Apr23

Post 52. Living with the Wallaces

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Rigby and Sue were leading a small but growing church called “Waverley.”   It was full of life and an oasis after my travels and intense ship life.   It was an important time for me, watching their marriage and observing how they raised their children.  I also saw the stresses and joys of church life.  

We were no longer living under the rules and regulations of our former church.  We could dance, wear jewellery, jeans and go to movies without thinking we would be left behind if the rapture took place.  It was lots of fun and I made some amazing friends.    

I loved living with the Wallaces.   I had been in love with my nephew Ryan from the moment he was born.  

The Pink Family from New Zealand was touring around South Africa.  They were a Maori/Pacific Island family and we had become friends.  There was a farewell party for them about an hour away from Rolleston Place and I couldn’t go by myself.  Sue was 8 months pregnant and we managed to convince Rigby there was NO WAY the baby would come 6 weeks before its due date.  He REALLY didn’t want us to go, but being the girls we were, we drove off up to Botha’s Hill.   The party was well under way.  Sue seemed fine.  But she wasn’t.  We had only been there for about an hour when her waters broke.  Rig was an hour away and furious.  A trip that should have taken an hour, took him 25 minutes.  He did not stop telling us that he had told us so.  She was taken straight to Addington Hospital and Ryan was born 6 hours later.  He was 6 weeks premature and looked slightly monkey-like.  There was hair all over his ears and body and he just couldn’t  keep his eyes straight.  He was the most beautiful thing we had ever laid eyes on.  I was smitten. 

When he was four,  I was his first date.  He wanted to marry me.  We dressed up and went to the movie, “Never-Ending Story.”   It was unforgettable.  He was 10 when I moved to Johannesburg and not interested in any more dates, but we were still friends.  

Leigh was born when I was on the ship.  I missed out on so much of her babyhood but we made up for it.  She was gorgeous.  She had a thick head of blonde hair and a pouty mouth.  It was a challenge to get her to smile or laugh.  She was so serious.  I loved blow drying her hair and making her look pretty.  Her favourite pastime was staring.

They had two dogs; Nelson Wallace, a huge black Newfoundland and Jackie Wallace, a little white fox terrier.  Jackie loved to jump up and hang on Nelson’s ears.  He shook her off and sent her flying.  She would just rush back,  growling for more. When she got too frisky, Nelson put his big paw on her and pinned her down.   Brenda Botha had been visiting us.  When she got home, Jackie jumped out from under her car.  She had found a little space and curled up near the engine.  We aren’t sure at what point of the journey Jackie woke up, or what went through her mind when she did.

Rigby was terrified of mice.  The property next to our house was vacant and we had quite a few visitors.  One night I was reading on my bed and a mouse ran into my room.  I screamed and Rig came running in wearing his dressing gown and slippers.  He was armed with a bucket and a broom.  He looked so brave.  That changed when he saw the mouse.  He was jumping and twitching all over the place.  I was standing on my bed shouting and pointing to wherever the mouse was.  It disappeared behind the curtain and I couldn’t see it anymore.  Rig stood on the bed, poking and prodding the curtain with the broom, for what seemed like ages.  Suddenly, the mouse jumped onto us from the curtain rod.  We flapped and screamed and fell all over each other.   We stood on the bed and could not stop screaming.  When we realised the mouse was nowhere to be seen, we laughed until we cried.  Every time we thought about it we laughed again.  We laughed for weeks. 

Apr22

Post 51. So, how old is your fiance?

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I didn’t hear from Tony for about 2 weeks.  The mailbox was empty.  It was the longest I had to wait to get a letter from him.  I was upset.  I wondered if he had changed his mind.  Worse still, I wondered if he had met someone else.  My imagination ran wild. 

In the meantime, I loved my job in the engineering company in Johannesburg.  It took a while to get on with some of the German secretaries, especially Charlotte.  She was blunt and she felt it her duty to let everyone know exactly what she thought of them at any time.  No one liked her.  I made her my mission. She started to warm up to me and we became good friends. 

One day she asked me what my star sign was.  I told her I didn’t believe in horoscopes and such things.  She eventually got me to tell her when my birthday was.  She was surprised.  Apparently people under my star sign and people under her star sign didn’t get on; ever.  She had never met a person born under my star that she got on with; ever.  I didn’t fit into the “star” box.  She was surprised again when I told her what I was like as a child and how I was changing all the time.  She was concerned that Tony and I wouldn’t be compatible.  I assured her that he had also broken out of his box.  The stars had nothing to do with the changes that had taken place. They had no power to change anything.  She was fascinated.

