Monday, 2 November 2009

The Gift!


We´ve been given a gift. Actually many, many of us have been given this gift. The gift of being able to live in another place other than the one where you were born and raised. Some grab the opportunity with both hands and others let it slip through their fingers. I live in a strange land with strange ways. The culture is strange, the people are strange, the architecture is strange to our eyes, the smell of the food is so different, the roads are weird, the law is different. Yep, what I thought was right, is now totally wrong.


The friendly, open people I´m used to have now been exchanged for very withdrawn people. There are no spontaneous smiles, the needs and wants differ to ours, the language is strange to our ears, the children are like tiny adults, the teenagers are from another planet, everyone smokes, drinking is the most popular pastime, excitement is found by thundering down the ski-slopes. There are no steak houses, there are bakeries all over the place, mealtimes are at different times than ours, the glare of the sun is different, the wind hardly blows and even the rain is different.


Everything gets planned way ahead of time and spontaneous moments are not understood. The grass is different, the trees are different, the soil is different. The wild animals are different and there are ravens everywhere you look, there aren´t many other birds around and the seasonal changes are so drastic. Even the exhaust fumes smell different.(they smell like chlorine).


Travelling by train is overwhelming and the whole public transport system is awsome. At this time of year you can buy roasted Chestnuts. Something so new to us. They taste great. Shopping is an unforgettable experience. Things are much more affordable here. The history here is amazing. The old castles and historic monuments are out of this world. The historical churches and remnants from the Inquisition are still to be seen. Ruins from the great Roman Empire are all over the place and memories from the first and second world war are still smoldering deep within the older generation.


Every day is a brand new experience. Just across the Rhein river we enter another world. France!

The street signs are all gibberish and believe it or not speaking English doesn´t help either. I would never have imagined experiencing something so scary yet so exciting. The experience is life-changing.......


Friday, 30 October 2009

What´s in a name...die boere manier!!!!

Daar is ´n ou in ons dorp wie se van Peper is. (in duits natuurlik) So nou staan hy vir ons gesin bekend as "ou Peperpot".

Die ou oom wat elke aand om 6 uur kom skywe koop, staan bekend as "ou oom Stinkie", omdat die reuk wat hy afgee amper ´n mens laat uitpass.

Die Tannie langs ons se van is Asal. Nou staan sy bekend as "vrou Asshole.

Die grootste ou in ons dorp met blonde hare en blou oe is nou wragtig lank en fris. Sy naam is "Wieking."

Die Kruiedokter onder in die dorp noem ons "Liewe Heksie". Sy het al ´n pasient vergiftig met plante.

Die ou wat by die winkel Pall Mall twak kom koop en vreeslik onbeskof is noem ons "ou Spoegbek" omdat hy op ons spoeg terwyl hy met ons praat.

Die dokter se naam is (direk vertaal) "Boomklimmer. Nou as iemand in ons gesin siek is sê ons ons moet gaan boom klim met "ou Boomklimmer".

Daar is ´n ou wat ook gereeld by die spares afdeling gloeilampe vir sy kar koop. Hy ry ´n VW Sharan maar hy dink hy ry ´n Ferrari. Daar´s ´n short êrens in sy kar en ek het hom dit vertel ook, want hy koop werklik elke week gloeilampe vir sy headlights. Sy naam is "ou Globe.

Daar´s ´n sielsiek ou wat nie regtig kan praat nie. Die enigste ding wat hy kan sé as hy by die winkel inkom is Pall Mall. Hy heet "ou Pall Mall".

My baas se naam is "Die Drol". En dit kan ons hardop sê. Te lekker! Hy weet nie eers hoe ons hom kliphard beledig nie.

Die ou oom wat in die huis oorkant ons gewoon het, het vreeslik gelaaik om vis te vang. Hy was so lelik en het soos ´n baber gelyk. Sy naam was "ou Baberbek".

Nou is daar ´n klient wat lang hare het met ´n vreeslike nice ponytail en ´n neus soos die ou op WWA rofstoei. Sy naam is "Triple H".

