also struggled with the whiteness of it all.  We were used to being the minority.  I missed the faces of our Mussoorie friends.  Our lives there were simple.   There were times when I felt quite brain dead for lack of stimulating English conversation but when we were in it, it was all too much for me.  We arrived home needing a holiday.  We caught up with people and had a month to settled back in.

While we were in South Africa there were lots of people who said they wanted to visit us.   Some came for a week, others for a few months and others for a few years.  Dudley and Margi Reed came for a couple of weeks and were such an encouragement to us.  Graham and Kay Jones arrived with their little boys, Seth and Caleb and moved into the flat downstairs.  They were going to stay for a long time and we were so happy to have their company.  The boys were almost the same age as Asha and Zoe and they got on really well.  Except for one thing.

The girls loved ladybugs.  They were their friends and pets.  They collected them and talked to them.  If they had been able to find clothes for them they would have dressed them.  One day they came from the roof screaming hysterically.  When they calmed down enough to talk they told me, “Seth and Caleb are frying ladybugs!  They won’t stop!”  They were so distressed.  I went up to the roof to see what was going on.  The boys had poked splinters through the ladybugs and made their own little fire to fry them on.  They had no idea what all the fuss was about.

The boys also taught the girls how to enjoy scrambling around the hillside.  Before they arrived Asha and Zoe only played on the roof and the rock.  Seth and Caleb got them clambering through the bush, down to the bottom road and all over the cud.  They became quite adventurous.  There were lots of sleepovers and dress-ups and we were in and out of each other’s houses all the time.

Louise Bulley, Dudley Daniel, Lee and Anne Cowles, Dalton and Tracey Gibbs, Don and Andrew Cook, Rob and Glenda, Terry and Linda Fouche, The McKellars, Chris and Meryl, Gill Coetzee, a team from Waverley and Tony’s sister Jan and her husband Allan were among the many visitors we had.

Each had their own India stories to tell but they all had one story in common; the road trip from Dehra Dun to Mussoorie.  It was something they would never forget.

Aug5

Post 116. Spooked out

Posted on by
Standard

We made our way down the South Coast to Southbroom to spend a week in Rig and Sue’s cottage.  It had been a long time since we had seen the ocean.   We were going to drive straight back to Johannesburg from there.

We settled in and read the “Rules of the House.”  It was fine until we got to the “night routine”.  The security system had to be switched on (very complicated for Indians) and the security gate between the bedrooms and the living area had to be locked.  Before that, we had to put glasses on curtains, on the windowsills.  If a burglar put his hand in he would push the curtain and the glasses would shatter and wake us up.  The whole thing freaked us out.  We weren’t used to it and really didn’t sleep well.

We couldn’t wait to see the light of day.  The days were relaxing.  There was a lady to help us with cooking and cleaning.  We felt so spoilt.  Different friends came from Durban to spend time with us and that was special.  Terry and Linda Fouche visited the day before we left.   They came in the afternoon and stayed for dinner.  Tony and I felt so uneasy that whole evening.  We had a feeling someone was watching us from outside.

Terry and Linda left late and we did some last minute packing.  Tony was going to pack the car so we could leave early the next day, but changed his mind.  We quickly did the security routine and climbed into bed.  The girls were in their own room, oblivious and dreaming sweet dreams.  We lay there for quite a while feeling really spooked out.  We prayed for protection and tried to sleep.  A few minutes later we heard a sound like ice cracking.  We had turned the fridge off to defrost it and agreed it was ice melting in the freezer.  There was no way either of us was going to check.

When we were kids we were taught about burglars.  “If you hear anything in the night, or see anyone in your room, pretend you’re sleeping and let them take whatever they want.  Don’t move, don’t scream, and don’t try to take them on.”   When we lived in Johannesburg we got used to the “Driving at Night” safety rules.  “Don’t stop at red lights in an isolated area, keep your doors locked, don’t look into the face of your attackers, give them the keys and anything else you have and don’t try to take them on.”  Those things were clear.  Something deep inside, told me that if I was ever under attack, there was no way I would stick to those rules.  Adrenalin makes one do strange things.

It was pitch dark and we lay there dead still, waiting for something horrible to happen.  When it didn’t, we managed to get a few hours of fitful sleep. We couldn’t wait to see the sun.

It was really early when Tony unlocked the security gate and went to the living room to turn the alarm off.  He looked out at the carport and our car was gone.  Terry and Leonie’s car was gone.  Lying just to the right, on the ground, was shattered glass from the car window.  There were tyre marks down the driveway.  

Tony came into the room as white as a sheet and with tears in his eyes.  When he told me, I started crying.  We didn’t know what to do.  Southbroom wasn’t just down the road.  It was down the coast.  Our friend’s car had been stolen.  One thing we were thankful for was that we hadn’t chosen to use their BMW.  We weren’t sure how that would have been worse, but it made us feel just a little bit better. 

We pulled ourselves together and called Terry.  When he heard how upset Tony was, he laughed.  It was as if that kind of thing happened to him every day.  He was amazing.  Wilf and Val came to pick us up to take us back to Durban.  In the meantime we filled in police reports.  The conclusion was that the car had been towed out.  It was unbelievable to us that they had managed to steal a car with all the alarms, monkey grip and everything in place. 

What a way to go to bed.  What a way to wake up.  A car had been stolen along with a box of Tony’s newly released “Colours” cassettes,  a nice big tent we were going to take to Mussoorie with us and Tony’s favourite handmade shoes.  