Everyone in the office was involved in my love life. The guy who picked up the post from my desk teased me for running after Tony.   He could only see the letters going out.  He had no idea how many letters had been filling my mailbox at home.  

We had been writing for months and neither of us had thought about asking each other’s age.   After we got engaged by phone, cassette and letter, Tony thought he might as well find out.  The post guy in my office picked up my letter with the answer and posted it without a stamp.  It went to all the islands in South East Asia and it was weeks before Tony got it.  His friends in New Zealand were asking him how old his fiancé was.  He kept telling them he had no idea.  They thought he was crazy.  

It was two weeks before I heard from him.  When he called, his voice was shaky.  The police had come to their house and Tony was asked to go with them to identify a body in town.  It was his dad, Doug. He had died from a massive heart attack.  

Just a few months before that, Doug and Tony talked about their relationship, their differences and their issues.  Tony was able to totally forgive his dad.  It was a heavy, 24 year old weight off his shoulders. 

Doug had been into a big property deal in the centre of Auckland.  His risky, high powered life had taken its toll.  He was only 59. 

I felt helpless.  Tony was so emotional and I cried with him.   I felt awful for having been so selfish and also happy that we were in touch again.  He hadn’t changed his mind.  

Everyone wanted to know what was happening and when he was coming.  As soon as he had enough money; that was when he was coming.

Apr20

Post 50. Triple yes.

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Letters from New   Zealand were arriving fast and furiously.  They were diary letters.  Every event was written about and we got to know each other really well.  Tony’s dad Doug, wrote a couple of times and I fell in love with him too.  He talked a bit about the old Tony but talked lots about the new one and how happy he was that I was in his life.   Betty also wrote to me, quite concerned that I knew what I was getting myself into.  

We had been writing to each other for about a year and things were getting serious.  Tony was doing a course in a Bible College, painting houses and working in a restaurant.  He was saving up every penny to get a ticket to South Africa. 

Before he came he had to make sure it wasn’t going to be a waste of time and money.   We arranged to fast together over a weekend.  On Monday evening, Cathie Beattie and I were lolling around in the lounge when the phone rang.  It was Tony.  We had a brief chat about life in general and then he said, “I love you and I really want to marry you.  Will you marry me?”  

Cathy was watching me from the couch.  She heard me say in a very calm voice, “I would love to.”  

Her eyes got bigger and she stood up waiting for me to put the phone down.   “So???” 

“He asked me to marry him.” 

“What! How can you be so calm!?” 

We started to hug and jump around the lounge, screaming with excitement. 

That wasn’t enough for Tony.  He needed to make sure he wasn’t going to get to South Africa and be sent home.  Within a week he asked the same question on a cassette and in a letter.  I said yes three times. 

I was sure about him, but for a little while there, I wasn’t sure I wanted to give up my single life.  I had always said I wanted to get married at 25.  Now I was 25 and I was having doubts.  I put my concerns in a letter.  I was happy being single.  I loved my life.  I was busy and content.  Did I really want my life to change? His calm reply calmed me down and I started to get excited about being married. 

One of the big things we had talked about was his call to India.  Before he asked me to marry him he asked me if I was willing to live in India with him.  He made it clear that if my answer was no, we could not go ahead with our relationship.  He didn’t want to drag his wife kicking and screaming to India.  I was willing to go anywhere and so that was settled.  

It sounded so simple.  We were going to get married and move to India. 

 

Apr19

Post 49. Voices

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On his way to Sri Lanka he stopped at a beach in South India. He had been carrying thousands of dollars worth of drugs in his guitar, ready for a run to Europe.  He stood on the beach and threw them into the Indian Ocean.  That was that; forever. 

In Colombo he started to experience some strange things.  He was hearing voices which were freaking him out.  He ran into an old Anglican Church building to get away from them.   The voices were echoing through the rafters saying things like, “You’ll never make it! There’s no hope for you”.  He thought he was going crazy.  He also thought birds were talking to him.  Once, while lying on his bed late at night, something started choking him. He couldn’t breathe.  He screamed out “Jesus!” as loudly as he could and sat up gasping for air.  His heart was pounding but he was free.  

Tony was gripped with fear. The next day at the Y.M.C.A. a young guy spoke about fear.  He invited Tony to go with him to hear The Celebrant Singers in concert.  They prayed for him at the end of the concert and the voices and demons left and never came back.

