Hi everyone - things have been hectic. We are in South Africa at the today but have to go back to Botswana at some stage this week or next month or who knows....
Ss here is my news our news..
As many of
you will know my grandmother died on Saturday the 14th April after
suffering a pretty major stroke on the 11th April.
Ironically
we both got sick at around the same time in 2008 when she was diagnosed with
cancer. She showed a huge amount of determination and strength throughout her
illness, given that she wasn’t ever expected to have survived for so long. If I
possess even half of what she had in terms of fight then I will have a better
chance than most people do. She still managed to burn around Southern Africa
and even managed to squeeze in a trip to the UK in 2009. She was loved by
everyone who met her but I am sure the pedestrians of Howick can sleep a bit
better as she wasn’t meant to be driving around and one stage admitted that she
couldn’t feel her right leg after the cancer spread to her shin.
We planned
to make it back for a family gathering in Mooi River but unfortunately I was
pretty ill in Zimbabwe so left a day later than planned and we didn’t get to
see her before she died. We had a wake in her memory on Saturday the 21st
for family and friends and the amount of people who attended and volume of messages
sent from around the world really brought it home to me how many people she had
influenced over her 77 years. She started studying Arabic in her sixties,
refused to be called Granny and told inappropriate jokes. What more do you
need?
Thanks for
the message for those who sent them through.
So where do
you start? First of all things the more things change the more they stay the
same. I stupidly envisaged coming out to Southern Africa, parking off in the
glorious sunshine under an Acacia tree and writing some kind of memoir, seeing
visitors and drinking tea and generally trying to fight off this disease or the
side effects of the drugs in some kind of genteel way. Of course I was wrong.
Instead
it has been constant traveling, dealing with the world of Immigration in
various countries and their formalities and or in our case let’s call them deformities.
In Botswana the more formal and bureaucratic approach is favoured and but in
Zimbabwe it is more chaotic and frustrating.
So because
our initial visa application Botswana was rejected we have moved down to Mooi
River in South Africa to stay with my Uncle and Aunt and family while our
application is being processed.
In the
space of about 2 months Jay has driven well over 6000kms back and forth from
Botswana, South Africa and Zimbabwe. My Botswana uncle and aunt’s RAV has been
driven to edge of destruction. We managed to borrow my South African uncle
and aunt’s Volvo to drive to Zimbabwe once we realized that we had no Police
clearance for the RAV. My wife somehow managed to fit in both my wheelchair and
shower chair in the back seat after everyone else either laughed at the idea or
just tried to ram everything in. I love the sign at Volvo.
We are
staying at my Uncle Kevin’s and Aunt Leigh’s farm in the Natal Midlands. It is
absolutely stunning but couldn’t be more different than Botswana in terms of
climate – it green and mountainous and is near the Drakensburg Mountain Range.
It is a bit of a change from the heat and bush of Gaborone but we are spoilt as we are in a stunning farm house that has been kitted out for
wheelchair use so again it easy for us. Here is the view from the front verandah. Don't be fooled though, it was 1C this morning so is getting cold.
In the Natal
area there are a lot more medical facilities down compared to Botswana so I
have managed to get my pressure sore looked at and get my teeth sorted out. 32
years of no dental work or fillings came to an abrupt end when the lovely
dentist was drilling away, only to stop, remove his mask and tell me what
lovely teeth I have and that it must be the chemo that is causing the problems.
Thanks for that buddy.
The
pressure sore on my ankle is still a pretty major issue but we are on top of it
but how the medical companies justify charging the equivalent of £200 for a
month’s supply of fancy dressings is beyond me! Before you all email me miracle
cures for pressure sores, please don’t.
We have found something that works for
us so whilst pouring warm honey covered in seaweed that has been gathered by a
three-legged transsexual badger on the wound may be the way to go for some people, we seem
to be winning slowly but surely.
The pressure
sore is a bit of a beast to be honest and needs to dressed, cleaned and waterproofed.
