A full day’s work and very little to report otherwise, apart from dinner with my love (a curry to fit with the changing weather). And tonight, I finally had the time to look at the photographs I took in Namibia with my love’s Canon. All the others I posted earlier were taken with my cellphone’s Leica.
A few Canon favourites:
Apart from sore cheeks, all good. But, it is nearly Easter and time for casting spells …
I am sleeping through the nights!
Be kind. Wear a mask. Support local.
“Physical distancing remains one of the key strategies to curb this pandemic.”
Did I mention that I have the best neighbours in the world? We were invited for socially distanced drinks tonight and it was absolutely perfect: the company, the drinks and the snacks. I feel so lucky – not only that I know these people, but that they are my neighbours.
I missed the family meeting tonight. But I have had enough lovely wine in one evening for the memories to last me through a booze ban, if there is one on again …
The rest of the day? Don’t ask. I struggled to get up in the morning just thinking about it. But I got through it, somehow.
Professional highlight of the day: the latest issue of New Contrast has arrived (cover above). The first one for our new editor, Masande Ntshanga. I had goose bumps reading his editorial. Such a talented, inspiring writer/thinker. And such a lovely human being to work with. Good things lie ahead for the oldest literary magazine in the country (turned sixty last year).
Be kind. Wear a mask. Support local.
“Physical distancing remains one of the key strategies to curb this pandemic.”
A typical headless-chicken Monday, with the refuse truck arriving only late in the afternoon, full eight hours of intense work, no time for photographs (apart from the two above for IG to remind readers about Dawn’s event in Rheenendal on Thursday), and sore cheeks (once more; sigh). I had to send another rejection letter – never easy – and I have to consider ending a professional relationship with someone who is simply not delivering their share of the work on one of the projects I am partly responsible for (deeply frustrating and disappointing, but even my colossal patience has run out; I do understand how rough it is to do anything creative, or to keep a deadline, right now – I struggle myself like hell – but one needs to communicate the problem to others involved).
Yet, at the end of it all, there was a fire and a few chops and good wine and even better company, although my love was also shaken by his return to work after our Namibian adventure.
No new episode of John Oliver’s show to watch tonight, so I am going to sit in front of the TV for an hour or so and fall into bed, to dream, perchance to sleep (misquote intentional).
Be kind. Wear a mask. Support local.
“Physical distancing remains one of the key strategies to curb this pandemic.”
Day three hundred and sixty-seven. Not sure why, but I do not want to stop. Something about this record has preserved parts of my sanity throughout the last year and when I contemplated giving up the nearly daily writing, I felt sadness and loss. (As if any more of either was needed during these times.)
I worked a half-day today and spent the afternoon in the company of my love and lovely friends, talking travel, music, theatre, sculpture and food and sharing snippets of possibilities for the future. I felt uplifted. Driving back home, I thought: there is no escaping it – this is our new normal. And somehow, it all focused on the fact that we could not hug our friends when we said goodbye to them after our socially distanced lunch in their garden. I don’t know under what conditions I will ever be relaxed about hugging a friend or stranger ever again. It made me think about three hugs that I remember distinctly from my past. First was when I was fourteen and found out that we would be leaving our home in the US to return to Austria again. A few days before the journey was my official graduation event at our school. My parents couldn’t make it and my best friend’s mom offered to pick me up and make me part of their party for the occasion. Our house was almost empty, all packed up. I couldn’t find my belt and started crying in the middle of the departure chaos. Running late, I was desperate. Katherine’s mom arrived, had one look at me and simply pulled me into a long, soothing embrace. Eventually, I stopped crying and she helped me get ready and that evening clapped as loudly as if I had been her own daughter when I received all my academic awards for the year.
Then, a few years later, in my late teens, I was staying with all my cousins at my grandparents home in Poland for the summer. The generations in my family are a bit mixed up and I have an uncle who is my age, so we grew up as cousins. I was having a miserable day, don’t remember any longer why, but once again when he saw me, without me having to explain anything, he simply hugged me and the world became a better place. A few years later, another summer, I had made a horrible mistake and he and his wife gave me refuge when I needed a place to escape. We haven’t kept in touch since that summer, but I named one of my characters in my first published novel after him.
Third hug was more recent. When André passed away, I got hugged a lot, by everyone, also strangers. The first time I visited my nearest post office after André’s death, Joseph, the gentleman at the counter that day, offered his condolences and called one of his female colleagues to come out and hug me on behalf of all the post office workers.