Fear had made it’s presence known, but we were safe.  We did go bed and we did wake up.   That was something to be very happy about.

Aug2

Post 115. Treasure

Posted on by
Standard

It was good to be with Wilf and Val again.  Nothing had changed in Rolleston Place except that a few houses had been re-painted.  No one had died and there were still lots of children everywhere; there were also lots of grandchildren.

The Lowe family

The Lowe family

The girls were made to sing and perform for everyone just like we used to*.  There were muffled giggles at their accents and their Indian head wobbles.  Dave and Bev brought their three boys Jonathan, Cameron and Mitchell around and there was lots of dancing and jiving in the lounge.  Peter and Char had little Kendal and Rig and Sue came with Ryan and Leigh.  No. 28 * was brimming with life again.  We spent lots of time in the pool and soaked up all the sun we could get.  We had come from another cold winter in Mussoorie.

Image

Wilf was so surprised with his gramophone.  He got really tearful and even more emotional when it actually worked. It was amazing to hear an old vinyl playing with all its funky crackles and scratchy sounds.

Val took me shopping.  What a traumatic experience.  She needed to do a big shop so I took half of her list.  I had no idea where anything was.  I hadn’t been in a supermarket with a trolley for two and a half years.  It was BIG.  It took me ages to get the goods and I made my way back to Val.  Everything I had was the wrong brand.  In Mussoorie we had no name brand sugar, flour and milk.  They all came in clear plastic bags.  As Val started to take things out and put them back, I started crying again.  I told her I would meet her outside.  I didn’t want to go near another supermarket.  Not ever.

I had changed.  Everything in me had been shaken up.  My worldview was different.  I shuddered when my family still called their house helpers “girls” no matter how old they were.  They still called their gardeners “boys” or “John” even though they had names.  There was so much I didn’t like and I had to constantly remind myself to not be critical.

Being with my family again made me think.  How often we lock people up in the boxes of our past.  We presume they are the same as they were a year ago or even a few months ago.  There is an expectation for them to behave a certain way and when they don’t we are taken by surprise.  That holiday together helped me to let people out of those boxes I had put them in.  He is like that, she is like that or even I am like that.

We change.  We are flexible and adjustable.  We can go from one culture to another and adjust to it.  It may be difficult but it’s not impossible.  I may not like it or agree with it, but I can be happy in it.  If I look for the good and not the bad, I will find it.  If I have to use a microscope I can do that too.  There is so much good in people; SO many kind, lovely people in the world.

A poor man looks through the rubbish to find treasure.  How often I have found myself standing in a pile of treasure, looking for rubbish.

* Post 5.  Honky Tonk

* Post 7.  Smoking banana leaves

Aug1

Post 114. Reverse culture shock

Posted on by
Standard

Image

Being in South Africa was strange.  Rig picked us up at the airport and we drove to their place.  The girls weren’t happy being tied down by seat belts, but were still able to look out of the windows.  We asked them what was different.  Ash asked where all the animals were and Zoë wondered why there were no people.

Rig and Sue had moved into a beautiful house on the school property where we used to live.  There was so much space and the girls enjoyed walking across to “Little Lambs” pre-school to play with the kids.  They didn’t remember much about it but Ash recognised a few people.

Image

We spent a weekend at Waverley and so much had changed.  We hardly knew anyone and very few had heard about us.  When I stood up to share about our journey to India, I got really emotional.  I suddenly realised that Waverly wasn’t my home church anymore.  It felt more strange than comfortable even though we were looked after so well.

Rig and Sue took us out to a new mall for lunch.  I was so weepy.  I sat and watched and cried my eyes out.  There was so much money everywhere.  So many people carrying so many shopping bags and looking so empty as they did it.  I tried to enjoy my lunch but it got stuck in my throat.  I kept thinking about our family in Mussoorie and how hard life was for them; how little they had and how happy they were with so little.   In that mall were so many who had so much yet seemed so unhappy.

That week Tony and I did some shopping at Pick ‘n Pay.  We were looking for things we needed for our time in South Africa.  We went up and down the aisles and just couldn’t make decisions about anything.  Tony stood in front of the razor section for over ten minutes trying to decided which one he could get blades for in India.  The price was a problem but he knew that if he got a cheapy, he would have to buy another one.  The negotiations went on and on.

I walked up and down and got totally overwhelmed with all the choices.  I cried walking past the toilet paper section.  There were so many types, colours, designs, embossed and even perfumed.  My thought was, “No butt deserves such pampering.”  I couldn’t get myself to walk down the pet food aisle.  That just finished me off.

My innards were struggling with everything.  I was trying not to be judgemental or critical but I was very aware that those things were in me.   I had seen such poverty and had almost forgotten how the other half lived.  Being back in it was hard.

Tony kept reminding me that there would always be someone richer or poorer than us.  Anyone who had a motor bike, would look at our jeep and think we were rich.  If we got a motorbike, a man on a scooter would think we were rich.  If we got a bicycle, a man who walked would think we were rich.  Very soon we would be walking everywhere and not ever use public transport.

That was just the beginning of our time in South Africa.  We were heading to Durban, Margate, Southbroom and then back to Johannesburg.   Terry and Leonie offered us the use of a car.  They gave us a choice: BMW or VW.  We chose the VW and were so glad we did.