Tuesday, 23 January 2018

Let your positive side shine through

A mirror has two sides. The one side hides everything in its path, the other side reveals the truth about you.
We, politicians and many of our acquaintances, do not want to see both sides of a story, they are not interested in the glass side of the mirror. They want to hide the reality so that they can build their own reality to fit their facts. They are too tired or disinterested to see things as they are, they want to see things within their own perspective. The back of the mirror enables them to plant and nurture their own perspective as everyone who looks at the back of the mirror sees their belief.
The back of the mirror allows them to be ultra-sensitive and encourages them to try to convert all to their way of thinking.
Let’s take this instance of the hooded coat “Cutest Monkey in the Jungle” A black child from a Scandinavian country wore it. His mother thought it was cute, I thought it was cute and so did many others. Hover some were looking at the dark side and took issue with it and took it the extent of rioting, pillaging and destroying.
When did we become so horribly sensitive? Can I not call a mischievous a child a little monkey anymore? Or is it only derogatory if the child is black. I often called my kids and cousin’s kids and my grandchildren monkeys – so when does it become an insult and when is it a playful observation.
People, there are so many HUGE issues that need our attention. Let’s soothe our ruffled feathers and use that energy to solve the many sad, dangerous or problematic issues.
Really? When did we become so sensitive? Stop peeling the scabs off the sores of the past and let’s find a way to help these sores heal.
Madiba wants a rainbow nation – a nation of people who will work together to achieve a great country.
Whites stop being derogatory, blacks start looking for the good in the whites you come across. Please let our pride not destroy our wonderful land. I am taking a step towards you knowing that together we can do marvellous things.                                                                                       © Vera Alexander.

Thursday, 28 December 2017

Wednesday, 16 August 2017


I sat as close to the fire as was possible. The flames leapt into the air, the crackling had a strangely comforting sound. As I gazed into the flames thoughts fought in my head for attention. The break up was fighting for prime position.

As the embers crackled and the flames leapt higher I could almost see the story unfold in the bright orange sparks.
Eighteen years old. I was so sure of my independence – so sure of my adulthood. I had just left school behind and my eyes were sparking with promise for what my future held.  I loved my independence – my family had paid for me to take a “gap” year in a place of my choice. Where else would a small town girl long to be – long to settle - but Cape Town – land of promise – land of everything that is free and easy – everything except digs, food and entertainment that is.

I was soon to realise that nothing is free – everything comes with a price. That price may be good dirty money or it might in favours that build up.

I settled in my digs very quickly. It was almost a back packer’s lodge but the residents were not itinerants but all students looking for a way to pave their city with gold. I was an easy going girl so I quickly made friends. Some were mere acquaintances but three girls and I seemed to resonate on the same vibe. Sarah, Colette, Francine and I. Colette and Francine were French girls who had moved to Cape Town to experience life at a South African University. They were fun and imaginative in their quest for entertainment.

None of us had much money but we got by. Fortunately all of us were almost the same size and Collette seemed to have been born with tremendous fashion sense – it certainly wasn’t something that you could learn. It was an innate talent. A pair of trousers from Sarah, a jumper from Francine and Colette would make the whole thing sing with one of the many scarves in her collection - draped over one shoulder, tied in a knot around your neck, tied around your head with one strand clinging to your shoulder.  It was amazing how she could change the look and feel of an entire ensemble with just a scarf. Sarah was studying theatre crafts so enjoyed practicing her makeup skills on us. When we were ready (dressed by Collette and made up by Sarah) the four of us would set out to inflame the coffee shops and clubs around Cape Town. Life was cheap if you knew where to look.

One night we were sitting in the Dubois Coffee bar when a group of guys walked in. There were four of them and four of us. Sarah recognised one the guys from her theatre class. Soon the eight of us were cavorting around Cape Town – making life happen for us.