In the past year, apart from my love’s hugs, I have received only a handful of cautious, brief hugs from friends. The three above would not have been possible without the danger they would hold right now.
With all the monumental loss around us, these are tiny losses, and yet … And yet …
The reason why coffee had to wait quite a while before I could get up to make it this morning.
Be kind. Wear a mask. Support local.
“Physical distancing remains one of the key strategies to curb this pandemic.”
Three weeks. That is what I thought last year on the 27th of March when starting the Oysterhood Diary: record the lockdown daily as it happens for three weeks, the announced initial length of the hard lockdown in South Africa. A year later, here I am. Like the possessed olive thrush trying to defeat his rival in my window’s reflection for the past two days (maybe longer?), I seem to be doomed for failure. I was thinking of making this my last Oysterhood post, but I am not sure how I will feel tomorrow. The lockdown is long from over. The pandemic nowhere near its end. I think I have become more resilient, despite of – or maybe because of – all the upheavals of the past twelve months. I am still miraculously healthy, or at least almost as healthy as I was before the pandemic. What doesn’t kill you, makes you … Yet, something is dead: a way of being.
And there are, of course, the nearly three million official Covid-19-related deaths worldwide; millions of others who loved them traumatised, grieving.
No matter what else, it is impossible not to be exhausted from the constant onslaught of terrifying news, having to be always vigilant, trying to somehow make it through the day, and the night, with the shreds of one’s dreams clinging to one’s soul.
In desperation, hope has torn out a few of her feathers. What if they don’t grow back?
Glinka and I put in a good day’s work today and finally got to the end of the last big project we have been working on. Some polishing remains to be done, but these are tiny details.
In the evening, my love and I went to one of our favourite restaurants in Cape Town to celebrate his birthday which happened while we were nowhere near a fine dining restaurant.
When the chef knows how much you love oysters …
Be kind. Wear a mask. Support local.
“Physical distancing remains one of the key strategies to curb this pandemic.”
The Cats had the most caring, loving Friend staying with them while we were away. They were completely relaxed when we arrived back. Happy to see us, but also content with their own home holiday. We are so lucky to have such beautiful Friends. Thank you, Debbie!
I spent the day organising myself back into home life and responsibilities and then relaxed with Salieri on the sofa in the late afternoon and watched some TV. Tomorrow, work begins properly again. But I think I can face it.
We have had an incredible holiday. My love and I travel extremely well together, but we also love returning home.
Today is the 365th day of lockdown. An entire year. Tomorrow will be a strange anniversary …
Be kind. Wear a mask. Support local.
“Physical distancing remains one of the key strategies to curb this pandemic.”
A road trip. A country of incomprehensibly vast spaces. Light. Heat. Breathtaking views.
I couldn’t help thinking of the people who carve out their existence in these relentlessly stunning, challenging landscapes. An existence between sunrise and sunset. The sun. The moon. The outrageousness of Milky Way’s stars. The awe-inspiring beauty of it all. Its untameable nature.
And then this:
The Kwessi Dunes Natural Selection camp in the NamibRand Nature Reserve is simply paradise on earth. Highlights: reading on our tent’s stoep in the afternoon’s heat while jackals, oryxes or a lonely ostrich wander by on their way to or from the water hole; sleeping under the Milky Way; our guide Dawid telling us to go for a short walk while he prepared ‘coffee’ and magically produced an entire breakfast on the dunes; and our guide Alfred speaking and singing in Khwedam on the dunes. His language is still spoken by only a few thousand people, and is so beautiful, I will remember its sounds and cadences for the rest of my life.
We arrived in Namibia after the rains, abundant after a decade of drought. The NamibRand was a sea of grass singing its own stories to us. Pure magic.
“It was impossible not to be moved by such love”, says Edward in Midnight Sun, which I finally had the opportunity to read. Indeed. Loved the book as much as all the other Twilight Saga novels. I also got into Heather Martin’s great biography of Lee Child, The Reacher Guy, but the trip wasn’t long enough to finish both doorstoppers. Rudolf and my paper diary came along for the trip.
After the Covid-19 test in Windhoek, waiting for the results, we spent nearly two days in the company of Nick of Nature Travel Namibia, who took us to the Erongo Mountains for a birding trip. My love had a list of endemics that he wanted to see and introduce me to, and Nick was able to find and show them to us ALL. It was simply amazing. We were very fortunate that we could explore the area just after a short thunderstorm when all the birds came out and enjoyed the fresh air along with us. The violet-backed starling was not on the must-see endemic list, but was the bird that I will probably remember the most. And the rosy-faced lovebirds, of course. But they were everywhere we went. And then there was not exactly a bird, but the … dassie rat, distant szczurek family. I immediately fell in love.
