Of Avocados and Guinea Fowl

 I have been floating in shallow water lately.  We took a week off and headed for Sedgefield. Picture this: a beautiful warm, (but not too hot) sunny day, a slight breeze, water lapping gently on the sandy shore and a shelf of water, warm because it is no more than half a meter deep.  Bobbing in the salty water is as close to feeling at peace with creation as I can be. My usually over active mind can be still and my worries can drift into nothingness.  It is a profound experience for me.  We rowed out in the trusty red row boat to a secluded spot across Sedgefield lagoon, and - unbelievably, because it is such a perfect day - we had the entire place to ourselves.  

Sedgefield is an outdoorsy place. I spent  most of the time there sitting on the stoep, mug of tea in hand.  Inbetween reading (Mother Mary Comes To Me - a beautifully written memoir), scrolling (I know, I know...) and playing board games, there was time to just Be. 

Stoep sitting is a family affair for us, usually each doing our own thing.  A couple of wild tortoises kept us company, munching on grass patches and getting chased by nosy birds.  Our other wild companions included guinea fowl.  (Named Guinea Flowers by our son when he was 4 after encountering them at Kirstenbosch botanical gardens.)  They are odd looking creatures - all scrawny neck, wild eyed and ineffectual flapping of wings.  They can actually fly short distances, but rarely seem to get the urge to bother.  Like us, they seem to enjoy doing things in family groups.  We would watch as they pecked and squarked around the garden too.  Sometimes they ran up and down the chicken wire fence, trying to get out.  Or in.  Or one was out and one was in, and they seemed agitated by this. Our lovely daughter would send encouragement out to them, as in "You can do it! Jump! Fly!", but English doesn't seem to be their first language as they ignored her.  Finally, in desperation to help, K  went to fetch the sliding gate remote and opened it so the creatures could walk through and be reunited.  Logic doesn't seem to be one of a guinea fowl's competencies either (they do have very small heads and brains) because they couldn't figure out this route either.  Compassionate K tried this a couple of times, but no luck.  The squarking continued.

 In their own good time, and without any human intervention, the birds flew over the fence and went on their cheery way.  Sometimes, with the best intentions in the world, we need to let problems resolve themselves because, try as we might, our solution is not what are needed right then.

The other occupation of stoep-sitting, is seeing the passing pedestrian traffic.  Some people greet and wave, others tug on their dog's leashes and move on quickly.  We are, after all, outsiders - it is a holiday cottage-  amongst an established suburb. (McLeary Cottage was one of the original dwellings in Sedgefield, built by my grandfather in the 1950s, surrounded by trees and not much else, so I rather feel like an original settler rather than an outsider.  The property now belongs to my brother.) 

One local resident waved, said hello, and then paused at our gate.  Unlike the guinea fowl, he knew what the sliding gate was for.  He sat with Andrew and me on the stoep and introduced himself as a new neighbour.  After the polite hellos and potted history which included his views on "The Covid Conspiracy", he came to the real reason for popping in.  The avocado tree.   Planted by my parents long ago, it is well established, tall and generous with making delicious avocados.  It overhangs the side boundary fence onto a copse owned by no one.  The problem though, he told us,  was that the local children from the over-the-hill, out of sight poorer area of Sedgefield, were picking the fruit and eating the avos.  Did we know?   We assured him we did, and that my brother really didn't mind - in fact he is glad the avos are harvested when we are not there and delighted they don't go to waste.  But, the neighbour continued, sometimes "the bicycle gang" jump the fence to take the avos from inside the property. He couldn't understand that my brother didn't mind this either.  South Africa has a huge economic divide, and food security is an everpresent issue.  Children die from lack of food (and hope) .

We would have to agree to disagree, and I wondered how I could encourage him to go away.  "You can do it! Jump! Fly!" I was tempted to say, but politeness won the day.

 I am hoping that this newcomer to Sedgefield will find the time to pop down to the lagoon and float in the salt water.  Maybe it's healing properties and calmness will create more space for a generous spirit and kindness.   

 There is little more comforting than being able to drift - arms outstretched- in a safe and buoyant environment.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  

A Soulful Llama

 

How many elephants can fit on a Vespa? 

 

Eleven.  And 1 tortoise, 1 bear and  1 wide eyed llama. It took us quite a while to achieve this, and a lot of cable ties.  We also stuffed some arty goodies into the back box, and were satisfied that we were ready for our first Toy Run.  The Toy Run is a spectacular event held late November or early December every year.  If you live near one of the routes, you would have heard about it.  The revving is festively loud.  Andrew and I joined the parade of thousands of bikes, all adorned with toys for needy children, and set off through the Cape Town streets.  Traffic cops waved us through busy intersections and cleared lanes for us, smiling and waving and giving us the thumbs up. (Finally - I see the attraction of being part of the blue light brigade.  Motorists were equally cheerful to wave us through, unlike our political counterparts who usually avail themselves of that service.) It was an excellent start to the festive season.

The group of riders was as diverse as the bikes.  The magnificent Harley Davidsons led the procession and the rest of us followed.  Not too many Vespas took part, and scooters were definitely in the minority.

 We didn't stay long at Killarney - just time enough to soak up the atmosphere and hand over the toys. There was a band playing and inbetween songs the continuity announcer thanked us for being part of the Moral Underground.  I like that phrase.

To be honest, when I started writing this blog, it was a bit doomsday -y.  I was /am struggling to see the bright patches in between the increased darkness of load shedding.  It is not so much the lack of electricity - we can, and have, learnt how to live working around that - it is more the darkness that load shedding represents.  The corruption.  The lost opportunities for this country to thrive. A lack of hope in the future.  It is easy to get bogged down in that train of thought, because the world is cruel, violent, intolerant place at war at the moment. I thought that people are doing such a bad job, that maybe letting AI have a go is not such a bad idea after all.  

So I asked Chat GBT to write a blog for me addressing South Africans about load shedding. This is what it came up with:

Dear resilient South Africans,

In the face of challenges, remember that the spirit of unity and strength runs deep within your nation. Each trial you encounter is an opportunity for growth and solidarity. Your history is a testament to the power of resilience, and your ability to overcome adversity is boundless.

Embrace the diversity that makes South Africa unique, for it is a source of strength and richness that can lead to a brighter future. In the tapestry of your nation, every thread contributes to the strength of the whole.

As you navigate the present, hold onto the belief that tomorrow holds promise and potential. The challenges of today are the building blocks of a better tomorrow. Trust in the power of collective effort and individual perseverance.

In the words of Nelson Mandela, "It always seems impossible until it's done." Your journey may be tough, but your ability to overcome is tougher. Remember that hope is not just a fleeting emotion; it is a force that propels you forward, even in the face of uncertainty.

Stay connected, support one another, and foster a community that uplifts every member. Your shared strength is a beacon that lights the path to progress.

Believe in the resilience of your nation, for within every challenge lies an opportunity for greatness. The sun rises on South Africa, and with it comes a new day filled with possibilities.

Keep the flame of hope burning bright.

With unwavering solidarity, [Your Name]

 

Not bad really.  As far as rhetoric goes.

But Chat GBT lacks authenticity and, more importantly, Soul.  (So I wouldn't be surprised to hear our politicians sprouting this speech some day soon.) Having Soul makes us part of the moral underground.  The goodwill of ordinary people ripples into communities and forms the bedrock of kindness and stability that holds society during turbulent times.  

A few stuffed toys will not solve the world's problems.  But I am hoping that, sometime in the future, someone will remember being given a wide eyed llama, a bear, a pink elephant or a tortoise, and know that it comes with my hope for  their happiness.