https://www.mosselbayadvertiser.com/News/Article/Holiday%20Guide/history-of-the-glentana-wreck-20171213

A very brief history of the Glentana-wreck worth reading.

Some 120 years later:

………..But they don’t listen to me, …. – Alan Jay Lerner / Frederick Loewe

Sitting alone in the far corner of my small garden, on the old worn-out garden bench, I look at my trees and wonder if they can hear my thoughts. Some times I even talk to them softly in my mind. Can they hear me? Do they listen to what I am saying? Then the old song, sung by the unlikely Clint Eastwood in Paint your Wagon, comes to mind.

Not so long ago I read a most beautiful novel –

In this brilliant novel of Elif Shafak one of the central characters is a fig tree (Ficus carica). What we humans do not understand is that plants communicate. Yes, not as we do, but in a way we cannot or do not want to understand.

When young Ada Kazantzakis listens to her father, Kostas, talking to the fig tree he brought with him to England from Cyprus, she says:”Honestly , Dad, I don’t want to hurt your feelings, but your fig gives me the creeps. There’s something strange about it, I can tell. Sometimes I feel like it – she – is listening to us. Spying on us. Crazy, I know, but that’s how I feel. I mean, is that even possible? Can trees listen to what we are saying?”

The fig’s response:

“Humans! After observing them for so long, I have arrived at a bleak conclusion: they do not really want to know more about plants. They do not want to ascertain whether we may be capable of volition, altruism and kinship. Interesting as they consider these questions at some abstract level, they’d rather leave them unexplored, unanswered. They find it easier, I guess, to assume that trees, having no brain in the conventional sense, can only experience the most rudimentary existence. “

Now back to my trees – let me begin with, ……hmm, the ‘Sculptor’

Here I sit with my whiskey in the little secret garden at the back, the ice cubes merrily clinking, looking at the fern tree. Quite impressive, I thought – must be happy. Perhaps planted too close to the sliding door.

“I know old man, it pains you when you finally decide to sever a branch – the one that has been intruding into your space, making it difficult to close the door at night. You have been patient and gently moved my branch away every time you closed the door. When it becomes tricky and  my leaf starts to hurt, you have to do what you have to do. I am grateful for the gentle way you go about cutting my intruding branch. Although it is painful at that moment, rolling out my newly sculptured branch makes up a thousand times for the loss. It excites you – my new creation – and I know you care.

“Flirter” – the Pecan nut tree is a matter of third time lucky as previous attempts to raise a good-looking tree here failed. The Pecan seems to have taken this position happily – most likely because of the presence of the slightly older Pecan lady on the neighbour’s side. There is just something about more mature ladies.  Sitting here on the old bench under the Pomegranate (with a whiskey, off course), I seem not to be able to take my eyes off this young boy.

“I have found my place here and must say I love it, old man! When I was still small you tied me gently to these sturdy posts and cushioned my trunk so that I could not get hurt. As you can see my happiness transcended into  a strong trunk and I have gained quite a number of good-looking branches. I think I have, sort of, become the envy of the girl next door! She really loves me being so close. We are almost touching leaves! Soon we will be giving you the most delicious pecans.

I want you to know I’m happy here and love the special moments when you sit here.

PS. I know your favourites are the old Paperbark thorn and the Pomegranate, but I can live with that.

Having listened to my Pecan, I naturally looked up from where I sat and realised that my Pomegranate was strangely quiet, nonetheless content.

The Pomegranate (Punica granatum).

By what name shall I call you? You are so complex in your fruit and your symbolism. Some have even referred to you as the true apple of Eve instead of the apple or fig. You are engraved in all religions of man. Your beauty is beyond words. You are indeed the symbol of fruitfulness, fertility and sexuality. I will call you ‘Aphrodite’.

https://www.britannica.com/topic/Aphrodite-Greek-mythology

https://www.alimentarium.org/en/knowledge/pomegranate-miracle-fruit

“I know what you are thinking and it pleases me. My truth is universal and everlasting. There is no need for a waterfall of words – presence is all that man and plant need. I am blessed by the Creator. My metamorphosis from bare stems to sunreflecting shining leaves, buds bursting with expectation, Valentine blooms and secret ruby filled fruit can only be magic.

You are indeed my pride and I care for you deeply.

Reflecting on my trees and  communicating with them, I realise that there are so many of my precious plants that are deserving of mention and dialogue, but that would require another chapter.

One however remains that requires honouring here, the one that I have left for last as he is my oldest and most precious friend: my Paperbark acacia or Paperbark thorn. (Acacia sieberiana, now Vachellia sieberiana)

“The Protector”

I must admit that as it is with us humans, I do have my favourites. It is not as if I do not care that much for the others, but my relationship with the old Acacia is just different and in a way extra special. Maybe it is in his history:

We planted the rather fragile little tree some fifteen years ago. But a terrible and wicked winter storm raged and on one dreadful morning an ill wind totally uprooted him. He was toppled over completely and most of his young roots ripped from the soil. This was a life short-lived, I thought looking at the pathetic little being.