Henry quickly made it known that he was vey attracted to me. I was a simple white girl from a very small town in the Karoo and he was a coloured guy from the Cape Flats. At first I was uncomfortable with his attention although I was very attracted to him. I wondered what my verkrampte parents would feel. A few glasses of wine later I was past worrying about minor issues like race. We were people and the outside surface did not matter one iota. What mattered was the attraction that we felt for each other.

No-one in Cape Town saw anything strange in our relationship. Cape Town was after all the artistic nerve centre of South Africa. Anything goes could almost be its motto.

At the end of the evening Henry tentatively kissed me goodnight and asked when he could see me again. We arranged to meet the next night in the coffee bar again.

As we went home Sarah laughingly teased me “Norma’s got stars in her eyes. How did they get there?”

Collette screamed “Henri plucked them out of the sky when his spirit soared at the first glimpse of Norma.”

I blushingly tried to sidestep their nonsense.

The next night we met at the coffee bar without our friends and we discovered that we had a lot in common. We liked the same music, the same comedians, the same movies. We hated rugby but loved soccer. He played basketball and I played netball. The coincidences were almost too good to be true.

As the year progressed so did our relationship. We couldn’t bear to be away from each other. He moved into the lodgings and we snuck into each other’s rooms at night. (The lodge was owned by an elderly lady with antiquated rules but we knew she was only trying to run a respectable lodging house so we “appeared” to be obeying her rules.)

Henry wanted to take me home to meet his mother. She wasn’t too happy about the relationship as she felt there were lots of coloured girls who would have made Henry a good wife. He felt that she just needed to get to know me.

The meeting was very stiff and formal and I felt uncomfortable in the face of her austerity.

When we went back to the lodgings Henry was very quiet.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

"I knew it was wrong to show you my roots. You have lost all respect for me.”

“Nonsense – I was uncomfortable because it was obvious that your mom did not like me.”

“She says you were stuck up and looked down your nose at our poverty.”

I was appalled. “What? I am not like that. I see people for who they are – I don’t care where they come from.”

“Mmph! You could have fooled me. You sat there so prim and proper, ankles crossed as if you did not want too much of your body being tainted by our pitifulness.”

I was very hurt and decided it would be best not to retaliate.

When we got back to the Lodge he said he wanted to be alone and left me abruptly at the door to my room that I shared with Sarah.

Sarah was lying in bed reading and looked up in astonishment when I entered.

“Not spending the night with Henry? Or are you just coming to collect fresh clothes for the morning?”

“No I’m staying here tonight.” The tears ran silently down my cheeks.

“What’s wrong poppet?” Sarah climbed out of bed and came and sat on the floor in front of me.

The tears broke through the dam wall as I tried to make sense of the evening.

Sarah put her arms around me and hugged me. “It’s always hard meeting the parents," she said.

“It's not that,” I sobbed. “Is almost as though he was ashamed of his home and tried to make it all my fault.”

“I’m sure things will be alright in the morning. Come let's get you to bed.”

She helped me to undress and when I was in my pyjamas she lay down next to me holding me tight until I fell into a fitful sleep.

Things weren’t better the next day. Our relationship was strained.

“Surely a fight should be over and done with by now?” I thought.

Henry was strange and withdrawn. He said that he would be sleeping at home for the next few nights because his mother was upset by our evening together.

I could not understand it but thought it was best to just let things slide for a while.

Henry was gone for 5 nights. The group seemed incomplete without him. His friends said he hadn’t been to ‘Varsity all week. I didn’t know what to do. I tried phoning him but it always went to voicemail.

On Monday, 9 days after my visit to his home, he showed up at the lodge. His eyes were bloodshot and he looked as if he had not slept for days. He came to me to apologise and suggested that we join the group for a late night picnic in the park.

As the evening progressed Henry got quieter and quieter and then suddenly erupted violently, swearing at us all and telling us that we didn’t know how to party. He jumped up and left. Greg, one of his friends, suggested that we let him go and sort himself out.

“Sorry Norma. You didn’t deserve that tongue lashing.”

