Calico Catnap

calico catnaps
now rest comfortably
on Canaan's shore

Goodbye sweet friend

your gentle ways will be missed

the story has a hole  

A Toast to Swakopmund

I was never so happy as to touch solid ground in Swakopmund. I had no urge to look back at the truck that had carried me across the desert, when it pulled away from me. Good riddance. The dual drivers had tarnished my sense of security and shortened a few years off my life. I had battled groping hands and a sense of doubt in humanity. Despite my fears though, I had made it.

As I settled into the bar at a new hostel, my first sip of Windhoek beer was like heaven. I had earned this beer, but somehow felt like I didn’t deserve it. My sense of being tainted left me feeling dirty. I could not change the past though, so instead let it go with hope for a new day bringing fresh smiles and happiness.

 Tomorrow, I would see the ocean again. The South Atlantic was just outside my view, but I could feel the salt air on my skin. It was a new coast for me and I was excited to see these western waves. For the time being, I looked forward to my first bed in three nights and a safe roof over my head. I enjoyed the stability of being stationary, the solitude of being solo and the peace that came with my pen on paper. A cold beer helped my troubles melt away and my journal reminded me that lessons can always be learned. The sun would rise again and I was blessed to be able to witness it.

A toast to Swakopmund.

Saturday's Email of the Week: Memories...

Saturday's Email of the Week

Its Saturday! Not quite back to quiet boring Saturdays just yet though, I am afraid. It will be a busy day today, but a good one. We are celebrating my littlest baby's 5th birthday today! There will be ice cream cake, glow-in-the-dark bowling, stinky shoes and a gaggle of kids hopped up on sugar and adrenaline driving me crazy! But I won't have to clean up the mess afterwards, so I am ready to go! The house will have to be cleaned though, as my sister will be in town for the festivities, but it makes for a good excuse to pull out the vacuum. Now, off to climb on and zoom we go! 


Happy Saturday all! Here's your bit of humour and history lesson for the week:

***

Have you ever wondered  why our great grandparents all had such fond  memories of their youth?

Well... I'm  surprised they remembered anything at all  !!!

Forget Tums &  Tylenol.

Forget Aleve &  Benedryl. 
Look at the cool  stuff they had back then!

A bottle of Bayer's   'Heroin'. Between 1890 and  1910 heroin was sold as a non-addictive  substitute for morphine..
It was also used  to treat children suffering with a strong cough.
And not once did my grandmother offer me  Metcalfe Coca Wine when we went to her place for dinner!

Coca Wine, anyone? Metcalf's Coca Wine  was one of a  huge variety of wines with  cocaine on the market. Everybody used to say  that it would make you happy and it would also  work as a medicinal  treatment. 

Mariani  Wine.Mariani wine (1875)  was the most  famous Coca wine of it's  time. Pope Leo XIII used to carry one  bottle with him all the time. He awarded Angelo  Mariani (the producer) with a Vatican gold  medal.

Maltine.Produced by the  Maltine Manufacturing Company of New York . It  was suggested that you should take a full glass  with or after every meal. Children should only  take half a glass.



A  paperweight:
A paperweight  promoting C.F. Boehringer & Soehne (  Mannheim , Germany ). They were proud of being  the biggest producers in the world of products  containing Quinine and Cocaine. 

Opium for   Asthma:At 40% alcohol plus  3 grams of opium per tablet. It didn't cure  you... but you didn't care!

Cocaine Tablets   (1900).All stage actors,  singers, teachers and preachers had to have them  for a maximum performance. Great to 'smooth' the  voice.

Cocaine drops for  toothache.Very popular for  children in 1885. Not only did they relieve the  pain, they made the children very happy!


Opium for  newborns.I'm sure this would  make them sleep well.  (not only the Opium,  but also the 46% alcohol)




It's no wonder they  were called, "The Good Old  Days".

>From cradle to  grave... everyone was STONED  !!!

A Dark Night

warnings

in the night

discrete messages

from those that cannot get through

marked with an X

to let me know

that people

worry

M, look delightful

poisonous intent on the tongue

beware the young

The Night Ride

The happiness I felt at rolling along again was sadly short lived. While I received the luxury of sitting in the front seat, I quickly found that my driver was not nearly as courteous as the last driver. He had a certain tone to his voice that made my smile fade a little. I tried to focus on the road ahead gamely, but could not ignore the noises that soon began to filter forward from the back bunk.  

Things seemed to be going from bad to worse.

As the sun set, we drove along in darkness. Few other vehicles passed us by. We were in the desert, driving towards the coast and it seemed even more isolated now that the sun was gone. The only thing that illuminated the night sky was the truck’s headlights carving a path through the inky gloom. What was worse, was that with two drivers, one could sleep while the other drove, keeping the truck moving 24-7. There was always a set of watchful eyes. It did not escape me either, that it didn’t sound like the man in the back was getting any sleep. There was much rustling of bodies and muffled grunts. While I could not understand the actual words that were being said, I got the feeling that the young woman in the back was not interested in the advances that were being foisted upon her. I stared out the windshield, trying to figure out how I could best help the poor girl.

Then a hand materialized on my leg.

I instantly pushed it away, but my hackles were now up and raised high. “Oh lord, how the hell was I going to get out of this truck?” my brain desperately demanded. The lascivious smile of the driver made me recoil and pull tighter into myself. This was not good. Not good at all. The girl in the back seemed to be doing an adequate job of keeping the second driver away from herself, but things were getting decidedly dangerous. It was dark out. We were literally miles from nowhere and our apparent saviours had turned into fiends that were attempting to extract their fare for passage in flesh.

Then the drivers switched places. And so did myself and my other hapless companion. Now she was in the front seat and I was on the bunk, but sleep was the farthest thing from my mind. I was young, white and vulnerable as a female traveler at the mercy of these strange men. As fingers began to crawl up my leg, I kicked and began to pray. My words felt hollow and useless in a foreign tongue, but I used them none the less.

“No!” I said. “Stop it!”

And yet they still kept coming. I kept insisting on being left alone, trying to make myself as small and inaccessible as possible. My brain found the image of God, and despite not having had much use for his omnipotent powers in the past, I now began to beg favours at a rapid pace. I beseeched his sense of fairness, good and integrity. My body was taut and tense with the strain of resistance and my willing of a positive energy to intervene. My tone became more strident, as I pleaded with higher powers to please release me from this state of strife. As one side of my brain grappled with images of worst case scenarios, I distinctly heard my mother warning me against talking to strangers and the bad things that could happen. “Please, please”, I begged. Let this not be the time when she would be right!

Gradually, my molester began to lose interest in the chase. Perhaps sleep got the better of him, or perhaps his soul realized that what he was attempting to do was the wrong thing. Whatever it was, that night my Guardian Angels earned their places in the Heavens for eternity. I wanted to cry, sob or scream, but my fight or flight response had me wired into a ball ready to attack if necessary. I occasionally felt a hand explore to see if perhaps I was asleep or had changed my mind, but a swift shove let him know that I was not up for a night of ‘fun’. Long after he turned over and curled up to go to sleep, I lay tightly in the corner of the bunk, my breath ragged in my chest. I no longer considered hitch-hiking to be the free and easy ride I once thought of it as. I somehow felt like I used up one of my lives that night. In the end, I never wanted it back.