Between that and raising my legs for the edema, Jay spends at least an hour a
day dealing with nursing me! As well as
managing to burn my leg in the shower, burn my foot after getting about 10
minutes of direct sunlight in the car and getting some kind of stomach bug in
Zimbabwe I am keeping my poor wife busy. I am starting to get sores pretty much
whenever I knock my feet or scrape my skin so I need to be a bit more careful. An abscess was discovered above the sore so there is more drama. This is what a pressure sore looks like! That monstrosity is my ankle.
So since we
came down to Mooi River at the beginning of March we have popped up to Zimbabwe
to see Jay’s parents and our friends in Bulawayo and then up to Harare for Kate
and Mark’s wedding.
It is fair
to say that in Zimbabwe things are slightly different but all things considered
the people here are still pretty much friendly and retain their sense of
humour. Just don’t drive at night or on a public holiday. And remember your
reflective yellow jacket, red triangle and fire extinguisher otherwise you will
incur the wrath of the local police in no time at all.
Oh yes and
remember your USD$1 to pay for the toll roads that are like concrete bubble
wrap and seem to a playground for a variety of goats, donkeys and cows that
want to smell your bumper at night. But the roads and animals aren’t as bad as
the drivers.
Even my Zen-calm-like
wife felt the frustrations of Zimbabwe’s roads as we spent ages stuck in jam on
our way back from the wedding in Harare after a head on collision caused a massive
delay. Some people were trying to cut into the queue to get across the bridge
and both of us decided that keeping calm and carrying on was the way forward.
We decided that raising our stress levels was pointless. Predictably, queue
jumping and pushing in didn’t work as we seemed to be only people not moving.
I lasted
about 30 minutes before I adopted the verbal abuse approach towards drivers
trying to barge us out the way.
Even Jay
screamed at a taxi driver whose approach to his vehicle was to treat his
paintjob as some kind of silver from a scratch card and scrape most of it onto
other objects. Jay’s stern words obviously had some effect as we then witnessed
the same taxi driver crash into the back of someone and few miles up the road. Does
that count as instant Karma? Some people are just oxygen thieves.
Zimbabwe
has improved a lot over the last 4 years or so but still suffers from constant
power cuts and general disrepair after years of economic neglect. But now some
(lucky) people can buy food, petrol and even a few luxuries so it seems to be
heading in the right direction. Apparently Harare is now rivaling Tirana in
Albania as the resting place for second-hand Mercedes’ from Europe. Is that a
good or bad sign? I can’t tell really.
Probably
the most disconcerting aspect of Zimabwe is driving around Harare during the
night during a power cut and not being able to find the Monomotapa Hotel which
is a 20-storey hotel in the Central Business District due to non-existent
street lighting.
Jay and I
spent most of our time with my wife’s parents Den and Pegs, who have adapted
their house in Bulawayo so I can use it without any hassle. It was great for Jay
to spend some time at home after dealing with my manic family. My family take
the noisy approach to most things and we all mostly talk at once the whole time so to
go to the Parks’ was sedate and relaxing even though we limited time in
Bulawayo, 1000km to Harare and back and then 4 days travelling if you add up
the SA to Zim journey.
So that is how 2 weeks holiday actually becomes
significantly shorter!
I reckon I
need a 3 days of rest for each 500kms travelled so I am doomed for the couple
of weeks. You know what, we chose to come out to Africa so seeing Kate and Mark
get married, seeing my mates Sam, Matt and Bridge, Shelley and Enzo and many
others is worth it as I might never see them again. I know I will regret naming
people because I will forgotten loads of people.
Lets wrap
it up as they say. Guys there is no internet here on the farm whatsoever so
please realize I am now unlikely to respond to emails. We have about a 100km
round trip down to Howick to my aunt Claire’s olive shop to use her computer in
the middle of her office so it isn’t easy to keep in comms anymore. Speaking of
olives (or just blatantly pluggint them) if you ever drive past Howick or find
yourself in various shopping malls please try Romesco Olives.
So I repeat
there is no email.