Sarah put her arms around me and whispered in my ear. “He’s not worth it. Let’s enjoy ourselves. I’m sure he will come to his senses by tomorrow.”

But things were worse the next day and the next and the next. His behaviour became more erratic and he lost it frequently when we were out. I had decided that until he got his act together it was best that we only saw one another in the group.

One night when we were in the coffee bar Henry suddenly started shaking. The shaking got worse until it seemed that he was having a fit.

An ambulance was called and the paramedics said “Classic drug withdrawal. When did he last have a fix?”

We were all horrified. We hadn’t expected anything like this. Henry? On drugs? It was almost unbelievable until we started to put things together – his absence from ‘Varsity. His appearance. His mood swings.

The following day I went to see him in hospital and tried to remain positive but Henry was definite. He wanted to break up.

“Norma, I’ve seen this before. Once the drugs get you they have you for life. Once a drug addict – always a drug addict. I may be drug free for years but then something will happen and the habit will start again. I can’t put you though this.”

“But Henry. We’ll get you better. You can join a program. We will...”

“No Norma,” he interrupted. “I am an addict. I have been on and off drugs since I was eleven. I am bright and I managed to maintain my schooling and get accepted at the university. My dry spells have lasted a year, 6 months, 9 months – but in the end the drugs get me again. I love you Norma but I don’t want to have a relationship with you. You deserve better.”

And now it is the end of my gap year. I am at my farewell braai and all I can think of as I gaze into the fire is Henry – my first love – an intense love that has left me bitter.

(c) Vera Alexander 2017

Sunday, 18 December 2016

Mid Life Crisis

I was walking at the edge of the water allowing the waves to lap at my feet. Every now and then a sense of mischievousness overtook me and I would run and kick at the wave as it came in to shore. The beach was quiet and deserted. I was a lonely figure letting the water play games with me. It wasn’t very safe in South Africa to be that alone but I didn’t feel any fear, any sense of doom. All I felt was peace and the words of a wise person vibrated in my mind: “If you think danger it will find you. If you think peace it will find you. You create your own destiny, your own surroundings, your own fears and jubilations.” 

“Not very true,” I thought. “I certainly did not think this reality into being. Surely other people who have influence over you can influence your circumstance?”

I thought back to what had brought me to this point in my life. It was all to do with Robert. Robert was stronger than I was. Robert had a will of iron. When Robert wanted things to go a certain way they did and if any one stood in his way  he ruthlessly walked all over them. He certainly created his own destiny. My destiny became wound up in his and only one of us could survive our destinies. I was the weaker one so I gave way. Whatever Robert said and dictated I meekly followed in his footsteps. Footprints – that beautiful religious piece - some of the ideas applied here. I walked behind him carefully placing my feet in the imprints made by him. Never wavering - too scared really to take my own initiative.

Robert said we were made for each other so that became fact. Robert said we would get married on September 13th in the afternoon so we did. Robert said our honeymoon would last just the weekend because he had important things to do and so it did. 

And so the pattern for our entire life was set. Set in stone – Robert’s way. 

He dictated that we would not have children although I had dreamt about having a family since I was a little girl. So we didn’t. My maternal instincts were channelled into my little charges. Oh I forgot to mention that he “allowed” me to keep my job as a pre-primary teacher as long as it did not impact on anything he wanted. I had to be home when he got home, I could not do any preparation for the next day. The meal had to be ready and I had to basically sit like a panting dog waiting for recognition from my master.

So why didn’t I leave? And then what? Where would I go? Both my parents were dead. I was an only child so I had no brothers or sisters. Robert had scared away all my friends so what could I do but slavishly wait on him when he wanted it and sit quietly sewing (yes he allowed that because that’s what women did).

I waited till he went to sleep and then I would work on things for the next day. I had to be careful though that I did not disturb him. I also had to make sure that I woke up before him. I had to be ready, showered, changed and breakfast on the table when he came down stairs. 

