WHY AM I LEAVING?

Glen wrote in his latest blog, “ Rob leaves in under a week- let me not go there right now, except to say she is leaving at exactly the wrong time (when would be the ‘right” time, I wonder?!).” He's right. Our house has just become inhabitable and the fun creative decorating is beginning. We love searching for exactly the right colour to paint the walls and our strong preferences are remarkably compatible. I splashed out and bought an exquisite raffia wall hanging from Congo that will dominate our front hall transforming what Hermon said was the most “dead” part of the house. Now when people enter our house, they will be greeted by this beautiful abstract work of art. Next to it will be a large black pot that I bought from a Swazi woman who used to sell handmade clay pots, baskets and brooms in a vacant lot in our old Parkmore neighbourhood. I regret that I didn’t buy more things from her. Maybe if we had, she would still be there.

I made a commitment to Glen that I would spend these past two months getting as much of the house sorted as possible and I have done that with great gusto. We are unpacked, settled, a zillion repairs have taken place and we are comfortable. But I also realized that in the past two months there have been literally two or three days where there was no labourer, repairman, cleaner, nor gardener working here. Many days were spent within this compound with only a dash on the bicycle to pick up food for the workers! I need to spread my wings and get reconnected to the bigger world again!

Bank accounts in both countries are depleted, so the simple economic need to work calls me back to Canada. I miss my family and friends and being away certainly teaches one to appreciate those moments of joy with smart, stimulating, witty people. I arrive back in Toronto on a Friday and we have already planned to see an award-winning French film on Sunday evening followed by Chinese food—one of my favourite cheap-and-cheerful meals out.

But there is something much deeper. Until a few weeks ago, we had lived with the underlying tension of Glen’s pending divorce. As it dragged on, it had become as much an element in our relationship as any of the wonderful aspects in our shared life. Now, after three and a half years, it is finally DONE. Glen must still deal with the on-going terrible financial toll it will take on him, but I believe he also needs to let the finality of it sink in. One can think of the whole ordeal as having begun happily almost 30 years ago when he married Eileen. They were together 25 years (the majority of them unhappy) followed by almost 5 years to settled the divorce. Now, it’s finally over. Glen is a profoundly contemplative man. I believe, as he agrees, that he needs time to make his final peace with this protracted event. Last night, we made a blazing fire in the funky old barbeque that’s part of the poolside patio, put our feet up and watched the flames. It is a ritual, usually accompanied by chocolate and 10 year old KWV brandy, that began on our camping trip in Namibia 3 years ago. Our lot is isolated enough and the trees big enough that one could almost imagine being off at some rural cabin. It gave us time to think and chat. Glen revealed that he knows he needs time to deal with the saddest part of divorce—the grief, sense of loss and personal failure. Rarely does he open up like this and I knew he was sharing something deeply private. It was an important moment in our relationship and confirmed for me that I am doing the right thing, So, I will sadly pack my bags in a few days, leaving him alone in this too big house.

But, once my contract is completed, I plan to return here. One thing I asked Glen to promise me is that after this 5 month separation that we will NEVER have a separation this long again. That will be what we will solve when I return.

And, heck, the roof won’t be leaking by then and the veranda walls won’t be falling down. It will be a great place to return to and, most importantly, Glen will be here to greet me.

WHAT WE KEEP LOCKED INSIDE

I haven’t blogged for a while as I kept thinking, How much more do people want to hear about things breaking down in this house? Is it of interest to know hat I have been chasing the insurance company for a week to replace the kitchen ceiling that seems to sag just a little lower each day? (They are to arrive tomorrow and then must repaint the walls freshly painted the day BEFORE the geyser flood.) Who cares that the ridiculously expensive gate lock STILL doesn’t work? Do you want to know how I communicate with the African house painter who only speaks Afrikaans?

The real stuff of life here is the difference between what happens in within the electric fence topped walls of our now comfy home (despite it faults and damage) and what occurs outside them. When the geyser installers let the waterfall cascade through the ceiling, I went to turn off the water main which is located OUTSIDE our walls—couldn’t do it as both the lid and handle had been stolen by the guys who collect scrap metal.

Almost daily, strangers ring the intercom, located outside the front security gate, asking for food, money or clothing. This always throws my bleeding liberal heart into a dilemma. Yesterday, I tried a new approach—when a fellow buzzed asking for money, I asked him “Are you willing to do some work for it?’ He agreed. I asked him to simply sweep the leaves off the driveway—that is, the driveway located OUTSIDE the gates as it is too risky to let strangers into the compound. When I passed him the broom though the fence, he proudly announced that he had an ID document—meaning that he was legal in the country. I am of the “Don’t ask. Don’t tell.” school when it comes to legality in the country as I am barely legal here myself! Also, I am so aware of how people from poorer African countries flood into South Africa with its relative prosperity.

