Pretoria Station is a Dangerous Place to Be

Just two weekends ago Matthew surprized NiQi and I with a visit for the weekend. It was a few days after my birthday and he arrived together with Johan who had come up for a week to do some more work on our house.

The Saturday morning a client phoned and asked to meet with him in town at the Gautrain station in Pretoria Central.  Not knowing Pretoria, I went with him and I am glad that I did.  The arrangement with the client was to meet at the McDonalds.  Well from the moment that we arrived and parked in the station parking we were harassed by beggers and vagrants, so much so that we were actually followed.  One beggar told us that he was hungry and asked for some food and Matthew said that he would buy him something from McDonalds as we were meeting someone there.  Imagine our absolute shock and horror when this chap responded with 'I don't eat McDonalds'.  This is totally in conflict with the way I was brought up, when my parents would say to us that if we were hungry enough we would eat what we were given or if we were thirsty enough then water would do.  Times have obviously changed where beggars feel they have the right to dictate to passersby as to what kind of food they are hungry for, like choosing from a menu. We met with the client and parted ways but before Matthew and I left I asked him if we could look around as the station building is beautiful.  With my late dad having been an architect, I have an appreciation for good solid and sound structures with attention to detail.  Not having ever been to the train station before, I thought it would be a great opportunity to have a look around.  My bad....we were continually followed by the same vagrants that had latched on to us in the parking area.  The hungry chap stayed hungry because he didn't eat McDonalds but he and the rest of them made R70 out of us that morning.  I never did get to have a good look, nor have an opportunity to take any photo's because of the uncomfortable feeling I had of eyes on me the whole time as we were not left alone.  Getting back to the car, I gave the 'car guard' R10 too and I was gobsmacked by his audacity to say to Matthew that he wanted another R20.  What could he do with R10 was what he said to us.  By this stage I was furious and told Matthew to ignore him and drive away.  Well we couldn't just drive away because the 'car guard' grabbed hold of the car door...Matthew ended up giving him an extra R20....

Fast forward to yesterday evening and both Johan and Matthew had tickets for the bus to take them back to Pietermaritzburg.  On discussion in the car, it was decided that to avoid all the vagrants, Johan would stop outside the station in the roadway, just as the taxi's do.  This would be to just give them time to get their bags out of the bakkie and then NiQi and I could drive off and be safe.  Well Johan stopped the bakkie and as quickly as it took us all to hop out and Matthew to start grabbing all their bags, we were approached by first two and then ten vagrants.  It all happened so fast and as NiQi jumped into the driving seat of the bakkie, Johan moved around the front of the bakkie and told them to move on and get away.  They became aggressive in their manner with him and one or two moved around to the side of the bakkie where I was holding tightly onto Matthew's laptop bag while he got the rest of their bags out.  By this time Johan was also at the side of the bakkie still telling them to go away and leave us alone.  Johan then told me to get inside and instructed NiQi to drive off.  We didn't even have time to say 'goodbye' to each other and as NiQi pulled into the road to drive off she looked back in the rear view mirror and saw these people trying to take Matthew and Johan's belongings from them.  I wanted to phone and find out if they were okay but NiQi said no, I should wait because if they hear the phone ringing then they may hurt them by trying to take it by force.

A few minutes later Matthew phoned me, out of breath and concerned for us both.  He wanted to know if we got away safely...I assured him we were fine and asked him how they were.  He told me they put up a fight as the ten surrounded them and tried to grab their things away from them, including trying to reach for their cell phones and wallets. NiQi felt sick, she wanted to vomit from the stress and anxiety.  On the way home, we stopped off with my niece and her fiance so that NiQi could collect herself and calm down. Last night they picked on the wrong two men to attack and they got away with nothing.  Matthew may be short but he is strong...having played rugby in his younger days and now managing to pick up 120kg dead weight in the gym, he is no one to mess with.  Johan has the reach and at his age is an 'oldie' who is fit and fast.  The two of them got away with minimal damage...one of Johan's fingers was bitten and a nail ripped up, but nothing else.  This morning they are both stiff and achy...praise the Lord they are alright.

