Of Woodpeckers

"Thanks to their silent understanding, no desire will remain unfulfilled"

I like animals. They're basic, they're true and they don't muck around. If they like something, they'll go for it. Be that food, another animal or something shiny.

I like wolves, woodpeckers, crabs, bears, fish, elephants, leopards and some others too. After all, I am THE Ali-Cat. ;)

But at the moment, the woodpecker is a favourite. And I'm wishing I could hibernate like a bear or even with a bear... I wonder what that would be like?  I think it would be snuggly. Bears have awesome amounts of fur to keep you warm. Bears look like they could give amazing hugs - well, it's not called a bear hug for nothing. And bears look like they are honest creatures.

Yes, I want to hibernate until the Spring with a Bear.  And then in the Spring, I want to hear the chirp of a woodpecker as it tends to my lawn, I want to lay on a beach with a crab in the Summer. At one with the animals, just like a cat should be.

Hamba kakuhle Madiba.

And so the news breaks. At 8.50pm South African time, our icon, Africa's greatest son, Nelson Mandela died.
It seems surreal. It's like hearing a family member has passed on. The tears are falling onto my cheeks as I think about this man and what he meant to so many, me included.
I don't deny that there was a time, that I questioned the way he fought - as a teenager, confronted with propaganda, you question if violence is the right way. But then I was young, I was white and most definitely privileged in a country, where so many had so little. But in those 23 years since he was released, I have read so much of this man, I have heard him speak and there is no doubt in my mind: that he was a great man. A great man, it can't be said enough.
A man that, had he chosen, could have led our country into untold violence but chose to don a rugby shirt and promote getting along - okay, that's simplistic of me. BUT I have no qualms in saying, that my son would not have seen the country he did in August, had Mr Mandela not chosen his path of reconciliation.

When people ask me where I was when he was released from prison, I can say I was in Cape Town on that day 11 February 1990. However, I had a very different day to the majority of people who congregated in the city centre to hear him speak. But my day, was the mark of realising a little bit about how 'his' people (we all became his people, all shapes and colours but then, then it was different) held him in such regard.

I was allowed to go to the beach for a few hours. I sat there with my friends, but sulking. Sulking not because my hero, my icon was about to be free. But miserable because I knew this would be a great day in the annuls of History and instead of saying I WAS THERE, I would have to say 'I was on the beach'. Petulant as only a 15 year old could be. There was quite a crowd of us white kids on the beach, it wasn't a very popular beach (only accessed by a train line) but even the popular beaches were empty.

And this old black man came onto the beach, stumbling a bit. Homeless clearly. Asking for money for food. One of the guys we were with said 'Hey brother, what you doing here?' (in truth, it was probably the first man of colour we had seen all day) This man was startled, obviously thinking he had stumbled onto some aggro. He was just asking for some cents for food he says. 'No man' my friend said 'you should be in Cape Town, Mandela is being released today'.

I will never forget, even if I am riddled with dementia in years to come, that man's face. How it lit up, how his smile stretched from ear to ear, how his eyes crinkled with happiness and how they sparkled with tears of joy. How he leapt into the air, whooping and crying. All his food worries and homeless worries, dissipated for just a little bit. And then he stopped. He came back to Earth. Was it true? Yes we assured him.  It was clear where he wanted to be, where he NEEDED to be. But he had no money.

We gave him pretty much all the cash we had collectively. Enough for food, train fare and off he trotted. Turning around and thanking us every couple of steps.

Is that the day I became an African? Is that the day Madiba's legacy began? For me, yes it did. I had been waking up to my country for a while before, but that moment in my life, just opened me up to how things SHOULD be. I was never lucky enough to meet Nelson Mandela, but I met a man on a beach, on a day my country started it's Long walk to Freedom.

"There are men and women chosen to bring happiness into the hearts of people - those are the real heroes." Nelson Mandela 
"On my last day I want to know that those who remain behind will say "The man who lies here has done his duty for his country and his people" Nelson Mandela (1999 Qunu)

He said those things above.He was and did those things above.