Die ou wat soos Hitler lyk met dieselfde snor en haarstyle, sit gereeld in sy Opel oorkant die parkie en kyk vir klein kindertjies terwyl hulle speel. Sy naam is "ou Fedopiel".

Weet jy hoe lyk dit as ´n mens sy neus teen ´n ruit druk en jy sien dit aan die ander kant. Ons het al ´n ou gehad wat genuine so ´n ruitneus gehad het. Sy naam was Fanie. Toe word hy "ou Fanie Varkneus" gedoop.

Ons het vriende van vriende op ´n braai leer ken. Die een ou kon ´n mens nie in die oog kyk nie. Sy oe was swart en hy het so ´n skelm look gehad. Sy naam was "ou Rot-ogies".

Die eienaar van ons voormalige huis se van was Dorwerk. Hy het nie verstaan wat privaatheid beteken het nie. Hy het ons altyd kom pla en wou altyd die een of ander ding in die huis kom regmaak. Hy het ons verskriklik ge-irriteer en boonop het sy bek gestink van die tandbederf. Ek dink dis dalk hoekom hy die naam "ou Dooswerk" gekry het.

Daar is ´n jong laaitie wat orals hier in ons dorp rondjaag op sy scootertjie. Daar is nie ´n tyd van die jaar wat hy nie die een of ander verkoue het nie. Sy neus is alty rooi en dit loop permanent. Die kinders het hom "ou Snotneusie" genoem.

Ek kan aan nog honderde sulke name van mense dink wat ons tot vandag toe nog saam met ons dra. As dit nie vir al hierdie nickmnames was nie het ek sekerlik al van
baie mense deur die jare vergeet.

Dink net hoe vervelig dit sou gewees het as my man my moes gevra het, "Onthou jy nog daai tannie wat langs ons gebly het wat so nuuskierig was?"

Neeeee wat! "Onthou jy nog "ou antie Asshole?" klink baie beter.........

Wednesday, 28 October 2009

Problematic Cyclists











I seem to have developed a gigantic phobia to cyclists....and hikers, pram-pushers and nordic walkers. All of the above are crazy fanatics. They don´t know that they´re crazy because they grew up living healthy active lives. No, I think it´s me that´s crazy. I grew up DRIVING. I remember that part of my childhood very well indeed. We DROVE!

My parents, worked from early ´till late and like most South Africans, drove everywhere to get through a day. We DROVE to buy bread and milk even if it was a block away. Yes, I do believe that a huge part of my brain is filled with memories of driving. I was driven to school, driven to the mall and driven to Karate practice. Where are the memories of walking or riding great distances? The only riding I remember was on a motorbike or quad. There was no time for walkies in the afternoons after school because we were swamped with homework. And over week-ends we had better and greater things to do. We had to drive to the supermarket to shop and do the usual things. I also remember that my parents DROVE to the drive-in every friday night. Not that we didn´t have bicycles in our youth. Every child had one of those but stopped riding the thing at the age of 12 or so. After that it became so uncool to ride a bike and only the nerds were seen pedalling up and down.


Well here where we live you can see the Tour de France taking place nearly every week-end and during the week, the strays ride around and cause major traffic congestions. Hubby always says that he should have brought a sambok with so that he could stick it out of the car window to slaan hulle gatte aan die brand. Well, maybe I´m just jealous because I can´t even manage a five kilometre ride without practically passing out. Then you get these people who can storm up a hill that would take me forever to walk up. I like to take a leisurely stroll with my plaas dogs who are also here. The nordic walkers storm past us with disgust, probably thinking that we are the laziest freaks around. What´s the problem? I just don´t see the need to over-exert myself every minute of the day.


Then come the pram-pushers. Not that it´s not good for parents to spent time looking after their kiddies, but I find it extremely disturbing that they do it in the coldest and rainiest weather. They seem to be preparing their offspring for the hardest training in their little lives. Yes that´s it. I´ve seen it with my own eyes, kiddies of 3 and four years taking on a 20 km cycling tour. They can ride for miles and miles. Millions and gazillions of them, the little shits, riding past me, giving me that ridiculous look of satisfaction.

