A friend of mine asked about my hectic day yesterday, and it was my pleasure to confirm to him that I did have a hectic day indeed! However, it was my pleasure to have the hectic day.
You see, that one wife that I have, thanks to God's grace, spent the weekend with us, together with my 10-month old son. We therefore squeezed quite a bit of family time and fun into the weekend as we could. We even went so far as to accompany my wife and son to her temporary abode in Port Edward. That was my two daughters, Cwebile and Nomsa, my sister-in-law, Asive, my wife and the little chap. We had such a grand time in Port Edward that Nomsa didn't want to return; she felt like staying over in Port Edward. The only cost to that fun trip was my sleep. Asive hadn't completed her homework (Physical Science, of all the subjects!). I ended up sleeping WAY past midnight, and had to be up before 7:00 AM to make sure that Cwebile was ready for school. Well, Asive also slept late, but while I slept, she had to be up to prepare to go to school herself. I owe her that round, I guess, but I could argue that the assistance with her homework makes up for that inconvenience, aye?
Of course, that would have some serious logistical nightmares as Nomsa is only five, stays home with me when Cwebile is in school, and my wife has her sister-in-law helping her mind our son at her place of work. To add Nomsa to that fray would be too much.
I must confess this myself: I didn't WANT to leave either...
Well, today, it turned out that there were some critical items that my wife forgot to pack into her pilgrim belongings in Port Edward. We liaised by phone and agreed that I would trek back to Port Edward to deliver this. We all trekked there, in fact, but, fortunately for us, as I type this, Asive's homework is done; she has gone off to sleep, and it is only just past 10PM as I draft this entry.
Again, I didn't want to return from Port Edward today. Each time I look at my wife, now that she stays away from here, she is sexier than ever, and that little chap seems to sense that life just isn't all right unless we are all together, and he has the grandest of times when his sisters are around. I really miss them, but I miss my wife the more, I must confess.
I was telling her that we need to relocate the house from Port Shepstone to Port Edward, somehow. I've never been sure which one of the two maxims particularly applies to our relationship: "absence makes the heart grow fonder" and "familiarity breeds contempt." I've had episodes where I was certain that I am experiencing the one OR the other. In fact, this momentary separation is taking place at a time when there was more turmoil associated with our living together in Port Shepstone than it was by enjoying the experience of living in each others' company. Well, that company is now limited to weekends only, and I am NOT liking the separation at all.
My ideal situation?
I wished I could relocate this house from Port Shepstone to Port Edward, just so that my wife has someone to come to while this phase of our lives lasts. However, if this separation is necessary to foster a spirit of rekindled joy and family links, then I welcome this stressor, for it comes for a reason. I hope to outlast its hefty weight on my spirit so that I can appreciate the lessons and grooming that it has to bring to my life.
Monday, February 9, 2009
Wednesday, February 4, 2009
Where it all began
I've been on the face of this planet for a little over 30 years now. Born and bred on a Christian mission station in the southern part of Zimbabwe, I especially appreciate the background that I have and the place that I could call home on that mission field now that I have left. Thanks to the political exploits of Robert Mugabe, I find no pleasure in watching the world around me wither in another man's hands.
My earliest memories of my life are from as far back as the years when I was two, turning three, and I was conscious of the fact that I had a family, two brothers and a sister. I particularly remember this one memory that I will detail here.
My father is a pastor who later trained to be a high school teacher. His area of expertise was Zulu and History. From my earliest memories, he has spoken English in an accent that I can't quite place, but you would have to look twice to confirm that, indeed, this is an African man speaking in English! Despite that high polish in his English, he is as Zulu as they come. He is now retired from active duty. In his early years as a full-time pastor, he was once stationed in Fort Victoria (now called Masvingo, in Zimbabwe). I have a faint, but lingering memory, of playing with one Tobaiwa Masarira. From my mother's recollections of those times, I used to have a fondness for this chap that I can hardly remember because I was SO young!
If I try to get any more specific than that, I am likely to get a concentration headache, so I will leave that aspect of my telling to a time yet future when something might just prod my memory to remember in more detail.
After Masvingo, my father was stationed in Plumtree, and that is where my younger (of the two brothers that I have) was born.
I will take the story up from there tomorrow.
My earliest memories of my life are from as far back as the years when I was two, turning three, and I was conscious of the fact that I had a family, two brothers and a sister. I particularly remember this one memory that I will detail here.