We could not be moving away from Pretoria and surrounding areas at a better time.  The centre of town is rife with vagrants and beggars.  It is dirty and unsafe.  There are some wonderful places of interest for locals and tourists to look at but who wants to even try when you are harassed and intimidated by these people.  Needless to say, the bus companies will be all the poorer now as we none of us will ever travel by bus again...and Mr Minister of Transport you better do something about our roads and e-tolls as from now on we will be another vehicle on the roads - this all because it is unsafe to go to catch a bus at the bus station.

Photo's courtesy of the web

Being A Mother

On Mothers' Day every year, mothers are remembered with pride and love, spoiled with gifts and treated with breakfasts and lunches and generally made to feel that there is no one in the world that compares in the eyes of her children.  It is a day like no other for many and how ever big or small the effort made, she can be sure of the love and appreciation her family bestow on her.

For me, Mothers' Day rolls around every year the Sunday after my birthday.  I remember when Matthew was born I just skidded in by the skin of my teeth.  He was born in the very early hours of the Saturday morning and the following day was Mothers' Day.  I was 23 years old and quite unprepared for the state of motherhood.  I remember well though thinking after 8 1/2 hours of labour that if the result of what I held in my arms was anything to go by I would do it all over again tomorrow.  Matthew was a model baby, sleeping and eating his days and nights away and the love I had for him then was miniscual compared to the love I have for him today.  At 31 years of age, I have so much pride in him and all he has been through and survived in his life, as well as all he has achieved.  He was the beginning of my journey into motherhood, a journey I have eased into and grown with over the years.

Twenty two and a half months later, I became a mother for the second time, to Mark.  Second time round and motherhood hit me with a bang.  My pregnancy was different, labour very short but very intense and suddenly I was thrown into the world of sickness and illness almost every day.  Thank goodness Matthew was still so very placid and easy going and getting him 'involved' in helping with his little brother, evolved a relationship that was bound for eternity.  They were like chalk and cheese in personality...Matthew, introverted, quiet, methodical, caring and so very soft hearted...Mark, extroverted, intense, ready for a challenge, giving and loving.  They complimented each other and stuck together through thick and thin.

Third time round, motherhood was sudden...no pregnancy, no nausea, no swelling, no weight gain, no labour pains and NiQi arrived in our lives at 6 months of age.  A sister for two boys - Matthew 6 1/2 years old and Mark 4 1/2.  At first Matthew was unsure of having a little girl around, but seeing her every day in hospital and watching her, he changed his mind and decided that if we were happy then he would be happy.  Mark on the other hand was keen to have a sister, especially one who had something in common with him....cystic fibrosis...

I tried so hard to be the best I could be to 3 very different children.  Giving equal time and attention was tricky at times, especially when Mark needed so much more than either Matthew or NiQi did.  I have to admit that having a supportive husband in Johan who worked and provided  for our family, afforded me the opportunity of being able to be a stay at home mum.  Mark's short life affected us all in different ways.  It made me stronger.  I became a fighter, standing up for my children and striving for the absolute best for each of them.  I learned to hide my emotions and be brave and strong for them, even though at times I was aching and hurting so badly I felt I would die for them if need be.  I wanted them to know they were loved and be able to feel it too.  We baked together, where Matthew proved that beating dough to a pulp with his tiny little hand, produced scones that were tall and light and fluffy.  We built puzzles together, where Mark showed us that he had hours of patience in looking for the pieces to fit in and complete the puzzle.  We read story books before bed...The Ugly duckling, that made Matthew cry every time we read it because he felt so sorry for the duckling that no one loved.  Hansel and Gretel that  Mark knew the words to so well that if I skipped a page, he would tell me so and recite the next part of the story word for word.  The animal story books that NiQi would always choose and started her on the path to loving everything that breathes today.  We set up shops and would go 'shopping' and buy our goods from each other, using monopoly money to pay.  We 'built' tents in the lounge with all the bedding and cushions and then would lie together inside, giggling and nudging each other.  Most of all I loved it when they all were safely tucked up in bed and I could watch them breathing so peacefully.  That was when I re-packed their toys, counting puzzle pieces and meccano pieces.  My favourite of all was to pack away NiQi's dolls, dressing them and putting them to bed, or combing her Barbies hair till it frizzed and shone.

Yes I love Motherhood and I wouldn't swop it for the world, it has been the best part of my life and I will enjoy it until the day I die.  Thank you to my children...Matthew, Mark and NiQi...you are and were each unique and in your uniqueness you have given me more than I could ever hope for, more than I deserve...