Yet, I wonder was I wrong to ask him to do a bit of work? Should one give simply for the sake of giving? But, I know I gave him more because he was willing to do a simple task for me. It seemed to me to put us on a more equal footing—you do this for me and I’ll do that for you rather than him just begging for money.

Emmarentia, where we live, is a well established middle-class suburb. One could be in almost any middle class suburb anywhere in the world. I love when other cultural elements of this country bump up against us. Nearly daily, there is an older African woman who pushes a very heavy battered shopping cart up our street calling “Meeeeeeeeee”. She’s selling “mielies” which looks like feed corn to me—it’s a staple in the Africam community and one often sees people roasting them in metal drums on the side of the road. It reminds me of when we were shooting an exterior scene for Jozi-H and the director wanted a mielie seller on the side of the road to add authenticity. Well, as the Props Department searched in vain for mielies, all of us whiteys discovered they were out of season! Talk about a culture gap!

South Africa is a country of locks and security—as Glen is quick to point out, security is the number one employer in the private sector. The extent of locks in this place amazes me. We have a BOX of keys that his ex-wife left us, most of which we have no idea what they are! Every room has a lock, closets have locks, many of our windows have individual keys to lock them—but the lock that amazed me the most when I first came to South Africa is the fridge! The fridge and freezer compartments each have locks. We have no idea where they keys are for ours, but just the fact that they are manufactured this way astonishes me. The locks say it all—distrust of one’s domestic workers versus hunger, need and possibly resentment on the part of the domestic workers. Our own fridge reminds me of the inequality in this country.

Glen also has a blog and I have been remiss in letting you know about it. Check it out at:

http://glenchristopher.wordpress.com/2010/01/14/life-begins-at-56/

I CAN'T BLOG FAST ENOUGH!

I did mention that geezer in the last blog…….. Well, the insurance company authorized a replacement and the fellows showed up yesterday. Once they were underway, I headed to the nearby paint store to sort out a mistint (Oh Paint Colours Unlimited, I miss you!). I returned home 20 minutes later to hear our normally calm cleaner yelling at the workers in the attic. Niagara Falls was gushing through through the ceiling flooding the kitchen!

The workers acted as if this was perfectly normal occurrence and what were we so concerned about? I called the company doing the repairs and noticed on their business card that immediately after “plumbing services”, they listed “ceiling repairs”. Mmmhhhh…. well, we’ve had the estimator from the company here, the insurance adjuster showed up and in the middle of it all the fellow who’s been trying to repair the security gate for the past two weeks arrived. And I wonder why I can’t get out beyond these walls most days!

The conclusion is that the ceiling will be pulled down and repaired and the kitchen walls (painted yesterday!) will be repainted! EISH!

ON the up side, we have been cooking away and I made the most simple and DIVINE dessert the other night. Figs are in season—I baked fresh figs with red wine and cardamom. Two cardamom pods gave it such incredible flavour—beee-u-tiful! But it’s not just figs in season, since it’s summer and most fruits are grown here in SA, we get the most wonderful produce: incredible white nectarines, delicate asparagus, aromatic mangoes—in fact, it’ll be ginger mango salsa with the chicken tonight.

THAT WAS YESTERDAY.

This morning was off to a great start—Oliver, the gardener from Zim showed up. We were so relieved! The garden is so big, I just don’t know where to begin, so Oliver simply decides what to do with it and runs with it and he’s good. What a relief! Found a great hair salon right in Emmarentia. The guys at the paint store replaced the mistint without charge. I was on a roll.

And then the plumber showed up. We have a shiny new geezer and barely tepid water this morning. We called and asked then to come and adjust the thermostat. And what did they do? Disconnect the power!! I only discovered later that the power is now out in the kitchen. Numerous calls. It’s 4pm and no sign of the electricans….

Oh yeah and that magnetic lock that we’d been waiting for for two weeks that was installed yesterday. It fell off the gate this morning. maybe there's a message here that were ignoring....

But, damn, my hair looks great!

THE SWEET SCENT OF SMOKE STILL LINGERS.....

The scent of sweet smoke still lingers in our house from Hermon, the sangoma’s, visits. It is especially strong in certain cupboards and the pungent, but pleasant smell, reminds me of what we’re trying to do here—that is, move on from what this house once was to a place that is our own. All the challenges, both physical and emotional, can make the road a little bumpy at times. Fortunately, we are each equipped with steel belted radials to smooth those bumps as much as we can.

Hermon’s take on the “vibe” of the house was interesting and I think very accurate—he said it wasn’t filled with negativity, but felt very dead and dormant. I thought. “It’s true—this is a house where love died and where honesty and creativity and even basic maintenance all went dormant.” His rituals were intended to clear out the past and make room for all good things to enter while covering the house is a protective dome of light. Hermon reminded us to bless whatever passed through this house in letting go of it.

