NOT OUR PROBLEM

So much of this blog has been taken up with the never-ending calamities around the Emmarentia house: roof leaks, cable theft, rats, and clearing the jungle of a garden that we were left.

When I returned after a six month absence, I was struck by the increased deterioration of this place. But, the house had been sold “as is”. Buyer beware! So as frustrating as it is to have deal with the dozens of things that don’t work in this house, my new mantra has become “It’s not our problem anymore.”

We drank good South African bubbly last night to celebrate the fact that the real estate deal, brokered in May, has finally closed! We’re now living in someone else’s house and it’s really not our problem anymore! It is pure joy to utter those words!

The timing was perfect. We gambled that the deal would close this month and rented a place for October 1st. In less than two weeks, we are gone! Boxes are being filled, artwork being taken down, and the exodus begins nine months after having moved in!

What will I miss about this house? As a Northerner, I will miss the lemon tree. I have never gotten over the thrill walking out the kitchen door and picking freshly grown lemons whenever I need some. There are only a few left on the tree and it is just about to bloom. I hope it pops while we are still here as I expect it will be gorgeous. Also, I will miss having a gas stove and having a large office with French doors opening to the deck overlooking the pool. But are any of those things enough to hold me here? Never! Let the move begin!

I drafted this blog yesterday morning just before we were heading out for lunch (which turned out to be DIVINE!) at ROOTS restaurant where our wedding will take place. About an hour before departure, the power went out. Until we were ready to leave, it hadn’t dawned on either of us that without power, our gate won’t open. We were trapped! So there we were, nicely dressed, unsuccessfully taking apart the gate to escape our own home! All I kept thinking is, “This is no way to live!” Defeated by the gate, Glen was reassembling it while I went it in to call the restaurant to cancel our reservation. Then there was a shout from Glen, “The power’s on. Let’s get out before it goes out again!” Soon, very soon, this will not be our problem!!

SIGNS OF THE NEIGHBOURHOOD

The sign that brings happiness in front of the Emmarentia house.


Emmarentia is an old Jewish neighbourhoood.....



...that has a new mosque. No one seems to mind.... :0)

RETURN TO SOUTH AFRICA

Three weeks ago tomorrow, we arrived back in South Africa. It was my birthday, my 56th—the year that I will marry Glen and commit to him and to our relationship for the rest of my life. To be under the same roof again, albeit a leaky one, brings me great pleasure,

The first thing that struck me upon our return, aside from the distinct chill in the air, was that so many of the trees are bare. It’s the end of winter here and about 75% of the trees are bare. The others retain their leaves—the flora of South Africa remains a mystery to me! Our lush overgrown yard at the Emmarentia house is filled with light. And it is a quality of light that takes me back to 2006, the only time I spent winter here. How can one describe something as fleeting and ethereal as a quality of light? Yet, it is a remarkably distinctive light—clear crisp and outlining every tiny sprout as the leaves just come peeping out on these bare trees. It is a dry light—if there can be such a thing. Fortunately, after the chilly long nights, the sun warms the afternoon to a mild 20C. The front of the house faces north so we open doors and windows to let the warmth flood into this damp old house. Our bedroom, located on the south side (we’re in the southern hemisphere here where all seems reversed to us northerners) never seems to warm up and I insist on using our sole heater there to take the chill off before bed.

The day after our return, Grace, our friendly hard-working cleaner arrived. We greeted each other warmly as we caught up on news. She told me of Constance, a friend who had worked with her here when the house was in too rough shape for one person to clean. They worked together happily chatting away but never stopping working. Grace told me Constance died a few weeks ago—a woman likely in her early to mid-30s—she gave birth a few weeks ago and while making a bottle for her two week old son, she collapsed without warning. An ambulance was called and she died en route to hospital, reason unknown. Her two children will now be raised by her parents in Venda. When I told Glen, his response was. “Was it AIDS?” but it doesn’t appear to have been so as Grace said she had not been ill. I would guess it had something to do with the aftermath of her giving birth and the lack of post-natal care here. Life is incredibly harsh if you’re poor in this country.

Grace also told me she was no longer working for Glen’s daughter and son-in-law. I was surprised because Grace, a single mom of one, can’t afford to be without work. She told me how they needed a domestic for an additional day per week and Grace was booked elsewhere, so they hired a woman from Zimbabwe. Grace proceeded to tell me how all Zimbabweans are illegal and will steal from you. I was taken aback by her xenophobia. I decided to tread lightly but couldn’t let her comments go unaddressed. I said, “Well, Oliver, our gardener, is from Zim and he’s nothing but honest and hardworking and is also legal in SA.” To which she replied. “Sometimes it takes a long time for before they steal from you……” These comments, from Grace, a normally bright calm woman were unnerving—one can see how the riots in the townships of only two years ago happened in which those perceived as foreigners were attacked and their houses burned. Take it a step further and it’s Rwanda all over again. Is this country where so much is based on black vs white, there are many scary shades of black in between. So much for Pan-Africanism………..