RIP

Feedback

I wish there was a feedback button for when you delete people off Facebook. And maybe even when you add them. But back to deleting.
You'd get the option button saying 'no feedback required' for those who you added because you thought you knew them but actually you didn't - you just added because they had 78 friends in common with you, therefore you assumed you must know them and your brain had forgotten them. It's easier to add that kind of person that admit old age. There's also that social embarrassment of 'shit, this person remembers me and yet I have no idea who they are'. You made an impact (be it big or small) in their lives and you can't even remember them. That's happened to me in the first days of Facebook. I added a girl, her name was vaguely familiar but I didn't have a clue. She posted stuff on my wall about the great times we had, the parties she enjoyed at my house, how I was so funny (always nice to be told this) ad infinitum, and still I could not place her. 16 years had passed since that kickass party at my house (the one she was raving about), I had also been raging drunk at said party. She had grown up so the picture bared no resemblance to anyone I had known. So, I went to my diaries - I used to write lists of who had attended parties.Found her name, still didn't have a clue. It wasn't until her 10th post about another party where things were broken that I twigged who she was and felt so guilty - I knew her well back in the day.
Anyway, back to deleting people. I want radio buttons when I delete people. Things like:
a) we used to be friends, now looking at your picture makes me sick
b) you bore me with the same posts I've seen forever
c) if I see another picture of an injured child/rhino/piglet/etc I will scream and never stop
d) I don't relish seeing religion on my feed
e) seeing what you're up to makes me sad. Not for you, I want to be happy for you, but I'm sad for me
f) you suck (variant on above)
g) I don't know who you are, why you added me or where I know you from
h) you talk shit and it annoys me
i) your girlfriend pisses the living shit out of me with her 'I wuff you bbe' posts.
j) Your lack of command over the English language makes me want to throw things - at you
k) No feedback required
l) No hard feelings

Hmmm I sound grumpy and people might wonder why I even go onto Facebook if that's my attitude. Well I like Bejeweled Blitz and I like seeing pictures of my friends and family - since the majority of them live so far away. And really, this post is directed or rather, popped into my head because of a few people who tick a few of those radio buttons I want. I normally delete people (or just not add them) without any compunction or guilt but there's a few that I would like to erase from my wall/life but lack the guts to do. Not that I fear I'll hurt them (although there is that), but the no going back once I've done it. It's the letting go I'm finding hard. Okay, it's also the hurting them and in some instance, will they even notice?

To catch fish and other tall tales

To catch a fish, one must be confident in one's ability to catch said fish. If you go into the fishing expedition with less than 100% certainty that you can net/hook/get the food, then you'll never get the fish you've set your eyes on.

And you must make sure that you're wanting to hook the right fish. Don't go for the most brightly coloured one, they fade after a few twinkles of their scales.

Once you are sure about your fish, you'll now have to think about bait. What will hold your fish' interest enough for Fishie to nibble and then bite down hard? Don't lure Fishie in with false bait - Fishie will know, and work out very soon, that the bait on offer is not the one it's going to get. Fish are not as stupid as we would want to believe they are.

I go for the CCC approach. A fish loves a calm fisherman. Hysterics and loud noises will frighten off even the most boldest. A confident fisherman but not bolshy will also impress the fish long enough for it to have another look. And finally the last C - the one you need to work out yourself. It could be a number of things, it's the magic X ingredient that lands you the meal for the dinner table. You'll know it when you're sitting at the water's edge, dipping your toes into the river/ocean/place you do your fishing and wondering if you'll sink or swim. When you're looking at the fish swimming past. It's when you get your Confidence that you can land one.

Then you're ready my little fisherfolk.

People

I was talking today about my blog and how I try to give 'names' to the people I mention. They have their own names, that their parents gave them obviously but because I don't go around asking 'Do you mind if I a) write about you and b) what name do you wish me to use?", I tend to give them names that are of my own making. I sometimes even do this in real life. Most of my close friends know who 'Fish' is. Even 'Fish' knows who 'Fish' is. *I'm not sure the blog has been introduced to Fish, but maybe when I'm feeling bold*

So naturally the team I work with, were curious about their names. I had to confess I hadn't written about them. Imagine, these are people I spend the majority of my week with and yet, they haven't been mentioned. Oh the horror of it all. And here you have it, the really lovely team I work with. It's important to get on with your team at work, I think so. I like to like my team, because they're the people I want to help and who I want to help me. They're the folk I want to have a cracking time with at the Christmas meal and who if I'm feeling crappy of a day, they'll be concerned enough to enquire and vice versa. If I've had a good thing happen, I'd like them to share that joy. You get the picture.

So in no particular order *names subject to change*

First off we have the epitome in style - I think I might call her Grace Kelly. When I first got introduced to her, I likened her, to my aunt, as being like my Nana. The inflections in her voice, the can-do and no-nonsense attitude, the dress sense. This lady is a lady - no question about it. She oozes great dress sense and grace and fantastic taste in bags.
Then we have The Rock - not to be likened to him of a wrestling nature but more because she's just stable in all senses of the words and I know that on any given day, no matter what, I'm getting the same from her. The same treatment. Now the Rock and I seem to share the same sense of wacky humour. I love that.
Moving on and this is the tricky one, I want to call her Little Miss Sunshine but also Bee. I think I'll go for Bee... she's blonde, she's bubbly, she's beyond funny, she's buzzly (fizzy). Quite honestly, she's bonkers too!

