Where do all the animals belong?

  Surely you must have guessed by now that this is my story. These were my experiences from many years ago. I lived them then, but remember them now. A new tale to tell for you my readers. 

***** 

    My first taste of the darker underbelly of the Africa of my dreams slowly faded and was replaced by suburbia. Dry scrub gave way to shopping plazas and gated communities. Manicured lawns and familiar fast food restaurants set my vision on its head yet again. Surely lions and elephants did not graze  through KFC's parking lot? Would ostriches bury their heads beside a mall's receiving area? And one could not imagine vultures perched atop walls with broken glass embedded into them to discourage scavenging trespassers. Where was I? Barbed wire seemed to be everywhere. It's presence bespoke anger, mistrust and violence. I wondered how much anger I would encounter in this land that held a past checkered with racial intolerances buried so deep into it's psyche. While mild, I sensed these tensions in my new-found relatives. My uncle kept his opinion in check, perhaps knowing that I might find the ingrown racism distasteful. I sensed it and appreciated it. It was such a far cry from the multicultural world I had left mere hours ago. While I chided myself to think that there were no prejudices back home, I knew that they were not as outwardly apparent or severe as here. What would I find and how would I process the differences in act and thought that I would come across? I watched the world glide by my window. Home seemed like an eternity away.

Check

   I carry around a mental list with me everywhere I go. Do you? At points I need to write it down as well. Sometimes the act of writing words on a page changes the dynamics of it. I remember names better when I see them written and better again when I write them myself. Same thing with a list. Good thing if I make one, better if I write it down. It stays in my memory and gains significance. I can weed out what isn't so important or place it further down the list and pop more pressing issues farther up on the list. After my hubby died, I had to have a list, as my brain was mush. I was constantly barraged by grief images, so other things did not stand a chance to get recognized or dealt with unless they were written down and looked at. At that point my lists involved many appointments with lawyers, financial consultants, social workers/grief counsellors, as well as the myriad items necessary for the bathroom renovation that I took on (compliments of my father-in-law) immediately following Brad's death. While you may wonder at the timing of such a project, it was a necessary and helpful item to jam into my thoughts. It gave me other focus, aside from always being rocked by grief. The bathroom was terribly ugly, so really and truly needed a face lift. And the bathroom held a fresh and heart-wrenching vision that I could not live with. It had to go. Hence a project and lists of everything from;

• toilet
• paint
• bathtub
• flooring
• wall tiles
• vanity
• etc, etc, etc

These items needed to be written down, as sometimes there were even little items like grout, toilet paper holder, tile edging, nails, etc. I was familiar with living in the midst of renovations and did not mind the chaos. My brain held more chaos, so it fit that outside of my brain also matched that. The point of the renovation though was to create a new fresh space that held beauty. Once it was finally done, it was a beautiful thing. I loved it. It was the first thing that I tackled all by myself, as far as decision making went and I certainly questioned why I was doing it when faced with picking out exactly which toilet and bathtub would be the best fit for my tastes and my budget. There had not been I or Me for a long time and those words felt poisonous in my lungs. I got through it though.

    Today, I still have my lists. Often, I can function with mental lists and can rhyme off half a dozen items that will need attention at some point in the future (ie. roof, floors, master bedroom). I still tuck renovation projects into the list, as you may remember from last month's endeavours. Other life items take precedence in my mental rotary file though (ie. book birthday party, wrap presents, schedule swimming lessons, pay bills). Last week, a couple of items got crossed off my list. Birthday party for my eldest was booked and invitations were handed out today. Swim lessons were debated and booked, but with complications that will hopefully sort themselves out. A big item that has been on my list for probably the better part of a year was finally addressed today as well. Why I have had such a hard time with it and fought the effort mentally I know and do not know. It is begun though. Yes, today I registered my children for school. I will still continue to debate exactly what the best course of action for both my girls with all of this is, but I took a major step. Life moves forward whether we like it or not. In September, my girls will enter the next phase of their lives. The school bell rings and I must stand outside and watch them go. Check something off the list...