He did make an interesting comment about our bedroom—he said it needed very little work. We had brought light and fresh air into that room ourselves and made it a place, as he termed it, full compassion and passion. What more could one hope for? This was especially interesting to me as I wanted us to have a different bedroom from the one Glen shared with Eileen. Quite frankly, moving into the same bedroom creeped me right out! But there is one very LARGE bedroom in this house with an en suite and a weird little attached dressing room. The two other bedrooms are teeny, so there really was no choice of what room should be ours—and it is HUGE with LOTS of light and over looks the back garden. Although the furnishings are spartan, we have made it our own so Hermon’s comments rang true.

Speaking of gardens, our new gardener quit on Saturday. He is a knowledgeable older fellow, so I was worried about him feeling overwhelmed at our large unruly garden. I kept saying, “Don’t get overwhelmed. Just focus one small section at a time.” But, alas, it was too much! He arrived with his son, also an experienced gardener, who will be replacing him. The new gardener worked like a demon and now we are afraid he won’t show up next week! I never understand why Africans are thought of as lazy—all the ones we have hired have worked incredibly hard for modest fees. Racism is well preserved in South Africa. The gardening family, Joseph and his son, Oliver, are from Zimbabwe or “Zim” as it’s called here. South Africans shorten all words when possible—for example a swimsuit, which they call a “bathing costume” is a “cossie” and “flip flops”, called “slip slops” is shortened to “slops”.

I return from that sidebar—what I wanted to talk about is more serious—the difference between Black South Africans and those from Zim or other African countries. The people from Zim I have met are easy to chat with (even though they struggle a bit with my accent.) One gets the feeling that we speak as equals, pure and simple, and just as it should be. They are doing their job and simply getting on with things. Encounters with Black South Africans can be distinctly different. Glen and I have a game we play when we are out for dinner—I always know when the waitron (yep! that’s the gender non-specific word they use here!) is NOT South African and I have taken to asking them “Where are you from?” I am almost always right. People from Zim and other parts of Africa are confident and at ease with white customers. They chat in that friendly waiterly way. With South African waitrons, there is always a strong and distinct discomfort--- there is a formality that comes across almost as fear—no friendly banter or chitchat. Just, “Yes, Sir” “No, M’am”—it is, of course, the legacy of apartheid—the separation lives on and will take many more decades to change.

The Emmarentia house saga continues—but I am slowly becoming to accustomed to the things keep breaking down. We had electricians here for 4 days rewiring half the house as well as replacing the security system in the aftermath of the cable theft. Today, we noticed a LARGE wet spot on the kitchen ceiling. The geyser is leaking! Let me explain, the “geyser” (pronounced “geezer”!) is the hot water tank and is located places that a Canadian would find distinctly odd. In Glen’s apartment, it was mounted on the wall despite being a full-size tank like the ones we are accustomed to in the True North. In this house, it is located in the attic! Because we suspect there are rats up there, neither of us is brave enough to go up there and inspect. Fortunately, Glen tells me that geezer problems are always insurance claims, so back to the insurance company! EISH! I guess the dome of protective light doesn't extend to geezers hidden in dark attics!

HERMON, THE SANGOMA

Yesterday, our sangoma, Hermon, arrived for the first of three visits. Although we had met previously, I still wasn’t quite sure what was going to happen. Hermon arrived with a basket of what he needed—sage, lavender, candles, bells. He set up using the elevated base of our living room fireplace as his staging area. What struck me was how totally unpretentious he was about his work—he asked me what I’d be doing while he began his cleansing and I said I’d be cooking to which he replied “Good.” And then he simply began.

While I was in the kitchen and he rang a small bell several times and it immediately awakened the long lapsed Catholic in me—the one that still recalls the ritual and formality of the latin mass. And before I realized what I was thinking, I was saying to myself, “Now this house is full of LIFE.”

Although he told us he would be in a very focused state, we also spoke freely when were in the same room--- no trance-like thing happening here-- he is a very down to earth about what he does! As he slowly made his way through the house, he would close windows to focus the energy. Using incense and burning sage and lavender, he used the smoke to cleanse—the house was filled with a intense and totally pleasurable smoky scent that still remains.

Hermon asked me to make notes for him of what I wanted this house cleansing ceremony to achieve and this is some of what I wrote:

What do I ask of your work, Hermon?

I ask that you clear the energy of this house—you clear the strife, anger and depression that lived within these walls for too long. I want this place to be a HOUSE OF LOVE. Glen was just divorced a few days ago after years of patient struggle and moving into this house just over two weeks ago is a new phase in our happy relationship—not just a new chapter, but a whole new BOOK. I want this house to be a place where love can grow and where our relationship can continue to develop—may our growth never stop. May it be a place where we forgive and bless the past and welcome each new day with love.

