Tag Archives: growing up

Post 187. I’m back- I think

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I have been putting this moment off for three years.  Just in the past five minutes I have deleted this sentence at least six times.  Questioning and doubting.  I am also very aware of what’s coming if I start this again.

I need to get into my photo albums, diaries and scrappy script to add details of the past seventeen years to it (2000-2017).

I am going to need to be disciplined and creative and my memory is going to have to be shaken to it’s core.

Many of the events of the past seventeen years in Delhi have been painful.   I’m not sure I want to re-visit them or put them down for others to read but I will aim to do this slowly and with wisdom. These years have also been among our happiest.  It’s been quite a roller coaster ride.

So, my last and final excuse is that when it comes to writing,  I am lazy and need some major motivation.  I have recently had some lovely comments about my blog being inspiring and helpful, so I will start again.

Tony and I are leaving Delhi soon to start another community from scratch; for the first time without our kids.

Asha, Zoe and Jordan were 12, 11 and 5 when you last read about them.  It was the year 2000 and we had just moved to Delhi.  They are grown ups now. They are all married and we have two grandchildren.   It has been our greatest happiness to have them all within walking distance of our house in Delhi. I’m not sure I’m ready for this.

We are moving to Nagaland (Far North East India). The internet there can be quite unreliable and I’m not sure how often I will be able to post my posts.  Probably not every day. It may be erratic- so to you ladies who sat down with your cup of coffee and my blog every morning- you may be disappointed 🙂

I am learning (and I’m a slow learner) that if anything needs to be done, I need to do it, otherwise it won’t get done.  Profound, I know.

Thank you for following my story.  I hope I can keep it addictive and interesting and inspiring.  I love knowing who is reading and what you are thinking, so please let this be a two way thing ok?  I need all the encouragement and inspiration I can get 🙂IMG_0292

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Post 29. A few sizes up.

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The tour was on.  I was the sound mixer for New Song.  Our minivans were packed to capacity and there was always plenty of junk food.  We drove from city to city all over South Africa, Transkei, Botswana, Bophuthatswana and Rhodesia.  We set up in schools, churches, fields and any hall that would have us.

It was intense; packing and unpacking sound equipment into the trailer, setting up and doing hundreds of sound checks; rolling up cables and picking up heavy equipment.  I got the nickname “Schweppes” for being such a good mixer.  I wasn’t sure I deserved such a compliment.

We went into some scary places.  Hillbrow was something else.  It was the downtown of downtown Johannesburg.  There were so many lonely people who didn’t have family like I had.  They were lost and very alone.  I had taken my family for granted and hadn’t given a thought to how others lived.  My life had revolved around myself and mine.

People wanted to talk and tell us their woes. There were times when there were tears; from us and them.  After every trip into Hillbrow, I could feel my heart getting bigger.  I was able to take more and I was feeling something that I hadn’t felt before; compassion.

We walked through the townships of Cape Town and Port Elizabeth to call children for kid’s clubs.  Whenever we could, we set up a place for the young people to come and talk.  We saw lives changes in front of our eyes.   The more I saw, the more I realised that what I had was something beyond me.  It had the power to change lives forever.

Our trip into Rhodesia was interesting.  When we drove between towns, we had to go in convoy and in some areas we were told to duck down and hide.  We would lie there expecting to be shot at and we never really got used to being followed by armed men.  It was the end of the war.

In every place we stayed with local people.  We were treated like kings and queens and we made some lifelong friends.  I learnt the art of giving even when I didn’t feel like giving.  After concerts, when we were exhausted and ready for bed, our hosts would want to talk and open their hearts to us.  I learnt to go the extra mile and to make time to listen.

So, we ate and drank and worked hard.  There were conflicts which we learnt to sort out and personalities we just had to get on with.  We learnt to accept different cultures and realised that our way wasn’t always the best way.  There were adjustments and changes, and our hearts grew many times over.

By the end of the year there were lots of tears and promises to keep in touch.  Most of us were twice our size and it wasn’t just that we had more than one slice of bread after dinner.

I had only seen Wilf and Val once that year.  I was tired and I couldn’t wait to get home.  I walked into No 28, up the stairs and into the lounge.  I was surprised.  Everything had shrunk.

Post 15. Weed

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Our parties were good clean fun until our older siblings started experimenting with alcohol and weed. They thought it was cool to share their new found pleasure with us.

Sue was caught smoking and denied it all.    I was devastated when I slept the night over with some of her friends and I saw her smoking inside her sleeping bag.  Her and her friends showed me how to shoplift in Grey Street, Durban (then called Coolie/Indian Town).  We would come home with lots of beautiful “Coolie Bangles” up our jersey sleeves in the middle of summer. The SCA (Student Christian Association) had regular visits from Sue, mockingly dancing through their meetings.  When she was 13 she dated Gordon Igesund (South African Soccer Coach) which displeased dad no end. When Mr Menzies moved out (we had made the poor man’s life really miserable), the Igesunds moved in. Gordon and Sue were banned from seeing each other.  All hell broke loose on her when dad found out she was at the same party as Gordon. He walked into the party while she was dancing and pulled her out by her arm and escorted her all the way to the car.  That was one of her big embarrassing moments. Resentment began to build up towards dad.  Just before she was expelled from Mowat Park Girls High School, she was pulled out and  put into Mitchell Girls High.

Dave smoked pot with our African gardener Amos and anyone else who would smoke with him. Dad called him an “uncouth youth,” and was constantly lecturing and disciplining him.  Every now and again dad would laugh at something naughty that Dave said. It would be undone when Dave went into hysterical laughter at the table and sprayed  food on dad. Farting was one of Dave’s favourite activities and he chose the moment just after grace to express himself.

We teased poor Peter endlessly about being adopted, but mum had photos to prove to him that he wasn’t.  Going to the beach was a nightmare for me.  I would watch Peter like a hawk and at the end of the day, his arms were black and blue from all my squeezing.   I was his protector and he wasn’t allowed anywhere near the sea.  When he was about 3, I heard that peanut butter was good for toddlers so I forced tablespoons of peanut butter into his mouth.  He would gag and throw up but I would just shovel more in.

He was also very accident prone.  In his fifth year of life he fell out of the car on the way home from the Drive-IN.  I was in the back of the car with him and didn’t notice that he had pulled the handle.  He dropped out and onto the road.  I went hysterical and Val had to slap my face to bring me round.  He was fine;  just a few cuts and scrapes and he loved the fuss and the big bandage around his head.  He also fell onto the BBQ with all the meat.  His hands were burnt in a grid design.

When he was 9 he would take on anybody the bigger boys dared him to take on.  He would wrestle and punch and fight until he was pulled off.  He was also dared to down a bottle of Old Brown Sherry which he did.  He was VERY sick.

Flopsy, Mopsy, Cotton-Tail and Peter were taking strain.

Aside

My name is Linda Johnson. I am 53.  I have just recently got over some of my life long complexes and I am FINALLY able to swallow pills without gagging.  I have also decided to join the blogging bloggers of the world who all think that what they have to say is going to be interesting enough for busy people to give a hoot about.  Well, a few years ago I started to write our story for our kids and grandkids.  If they are the only ones who love to read this, I will be more than happy.  They are the ones who have travelled this road with me and have opted to stay on it through thick and thin.

Life is a long (longer for some) and winding road. It is full of hairpin bends and precarious edges.  It is on this road that we experience our freaky-iest and funniest moments.  Some of these I will share with you.

This is an autobiography,  so to get the most from this blog, please go to Post 2  and read it like an upside down book.  Enjoy 🙂

Post 1. Finally!