So here I am, the not so great cyclist on my "baiesukkel", the not so great marathon walker and the stay indoors when it´s cold and wet South African, thinking that we were spoilt rotten while we were growing up. Or am I just too hardheaded to understand that every culture has it´s own ways.


I´ll still manage that bike tour next summer, you´ll see.......in the meantime I´ll spend my time DRIVING...hehehe

Thursday, 22 October 2009

It´s about time!


So after two and a half years here in the Black Forest, we can finally sit back and say that we are living normal lives. We seem to have adapted and accepted this strange culture and feel quite at home. I couldn´t imagine having it any different again and I don´t long for my previous life in SA. Life is a challenge and change is part of it.


So now we can say that we are settled enough to have mother-in-law over for a visit. So I phone her and tell her that she can come and visit us and that we will pay all the costs involved. The poor old plaas tannie couldn´t believe it. I mean, she´s never been away from the platteland in her whole life. Being the typical boere antie that she is, she has no idea what she´s in for. She can hardly speak english, and she will be flying Lufthansa. I had to order a wheelchair just to know that she´ll be accompanied onto the plane and that she´ll be brought to us at Frankfurt Airport for fear of losing her somewhere along the line. She would never in life eternal manage all of that on her own.


Ok, that done, I look on the web at what the visa requirements are to have her visit us for 90 days, and guess what? She has to have an amount of 72 000 rand in her bank account to qualify for the visa.(800 rand per day). That nearly knocked me over, she´s only a pensioner for Pete´s sake. So I phone the german consulate in Pta. and was told that she could only come if we go to the Dept. of foreign affairs and fill in an application to have her over if we subsidise her stay her for the whole 90 days. They gave us the permission after checking our whole financial status. They wanted payslips from us both and our rental contract, the whole katootee. This then cost us 25 euros for that permission. Then we had to get her a special insurance, you know the one for death, medical, etc. That cost us 100 euros. Then we had to get a third party insurance for her - cost 20 euros. The plane ticket was 670 euros. The cancellation insurance for the ticket - 36 euros and I´m sure my telephone account will be around 200 euros at the end of this month. So now the consulate tells me that they do not accept faxes or e-mails and this paperwork has to be delivered by the applicant herself and that she has to fill in the accompanying visa application forms at the consulate and sign them there.


Feeling very grumpy about everything I´m putting myself through, I rush to the post office and with a feeling of resignation, ask for a DHL express registered letter to be posted. Now Ivé had

a lot of experience with the postal system in SA and with a great amount of sceptisism post the letter and paid 120 rand to asure safe delivery of the precious bloody paperwork. And I know that all South Africans reading this right now, will know exactly what happened to my letter........


And let me tell you all a secret! I don´t really like my mother-in-law!!!!

Tuesday, 13 October 2009

Die Groot Trek


As ´n mens moet sit en dink, is die uitog uit SA net soos die destydse Groot Trek. Almal was gatvol vir die Engelse en al hulle kak. Toe vat hulle hulle goed en trek. Hulle het nie geweet wat op hulle wag nie. Hulle is die groot onbekende in om ´n nuwe lewe te begin. En soos ons uit die geskiedenis geleer het, het hulle die grootste berge oorgesteek en die wildste terrein deurkruis en wilde stamme raakgeloop teen wie hulle hulle moes verdedig. Daar was niks. Dit was hard en ongenaakbaar, maar hulle het dit reggekry om hulle pad te vind en ´n nuwe lewe te maak.


Vandag, het die ossewaens plek gemaak vir groot passasiersvliegtuie, en waar dit die ou mense maande gevat het om net ´n paar honderd kilometer te trek vat dit ons nou net ´n paar ure om in ander lande te kom. Dieselfde prinsiep, maar net anders om, of hoe sê ek. Hulle moes guts gehad het om dit te doen. Net so ook moet die moderne Groot Trekker guts hê om in ´n plek te gaan bly vêr in die vreemde. Maar soos hulle voorvaders bou hulle aan ´n nuwe lewe en as ´n mens die blog posts van al die Expats lees, kom ´n mens agter hoe gehard die Suid Afrikaner nou eintlik is.


