I command you to have fun the way I did

My happiest childhood memories involve blissful hours at the beach or in my uncle’s enormous pool/the family pool.

My cherished memories include my late father and me swimming alongside each other in the calm and leisurely way in which he did everything. I’d be playing about in the pool, but when he entered the water, we’d usually just end up swimming laps alongside each other. I don’t remember if he asked me to join him or if it was just a tacit understanding between us- that when we were both in the water, we swam together. At both Fish Hoek and Gordon’s Bay beaches, we swam our special companionable distance from the shore to some rocks he’d identified off toward the side. At Sea Forth we made our way to the wooden raft and back. He seemed to look for any opportunity to swim together. I took it for granted back then. Today these make up some of the most treasured childhood memories , which bring me a mixture of joy and sad longing.

However, it was not my father who taught us to swim. This task was left to my Aunt’s husband, a strict no-nonsense P.E teacher, who emphasised the proper execution of strokes and did not tolerate shoddy form. We did not play around in the pool when he was around; we swam laps – and we enjoyed it. Not once did I feel that I’d rather be playing shark-shark like I’d seen other children do at public pools. I loved and appreciate every moment and every lesson he shared with us.

But it was my other wonderful eccentric uncle who saw to it that my brother and I spent our summer afternoons at the water. He’d either take us to the family pool after school or he’d take us with him and his children to Muizenberg beach where we swam and fished. We also went with him to Namibia (then South West Africa) a few times where we spent our days swimming and fishing with my cousin for hours every day. We’d only manage to catch something occasionally, but it didn’t matter – it was the whole experience of fishing (and really just being around water) that we enjoyed.

I’ve always regretted that my own children do not share my love of the ocean. I feel like they are missing out on so much exhilaration which just the sight or smell of the sea is still able to give me today.

So this morning I felt that I should try to remedy this. In the most no-nonsense tone I could muster, I ordered them to pack their swimming costumes as we’d be going to the beach. Now granted, the icy ocean temperatures in the Atlantic are a far cry from the heavenly waters of the beaches upon which I grew up. But, since we live at least 40 minutes away from Muizenberg and only 10 minutes away from Milnerton beach, Milnerton it was.

They grumbled and groaned but my threatening tone ensured that the process of getting to the beach was unexpectedly effortless. The promised 30-something degree weather sadly failed to materialise which, in my day, had done very little to keep us from bursting forth from the car and tearing across the shore and into the water, where we’d spend many many blissful hours before we were reluctantly forced to depart for home. But this was not the case with my lot. I coaxed and nudged, threatened and commanded. Eventually they agreed to put their feet in the water – fully dressed.

Firstly they insisted on remaining fully dressed the entire time. I was forced to set the example by rushing into the water myself in order get them going.  

Admittedly Nuha (12), warmed up to the icy temperatures and seemed to be enjoying bouncing about in the waves as they hit the shore. Initially, Aisha (8) was far less entertained, as she shivered from the freezing temperatures, but after what seemed like an eternity, she too seemed to find some iota of pleasure in Nuha’s leap-over-the-waves game – that is, until she was swept off her feet and into the freezing water. I held my breath, waiting for an outburst of some sort, but surprisingly, she continued to play about in soaking wet clothes until it was time to leave.

Tharaa (16) spent the entire time taking photos of her surroundings and although I would so much rather have had her swimming or even frolicking about the way she had done when she was little, I was just happy that she’d accompanied us without too much coercion on my part.

  

Our entire emotionally exhausting time at the beach lasted a full 45 minutes. I hope I would have summoned sufficient energy to repeat this excursion by the time the next scorcher arrives and, who knows, maybe we’ll extend our stay to a whopping 50 minutes.