An orange tree - a wintry blessing

Every winter the orange tree in our garden bursts with an abundance of bright yellow fruit - so yellow in fact, that for years we thought it was a lemon tree. And every year hungry passers-by either request to be allowed to pick fruit or just enter the garden and help themselves without permission.

 Thus, during winter, we have so much activity in our front garden, with people wandering in and out as if in a public park/garden. I really did not mind. The tree is popular and its produce bountiful.

I did not even mind when people came in, without permission, just to pick a few oranges and then left. Even when they ask for permission, I would agree and then go back inside, trusting that they will treat our property with respect.

Sadly though, many people have taken advantage of this freedom. A few years ago, the very youths whom I allowed to pick oranges, then decided to rip our garden tap out of the ground to sell it for scrap metal. When I returned outside to check up on them, they were dashing down the street laughing, leaving the water spouting wastefully about 3 meters into the air. Luckily Mo popped in from work a few minutes later and was able to stop the water by sealing the pipe.

There have also been incidents where people coming to ask for food steal from the premises while waiting for us to heat up their meals. Like the time a young man stole our plastic doorbell button. Why, I don't know. I cannot imagine any use this piece of plastic could be to him without the actual doorbell. On the other hand, losing this tiny object meant that we could not operate our doorbell.

Last month my kids were so upset when some children we'd allowed to pick oranges stole one of our goldfish from our pond as soon as our backs were turned. Each of my kids had had a fish - the fish they stole turned out to be Nuha (7)'s. She cried pitifully for more than an hour for her little friend, Marina. We comforted her, saying that we were certain that Marina would be well looked after and that we were sure that the children who took her were kind and caring (At which Shakeel (13) snorted cynically).

Every night we have people coming to the door for food or money. Usually they are the same people who return over and over. For the past few months, a certain gentleman has made it a habit to pop in late at night, bang on our security gate and scream loudly until we answer. Mo has, on numerous occasions, threatened not to give him anything if he did not stop carrying on in such a vulgar fashion; the man would then simply apologise, make off with his food/money and then return the following night to do exactly the same thing.

Last week, on Thursday night, he again banged on the gate and asked for money. He specified that he did not want food, but preferred the money. Since Mo was working late, I asked the gentleman to return at 14:00 the following day(Friday), since Mo would be returning from mosque at that time and could then give him whatever money he had to spare.

At 12:10 the following afternoon he returned. Not having expected this gentleman to return almost 2 hours earlier than agreed, I asked Elizabeth, the domestic worker, to answer the door and give whoever asked for assistance, the food which I'd set aside. Thinking that I was about to renege on our agreement of the night before, he became furious. He tore broken my little fence(surrounding my veg and herb patch) made of wooden logs and used one log to bang loudly (and frighteningly) on the security gate, screaming and cursing all the while.

I came out and when I saw that it was him, I am ashamed to say, I really lost my cool. He screamed that we'd had an agreement, to which I replied that I had not been expecting him at 12:10. Mo was not even home yet. I had no money to give him. He then tried to hurl the log at me through the metal bars, and threatened to harm me should he ever get me outside (This he obviously said in the most colourful language imaginable).

He then started bashing our dirt bin, which was outside for garbage collection. Cursing , swearing and threatening me, he walked off.

A few days later he returned for food. Deciding that he was probably sorry for what had happened, I warmed him some leftovers and then locked the gate behind him as he left the garden. He then proceeded to plonk himself down in our driveway to enjoy his meal. I did not mind. An hour later he finished his lunch, fumbled around a bit, then - after struggling to get to his feet - tried to toss his litter through the fence into our garden! Since he caught me glaring at him, he then opted to simply toss all his litter in our driveway and walk off.

I undertook not to deal with him again. I would only open for him if Mo was home. Two nights later I heard a loud banging at the security gate of our porch. I called for Mo, but the time he had taken to arrive must have been too long for the person waiting outside, because when we opened the gate, we saw that someone had kicked/bashed broken our garden tap once again, leaving the water to flood the half of the garden.

　

I was almost certain that the same guy was responsible. As stupid as this sounds, I was truly hurt. And disillusioned. Every time I'd opened my heart to this man (and many others) they've ended up disrespecting me and abusing my trust.

But despite advice from family members that I should just lock our outside gate and keep these people from entering altogether, I can't help but feel that doing so would be punishing deserving people for the deeds of others.

And I cannot help but wonder if my petty feelings of selfish hurt should perhaps take a back-seat to the needs of the people who approach us for assistance; especially in the light of the weather we've been experiencing now recently.

Two nights ago I lay awake guiltily, thinking of that man and others like him. I shuddered at the thought of having to emerge from beneath my warm bedcovers, so how on earth was he surviving? What keeps these people from succumbing to the effects of hypothermia?

I don't remember ever having experienced such a cold winter in my life. I am not the only one - many people have been saying that this is the coldest Cape Town winter they had ever experienced. And, like me, these people have solid secure homes, access to warm food and drink and the means to keep themselves warm (like heaters, warm showers, electric blankets etc).

I pray for God to provide some means of shelter, warmth and comfort to everyone this winter. And, that those of us who are by the means, find it in our hearts to assist these unfortunate souls in whatever way possible.

It is very easy to become annoyed at them 'bothering' us at the most inopportune times; at their ill-timed pleas for assistance disturbing us snuggling beneath our warm blankets.  And this is perhaps when we must remember that  ''there, but for the grace of God, go I''.

And, when I consider the adage that ''those who give selflessly are blessed'', suddenly my perspective changes and I realise that this bothersome orange tree is, in fact, our blessing.

Wanted to have a bit of a moan, but on second thought....

As a reader of this blog, you will have noticed that I am all about gratitude, living in the moment and appreciating the here and now. I even changed my blog name to reflect the savouring and appreciation of the moment.

That having been said, I have to admit - I don't think I can handle this cold weather for one more minute. I just don't think I'm built for it. On days that other people are wearing flimsy T-shirts, I need a jersey. So just try to imagine how I'm feeling today - it's a mere 15 degrees Celsius. Whether outside or indoors, I experience no relief from the cold. I've been sipping on green tea and coffee all morning - I'm shaking from what I assume is a combination of caffeine and coldness.

I go to bed wearing 3 long-sleeved tops underneath the thickest pyjamas I can find in my cupboard. Very sexy. (I guess I can take a break from contraception this winter).

I know I shouldn't be such a baby - there are people living very nearby - in poorly constructed shacks. I do think about them all the time - if I'm feeling like this, I just cannot imagine how they are able to tolerate the cold.

Which again brings me to - gratitude. I started this post just wanting to have a moan, but now I realise I really really shouldn't - I have way too much for which I can be grateful.

In fact I think it would be a good idea to head off to Pep Stores some time to find out the price of blankets. I'm certain it will help them - even just a bit. It is heartbreaking to think about all the kids who are forced to live in those flimsy structures, which provide very little protection from the elements.

So I guess it's time to man up, stop being such a wuss and start walking the walk.

From princess to Cape Flats gangsta

Despite having grown up in a previously 'coloured' area during apartheid, I cannot claim to have lived in a really rough neighbourhood. Since I didn't get out much either (as all my friends were encouraged to play at my house), I really had a pretty sheltered life.


As a result, I based my life views and opinions (which were often so inaccurate) on the very limited exposure I had to the outside world.


For example:
One of my first memories of my family's interaction with a white person was when a burly stern white policeman ordered us off from a 'whites only' beach.
Thus, to me, as a child 'white people = scary people'


I remember seeing big boys with no top front teeth when we'd drive past the shop corner. My parents, who were both teachers at the two high schools in our area, would chat about who the notorious children at their respective schools were. Co-incidentally, all four of these kids had no top front teeth. In addition, one day the adult with whom I was walking in the Main Road, crossed the road to avoid some toothless youths who were interfering with passers-by.
So in my child's mind 'no front teeth = intimidating, non-law-abiding youths and gangsterism'


I have since learned that the 'the passion gap' is not necessarily only popular with Cape Flats gangsters, but with some ordinary 'coloured' folk too. According to this interesting article, one of the reasons for its popularity is based on a sexual myth (which I prefer not to get into, so to learn more about this, you'll have to read the aforementioned article) - and the other is fashion. 

Image taken from above-mentioned article

So now, based on my early ingrained (albeit misguided) beliefs, imagine my alarm when Nuha (7), my precious princess, smiled at me after just having lost her second top incisor. I had to resist the urge to hand over my purse.


My princess has gone from this

    ...very sweet and  unthreatening                                                         


To...

                                                                     

Her older siblings, whose opinions and views on life have not been spoiled by stereotypes, think she looks really cool - like a little vampire. They absolutely love it!


Nuha, herself, is very pleased with her new look. Until recently, she'd been the only one in her class who had still not lost her teeth. She was very pleased to finally be fitting in with her mates, who are all at this age, sporting the toothless look. So a day after she lost her second tooth, I saw her looking in the rear-view mirror in the car.


"What are you thinking, my baby?" I asked worriedly, ready to reassure her that I would not let any Cape Flats gang try to recruit her.


"I'm thinking that I look pretty," she said smiling, shyly.


What a relief, I thought. Now please don't hurt me.

Blistering, sweltering, skin-shrivelling heat notwithstanding- I ♥ summer!!!

Whew, but yesterday was hot!!

Which meant that we ended up at our usual river spot. The temperature in that part of the world had soared beyond 38 degrees Celsius.

However, the temperature of the water was- perfect.

The place was uncharacteristically busy, which made our peaceful and tranquil retreat somewhat more vibey. But it didn't matter; we just clamoured further upstream where the water was shallower (no higher than knee-depth) but excitingly flowed more rapidly and forcefully. One's powerlessness against the sheer force of the water was thoroughly exhilarating.

The arrangement of the rocks created mini-rapids and we derived much pleasure and excitement from trying to prevent ourselves from being washed downstream. Mo held 2 year old Aisha at a section where the water was moving slightly less forcefully, but strongly enough to provide a thrilling experience for her as it gushed against her body.