wavering at the glasses edge

   For all the love I tried to pour into my consciousness earlier yesterday, I seemed destined to fall back into old familiar ways as the day progressed. After dinner, and a couple of glasses of wine, I expounded on how much I used to dislike myself, but tried to offer up the claim that I am working on it. For every day that I put on a big brave face and say that I am worthy, I let a tear slide and point out reasons why I am not. I waffle with dreams for the future and drag my heals on making the important decisions that will take me there. I let slip the "shoulds" and balk when I hear them come out of my mouth. For all the attempts at retracting them, I feel their power still rumbling in my heart. I did reach a bit of an epiphany though. Whether it helps or not, I am not sure. I realized that I have always had a difficult time in making decisions. That has always been a part of my personality that I have struggled with. I had a quiet moment with myself and remembered that the journey I have been on has been an incredible struggle and challenge. I am reinventing life and myself. It is one thing to do that, but traits have a way of clinging to oneself. So to chastise myself for not making decisions or moving forward truly does not help myself. I know that my journey has been more than difficult. It has been life changing, but it takes time and effort to also make those changes. Learned habits do not disappear overnight. They must be recognized and given their due. They do not have to keep me in stasis forever, but in taking away their demonization, their power diminishes and change will come. It already has, but confidence is lagging behind. Knowing that I am working on it and that maybe the steps are small and seemingly painful to those around me is just part of the process. I have to move forward, but I am. I am doing it my way and that is the only way that I know how. Stop, breathe, and look into self. Put it all out into the universe and know that it will all come to pass as it should. Learn and love.

Valentine to Self

Valentine to Self

A lovely post that struck a chord for me. I think that I could use more self-love. So perhaps a Happy Valentine's Day to me today.
Here goes then, ten things I like about myself;

1. I am a compassionate soul that wants to reach out and heal all those around me.

2. I breed beautiful, sensitive girls

3. I am not too horribly hard on the eyes (Ok, ok, I think I am reasonably attractive)

4. I have been told I have nice coloured eyes and I will go with that (light brown, if you are wondering)

5. I think that I have a gift for words and images, that maybe one day will produce a book if I can stick with it

6. I like to bake and am happy to report that I am fostering this love in my children

7. I love to garden and appreciate the gifts that are given from the Earth.

8. I am good at getting down to children's levels and making them feel recognized and important.

9. I try always to treat all people as equals and not discriminate against others for their differences. Appreciate the differences, or at least try!

10. umm, hmm; I am not afraid to try different things and look forward to new foods, new places (oh travel, bring it on!) and meeting new people (big groups kind of freak me out still , but I am trying to get myself out there and push my envelope when I can)

There, that wasn't so bad. I am not going to look at this too much or I will revise and criticize. I do not need that today. Happy Valentine's Day to you today. and to me. Hugs

The View

As the car pulled out onto the highway, vehicles zoomed directly at them. With a sharp inhale, she clutched at the door. Heart beating madly, she blinked as the anticipated impact was somehow averted. Her battered eyes looked out the back window, then back to the road in front of them. Her uncle continued chattering without missing a beat. Breath slowly seeped back into her straining lungs. She realized that she really was in a different country now; a different world. Driving on the other side of the road was just a first for her. It was the first of many experiences to come.


While her tired brain tried to adjust to the onslaught of new stimuli, she desperately tried to follow her uncle’s anecdotes. She watched his profile as they zipped along. He had visited Canada when she had been but a very young child. She did not truly remember the visit, or him for that matter, but fairly glowed at the connection that was already there. This man was her uncle. He was her father’s brother; a link to a past that she did not know. She thrilled at his recollections of familiar places and people. She soaked in pictures of the father that had been but a word to her for most of her life. Now fresh images were forming in her consciousness. Her father was filling out in her mind and gaining flesh and blood. It was magical. It was surreal. It was just too much. A quiet tear was brushed away before it sullied her lopsided smile. She was in Africa. It was a dream she had held for more years than she could remember. Right now she was zipping through the Cape Province. She closed her eyes and listened to her uncle prattle, the noise of the car and the whizz of the surrounding traffic. It was real.

*****

When she opened her eyes again the landscape had changed. Table Mountain was still visible in the rear window, but the city had been left behind. The first of the terrain that would become so familiar started to creep in. What was surprising, was the buildings that began to dot the landscape. The red soil gave way to decrepit lean-tos with tin roofs. A few merged into many and then many more. They drove and drove and the shanties took over the world.

“What is this place?” she asked with a wave of her hand.

“Khayelitsche.” Was the curt reply.

It was indeed a shanty town. The kilometers of scabbed together “homes” were made from whatever materials could be salvaged. Barbed wire was liberally scattered everywhere. It was shocking. Poverty was not unknown back home, but not visible on such a level. There were thousands of structures, that all looked like a gust of wind or drop of rain would level them to the ground. These were people’s homes. A clarification from her uncle reminded her of South Africa’s sordid past. This community was home to a black population. Poverty was widespread. Running water was not available to most. Electricity was sketchy. Violence was a given. This was people’s homes. This was their reality. It was shocking.