The music was unusual; nothing like Deep Purple and Jimi Hendrix, but Tony knew it was good for him.  He went after every Christian he could find. They ranged from weird to wonderful.  An old Anglican priest led him through confirmation classes.  He told Tony that to get rid of bad thoughts he should make the sign of the cross on his forehead.  His finger never left his forehead and there was no sign of the thoughts leaving.  

He had his fourth church experience in Colombo.  He hung around at the end hoping people would talk to him.  No-one did.  He looked like a freak with long hair, funny clothes and rings on every finger.  He was disappointed but not surprised.  Some weeks later, he went back to the same church.  He had cut his hair and put on some “respectable” clothes.  It worked!  People talked to him.   One man even said,  “Wow, you have really changed!”  The change had taken place weeks before.  The only things that had changed that week were his hair and clothing.

Wherever he went people talked about a “ship” that had just visited India.   A monastery wasn’t an option, but the ship seemed like a place where he couldn’t hurt anyone.  Six months later he was on the Doulos.  He was safe. 

Apr18

Post 48. Clean slate

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Sitting alone in a quiet jungle

Wishing I could sweep a wand over my life

To wash me clean

To start all over again

In my mother’s womb.

How good I would be

How clean I would keep my slate

If only, if only.

In a flash, my soul was encompassed in darkness

My spirit snuffed out

Not a flicker of life

I was old

Too old for my years

Worn out and tired

Close to death.

Then a light

Within my reach

With every groping move, it came nearer

Until I was consumed

Crying out for mercy

Pity for my self, my dying soul

Then peace

Safe and soothing

Soft and warm

Curled up and waiting

Almost crushed

Then another light

Coming from the inside

My skin, soft and free

Untouched and innocent

A clean slate

A spirit alive

A dead man breathing

Born again.

 

Apr17

Post 47. Knocking on Heaven’s Door

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Something had changed.  Tony realised the Bible wasn’t just another philosophical book.  It was alive.  It spoke.  He was still confused, but he started praying to Jesus.   From that moment of revelation in the jungle, his 10 years of drug taking stopped instantly; gone in a moment. 

From Rishikesh he travelled to Bombay and booked into the Salvation Army Hostel.  It was there that he met an elderly Canadian man, Arthur Rose.  Tony thought he was either a saint or an angel.   He talked about the resurrection of Jesus Christ. Arthur patiently explained that it wasn’t possible to believe in both resurrection and reincarnation. It had to be one or the other; they were poles apart. By the end of the conversation, Tony knew he had to choose. He chose resurrection. 

Arthur invited Tony to attend an Easter service in a slum area.   While they were sitting on the dusty steps of the Salvation Army hostel, Tony looked at Arthur and said, “I know now that Jesus is the way.  I don’t have to look for any other guru.  I want to follow Him.” 

He had only been to two other church services in New Zealand.  Both were traditional and he had no idea what was going on.  He went to a youth camp when he was much younger but was too stoned to concentrate on anything that was said. 

The room was tiny and packed with slum dwellers.  Tony had his guitar with him and they asked him to sing a song.  He didn’t know any hymns or choruses so he sang the only remotely churchy song he knew; Bob Dylan’s, “Knock, knock, knocking on heaven’s door.” The Marathi speakers didn’t understand a word of it but were happy that a foreigner was singing in their church.

When he got to the verse, “Mama, take these guns off me..” they kept smiling, so he kept going. 

As he read the Easter story, later that day on his bed, tears flowed; he was overwhelmed and moved to tears thinking about how one so perfect could have died for someone so sinful.  He was grateful that Jesus had died in his place.

Apr16

Post 46. The Bible and a chillum

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He didn’t think he would ever see her again but within minutes of that prayer, she popped into his room.  She was concerned for his life.  She handed him a small Gideon’s Bible she had been given. “Here, you need this more than I do.”  He tucked it away in his backpack. 

Tony had been in India and South East Asia for over a year. His goal was to travel from New Zealand to Europe, make lots of money from his drug run and go home.  By the time he reached India, his journey had become a spiritual one. 

Buddhism had already been explored.  He had travelled into Darjeeling to join a monastery, but they wouldn’t have him.  Maybe they could see his hedonism was going to take more than a lifetime of meditation to get over. Or, maybe they knew it wasn’t going to be easy to get him to shave off his waist length hair.  There was no place for him to sleep so he spent the night under the stars.  It was freezing cold and all he had with him was a thin shawl. He left early the next morning, disappointed and disillusioned.