Contemplating what to do as the storm died down, a neighbour came by. Old Keith was a wise and caring gentleman: “It’s not the end! He is a tough lad. He is from our soil. He will get through this ordeal with your love and care.”

I carefully went about uprighting the young tree and secured the fragile trunk with ropes anchored to the ground. As with us humans nurturing and nourishing stimulates life. And – here we are today: “the Protector”.

An entire habitat established itself in and around the old man’s trunk and branches. He became a safe haven to many a bird. The sharp thorns protecting against many a foe. The canopy of branches and foliage screening off a burning sun, providing shade and shelter to man, beast and the greatful plants underneath – the ultimate Protector.

“You know I am not one for many words – deeds, that is what counts.

Thank you, old man, for believing in me, for not giving up. I care for you and the many seeking my shelter. I realise that you are at this moment concerned about my roots. They are too close to man’s structures. You dread to think what would happen should these structures start giving way. I am also a bit worried about this, but believe me, I am really trying hard to navigate my roots as carefully as possible through the soil. It is just the clay which makes things so difficult. Here and there I managed to break through. If my strong roots can penetrate the clay, we are ok.

For the occasional wound my thorns inflicted while you tried to keep me in shape, I apologise. It hurts me every time it happens.

I promise I will be here long after you have departed and my stories will carry on from generation to generation. I am grateful for your love and care. Our bond is Africa, our place of sun and suffering, longing and belonging, hope and despair- where nature and man can be at peace with one another – understanding and acceptance of our inter-dependance.

https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/What_a_Plant_Knows

https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Secret_Life_of_Plants

I talk to my trees…..

…….and I listen to them….

“Life is a luminous pause between two mysteries that are yet one.”

— C.G. Jung

Wit is die kleur van die eerste vel van die skoon papier waarop jy begin skryf. Die eerste van vele hoofstukke van geboorte tot volwassendheid, hoofstuk na hoofstuk van pret en plesier, van speel en werk, van verlief wees en verlore, van droom en drome werklikheid maak, van seerkry en heel word, van groei en groot word – van leef.

Wit is die kleur van vrede, as die lig vir jou opgaan oor die lewe, van vriendskap en vreugde, kinders en strewe.

Die kleur van adrenalien.

Swart is die kleur van die slot hoofstuk – van die einde. Pers is Genade as die swart net ‘n kort hoofstuk is. Riool-bruin as die swart lank is en die hoofstuk vol pyn en stroping van mens-wees. Genade is die aankoms in ‘n paralelle wêreld waar daar ewige rus en vrede is – natuurlik afhangend van jou kopskuif. Dit kan wit wees of swart in perpetuum. Wie weet dalk ook vlam rooi. Dit kan ook niks wees. Dit kan natuurlik ‘n avontuur wees!

Grou grys is die hoofstuk van verval, die gevoel van nutteloosheid, vrees vir val, vergeet of vergeet word. Die stryd om te veg teen ‘n gevoel van waardeloosheid, redeloosheid en broosheid. Aanvaarding van wat was en nie meer kan wees nie. Ook die feit dat jy nie jou kinders se toekoms is nie. Dat jou kinders en kleinkinders volledig opgeneem is in hul eie periode van wit velle wat vol geskryf moet word – die groot Wit, wat elkeen net een keer beskore is.

MAAR,

Grou grys kan kleur gegee word, anders as swart. Grou grys kan opgehelder word met pastelle. Dit verg net ‘n kopskuif, ‘n ken lig en Voltaren smeer. Natuurlik ook nuwe oë. Reis en verken, bak en brou, lees en luister, vriendskap vertroetel en vertrou en helaas, vrede maak met jouself.

When there is but a nano second between life and death….

What do we know….. nothing.

Dit was nie altyd so nie – September was vir jou hele 25 jaar ons mooiste maand. Die een vol blomme en bloeisels, vol verwagting en nuwe lewe. Ons maand vol blydskap geprop.

23 September 2005 – Ons ysige en ongenaakbare winter na net nog ‘n Kaapse winter en die aftel van nuwe eerstes. Wie is ons om ooit te kan verstaan? Aanvaarding van dit wat jy nie kan verander nie maak ‘n nuwe dagbreek tog weer moontlik.

Tog – as die nuwe dag breek op elke 23 ste September kom lê die seer en verlang weer vlak. Wat gaan ons vandag doen om deur hierdie 23ste te kom, dit verby te kry – om weer met ‘n nuwe hoop en dankbaarheid te kan aanbeweeg vir nog ‘n nuwe jaar.

