Two months in, too many more to go…

We went back into our homes one day,

Closed the doors behind us and drawing the curtains,

Cowering away from a new serial killer we could not see.

We stayed in for a few days,

Learning how to speak in different languages,

We got creative and played new games,

And then baked and ate it all.

The days grew into each other,

And slowly became stretchy bubblegum weeks,

We monitored the daily numbers,

Until the numbers made us numb,

So we got brave and ventured outdoors,

We said it was to buy essentials but really it was to shake the cabin fever.

We began to suffer Zoom fatigue,

And Teams exhaustion,

We began to flaunt the rules,

Or thought they didn’t apply to us,

We started to find a new normal,

But still we asked “When is this all going to be over”.

We worried about the economy,

And wondered if the outside missed us,

Then the news of a colleague at work,

A neighbor,

Outbreaks at the local pharmacy or a hospital we may use.

The numbers that had numbed us suddenly gave us new reasons to fear,

When would we get the message of a brother or a sister,

And would our four new friends with their catchy tune begin to draw near?

It’s a strange thing…

It’s a strange thing to meet you and not extend an arm to pull you closer

and tilt my chin up instinctively

to feel you head against my heart

It’s a strange seeing you smile

but realise your eyes are saying something else

and to feel overwhelmed by that same dread for the days to come

It’s strange stopping myself from saying let’s go grab breakfast

or to go quickly gobble up pizza

despite the promises to eat better

It’s a strange thing to text more and get responses

in a time when the words feel utterly futile

and yet so much more essential

It’s going to be a strange new world we will emerge into

broken and then pieced together to start over

and I’ll raise my arm place it on your shoulder

so that we can walk together once more

Home is where I lay my hat…

I was reminded of the idiom that says you never know what you have until its gone is one the other day, walking on the Copacabana promenade early one morning with the sun fighting the wispy clouds in trying to come out.  I was grateful that the famous black and white stones on the walkway had been worn smooth by millions of Havaianas walking up and down as they didn’t hurt my bare feet as much.  My shoes had been soaked early when I got caught by a wave I didn’t see coming and I decided to walk back to the hotel some 4km away with them in my hand.  I hadn’t walked anywhere barefoot in ages.  But we used to do it all the time in Durban.  And the main strip in Rio, Copacabana Beach reminded me a lot of the golden mile in Durban.  Only Copacabana is scaled up a little bit and possibly a little more famous.  Durban is however not a 10 and 1/2 flight away.

Continue reading “Home is where I lay my hat…”

My mom, the Basket Aunty…

In Indian society, every older unrelated male is an uncle and older unrelated female an aunty (not aunt, aunty).  Your real uncle and aunts are given their designations by the relationship they come to be your real aunts and uncles by.  Your mother’s brothers are your Mamas and your father’s sisters your Poowas. Or Foi or Aatha depending on the dialect you speak.  And you then also have big dads and big moms for the eldest uncles and aunts.  Everyone else who is older is designated uncle or aunt and then their name.  The neighbour, Aunty Saras (not to be confused with the neighbour-aunty, Saras) or Uncle Sagren who lives down the road.  When, as an Indian kid, you don’t know someone by their name you default to some attribute of how they look or what they do with and added uncle or aunty at the front.  So the Fowl Aunty was the lady who provided fresh chickens on a Saturday morning, Fisher Uncle or Uncle Fishy was a good fisherman and the Milk Uncle drove the van that sold bread and milk and sweets that came around at 3 o’ clock every afternoon.  That’s probably how my mother ended up being the  Basket Aunty and then the Sweet Aunty. Continue reading “My mom, the Basket Aunty…”

First Impressions: Sony A7III (and possibly the 100-400mmF4.5-5.6 GMaster by association)

The Backstory

So.  Have you read enough about the Sony Alpha cameras already?  Actually if you are not a camera geek like me you probably haven’t heard much of the Sony camera’s currently taking the world by storm.  Unless you are friends with me on any form of social media – then you probably heard too much in the last couple weeks and you are probably hoping that I would stop.  And I promise that this blog post is the culmination of what has been an exciting few weeks.  I therefore ask that you bear with me and maybe this is the last you’ll hear of it…for now!

