ET .. CALL HOME

On Saturday night I dreamt my dad had Alzheimer’s and he could only remember the part of his life prior to my birth. I frantically begged him not to forget me for how could I live knowing that my dad had no knowledge of me? I woke up distressed with tears rolling down my cheeks and a desperate desire to call home.

I have mentioned before the problems with communication to Zimbabwe .. mostly that there is no communication with Zimbabwe. All day Sunday I tried to call home and was amazed that I was getting the ringing tone, first time on each call – unfortunately no one was answering. (This always gets me a bit edgy as law & order is not a top priority).

This morning I got into the office and there was an e-mail from my mom. Dad has malaria and has been unwell all weekend but is doing much better today.

Sometimes you just know to call home.

Thinking of you dad - xxx

THE WILD SIDE CALLS...

Last night we fell asleep to the gentle pitter patter of rain. It got me thinking about my appreciation of turbulent weather, even though the conditions were anything but! There is something about howling wind and driving rain that calls to my feral side.

Let me explain, in Africa I loved watching thunderstorms. The day starts out as any other except there is a heaviness in the atmosphere, a smell of ozone in the air. It might be hours before the rain comes but you can feel the electricity, a taste of expectancy. Slowly the clouds gather, turning the sky a bruised colour - night has come early. The clouds go black, full of water, eager for release.. But not yet. There is a loud rumble in the distance as the thunder growls across the land, like so many tables being dragged and pots broken. Silence! A flash, splitting the sky in half, a delay, then an almighty BOOM as the sound of lightening catches up to you. Chaos reigns above but still not a drop has been spilt. The roar of thunder and lightening grows, ever closer, until it feels as though the sky will plummet to the ground.

At last relief comes with that first droplet of water, the beginning of a deluge. There is nothing gentle about this storm, after all the advertising it does not disappoint, the rain pours forth. The water is forceful, impatient to reach earth. If you step outside now you will feel the power as drops zing against your skin. This is my time, having waited so long, this is the time I go out to welcome the rain. Then it is over as though it never was.

Ahh, an African Thunderstorm, so awesome that words cannot capture its essence!

Here we do not get the driving rain that rushes over Savannah lands into the mountains but I have an alternative. The Wind, an untamed force, in a submissive land. Come winter the arctic blows its icy fingers across the UK. On these days I lift my face to greet it, raising my arms wide. The wind rushes forward in answer pulling my hair and clawing at my coat. I struggle to explain this wildness that runs through me. It is an eccentric, but significant part of my being. Like the storm or the wind, something unreachable, wild and free..

Now don’t get me wrong. As much as I love to dance under the pouring rain in Africa the chances of me doing so here are fairly slim! Drizzly weather does not appeal to me in the same fashion!

HOSPITALS..

Things have been busy this week as I am out of the office next week having an operation on my leg. Thankfully it is nothing serious but I will be laid up for the week with my right leg in the air. I am really not sure what to expect and after initially putting a brave face on things have since relented and asked Americo to come and hold my hand!

Hospitals and I do not go well together. I have a mild phobia of needles that began with one to many jabs when I was younger. The last time I had one of these I was about 11 and it was the last ‘shot’ of a long series of rabies jabs.

I remember the day clearly it was the last Sunday of school holidays and I was due back at boarding school on Monday. There had been much discussion throughout the day about the best way to proceed. I was arguing the side of “let’s not have it done” (I think dad was almost convinced .. aware of the impending pandemonium) however mom remained resolute. I must mention that, although mom was stoic, she was also dreading taking me to get it done.

Dad, having previous physiological scarring from one of these trips refused to be involved. And so it was that Julian, my big brother, was roped into joining us - all the time questioning why anyone would need to be on hand for his little scrap of a sister? The reason was soon revelled….

We drove the 30km’s into town with a growing sense of trepidation filling the car. Eventually we arrived at the hospital, my little bottom puckering at the thought of being turned into a human pin cushion.

Out came a friendly doctor commenting on my bravery, then he did a fatal thing.. he showed me the injection. I took one look at it, grabbed the car keys out of mom’s hand and ran, locking myself in the car. After much persuasion from my mom I reluctantly unlocked the car and followed them back into the ward. Honestly I truly did have good intentions of behaving myself, but when he came in for the second go I could contain myself no longer. However all the staff, having witness my previous bid for freedom, were on hand to head me off.

There was no escape; I did though manage to create quite a stir screaming down the corridors with a trail of nurses and orderlies in my wake. Inevitably I was cornered and after such a run around restrained by Mom, Julian and 6 orderlies. I am not sure Julian ever fully recovered from the swift conversion of blue eyed angel to fiend. I also understand that my reputation holds firm at that little hospital in Mutare.

Now before you start a major outpouring of sympathy for Americo, let me just say that I have improved. I now provide the ‘needle bearer’ with a set of handy guidelines i.e. ABSOLUTELY no opening the needle packet in front of me, definitely no showing of the needle and suitable distraction is a necessity at the time of injecting. Americo is looking forward with, with great anticipation, to Tuesday’s activities!

PETS

Americo loves dogs, I am sure in a past life he must have been one. When we were dating in Zimbabwe his family had a big old Alsatian. Arios was its name and he was trained as a mine sniffer, as the name suggests he cleared mines.. in Mozambique. I do not remember how Americo got to have him, I think he was retired.

Anyway, now that we are all grown up and starting our ‘proper’ adult life, you begin to think getting a pet would be nice. The thing is I don’t really like pets, I lack the dedication.

I believe this all stems from when I was growing up on the farm. My parents live in a small farming community on the border of Mozambique. Now when I say the border, I mean we are about 50 metres off the 70 metre mine field that separates Mozambique from Zimbabwe.

As a family we always had lots of pets and back then I loved dogs. The thing is most of the pets I remember came to rather violent ends. I had a beautiful Redsetter called Lady, one day I came home from school and found that Lady had run into the minefield and been blown up. The next I have in my memory is ‘midnight’, he had to be put down due to getting infected with rabies… which meant that I had to go for several rounds of jabs.

In fact, I think it was the MANY journeys to the hospital for rabies jabs that actually put me off pets! Now don’t get me wrong, I love the though of having a pet and appreciate other peoples, its just that I cannot muster the enthusiasm to follow the thought!!