Camping comedown

   I have returned to the land of indoor plumbing, air conditioning and daycare (blissful daycare that I dropped my darling babies off to this morning!). I am welcomed home to a mammoth pile of laundry of truly gargantuan proportions. I think I counted 8 potential loads, but there might be more to be squeezed in. It is mind-boggling how much laundry can be accumulated in such a short span of time. I can barely step into my laundry room, with every square inch crowded with smoke-saturated articles. Dirt is ground into towels, jeans, shirts and shorts. Lake Erie sand is sprinkled in everything, but especially coated on bathing suits and beach blankets. Excuse me while I go switch over a load...

    Ahh, despite all the prep work before and clean-up after, I do love camping. Once you have set up your temporary enclave, the biggest task is to learn how to relax. Food and beverage is imbibed freely and regularly. Dishes seem to be never-ending, but somehow do not seem too taxing when done outdoors. We were at the beach every day soaking up the fresh air, sunshine and washing it all down with a hefty dose of swimming and splashing in the nearest Great Lake to our home. With it being the shallowest of the Great Lakes, the water temperature was quite warm. It was refreshing enough to cool you down and wash away the sweat from a hard days work (suntanning?), but not startling enough to turn all the men into eunuchs and women into glass-cutting nipple-wielding  terrors. One day, we enjoyed terrific wave bashing into a torrent of white-crested water, but the subsequent days were more along the lines of peaceful splashing in the rolling waves. Fun for kids and adults alike. 

    All that fresh air and fun was definitely enough to work up an appetite as well. My other favourite thing about camping is the food. Cooking on a Coleman is challenging at times, but nothing beats that morning cup of coffee it produces. The campfire is where the real magic is made though. Steaks seared to perfection were the order of the day on Day 1. Hot dogs just can't be beat over the open flame and where else does the humble marshmallow shine so brightly, as but over the glowing embers of a fire pit. It always amazes me how much I can eat while camping, but it is just all tastes so good! Oh yum. 

    As I change another load of laundry, I can smile at the memories that were created for my children. They thrilled at their beach days, sleeping outdoors in a tent, bush pees (everybody does it, don't they?!) and togetherness with friends and family. While I know I had my grumpy moments, I prefer to forget them and focus on the smiles of my children and laughter of my friends. I shall perhaps share a photo or two in the days that come, but today cleanup is the name of the game. I hope you are enjoying your summer, for those of you in the Northern hemisphere. I certainly am.

A Grain of Sand

I went through my ablutions in preparation for bed; teeth, face, hands, eyes, check! I donned my PJs and looked forward to an early night to bed after a rocky introduction to Mozambique. Brett came into Miki and my’s room complaining of pains in his side. He was looking for anything that we might have that would take the edge off of his  throbbing woes. Miki and I dug in our packs and produced whatever we could from our personal pharmacies. He swallowed a handful of painkillers we offered him and headed to bed, hoping that they would take effect soon and allow him some sleep. The word hospital was mentioned, but he passed it off as something to look into in the morning if necessary.

In fact, the painkillers did not do a thing. Brett wiggled and flopped on his bed, but the pain just got worse. Ten minutes after I had turned the light off, Brett was knocking at our door again. He was ashen. The pain was worse. He wanted to go to the hospital; Now. We scrambled back into our clothes and hurried to the van with vague directions to the hospital. Luck was not on our side this evening though. We hustled into the van, but Arnie refused to budge. The van would not turn over at all. We pushed it half-way down the street huffing and puffing all the way, with Brett writhing in agony in the driver’s seat. Our commotion caught the interest of several passersby and Miki managed to flag down another motorist for assistance. She scooped Brett out of one vehicle and into another and they were gone. Oliver and I were left to tend to our inept vehicle. There were others that had noticed our plight though, and we soon had a gang of street kids help us push Arnie back to the motel for the night. Of course, their ministrations came with a fee and we found ourselves ripped off handing over R10 and 50 000 metical (it should have been more like 5-10 000MT). In the grand scheme of things, it equated to a pittance, but Oliver argued with the youths, as I sprinted off in the direction of the hospital.