Continue reading “First Impressions: Sony A7III (and possibly the 100-400mmF4.5-5.6 GMaster by association)”

It’s my Birthday and you can come if you want to!

Its my birthday next week you know…

Yeah of course I know

It would please me much if you were there…

Yeah I know that as well

So will you come?

But what do I come as?

It’s not a costume party, you don’t have to dress up but…

Shut up you know what I mean

…you can come as Hermoine dressed in her Gryffindor uniform perhaps?

Be serious! You know what I mean!

No I don’t actually…

Who do I come as? In relation to you? 

Do I have to spell it out then?

Well.

Come as part of the friendship that they can’t comprehend, a bond that only you and I understand,

As my biggest critic who keeps me honest,

The person I can achieve anything with when you are standing beside me,

The one I wish was on every one of my adventures.

Come as the girl who smiles through the pain,

Who my heart breaks for only to be rebuilt by your strength and courage,

Come as the reader, the writer, the swimmer, the hiker,

The sister, the daughter, the scrappy street fighter.

 

Come as the person I would miss the most if you didn’t,

The part of me that would be missing if you were not there.

But mostly come as all that makes you YOU,

The person I perhaps hardly even know but who I want to spend every minute learning…

 

 

 

 

I’m making 2018 my year of influence

So full 2 weeks of the New Year have come and gone.  If you are still holding on to your resolutions good on you!  If have already you broke them for whatever reason, well you only 2 weeks in so you can always wake up, shout “Mulligan!” and start over.  If you didn’t make any, you do you as best as you can, because you never know who’s watching and looking up to you!  My resolution for 2018 is actually something along those lines, but before we get there some background.

Continue reading “I’m making 2018 my year of influence”

2017 in rear view…

I know what you thinking. “Hold up, hold up, you can’t just be writing a year in review when the year is not yet over! Its not even Christmas!” But let’s be honest guys, as a South African the year officially ends on the long weekend of the 16th December and the new year begins after the 2nd January, maybe only officially the 8th January.  The two week period in-between is neither the old year or the new year, filled with the haze of balmy summer nights, sweet over-indulgence, instagram posts and stories and travel to local or exotic destinations; all the while surrounded by dear family and friends. We should really start a petition to get the South African Government to make the 16 December to 1 January summer leave for everyone. So, for me at least, the year ended a few days back already unofficially and therefore I can just!  So here are my two highlights of 2017…

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I have walked my 500 miles…

Forrest Gump’s momma was a wise women.  One of her pearls of wisdom was that “You can tell a lot about a person by their shoes, where they going, where they been”.  I got to thinking the other day and began to wonder about where my own shoes have taken me and where I still have to go.  I had just been in to the shoe shop in Dunkeld, got my feet measured for no reason because I was just getting the latest version of my now trusted running shoes, New Balance 880 version 7’s, which were replacing the now worn down version 6’s I had worn for more than 18 months which themselves had replaced a pair of version 5s.  The 880s are one of the few running shoes that actually come in my size; UK 10s with 2E width, so I am pretty much limited to them.  And I began recalling all the shoes I have worn.

Continue reading “I have walked my 500 miles…”

So-Sweat-o

Sweating through Soweto

Every year, early in November, thousands of people gather to run through the streets of Soweto.  Some run farther than others, some faster and some, like me, much slower. The strange thing, I am told, is that they are not running from anything.  No dogs or policeman.  The absolute definition of insanity apparently.  I must say though that by the end of this year’s race I really was questioning my state of mind, like many of the spectators who lined the streets were as well!

Continue reading “So-Sweat-o”