Ek ken nou al ´n hele paar Suid Afrikaners hier in Duitsland en ek moet met trots sê dat elkeen van hulle hierdie moeilike taal aangeleer het en almal werk en leef in ´n plek waar daar net Duits gepraat word. Daar is Russe, Turke, Pole, Albane en baie ander nasies hier, wat na 20 jaar nog nie behoorlik Duits kan praat nie. Maar jy moet hoor hoe gooi die Suid Afrikaners hierdie taal. Dis ongelooflik. Ek ken nou al mense uit die Kaap, Stellenbosch, die Paarl, Durban, Hillbrow en sowaar iemand uit Brakpan. Al hierdie mense het ek toevallig raakgeloop. Ons het al gepotjie, gebraai, gekoek en gekoffie, vetkoek saam gebak en gefest.


Ek wens al die Groot Trekkers daaar buite, waar julle julle mag bevind alle sukses toe.

Stress free environment for Saffies



I´m enjoying myself immensly in Europe, living it up and enjoying fundamental rights like safety and security. Yes, that secure feeling especially in the workplace. Back in SA I was subjected to chronic stress. Our lives were consumed by that feeling of extreme competition. Not climbing high enough on the social ladder and financial downfall is, in my opinion, what everyone most afraid of. (other than the crime of course). Now remember that in SA we don´t have the infrastructure to support the unemployed as we do here. So all we do is surrender ourselves to our hectic way of life to survive. Performance is the name of the game. We drive ourselves into oblivion at our workplaces for fear of losing our jobs. This knowledge makes the employers drive us to insanity. For finding another job in a hurry is like trying to get into NASA. So we perform ousrselves into hell during the week and perform in front of our friends over week-ends.




Competing with friends! Yes, climbing that social ladder. Do you know how stressful and exhausting that is? So we exhaust ourselves at work and still put ourselves through the stress of competing with friends in our free time. What idiots we were. Don´t want each other to think we can´t keep up with the Jones´. So you step up your performance at work, so that your sales increase, or work overtime, so that you can afford a better car or bigger quad bike that your neighbour. So now you have to keep up this performance, which puts you in overdrive and you´re on your way to that place of no return.




Thank, heavens. We escaped! We lead different lives now. I work 4 hours a day and hubby works normal hours. No racing to the unreachable finish line. We earn enough without having to perform ourselves to death. I have no fear of losing my job and there is no-one competing for it either. I live within walking distance to work and take a nice stroll to work every day. Hubby drives 30km to work in his fancy car, we didn´t have to buy to impress friends. My car is only used when I go shopping or sightseeing. I love being stress free. We´ve been set free from all that once was. We regularly get on our bicycles and tour around our area, riding from one village to another and having breakfast or a lekker Latte Macchiato in a secure safe environment. We laugh a lot. Not the laughing we used pack out at van der Merwe jokes around the braai, but laugh because we are happy.




My kids all go to college except the youngest, who is still in school and all this for free of course. Here it´s a basic human right to be educated for free. My kids have opportunities they never would have had, had we stayed in SA.

So, how about our nice weather!


So, last week we had temperatures ranging from 24 degrees to 28 degrees celcius. Today it´s really started peeing snow and rain over many parts of Germany. Apparently, the last time it snowed this early in the season, was 6 years ago and that was the year that it snowed so much and the temperatures were in some places minus 30 degrees. (Augsburg) So we seem to have skipped Autumn, which is my favourite time of the year, and jumped straight into Winter. To crown it all, it´s a dark grey outside and the sun keeps peeping through the thick masses of cloud. And we live in the part that has the best weather conditions in Germany. But for us the Winter weather has not yet lost it´s novelty.