Now as you might recall, we had just arrived in Maputo that afternoon. We had wandered around the area surrounding our Pensao a bit, but I was far from familiar with the city. A lone, white female sprinting through a run-down city after dark is probably not the smartest plan to undertake, but my vision was clouded with Brett’s tortured visage. After losing myself momentarily, I miraculously found the hospital. The next step was tracking down Brett within the walls of the hospital, but that too was achieved. When I finally came upon Brett, the doctors had hooked him up to an IV. The problem; kidney stones. The doctor explained that the hiking that he had done in Mbabane had probably served to dehydrate him, which aggravated the stones. He administered pain killers and explained to us about kidney stones. They are often fairly small and found in the urethra. They can be similar in size to a grain of sand, but their power is much more potent. The doctor explained that kidney stones are one of the most painful experiences one can go through, akin to heart attacks and giving birth. The pain comes from the crystal-like stone passing through the urinary tract system. Most times the only thing that can be done for someone suffering is to hydrate them to help the stone pass more freely. Ultimately, the only solution is for the stone to pass. That required time. It was advised that Brett spend the night in hospital to rehydrate and monitor his pain level. After watching Brett relax with the effects of medication, Miki and I headed for home. We would be back in the morning.

Moonlit paths

Moonlit paths

Weave rambling words.

I have trailed their shadows

and am lost.

The way 

will be found

tomorrow.

~~~

I have gone back into ancient journals to scrape up an old poem to share while I am off camping. This poem comes from several lifetimes ago, in a different metamorphosis of me. 

Enjoy.

Crumbling at its Seams

Finally, the day came that our passports were ready to be picked up. They came back to us with brand spanking new visas for Mozambique in them. Relief at having our precious lifelines back in own little hands, had us scrambling to pack for new climes. Swaziland had been a port of call that served its purpose, but now we were done with it and on to the next country. We headed to the border and confidently handed over our passports to gain entry into this new land. Fearing reproof at the border with our faulty ignition switch, we prayed for co-operation from Arnie. It was mercifully granted. He sputtered to life and soon enough we were past the scowls inherent at so many border posts and into my fifth country in Africa; Mozambique!

Mozambique is on the South-Eastern edge of the African continent. It is bordered by Swaziland, that we had just left, the Indian Ocean, that we were headed towards, Zimbabwe, that we would head to when it was time to leave, South Africa (been there too), Malawi, Tanzania and Zambia. It had been a colony of Portugal from 1505 to 1975, so it was not surprising that the  official language was Portuguese. We hoped that we would find some people that spoke English, but expected to hear many of the local dialects as well such as Swahili, Sena, Makhuwa, Ndau and Shangaan. Whether we actually heard any of them or not, I can only conjecture, but suffice it to say that we managed to survive in English.

We drove along roads that seemed to speak of a lack of money for maintenance. Swaziland and South Africa by comparison had seemed both clean and organized. Here, potholes littered the roadway and I was reminded of the fact that we were headed towards the capital, Maputo, on the main thoroughfare from the border. As we neared the city, our progress slowed. I put the debris that we passed down to outer slums, but the further we drove, the less likely that became. I was shocked and stunned. Burnt out vehicles sat up on “blocks” with not a scrap of rubber on the tires, glass in the windows or paint on the frames. Empty lots filled with rubble were interspersed by small businesses, as well as many crumbling and abandoned buildings. The pot holes got bigger. As I stared wide-eyed out my window, I caught glimpses of the city’s former grandeur, before the Portuguese fled for their lives with their money in tow. It seemed to cry out that it had been the belle of the ball in its hey-day, when the city went by the title of Lourenço Marques. Those days had passed twenty years before though and the subsequent Civil Wars, left the capital on its knees both structurally and economically. This is where we would spend the night. I prayed that things would look better in the morning. We found the Pensao Nini, tried to ignore the cockroaches and filth, and attempted to leave our minds open to what Mozambique had to offer. A beer sipped at a local café made the world seem marginally better, as did our sustaining meal of banana sandwiches. Night encroached on our first day in Mozambique and we headed for bed.

Housecleaning just for a little shakeup

Housecleaning just for a little shakeup.

^^^

Nothing earth-shattering to report here.  I just opened my blog up and was bored. Decided to change things up a bit before going on holiday. Yes, I should be attending to the rest of my house a little more, but that would not give me as much satisfaction. Hope your weekend is ship-shape!