In his desperate state, he left  Delhi and set off for Rishikesh, the home of Guru Maharishi Mahesh Yogi.    It was where the Beatles had gone in search of enlightenment.  

He got a bed in an ashram where he met others who were just like him.  Many were freaked out and paranoid; a Frenchman who had been in India far too long, stripped naked and ran into the forest, never to be seen again.  

It was in the ashram that he learnt the ways of Hinduism.  Because he played the guitar, he was asked to play for the “puja.”  He rang bells and meditated on candles and posters of deities.  One day while meditating on a poster of Shiva, a purple light shone out of the throat of the image. Tony wasn’t on any hallucinogenic at the time, so he knew it was a supernatural thing.  It freaked him out but he was excited that something was going on. 

A Burmese guy who knew Sanskrit and had been a follower of Shiva for many years told him what it was.  The throat was one of the chakras (power points) in Hinduism and literally translated it meant “neelkanth” or “purple throat”.  There was a Shiva temple at a place called “Neelkanth”, a day’s walk into the foothills of the Himalayas. Tony set off for the temple the next day.  He felt it was some kind of divine sign or message. He found a place to sleep and eat then went to the temple to do puja.  All the time he was meditating and ringing the bells, he was hoping that one of the gurus or pundits would help him in his search.  

No-one could explain the meaning of what he had seen.  He was disappointed and left Neelkanth very disillusioned.  He made his way through the foothills on the path back to Rishikesh and stopped to take in the view.  The Ganges River was way below, winding its way across the plains of Uttar Pradesh. 

He lit up his chillum and took out the little New Testament he had been given a few weeks before.  He randomly opened the pages and the first word that his eyes saw was the word “idol.”  

With that one small word, came a small gentle voice.  “I don’t live in images made by the hands of men. I don’t live in wood and stone.  I am the Living God.” Where he had been was a place of wood and stone.  He had been worshipping inanimate objects.   

One word was enough.   In his drugged out state that was all he could concentrate on.  That was all he needed.  Right then, Tony knew his lost, wandering soul had been found.

The God of the heart had found His man.

Apr15

Post 45. Drugs, lice, scabies and stomach bugs

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I had been praying for my husband since I was thirteen.  I had no idea he was a drugged out hippy roaming around Asia, getting more and more lost while trying to find himself. 

Tony arrived in India expecting to see lots of camels, women in saris carrying pots on their heads and deserts.  He saw  those things but there was so much more.  The crowds overwhelmed him. There were people everywhere. So much poverty was a shock to the Kiwi boy’s system.  The last straw was seeing children starving on the street outside an old age home for cows.  

There were no queues; there were huddles which reminded him of rugby scrums.  He travelled on every mode of transport available; trains, buses, horse and cart, boats, rickshaws, elephants, bicycles and camels.  At the end of each day, all he wanted was a bed, a place to wash, simple food and clean water to drink.  He stayed in some very low budget places and no matter how clean he tried to be, he picked up lice, scabies and bad stomach bugs.  His drug diet didn’t help matters either.  

Things went from bad to worse.  He mixed with some hard core drug peddlers and was planning to do a drug run to Europe.  There was a lot of money to be made.  He heard stories of drug-filled condoms bursting in runner’s stomachs and he knew of some who had died that way.   He just kept his focus on the ones who made it; REALLY made it.   

In Delhi, things got really ugly between him and the girl he had been living and travelling with.  They split up and went their separate ways.  Tony roamed around in a drugged out state and found a tiny room to spend the night.  He hadn’t seen himself in a full length mirror for a while and it was not a pretty sight.  His strong surfer, skier, rugby player physique had been reduced to skin and bone in a matter of months.  He stood in front of the mirror, looked at his ribs sticking out and mumbled, “Tony, what have you done to yourself?” 

India intrigued him, fascinated him and made him more frustrated and angry than he had ever been.  He was an emotional, physical, mental and spiritual mess. Suddenly there was something driving him to find answers.   For the first time in his life he had questions.  

He lay in his small, dark room.  He had been walking the streets of Delhi crying for his sad life.   He didn’t know who to pray to.  Only the God of the heart could have heard a prayer so quiet and so simple, 

“God help me!”

Apr13

Post 44. An Island Too Small

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Me at 16

Me at 17

Tony at 18

Tony at 18

Tony was passionate about many things.

