Love a duck blues.

The big five.
That is what it was, five glorious weeks of precious time
spent with my family who are scattered far and wide,
on continents across vast oceans of blue
and vast skies of varying tones of blues greys and storm-Indigo.

This was a trip of a lifetime and it was extraordinary.
Initiated and gifted, I was indulged by wonderful people.
My constant companions, a beautiful sister Sarah and a yellow a duck, Peking.
No ordinary sister, a wonder-woman, darling, angel.

 
No ordinary duck, this one was hand picked by my niece Lizzie
and my brother Peter in England,
where I spent 5 stunning days, prior to ‘Colorado-here-we-come!’

And so it was that duckie was a big part of the ‘family tour’ also.
This was a tour of bonding; family, usually scattered
came together for a brief and magical time.

Sister time, Oh! wonderful sister time as never before,
where for 4 solid weeks we were like con-joined twins, always together,
laughing, crying, making stuff, doing and drinking Chai.
Everything came together and despite torrential flooding in Colorado,
the universe conspired to create wonders
and we were overwhelmed with gratitude for just that miracle of time.

‘Peking’ (many names later,this one settled on
my little androgynous yellow friend, and stayed) was a constant companion,
no matter where we were or what we did,
duckie was part of the adventure.
From artist studio to brewery, from pumpkin filled fields
to drive through banking, from miniature gardens and giant Wellies
to snowstorms and sauna’s.
Through extraordinary landscapes and all weather conditions,
this triumvirate went mildly crazy,
embracing the time with almost wild energy,
knowing that it would run out all to soon.
Collapsing in a heap at the end of every day, we were always happy,
no, more like euphoric, but spent.
I had planned to journal daily, but resorted to a daily ‘postings of Peking’
a photo reflecting daily adventures.
As I reflect, I realise why he was my journal keeper…
we were maxing so much on our precious time together
that there was no writing time in any 24 hour cycle. Zip, Zero, Ziltch!

Love-a-duck travelled by road, rail, air and skated on thin ice a few times
but always got back in one piece. Like ‘Thelma and Louise’ we road tripped
through the Rockies, taking 11 hours to do a 5 hour trip, stopping almost every mile
to take photographs or inhale the beauty of turning Aspen trees, or snow covered peaks.
Because we could.
We cursed each others camera shy ways, but Peking was more than ready to pose,
We hiked in mountainous regions where a yellow duck was used
as a measure of the size of a mountain lion paw print and brown bear’s scratchings.
We collected huge pieces of driftwood, made sandwiches on laps in car seats,
always talking, sharing and confiding on things ‘life’.
Also because we could.
This was the first time in my 58 years of life that we were totally together.

The 3 of us!
Peking inveigled his/her way into almost every situation,
a token of the most extraordinary and wonderful time spent
with those I love so deeply but seldom get to spend time with.
This is the nature of our world now.
Carpe Diem was never more pertinent to this universe than now, for us all.
I would have flown to the moon and back to have that experience
but how lucky were we, it was just half the way around the globe.
With a love-a-duck in my pocket and my heart on my sleeve.
Thank you my loved ones.
So much gratitude.

Angels of Africa.

Living in Africa, we tend to compare ourselves to what we perceive to be
successful and inspirational first world countries.

Seldom do we applaud our nation, thank our people
or expand our chests with pride at anything truly African.

But we have Angels.
Choirs of Angels. Multitudes of Angels.
They are both female and male,
are all races creeds and colours, with a common thread.

They are everywhere, and they are dressed for the occasion,
whatever it is that they are called to do.

Angel wears a train ticket,
stamped 4 a.m.  She travels for hours by bus and taxi to be
at work by seven a.m. For 12 hours she tenderly cares for your mother
or my father, attending to their every need.
She leaves work at 7 p.m. and repeats the process of travel.
Home to look after her own loved ones for a few hours.

Angel stands at a bedside, finger on the pulse of an ICU patient.
He watches with concern at the monitor screens,
everything is under control, for now.
When his patient opens her eyes and says “Thank you Thabo”
he wears an enormous grin, a huge ponytail,
tenderly reassuring eyes and patience…
lots of it.

Angel leaves home in a downpour,
her house is made of corrugated iron sheets, it leaks.
She has been up most of the night with a bucket, bailing water,
trying to keep her home dry.
This Angel arrives at work
and takes over the running of a household of 6.
She cleans, does the washing, ironing, looks after children
and cooks. Sometimes with one of the children on her back, asleep.
All the while she wears a crisp and clean housecoat,
a warm smile and a song on her lips.
And sodden shoes.
If she is lucky the rain might have stopped before it is time to leave.

Angel looks like a guard outside a palace.
He is on duty from 8 a.m. to late.
He watches parking areas, directing traffic and policing the area.
He is there every day of the week, rain, thunder, lightning and sunshine.
He carries parcels to cars, chases away questionable characters,
holds up his umbrella for customers to shelter under
and helps an octogenarian gently into her car.
He wears a pristine uniform and sunshine at all times,
even when it is raining cats and dogs.

Angel helps me with my housework twice a week.
She looks after two granddaughters, abandoned by their mother.
Last week she told me that her 14 year old grandchild
was abused by a neighbour, a friend.
Angel went straight to the police, is going to court
to have this man removed from society.
Angel told her grandchild that she was the best friend
this child would ever ever have,
so to always tell her everything.
Angel wears more hats in this life than I can imagine.
Oh, and gives away hugs a dozen at a time.

Angel is a cardio-thoracic nursing sister,
Amber.
She is as warm, glowing and precious as her name suggests.
She gently handles all things scary,
in a unit that cares for post operative heart patients,
plugged into machines with pipes and tubes, sustaining life.
She wears a navy uniform with epaulets.
Also a well hidden broken heart of her own.
Her 1 year old daughter passed away this year on her first birthday,
multiple complications after 3 heart operations.
Angel Amber gets back to her fast paced job
having shared her heartbreaking story quietly.
Still she continues with humour and so much tenderness.

These are a few of the angels who have crossed our paths
in this extraordinary land, in the past months.
I could tell you about Isaiah or Miriam, or Daisy with the eyelashes
but I think you get the picture.
I just keep looking around, they are everywhere, extraordinary
men and women, gently getting on with their work in service,
to make us mere mortals lives a bit easier.
Wearing many guises.

Life, and a garden.

Total, on it’s head change of heart!
Here I was, planning this huge story (because life is one huge story!) and then it all got turned on it’s head.
(or heart)

Bam!

What was going to be a fun and fabulous story of travel
and sisterhood and family and a duck,

has turned into why we all need a place to go when life gets tough
and contemplative time becomes essential for the spirit to survive.

And so it is once more that I venture into what has to be the only space on earth
where peace and quiet keeps my thoughts and fears under control,
where there is a perpetual feeling of eternal and ongoing calm,
where nature continues to rule and where we are just mere mortals
working alongside and within this life-giving space,
together with the natural rhythms of this universe.

I go to my favourite garden in the world, with my camera,
and focused on the minute details that we often miss.
It has helped me before and I have no doubt it will perform the same magic again.

A surgeon cannot miss a single small detail, and it is with this in mind,
whilst John was having very delicate major heart surgery,
I focused on the little things that make up the whole…
those tiny traces of life that often get overlooked
and under appreciated but are as essential as the air we breathe.
The small things that make the big picture.

Once again, Kirstenbosch came to my rescue, distracted and amazed me,
and once again gently reassured me that we are just small but very valuable cogs
in a very big and beautiful universe.
We need to look after both.