May this be my last move...

Another week has passed and it's been another week of cleaning, packing, washing, emptying cupboards and painting.

I am so glad that we still have two months to sort things out before we move but our idea of doing as little as possible to the place has changed to making it as liveable as possible.

I am sure that the new owners will move in and want to change wall colours and/or renovate but at least I know that when I leave here we are leaving them with something they can easily move into and not feel they might need to make changes right away.

The roofs are painted as are the gutters and the down pipes. Johan fixed the front verandah roof of the flat which was damaged when I drove into one of the poles with the bakkie some years ago....don't ask...it happens quicker and easier than you think. All the windows have been re-puttied, glass panes replaced where needed and window frames painted. The patch on the main house front verandah ceiling where rain came through from the roof gulley during a torrential storm earlier last summer has been cleaned, given undercoat and the whole ceiling repainted. The toilet is painted and I'm busy with the bathroom at the moment.

There is still lots to do.....the rest of the ceilings must be painted and all the rooms walls painted too....no more colour, just a neutral off white. Lastly the burglar guards must all be scraped down and painted. The days are filled and progress is slow but as I said we still have time.

Thank goodness winter is on it's way and the grass doesn't need cutting. The horses are keeping the grass nice and short so at least there is little that needs to be done around the house. During the summer months as I saw weeds popping up I pulled them out.  Just the vegetable garden will need to be tidied...that is if the rabbits don't quite get their job done before they go to a new home. Before we leave we will fill in the holes the dogs have dug and fix up the fences from the horses, but that is one days work and can be done last minute.

It's not like we have moved a lot in our 33 years...that is compared to some people but this will be our third. The first was from Curran Street on the outskirts of town to Winterskloof up the hill and down in the valley. In the 12 and a half years we lived there Johan rebuilt the whole house on the inside, other than the bathroom. The house was old...built around the time of the first world war. The bathroom was the last room to do but it wasn't done before we put the house on the market.  We moved to a much bigger house with a huge garden so Johan's parents could move in with us. Johan's mum's health was failing and his dad couldn't manage on his own...anyway that's another story. Curran street was awesome and I was very sad to leave but at the time it was the best move under the circumstances. 
Willow Lane on the other hand was built by the Italian prisoners of war during the second world war. The original house was small and compact and over the years it was added on to. When we bought it, Johan loved the character that the building gave but now it annoys him. The narrow passage leading to the bedrooms with it's wonky walls and sloping floor are no longer character but something that has to be changed. After living there for ten and a half years we discovered that the sloping floor of the passage left the bedrooms on the inside below the floor level on the outside causing damp and mildew...not good for anyone's  health at all. Anyway that too is amother story...lol
Our second move was much further away...all the way across two provincial borders from KwaZulu/Natal to Gauteng. The house is small...too small for me but the land is awesome. Oh how we have loved having so much space around us. There is much I have loved about living here and much that has annoyed me... most especially the dryness and the dust that never quite settles but is always swimming in the air.

Now we are moving back home...another 10 and a bit years of our lives together and in all that time we have spent most of our efforts fixing up outside...housing the pigs and the rabbits and the chickens and the horses and the dogs and the birds...everything has had a home, a space of their own and in all this time we have spent little time working on our home...lol.  Till now there hasn't been a great need and even now it is all cosmetic. The foundation is solid, the rooms are fine. A lick of paint is all it really needs to give it a facelift and at least the walls are straight.

We had another buyer come to look at the plot just over a week ago...I hope they noticed our efforts because moving is hard work and I have decided in amongst all this packing up that this move will be our final move...well I certainly hope so, otherwise I may just be living out of boxes...

Lovebirds be Gone...

Sigh....very big sigh....

After having my lovebirds for some years now and recently made the decision to get rid of them, I never imagined that I would feel this way when they were finally no longer around.  I knew that it had to be a quick clean break because the longer they lingered around the more heartbreaking it would be for me to see them go.

The first few pairs went to a friend and I was okay with that because they were only a few birds and I was still left with almost a hundred.

The end of last week I said goodbye to the rest and as they were being caught out of their flights and cages and packed up to go I felt a lump in my throat and tears well in my eyes. Even as I write this my vision is blurred with the memory  of seeing them disappear for ever.

A part of my life has been packed up and gone and this was only the beginning....