Last Winter, we noticed that most people here tend to hibernate like bears. They stay indoors except for the people that like pissing down the ski slopes at breakneck speed. So early, as soon as it´s light enough we run out like a bunch of cowboys and make snow angels, hurl each other with snowballs and go down the hills with this big round plastic thing with handles on the sides. We are the typical South Africans. LOUD. Here where we stay, it´s not really acceptable to be so loud. But our little village have gotten used to us, and look at us knowingly instead of distastefully. So we are ready for Winter, boots and all and have even arranged a flight for mom-in-law to come and visit for the christmas season. So 90 days with skoonma(mother-in-law) is going to be really hectic, because I have to show her everything. She just has to go home and tell the tale of the expats who took the plunge and tried something else. We´ll take her to Paris and to Switzerland and hope she´ll take home some memories that she´ll cherish forever. She has never gone anywhere other than to Durban and the Kruger National Park.


So, now we are preparing for her visit and hope that she doesn´t get lost at Frankfurt Airport.

Tuesday, 6 October 2009

Pampoen tyd

Dis amper weer Halloween en hier in Duitsland het die pampoengriep almal getref. Dis die enigste tyd vannie jaar wat pampoene hulle verskyning maak. Hulle word net gekweek vir dekorasie van voorstoepe en winkel vensters. Maar net daai groot geldmaak storie in vorm van versiering. Dit onstel manlief hewiglik omdat pamoene daarna net weer weggegooi word, honderde en duisende vannie goed. Ons vreet nou pampoen vir Afrika want na die 31 Oktober sal ons vir ´n hele blêrie jaar moet wag tot ons weer kry. My dogter reken dat dit die rede is hoekom mans hier so erg aan prostaat probleme ly, hulle eet nie pampoen nie.

Elke keer as ons pampoene op die stoepe sien, dan sing ons almal saam, "Pampoene op die dak, pampoene oppie dak....." en kry die snaakste blikke van alle kante af. Dis die wonderwerk van onse geliefde Afrikaanse taal. Ons kan kliphard praat, waar ons ookal is en geen mens verstaan wat ons sê nie. Dit het ons nou werklik moed gegee in ons groot aanpassing in die nuwe land. Hier kan ´n mens vreeslik vinnig geintimmideer voel. Jy kan voel soos die laagste crap op die aarde want jy behoord nie hier nie en hierdie mense laat jou dit verstaan sonder om ´n dooie woord te sê. Hulle het maar net die haatlikste houdinge wat ons nog ooit gesien het. Dan haal ons ons geheime wapens uit. Ons GOOD SENSE OF HUMOUR en ons TAAL. My jongste kyk na ´n baie suur persoon wat ons so onderlangs uitkyk, en sê, Mamma kyk daai vrou het ´n suurpruim ingesluk." Ons krul soos ons lag, want ons kon dit kliphard sê sonder dat iemand verstaan. Ons het werklik nou baie sports hier in ons plek. Die beste ervaring het ons nou die dag gehad toe ons trein ry. Die trein was tjok ´n blok vol en ons squeeze deur al die mens en kry darem ´n sitplek om op te sit. Daar kom toe mense en sê ons moet opstaan want hulle het die seats geboek. Baie verontwaardig staan ons toe nou op en loop. Wat ´n flippen cheek sê my een kind. Waar het jy nou gehoor van trein seats boek in economy class. Hoekom voetsek hulle nie na first class toe nie. Ja nee, hak my seun af, hulle kort net ´n goeie bliksem. Ek wil nie uitbrei oor wat ons nog kwyt geraak het nie. En dit alles so kliphart gesê ook. Toe die trein by die volgende stasie stop, loop daar 3 jonge kêrels by ons verby om af te klim en die een haak af.."Julle gooi daai Afrikaans lekker né...en lag vreeslik toe hulle afklim. Dit was die mees embarrassing moment vir ons.