This house has a history of break-ins and I hope it will become a safe place for us to live. As I split my time between Canada & South Africa, I hope that Glen will be able to live safely here alone.

I look forward to his return today.

EVERYTHING IN SOUTH AFRICA TAKES LONGER

Everything in South Africa takes longer. When will I learn this? When will I accept this? The simplest things, like changing a flight, can drive one around the bend with frustration. I have been trying to change my flight back to Toronto since last Wednesday so that I cane return to take a job in March. Impossible. I spent two hours on the phone this morning with South African Airways, Lufthansa, Air Canada and two offices of the Flight Centre. Nothing, Nada. I have emailed the Flight Centre in Toronto hoping they can manage what no one is South Africa seems capable of fixing.

On the UP side, Glen and I had a wonderful low key celebratory weekend. Celebrating a divorce is not quite the same as celebrating a marriage—there is no specific event, no gathering, no ritual (although I think the sangoma will help with the latter). The aftermath of a divorce is slow—it must seep in. After waiting all these years, it will take time to realize that it’s really over and that a new book in our lives begins. All ‘round, it’s a fine feeling.

How do Rob & Glen celebrate? Well, we cook! Friday evening started with breaking open that well-chilled bottle of Moet & Chandon. It went down very easily after which I was in no state to cook. Glen took charge with great panache—he brought home king prawns (imported from Mozambique) and sauteed them with chili, lemon & garlic. Divine. I was back up to the task on Saturday night and made my ostrich fillets—the BEST ostrich I have ever tasted and everyone who eats them agrees. I did everything on the braii (BBQ)—grilled asparagus, marinated ostrich and for dessert, grilled pineapple drizzled with a sauce flavoured with fresh mint. As much as I might bitch about Glen’s ex, she did leave us a beautiful healthy patch of fragrant mint! Sunday night and dinner was back to Glen—a risotto made with a combination of dried and fresh mushrooms. Food is life. Food is love.

Sunday afternoon I was antsy to get out and we drove about an hour outside of town to a funky little bush pub with excellent beer and an outdoor pizza oven and relaxed as chickens and geese wandered amongst the tables under the trees. We chatted about all those endlessly impossible to resolve life-changing matters like where do we live? How do we manage to live in two countries? What’s the next step after this job back in Toronto? These things seem impossible to resolve, so we talk and and let things sink in and eventually the next step emerges on its own. It is a technique born of our personalities and how our brains work and it serves us well. There are many things to be grateful for in this truly happy relationship with Glen.

Like I said, everything in South Africa takes longer.

DEEEEEEEE - VORCED!!!

I have known my wonderful partner, Glen for three and a half years and just a few hours ago, some unnamed judge in a South African court here in Joburg proclaimed him DIVORCED! It only took four and a half years, but it's DONE!! WOOO HOO! I can't wait for him to get home-- LET THE CELEBRATIONS BEGIN!!!

THE SUN IS SHINING IN JOZI

I'll admit I've been more than a little cranky with getting a house sorted that was left in ruins by one's partner's ex, but 8 bins (4 of them "supersize") of garden waste have been hauled away and we are unpacked and settled in. The insurance company is sending electricians tomorrow to start the massive rewiring job (post meltdown) and our security system should be operational by Monday. The roof still leaks, the gutters are still falling down, the rats are still in the attic, the bathroom still floods when it rains, the tv and satellite tv receiver are still fried, but the sun is SHINING. It has rained daily for WEEKS-- in that special Jozi-deluge-always-accompanied-by massive-thunder-and-lightning-way. Things are just BETTER today. Let me tell you a GOOD thing about this house: there is a small but lush lemon tree right outside the kitchen doors. The lemons are small and not very pretty, but the scent when one cuts one open is heavenly-- supersaturated lemon-- not of the dishsoap variety. They gush with juiciness-- what a treat for a northern gal like me! I am tickled every time I need a lemon and can just pop outside and pick one off our tree.

CABLE THEFT

Since the "blast in the night" one week ago, we have been without power replaced more recently by partial power. The cause of this: cable theft. Organized gangs steal high voltage wires - a highly dangerous undertaking. Glen suspects that the cable is then shipped to other countries in southern Africa. We've learned from our neighbours that this has happened repeatedly in our neighbourhood. All of our security systems, including the house alarm, electric fence, remote gate opener, are fried. First it was a battle with the city to get power restored and now we are gearing up for a battle with the insurance company to get all of this replaced! As they say here-- EISH!!! I have always maintained that Joburg has the veneer of the first world and this just reinforces that belief.

On the upside, we met with a lovely sangoma last night and he will begin his 3 day cleanse of our home one week from today. Just meeting him was uplifting-- I look forward to having all the spirits of the past out of this house!