Okay all this makes him sound as if he was a monster. He wasn’t really. He spoiled me rotten, buying me trinkets and flowers when the whim took him. He enjoyed golf and had taken me to the driving range and even paid for lessons from one of the professionals. When he felt I was ready to accompany him on the course, he bought me my own set of clubs. I did enjoy the golf games. It was exercise and out of doors. So once a week we got to do something we both loved.

I was happy in a way I suppose. Days turned into weeks, weeks into months and months into years. Little children occupied my days and gave me love and affection. I showered my love and affection on them but soon they moved out of my hands to have their places taken by a new bunch of kiddies. There was nothing permanent in my life. 

When I reached my 50th birthday – a real milestone you may say - Robert forgot. When I reminded him he said he had more important things to occupy his mind. I think that was when I started to change. I started to realise that there had to be more to life. I was 50 dammit! If the bible was to be believed I only had 20 more years. What had I really achieved in this time? The rut I was in was so deep there was no climbing out of it. I no longer had job satisfaction. These beautiful children passed through my hands like water into a dam. If you threw a stone (me) into the dam the ripples would be intense and then would slowly dissipate until the water was smooth again. What impact did I really have in their lives? What impact did I really have in Robert's life? What impact did I really have in my own life? Would Robert even miss me if I left or died? I didn’t think so. It would be a minor ruffle on the smooth running of his life. The dissatisfaction grew and grew until it almost consumed me.

His lordship needed a break. His lordship made the reservation in a small villa on the coast because there was a well run golf course nearby. It was left to me to organise the food, the travel, and the clothes. It happened in the middle of a term but that had to be sorted by me. Fortunately the headmistress was understanding and saw that I really needed a bit of time off. As I packed my mind started playing silly tricks. What if I ran away and just left him? Where would I go? What adventures could I have before I was too old to have adventures? As the preparation for the trip grew intense so did my mind games. I smiled as I thought of the possibility of freedom and then I plunged back to earth to the monotonous everyday tasks and preparation. 

We left on the Friday afternoon. Golf clubs were stashed on the back seat, I almost thought he would strap them into the seat belts. That’s how much he respected them. We would travel and arrive at the villa at about 10. The agent would meet us with the keys and we would stay there to relax (Robert) and recuperate (Robert) while I unpacked and prepared food etc. We would get in a golf game or two.

The villa was lovely. The bed looked inviting after an exhausting trip and preparation. But Robert insisted that I must sort out the kitchen and unpack the clothes while he enjoyed a whiskey and soda on the porch.

Saturday came and went. We had a game on the golf course. Robert won of course. Robert relaxed and enjoyed the meals I prepared. Sunday the same pattern and then today, Monday. Robert was relaxing on the porch with his pipe and a newspaper. I watched his back and saw the tension lifting out of his shoulders as he relaxed into the chair. Soon the newspaper dropped as did his pipe. It was now or never. I grabbed a driver from my golf bag. I crept up behind him with the driver in my hand (all those years practising on the driving range would help me now). I swung the driver back and took my stance and imagined his head sitting firmly on the tee. One thwack. The follow through was important One grunt from Robert and he slid off the chair to crash onto the floor near my feet. I bent over him and couldn’t see any life. I rushed to my handbag and got out my little mirror. Tentatively I knelt near him and held the mirror to his mouth/nose area. Nothing. Feeing braver I held his wrist and searched for a pulse – nothing. I sank back onto my knees. I was free. Free to enjoy my life. What did I want to do more than anything else at this moment? Why run into the waves and play with the water of course!

Wednesday, 24 August 2016

Retreat to Buddha's Boma


I meander the labyrinth and

Words meander in my mind

Peace – tranquillity fills my soul.

As the silence mounts

I can hear the silence

Then the distant chirrups start.

Soon alternating patterns

As bird calls to bird

A gentle deep wooden tone

Invades bird songs -

Buddha’s wind chimes.

And then a cacophony of sound

As the Ibis take fright

They fly vocally overhead

Breaking the peace

I re-enter reality.

Buddha's Boma
(c) Vera Alexander