We were supposed to come back today, driving from Windhoek to Cape Town over two days, but we left early yesterday morning, were not held up at the border for too long and my love, the driving superhero, decided to make it home in one day. He is the best driver I know. And he even agreed to stop at a Wimpy (something I, after years of driving around South Africa, consider a road trip tradition).
Nine days, eight nights, four destinations, three thousand something kilometres and two negative Covid-19 tests later and we were home. I loved every second of it.
Be kind. Wear a mask. A lot is possible with a little bit of care.
“Physical distancing remains one of the key strategies to curb this pandemic.”
I was working in my garden this afternoon during loadshedding (thank goodness, Eskom is not responsible for the sun) and out of the blue started planning a dinner party for friends. I was thinking who to invite and what to cook and how to seat the people for best conversations, and only after about ten minutes of these wonderful musings, I realised: PANDEMIC. I actually managed to forget for ten blissful minutes that we were still in lockdown and the dinner party I was cooking up in my head was not going to happen any day soon … But it was so nice to think about it!
They saw the suitcase, so I did not have to spell it out to them, but I did tell The Cats that I was going away with my love for a while. The loveliest of Friends is moving in tomorrow to take care of them, so they will have the best possible care, but they have not been impressed with the packing and preparations. Unfortunately, I did not manage to complete my last project yet, so I will be travelling and finishing my work, but the trip was not necessarily intended to be part of the planned Big Rest, so it’s fine. The trip is going to be a proper adventure, restful only for the soul, not necessarily for the body. The Big Rest is going to be all-round laziness, squared.
My love and I had a quick, delicious dinner at HARU tonight, so that we would not have to worry about cooking and washing up. It is always great to go there.
Time for bed. One more sleep and: ROAD TRIP!
Be kind. Wear a mask. Support local.
“Physical distancing remains one of the key strategies to curb this pandemic.”
My friend Debbie came to share a braai with me on my stoep this evening and brought the above extraordinary gift for my copy of the Lee Child biography by Heather Martin. We are both Reacher, Child and Martins (Heather and Andy) fans, so this is beyond special. And soooooo beautiful!
Most of this day was crazy – I just ran around like a headless chicken, making a few tough decisions and getting a lot of things done, all tense and exhausting – but the evening was peace and friendship and joy.
This morning, I went for another Covid-19 test to be able to travel again. The results were ready the same day: negative. It is always such a relief.
It rained in the morning.
I am so ready for bed. Good night.
Be kind. Wear a mask. Support local.
“Physical distancing remains one of the key strategies to curb this pandemic.”
John Maytham, performing “Ice Cream, Thank You”, a script compiled by Finuala Dowling
A day of accidents. First, while working in my garden, I fell into a sewer drain which was covered by rotten boards that could not support my weight, and I ended up on the ground on all fours, hurting both my feet, my left leg, and both my hands, the left one quite severely. Fortunately, I can still type, but I had to take off my rings because of the swelling in my fingers. Bruises, swellings, scratches and a sore soul.
Then, shaken, I had a difficult conversation with my brother about a topic that has been kind of lurking between us for a while, and because, purely by biological coincidence, we stand on the opposite sides of a great historical divide, it is not easy to know that we struggle to find common ground when we know, love and respect each other as much as we do.
Then, shaken and stirred, I drove Topolino into a closed property gate. Luckily, no great damage was done, but my ego is still sitting in a corner, weeping into her elbow.
Yet, at the end of it all, not only completely shattered by the global effects of the pandemic, but also acutely reminded how fragile I am because of the two accidents I had in the course of six hours, I listened to Finuala Dowling’s script about death, “Ice Cream, Thank You”, performed – beautifully – by John Maytham at the stunning Summit Place Guest House tonight, social distancing and all. One would think that the grim topic would have driven us all into misery, but that’s the magic of literature, and especially poetry, that it can uplift even at the saddest of times. We even laughed, a lot. And all of us went home feeling a little bit less alone, and a little bit less frightened.
Thank you, Finuala and John, and poetry!
Be kind. Wear a mask. Support local.
“Physical distancing remains one of the key strategies to curb this pandemic.”
Karina Magdalena 