My father is a pastor who later trained to be a high school teacher. His area of expertise was Zulu and History. From my earliest memories, he has spoken English in an accent that I can't quite place, but you would have to look twice to confirm that, indeed, this is an African man speaking in English! Despite that high polish in his English, he is as Zulu as they come. He is now retired from active duty. In his early years as a full-time pastor, he was once stationed in Fort Victoria (now called Masvingo, in Zimbabwe). I have a faint, but lingering memory, of playing with one Tobaiwa Masarira. From my mother's recollections of those times, I used to have a fondness for this chap that I can hardly remember because I was SO young!
If I try to get any more specific than that, I am likely to get a concentration headache, so I will leave that aspect of my telling to a time yet future when something might just prod my memory to remember in more detail.
After Masvingo, my father was stationed in Plumtree, and that is where my younger (of the two brothers that I have) was born.
I will take the story up from there tomorrow.
Sunday, February 1, 2009
Drained...
As for today's events, this idealist is TIRED--dog tired.
When my wife and I decided on opening up that health shop, we had the idea of relocating to a place that we thought was ideal: Port Shepstone. I have already expressed my sentiments about the "ideal" place that Port Shepstone is, so I will make do with what I have. If anything, let the place serve to be a stepping stone to actual ideals.
When we acted on the idea, we separated for some months by a distance of over 450 kilometres. Neither one of us liked that separation, but we deemed it temporary and necessary. In the meantime, my wife prepared to relocate HER business interests to where I was so that we could be together.
Today marks the close of that chapter of togetherness. In a bid to contain the economic losses sustained in last year's foiled attempt to launch the health shop successfully in Port Shepstone, my wife will begin cooping up in a little cottage midway between where we stay and her place of work. The stretch is some odd 110 kilometres. My wife has been driving this stretch every weekday and some Sundays from August 2008 to date. From the halfway point about which I speak, the road is crosses a provincial boundary. From a fairly well-maintained road, it narrows down considerably in width, winds through the most hazardous and haranguing of landscapes, meandering through hilly, forbidding terrain, with many a pothole plus lots of cattle and other domestic animals on the public thoroughfare. Some of the cattle appear to be two-legged as they walk right along the pathway created for vehicles, and walk in such a fashion as to seem oblivious to the vehicles that whizz by, unmindful of the highly likely possibility of being hit by one.
Cattle on the road! That's another story (if not several) for another day.
Suffice it to say that we have come full circle. We will be living separately AGAIN, indefinitely, until my less-than-ideal situation as the husband and father in this house is sorted out along economic lines. I would LOVE to contribute meaningfully to the family budget, and that is just not happening in these circumstances. Lord in heaven, hear our plea!
It could be the very thought of this impending separation, or it could be other factors, or a combination of all of these, but I am just drained. Even as I type this, I am overdue to be in bed, and here I go: off to bed.
One day, I should be able to sleep at 9:00 PM, consistently. In my ideal world.... In my ideal world.
O, well!
When my wife and I decided on opening up that health shop, we had the idea of relocating to a place that we thought was ideal: Port Shepstone. I have already expressed my sentiments about the "ideal" place that Port Shepstone is, so I will make do with what I have. If anything, let the place serve to be a stepping stone to actual ideals.
When we acted on the idea, we separated for some months by a distance of over 450 kilometres. Neither one of us liked that separation, but we deemed it temporary and necessary. In the meantime, my wife prepared to relocate HER business interests to where I was so that we could be together.
Today marks the close of that chapter of togetherness. In a bid to contain the economic losses sustained in last year's foiled attempt to launch the health shop successfully in Port Shepstone, my wife will begin cooping up in a little cottage midway between where we stay and her place of work. The stretch is some odd 110 kilometres. My wife has been driving this stretch every weekday and some Sundays from August 2008 to date. From the halfway point about which I speak, the road is crosses a provincial boundary. From a fairly well-maintained road, it narrows down considerably in width, winds through the most hazardous and haranguing of landscapes, meandering through hilly, forbidding terrain, with many a pothole plus lots of cattle and other domestic animals on the public thoroughfare. Some of the cattle appear to be two-legged as they walk right along the pathway created for vehicles, and walk in such a fashion as to seem oblivious to the vehicles that whizz by, unmindful of the highly likely possibility of being hit by one.
Cattle on the road! That's another story (if not several) for another day.
Suffice it to say that we have come full circle. We will be living separately AGAIN, indefinitely, until my less-than-ideal situation as the husband and father in this house is sorted out along economic lines. I would LOVE to contribute meaningfully to the family budget, and that is just not happening in these circumstances. Lord in heaven, hear our plea!
It could be the very thought of this impending separation, or it could be other factors, or a combination of all of these, but I am just drained. Even as I type this, I am overdue to be in bed, and here I go: off to bed.
One day, I should be able to sleep at 9:00 PM, consistently. In my ideal world.... In my ideal world.
O, well!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