"Oooh I shower!!" she yelled elatedly.

But eventually the excitement became a bit too much so, giggling hysterically, she urged her dad to switch off the tap.

The intense heat meant that one had to remain submerged in the water all the time. Especially in my case since I was wearing my Billabong second-skin type top. Which was black. With long sleeves. (The memory alone makes me perspire).

As usual, I ran after the children- sunscreen bottle in hand- slathering the thick creamy liquid liberally over every exposed part of their bodies. Repeatedly.

"This is my favourite place to swim," one of the kids declared. They then each shouted out their preferences- pools, beaches, rivers.

"What is your favourite place to swim, Mommy?"

Before I could answer, 7 year old Nuha interjected shyly. "Mommy's favourite place FOR US to swim would be a pool filled with sunscreen instead of water. Then she won't have to worry about us being protected from the sun".

How did she know?

As usual, we had an amazing time. Instead of barbequing/braaing (which would most likely have caused Mo to suffer from a heat stroke), we enjoyed a yummy, greasy, artery-clogging KFC family meal.

On the walk back to the car we became drenched with perspiration once again. If only we didn't have to leave!! Ten year old Tharaa and I settled for cooling off by running through the sprinklers instead.

As unbearable as the February heat has been, I still felt sad when I popped in at Woolworths on Saturday and saw all the Autumn/Winter clothes already on display. What were they doing? I'm not ready for winter yet. Despite the uncomfortable heat (and the fact that our car's air-conditioning has been broken since last year) summer is still my happy time. I'm not ready for it to end yet!

Oh well, I suppose that all I need is a mindset change. I need to start thinking about interesting and exciting family time which can be shared in winter.

Right now though, I'm taking Aisha outside to enjoy splashing in the plastic pool. I plan to glean every last second of fun from what's left of our magnificent Cape Town summer.

Fish and chips and sandcastles

On Monday we spent the first half of the day performing the uninspiring task of shopping for the older three kids' school supplies.


We had had no particular plans for the day, but since Mo's leave was coming to an end, he felt particularly restless- as if he wanted to cram as many activities as possible into his remaining time.


So off we headed to Hout Bay for a late lunch/early supper.


We took the Constantia Nek route, as we had preferred the serenity of the drive along that route to the busy (though equally scenic) Camps Bay-Llundudno route.


I love driving through Constantia toward Hout Bay. But just envisioning the plush mansions nestled discreetly behind the dense foliage which lines the road upon which we were driving- I'm ashamed to say- had me uncharacteristically green (probably allowing me to blend perfectly into my surroundings). I sat gawking at the beauty of the lush vegetation, particularly in awe of the magnificence of the vineyards covering the slopes of the Constantia valley.


I  tried to capture some of the beauty which I was beholding on camera, but for some strange reason all my pictures made it appear as if the day was misty, which it wasn't. Later Mo pointed out the reason- my lens was covered in fingerprints (probably mine).

Then in sharp contrast to the plush suburb of Constantia, we were provided with a stark reality check when we drove past the squatter camp at the entrance to Hout Bay- indicative of the unequal distribution of wealth still prevalent in South Africa almost 20 years after the end of apartheid.

  

Then onward to Hout Bay- toward the harbour where we were to buy our meals at one of the two places which are almost institutions in Cape Town; namely Snoekies and Fish on the Rocks. Our decision as to where to buy would depend on queues. Both places were packed to capacity.


We bought our food and then left the harbour area to have our meals in the car facing the ocean.

As soon as they were done, the kids leaped out of the car and proceeded to build sandcastles. I found it very amusing to watch Mo (who is a bit of a perfectionist when it comes to creating/ building/ restoring things), watch them build their lopsided castle  while trying not to intervene and show them the proper way to build a perfect castle.

Eventually he could no longer resist- and before you knew it, he had pretty much taken over. But the kids were not about to have their creativity stifled, so he was forced to step back as the castle was revamped to include a bridge leading to a castle restaurant.

Then came the best part for my destructive bunch- they thoroughly enjoy building their masterpiece completely and then at the count of 1-2-3, all of them will jump up and down on it until it has been completely flattened. This tradition originated from an incident which had taken place at Hermanus a few years ago. They had spent the entire afternoon building a very elaborate castle- when it was time to for them to leave a bunch of other kids simply moved in and were fortunate enough to enjoy the fruits of my not-so-generous kids' hard day's labour. That was when they decided that they would rather destroy their castles than suffer the invasion by a swarm of parasitic kids just waiting to move in. (They don't get that from me, I swear).

We took the Llundudno-Camps Bay route home. The moment that Llundudno comes into view is absolutely breathtaking. Although it was nearing sunset, one could not help but be impressed with the absolute magnificence of the views along that coastline. It truly is one of the most splendid sights to behold in this beautiful city of ours.

I once again realised that a trip to Hout Bay is about so much more than the destination. The entire journey is a an experience of exquisite scenery and natural wonders, which I am determined never to take for granted.