Koebaai en vaarwel


Daar´s vir ons gesê dat ons die grootste lafaarde is toe ons besluit om op te pak en die groot onbekende in te vaar. Nou vra ek jou hoekom? Hoekom is ons sussies? Is dit omdat ons nie wil agteruit gaan nie, of omdat ek nie wil sien hoe my kinders gaan sukkel om werk te kry nie, of dalk omdat ek moeg geword het om elke naweek om die braaivleisvuur te moet sit en luister hoe almal kla oor die kak situasie in ons land? Ja Marius, jy het altyd gesê dat as iets moet gebeur sal jy at least 5 van hulle saam met jou vat. Watse tjol praat jy? Watse blêrrie crap praat almal deesdae. Ja nee, ons is SA se grootste lafaarde, veral omdat ons van ´n plaasgemeenskap kom en nie wil wag vir die groot Uhuru om te kom nie. Wat is julle probleem ook as ek mag vra. Julle het almal al lankal van die Uhuru ding gehoor en sowaar al julle waentjies gepak, net ingeval dit gebeur. Ek wanneer was julle ooit van plan om ons ook in te lig. What kind of freaking friends were you? Met ander woorde AS die ding nou sal gebeur, sou julle almal in julle 4x4 bakkies met vol gepakte waentjies gespring het en ons agter gelaat het, julle veraaiers. So don´t call us sissies.


Hoekom moet ons nou eintlik skuldig voel omdat ons iets ten goede vir ons hele gesin gedoen het. Ons is nou tevrede. Tevrede dat ons kinders almal nou kan studeer, tevrede dat ons nie meer oor ons skouers hoef te kyk nie, dat ons ´n beter lewe ly, dat ons amper niks stress het nie, dat ons goeie geld verdien, dat ons in vrede kan slaap, dat ons gesonder lewe, dat ons beter geleenthede het en sommer maar net tevrede kan wees oor alles.


Ja Pa, het jy gehoor....ons is happy en ons hoop dat jy ook so happy is soos ons. Jy wat ons altyd beskinder het, jy wat ons altyd sleg gesê het, wat geen goeie woord vir jou kleinkinders gehad het nie, en wat nie eers jou seun kon liefhê nie. Jy het al die jare ons gemanipuleer deurdat jy daai verdommde plaas soos ´n wortel voor jou seun se neus gehou het. Wel, vat jou plaas en druk hom waar die son hom nie kan sien nie. Geniet dit alleen daar in ons huis waaraan ons so hard gewerk het want ons is uiteindelik verlos van daai do***se plaas. Daar is beter dinge in die lewe as daai grond en ons dank ons sterre elke dag dat ons uit daai spinnerak is.


Tot nooit weersiens

Jou Kinders en kleinkinders

Monday, 5 October 2009

To have or not to have!

Ek wonder baie oor die wat te veel het en die wat glad nie het nie. Toe ons nog in SA geleef het was ons ´n doodgewone middelklas familie. Ons het net genoeg gehad om te kan sê dat ons nie alles kon hê wat ons wou nie maar genoeg gehad om redelik te kan lewe. Ons kon elke naweek braai met ons vriende of familie, af en toe gaan fliek, gaan window shop by die mall (en dalk ietsie kleins koop), af en toe gaan uiteet by die Spur of Wimpy. Ons het klere en skoene gekoop by die chinese winkels en maar na bargains gesoek. Ons kon nooit regtig luxuries koop nie en wanneer ons ´n bietjie exra geld gekry het deur oortyd werk het ons onself ´n bietjie gespoil en genuine duur shampoo of dalk ´n nice perfume of extravagant skoene koop. Ek het altyd met ´n shopping list gaan groceries koop en was vreeslik trots as ek een of ander bargain raakloop.

Wel nou het dinge ietwat verander....ek moes DVD´s huur of het nou en dan by die street vendours ´n skelm DVD gekoop wat in elk geval so crappy gebrand was dat dit nie ´n plesier was om te kyk nie, ek besit nou omtrent 350 original DVD´s en weet nie meer wat ek nog wil hê nie. Ons gaan koop groceries nou sonder ´n lysie en ek hoef nie eers te worry oor te veel te koop nie. Die meisiekinders het meer klere as wat hulle kan dra en vergeet partykeer wat hulle nog in hulle kaste het. Daar hang klere in my kas met die tags nog aan. