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Saturday, 31 January 2015

Queeny Returns

Queeny is returning from her skiing trip with the school.

A trip she did not want to go on.

A silent diplomat with intense courage and self will.

Queeny has won a few BJJ competitions and has a deep knowledge of MMA for a thirteen year old girl.

Maybe this is partly why she is not well befriended.

Or is it her thirteen years, in a class of some who are fifteen, having skipped a year of kindergarten, could this have been a disadvantage?

Queeny might be the same size, however is not at that age when talking about boys and romance occupies her, as with some teenagers.

Her teacher says she seldom partakes in the class, is a loner, but is not bullied by the kids and when something happens she would stand up for herself.

I worry about this trip. Did she at least enjoy the skiing?

When they left she looked so lonely and out of place amidst the herding kids.

She enjoys skiing, but what girl would enjoy being alone amongst many.

She would probably prefer to have gone alone.

She has been enjoying rock climbing on her own for years now.

She arrives a 19:30 today. I wish she could at least have made one connection.

We said she should be like little Mongkey, who takes a friend when she needs it.

Perhaps Queeny's feelings are too deep and she don't understand superficial interactions and chooses to be alone?

Perhaps the skiing activity would have pointed the chats, in a more sporting direction, instead of fashion, romance or pop music. Things she has no interest in.

Now I await her arrival and hope  to see a smile on my diplomat.

At times I cannot read what she is hiding behind her polite correct behaviour.

Is she happy or sad, even her smile confuses me at times.

I hope she enjoyed the trip, I have missed the confusion she has over me.




Friday, 30 January 2015

Pops's creations


Watching Pops creating anything. 

Be it her tea, her favorite cocoa drink or a model of  yack enclosure. 

Is like watching an artist. 

The way she savours the movements, the ingredients, the details in how she stirs in slow methodical flowing strokes, her utter concentration and of course the preparation makes it an an intoxicating event that cannot be denied.

Pops's spectacle normally starts preplanned, organised and timed.

She would first research a new interest using the library, magazines, the internet or her elders.

Depending on the interest, she would then set out to experiment or test what she has investigated.

Once she ordered a chemistry set and the pharmacy had to import a few chemicals. 

A time is then set for each experiment, nothing is left to chance, to spoil the fun in the creation she has planned. 

In the next few days, she has planned three meals she will be cooking for us. 

Her order is placed and the ingredients are coming.

It is going to be a surprise, she seldom repeats the same recipes. 

It is this open world of cooking and creating that still inspires her in this path. 

Tweaking the recipes to her tastes.
 
Pops's remains deep in concentration like a stalking predator who successfully caught its prey and is savouring the flavours that maintains her life. 

A simple cup of warm milk between her cute cuddly hands as she enjoys the heat of the cup and the taste of her preparations as the hours pass alone in her world of milk.

Exact and calm in her executions. 

On her own time. 

A spectacle to witness. 

A wondrous event.

A beautiful meal.


Thursday, 29 January 2015

My life explained with no facts

Here I try Explain how I grew up without using facts, like I had two brothers or born in Africa and focus on experiences, perceptions, ideas etc.?

At the start I felt minute and vulnerable, everything was big, scary and risky. 


However, the presence of some others and their protective forces in my life gave me security.

So much so, there were times I would be risky and attempt things I feared when alone. 

Life was exciting even from this small vantage point. I knew the forces around me would protect me.

So I became free, wild, explored and did what pleased me...until the fire. 

The injury stopped the joy. 

The pain caused me to retract and attach to a particular safe bubble. 

This is where I remained for many years enjoying the security in the bubble. 

Until I could risk leaving it again. 

Slowly becoming strong and free, eventually encircling others in my bubble and protecting them and giving them that security I had as a kid.

Sunday, 25 January 2015

house dad's home



P. Bear " Slowly things are coming right and I am happier" 

Pops " Yes, only the clothes are not washed on time, rooms are not vacuumed, toilets are dirtier etc." 

P.Bear " What do you mean, I do everything!!! " 

Mongkey  " Yes,  you lie on the cell phone whole day, watch tv all the time and fart."

Queeny " Welcome to the house of the house daddy!!!"

Friday, 9 January 2015

Birds and swirls

On the free way I witnessed a wondrous beautiful bird of prey.

Bright orange and white feathers. About 1.5 m wing span circling the free way.

It suddenly swooped down impressively diving low.

Probably for a mouse.

I saw a truck approaching. It made me tense up as all the joy of the wondrous swooping bird vanished in a swirl of feathers.

It was so sad.

The end of beauty in a few seconds. Pointless death or was it meant to be?

I cant say, just left me feeling empty.

Monday, 5 January 2015

Hands big and tough



My dad will always be the bravest man I ever knew. He was scared of nothing and no one. A man who took pride in his work.

He always said "give your best when doing anything especially when working." Who taught me never to be a beggar.

I felt safe when I was around him even when he was old sickly and dying. I knew when I was with him I was in good hands and all troubles will fade.

My anchor. The one who had so much faith in me said, “You can do it and you will be ok my son.” and he made me believe it.
 
My First memory with my dad is with him holding my hands and counting. We were driving to the drive-in and I was sitting on his lap. It must have been close to the middle of year. As I recall it was cold and he was heating up my hands in his one hand, while he was steering the car with the other.

We were moving slowly the last fifty meters into the drive–in. How big and strong his hand were and rough from manual labour, yet so gently covering mine, one hand covered both my hands. We were counting. I always counted with him. My dad was a numbers man. A mathematical man.

“ 1+1 is 2, 2 + 2 is 4, 4 + 4 is 8 … ..” we would count together like this into the thousands. A thing I always enjoyed doing with him. It was a song to me. Something that relaxed me.

There was a traffic jam. So the car was a moving slow and I could sit on his lap while he was driving. Back then there were no safety belts and I suppose people were less aware. However, I felt safe. 

To get into the drive in was always a mission, the line was always long and slow. We used to go as a family. Mom, Dad and brothers, Geepile and Doosa.


The drive-in was very exciting. Back then there were no tv's in South Africa. We seldom went to the movies since it was costly. 

Sometimes we used to have projector movies at home. Old western movies. Or cow boys, with John Wayne. I don’t really recall the movies. But I do remember my uncle's house, in Lotus River. 

The extended family used to go there and watch these cowboy movies of John Wayne. What an event it always was. Uncles, aunts, kids,  cousins etc. Prob around 30 people crammed in a 30m2 room with a projector. My uncle loved those cowboy movies. It’s the only thing we ever watched there. 

Every time something happened everyone would scream aloud and when the bad guys where wining we would shout . "wait till the “rooketjie “ comes." That was a word for the hero. 

I never liked these western movies. Found them so boring and always the same. And it was so smoky all the adults smoking. The projector would stop and the picture would jump about. And then the operator had to move before the movie would burn.

Sometimes by my moms brother, the adults would watch erotic movies.

Reminds me of the time my parents and some aunts and uncles were watching erotic adult movies. I was allowed to watch with. They thought perhaps I was too small too understand. 

My brothers and cousins who were older were at the door. I could see how they were peaking through the  keyhole. I think even back then I got a mini erection.

But erotic movies then was like family movies now that even have more nudity.

Was I enjoying the nude females? I think I was. I cannot recall a time when I did not like the look of a beautiful nude female. Specifically the legs. I like smooth fit or muscular white legs. I would grab them and attach myself to legs. My mom told me how I used to dive onto girls with short skirts and just dig into their legs and pubic areas.

To be continued....
 



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