The beach was just 500 metres from the Johnson’s house and he started surfing from a young age.  Doug was a lifesaver and made sure his boys were strong swimmers. In winter, he skied the highest slopes in New Zealand and did stunts that few dared to do.  His dream was to ski in the Winter Olympics.   Rugby was big for Tony and Ben.  They played for their school as well as for the local rugby club.  Doug had his own import tea company and wanted Tony to work with him.  That worked for a while but as soon as he learnt the ropes, Tony started his own tea business.  Wheeling and dealing was part of his life wherever he went.

His first trip off the little island of 3 million people was to the States, Canada and Mexico.  He was 20.  When he got there he bought cheap cars, used them, sold them and moved on.  One night, driving along the Mexican coast, he was stoned and lost.  He ended up on a dusty, dark road in the middle of nowhere.  He fell asleep and woke up to the sound of a hovering helicopter, spotlights shining in his face and a loud hailer telling him to get out of the car with his hands in the air.  He was searched for drugs and Mexicans.  Strangely enough he didn’t have either on him at the time.  He played the dumb foreigner and was pointed in the right direction.

He worked in restaurants and spent his free time skiing and surfing.  The American drug scene pulled him in and his use of hard drugs increased. He was becoming more dependent.

When he got back to New Zealand he got into farming.  He became the proud owner of his own little marijuana plantation in Piha, on the West Coast.   It was in a creative hippy commune he was living in that he heard stories of India.  One of the couples had travelled all over Asia and had written a book about it.  He started getting his dollars together to travel again.

This time he set off  with his surfboard to India via Indonesia and South East Asia.  He travelled around from beach to beach in search of the perfect break.  Getting from one island to the other was a challenge.  One of the ferries was packed to capacity, with people everywhere.  It smelled of urine and vomit.  The only place he could get any sleep was up on the deck, on his board.

By the time he arrived in India, Tony was already on a heavy drug diet and he knew he had just landed in drug “paradise.”

Apr12

Post 43. The Johnson boys

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Tony and his best friend Sandy

Tony and his best friend Sandy

Tony’s adventurous life started when he was given a red tricycle.  His best friend was Sandy the Cocker Spaniel.  Jan and Ben were at school and Sandy couldn’t keep up with all his energy.  Mid morning, Betty got a call from the principal.  Tony had cycled 1 km across main roads and through the town to go to school.  He was three.

Ben was the “scientist.”  He unscrewed anything that had screws; when he couldn’t find something to undo, he would put the screw driver in power sockets, or put tea towels on the stove to watch them burn.  He was four when he pulled the handbrake at the top of their steep driveway and smashed the car into the house.  He didn’t talk much, but when he did, it was meaningful.  Betty took him in his pram to the butcher, Mr Mooday.  Doug had complained about the meat they had for dinner the night before.  Ben greeted him and then said in a loud voice, “Mr Mooday, do you know what my dad said?  He said he was going to wrap those chops around your bloody neck.”

Tony, the little entrepreneur, made his dollars from delivering newspapers and getting deposits from collecting glass soda bottles on the beach.  He also made a quick but humiliating 20c from Jan.  She played dress ups and he was her little sister.  He just kept his mind on the money.  The clothes came off quickly when he saw Doug and Betty trying to hide their smiles.

He was tightly wound up.  His words wouldn’t come out fast enough so he spoke a kind of gibberish for a while.  Walking was another boring past time.  He ran everywhere and was always barefooted.

School was a drag apart from the “trips” he went on with his teachers and  Maths was only interesting when he had some substance assistance.

It seemed that the only common thing we shared in our childhood was our love for pranks.  Tony’s were just slightly more aggressive.  He threatened to get his teachers after school with, “We know where you live.”  Once he and his friends found a life size toy gun; they drove down the main road in their car and found a Mormon man on his bicycle.  Tony pointed the gun out of the moving car window and said really slowly, “I’m going to shoot you.”  The gun made a loud bang and the guy fell off his bike, thinking he had been shot.

Tony and Jan

Tony and Jan

Ben

Ben

 

When Ben dared Tony to push him off the roof of the house, he did.  While Betty was dealing with Ben’s broken arm,  Doug went after Tony.  He chased him around the house and garden and eventually gave up.

The more we talked, the more we realised that if we had met at any other time in our lives, we would NOT have been interested in each other.  Tony was wild and woolly.  He had experienced most of what life had to offer by the time he was 14.  He left school to work with Doug in his tea business.  Then it was life in fast cars with model girlfriends. He started to earn more money in a week than the average NZ family earned in a month.

His family had no religion to speak of.  Tony’s was hedonism. He lived for anything that brought him pleasure.  No holding back.