Die freesias blom uitbundig vir jou. Die jasmyn en clivias ook – ‘n nuwe seisoen.

Mis jou my kind….

• 

• 

It mulls in the mind, calls for attention, debate within self, resolution, peace and conclusion.

Cain and Abel – Am I my brother’s keeper? A story well known. I am my brother’s keeper, it cannot be otherwise I am sure. But – boundaries there must surely be? A duty of care is defined in morality, but also in Law. Jurisprudence has been much informed and directed by morality, but reality reigns as it logically must.

Earth is under pandemic attack – in many respects as in Alien onslaught, where man knows no more what is right and what is wrong. Confusion reigns. Conspiracies too. Families and friends divided on the frontline. To confront or not. To discuss and risk distance and regret. To not address and regret with unbearable weight.

The Law defines duty of care when it comes to factual circumstances demanding me to act – to do something to avoid a foreseeable consequence. Failure is met with sanction. This duty is founded in morality and legal principles of foreseeability – it is not absolute, it has boundaries and should.

To vaccinate against Covid 19 and ever evolving variants or not to – rationality seems no longer rational. I trust the science and my brother might not. Who is right and who is wrong? Man is free to choose, but is he really? Confusion reigns and opinion alienates. A messed up world indeed.

Man has been left with the freedom and ability to decide for himself, not to be manipulated and controlled by a puppeteer. Man must face and accept the consequences of his decision-making and choices.

My brother died on the 3rd of September 2021 following complications after Covid. I believe he had not been vaccinated and had he been subscribing to the school of Invermectin, it may have been the ultimate cause of his organ failure and his demise. I know not, but the possibility lies in head and heart. It is challenging, it is asking, it is real. Should I not have gone head to head with Science v Conspiracy, fact v fiction, brother v brother?

Still – had I made a good case, had I made effort to present such a good case, had I pleaded, had I persuaded……the 3 of September might just have been another beautiful Spring day to enjoy and to dream of still many post-retirement journeys.

Commissio per omissionem…..

Lewe en sterwe – die twee kante van dieselfde munt. Ons word gebore om die wonder van die lewe voluit en volledig te ervaar en te geniet en uiteindelik ook te sterwe. Inteendeel, lewe is ‘n voorreg en die definitiewe vooruitsig van sterwe moet nie lewe enigsins demp nie.  Carpe diem – gryp die dag en die lewe aan en leef, al weet jy jy gaan sterf!

My boeta, Frikkie (Friederich Martin Riedemann), is om 2:40 Vrydagoggend 3 September 2021 oorlede. Hoe seer en onwerklik, maar wie is ons om te weet, te ontleed en te probeer verstaan? Hoe arrogant is hy wat dink hy weet!

Kosbare kleintyd herinneringe kan duisende boeke vul – blikskuit speel by die Mond in Lambertsbaai, plase bou op die oop erf langs die huis en met ons Dinky Toys boer, bergpasse ontwerp en uitkerf in die grondwal agter Ant Rose se huis op JanFourieskraal – die toekomstige strukturele ingenieur het reeds sy vaardighede gewys!

My ouboeta het die leefkant van die munt volbring en met grasie die teenkant van hierdie munt betree na ‘n paralelle lewe van rus en ewige vrede. Hier gaan ons nuwe sonskyn safari’s en avonture beleef – saam, soos ons helende, heilsame, post-aftrede Karoo nostalgietoertjie in Oktober 2017.

Safari nostalgie#1 – Klein Karoo – Die Hel

Wie weet wanneer die uurglas vir hom uitloop? Ons is wat ons van hierdie periode tussen die eerste lig sien en die kers-uitblaas maak. My boeta het hierdie tyd gevul met uitnemendheid – akademies, professioneel, as eggenoot, pappa, oupa, vriend en boeta. ‘n Lewe volbring en ‘n wedloop met nederigheid voltooi. Ja, vir ons veels te vroeg, maar wie is ons om te weet.

Aan hierdie kant is ons harte bitter seer, maar daar aan die anderkant waar ‘n nuwe son op die horison lê, is soveel vreugde daar waar ‘n pa, ma, neefs, niggies, vele kosbare vriende en ons eie Nella opgewonde en jubelend vir hom wag!

Totdat ons boot dan ook vertrek, koester ons die sovele mooi momente en dra ons dit in ons harte. Tot weersiens, my liewe Ouboeta.