Actually quick interject, I've just realised something about my team. We're all really honest people. Straight talkers who are a good honest bunch. I had been working with the same people for so long and I wasn't really sure how to take this new 'crew' but they're good.
I'll continue once I've given more thought to names... there's quite a few to go!

Day 365

I've written so many sad things about how I miss Nhandi, but how about, on this the 365th day of her passing, I write about what made me love her. Happy things you know... instead of the whole 'my heart is breaking' sh*te.

You see Nhandi and I shouldn't have been friends. I had been quite jealous of her a few months previous. My best friend had chosen to go out with Nhandi over a weekend, they were in the same class (different school to me). So I had my hackles up over this girl already. And I did not want to like her.

I can't remember why Mel and I went to the Saloon that day - there were probably boys involved who might have been there - can't even remember who the boys where or if they were there but I'm assuming boys were the attraction to a pool hall with pizza place attached.

Anyway, we walked into this place and there was Nhandi and her best friend Julie. We eyed each up over a pool table and circled each other warily. About an hour later, we ended up going to the toilet at the same time (it's a chick thing) and she whispered 'S is like soooo into you, I can just see it' and she hugged me. And history was made...that was it pure and simple. We became inseparable. Now the greatest thing about Nhandi, was that she included you straight away into your life (a bit like I did), we shared the same values. You got our trust until you broke it. Then you never got it fully again. Maybe we stayed best friends because our trust in each other was never broken. Oh we got annoyed with each other but we never broke our trust. And she was my staunchest supporter.

So this Jewish girl and I became friends, two days later and we realised we were both disgusting with beer. One bottle and boom! we were tipsy (not much changed, we never developed a love for the stuff). I'll never forget the train home that day. Sitting on the floor of the train renaming ALL the stations from Muizenberg to Stuurhof and cackling with laughter at how they flowed. I remember thinking 'I love this chick' as 14 year olds do... she had the same sense of humour, the same outlook, same insecurities as I did. I think when you are that age, you click on very quickly, who is just humouring you and who 'just gets you'.

And then she met LBW - and the three of us became tight. There was none of that 3's a crowd thing with us - we just did it all together. LBW got drunk, Nhandi cleaned her up, I laughed. That was the order of the day. Sometimes roles swapped a bit. Okay a lot... our roles intertwined. And then came the Clovelly part of our friendship - CLAN. We scrawled it everywhere. We did things that will probably go to my grave with me. We bunked youth, we smoked cigarettes, we discovered an intense love of Cinzano. Chipped teeth, bobs in Kalk bay, how every trip on 3rds, she'd end up protecting me from some dude trying to cut my hair - now I've seen pictures from those times, I still don't get why it was my hair they were after and not hers. Her family became mine and mine became hers. My Nana did meals around what Nhandi could eat and what Nhandi wanted to eat. We got ill at the same time (not surprising) and had mothers that fussed - I get it now, only children are special. She had a door we could write on, I had an aunt that would let us smoke.

And when I moved to PE, she'd come up on holiday or I'd come to Cape Town, we would make tapes of us talking and singing - I can't listen to them at the moment but I will. She was there when I had my first heartbreak and vice versa. She was there when Connor had his first taste of calamari. She was there when my Nana died. She has just always been there. So it's hard to know that I'm going through life on my own now. Well, not on my own, but without her. It's hard to go through my life without her.

However, I do not regret a single minute she was in my life. And I know I'll go through my life missing her vibrancy, her zest, her laugh out loudness, her smile.

1313

A year ago

A year ago, my best friend was fighting for her life and in 8 and a half hours, she would lose the battle. 

A year ago, my best friend was alive and I thought that come August we'd be swilling tequila, and laughing so much.  That didn't happen. 

A year ago, I had a best friend that would answer when we spoke. Now it's just me doing the talking. 

A year ago, I knew there was someone out there who knew me as well as I knew myself. Who was the person that loved me for every little thing I had done. Who was honest with me. Who had known me forever and yet still never lost any love for me. 

And in the 365 days since we lost our beautiful girl, our shining sparkly angel, the hurt has not magically disappeared. The tears have not been dried from our cheeks and the hole she has left in our hearts has not been filled. We can dream that she's still with us, but when we wake, the nightmare returns. 

I miss Nhandi so much. I miss her knowing my every mood. And how by what I said, she knew what I meant. 

We were the sisters we chose for ourselves. We were closer than people liked. And although a whole hemisphere separated us, we retained that closeness. 

I thought we had all the time in the world, I thought we'd be old together. 

I miss you. A year passed, but the pain remains. My darling Noodle, my 1313, my angel, you are missed and loved.