Winter Betrayal

Rain pounding down, down, down,  

washing through shack after shack  

ripping tent after tent on the ribbon

of the highway as shiny wheels fly by.

  black bag makeshift shelters shudder

  against reeling raging wrecking wind,

  cutting through every skeletal  bone.

soaking blanket home at Pep’s display

shivering betrayal of the body it holds,

a heart,  human, soul so hungry so cold

on muddy cold land outside His Home.

empty promises of feast and warmth,

 communion, heart,  healing wholeness

by  followers purely devoted to self –

full bellies, warm bodies, empty souls

Indemnified against sorrow and grief.

 highway to damnation – fake love

 brutal betrayal in winter so cold.

As die ure te lank word
Grendel verswelg
Asemnood
Watertrap vir oorleef
Soek grond vir my voet
Soel gemoed
Rustige pols
Vir my hart

There will be no date sequence in respect of our travels through this vast and beautiful land.

It is the year 2018. August I think. We got our off-road caravan a year before and embarked on our first real safari with the BushLapa! Did a few shorter camping trips in the meantime.

Off to one of our favored South African national parks – the Kgalaghadi Transfrontier Park.

In the old days one could enter Namibia via Mata Mata rest camp, but this borderpost was closed for a number of years. It has however been opened again, hence our decision to start our southern Namibia tour through the Kgalaghadi. First sleep-over at Twee Rivieren and then first time premier camping at Nossob.

And what’s the chance you do not see a lion here?

Lovely new facility at Nossob, but the mission this time is the South of Namibia. We left the Kgalaghadi via Mata Mata heading off to Dunesong near Koes, Namibia. Here Pieter and Mariaan Nel welcomed us with traditional Südwest hospitality! But – then the unexpected challenge! We were the only campers and the campsite was right up the highest dune! Pieter led the way in his traditional Nam buggy, an Uri :

https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/URI_Purposely_Built_Vehicles

Lessons are hard learned by stubborn old men! Never thought it necessary to deflate the tyres. What a challenge for Fortuner and caravan!

There is a story about this campsite on top of a Nam/ Kgalaghadi dune: getting to the top was actually easy, only to realize the caravan should preferably face the other side to have the kitchen facing the tented lapa. No sweat, Roos – I will simply run down the other side of the dune, turn around and challenge the dune from that side! Three attempts. No luck. Went around again and came up as we did the first time, ending in the original position again! Some consolation the next day when Pieter told me an approach from the other side is near impossible.

Lovely campsite in absolute solitude.

And then the amazing surprise! We were invited by the hosts to a once-in-a-life-time sundowner on another dune during a full moon eclipse! What an experience in the company of incredibly warm people!

Solitude is often balm for the soul.

Time to move on. Pity we both left our favorite caps at Dunesong, hanging in the shower.

Hitting the road to Kuboes and aiming for Keetmanshoop via the Mesosaurous fossil forest and Giant’s playground. Absolutely worth visiting.

https://www.mesosaurus.com/

https://www.roxannereid.co.za/blog/quivertree-forest-and-giants-playground-namibia

Klein Aus-Vista Desert horse campsite on the road to Lüderitz was yet another fresh experience and our base for exploring the South of Namibia, and in particular Lüderitz and Kolmanskop.

Our German neighbours were curious about me prepping dough with only a fire around! I explained that we can ‘bake a kind of bread’ on the grid! Took them roosterkoek and they loved it! They came over bringing their camp chairs along and of course their glasses and a box of wine. We had a seriously good evening. PS. We politely refrained from telling them that wine in a box goes against our Boland wine culture grain!

A day trip to Lüderitz – what an experience. The main attraction here is no doubt the ghost town of Kolmanskop.

In 1908, in what was then German South-West Africa, a worker, one Zacharias Lewala, found a diamond and showed it to his supervisor, the German railway inspector, August Stauch. This led to German miners settling there. Soon thereafter the German Empire declared a large area as a “Sperrgebiet” and exploitation of the diamond field started.

A village in the architectural style of a German town came to being, with fully fletched amenities including a hospital, ballroom, school, sport-hall, theater, casino and ice factory. Also the first x-ray-station in the southern hemisphere. There was also a railway line to Lüderitz.

The town however started to decline during World War II. Following the discovery of far richer diamond- bearing deposits near the Orange River some 270 km south, the town went into severe decline. The town became abandoned around 1956. Today it remains a huge tourist attraction.

It was indeed an eerie experience, but at the same time testimony of courage and innovation. Lüderitz is a beautiful coastal town with still a strong imprint of German influence.

The next day we were off to the border crossing at Sendelingsdrift where we had another first: crossing the border across the Orange river via the pontoon. What an experience!

The rather short tour of part of Southern Namibia was over, but definitely beckoning for return.

Now the concluding magic taste of the Richtersveld, a first for Rosemarie. The few days spent at the De Hoop campsite was an indescribable, almost surreal period of inner peace – with nature and oneself.

This park is deserving of its own story. Another time.

As for Namibia – back and back we shall go to this vast and beautiful land that captures your soul for life – the Namibia Syndrome.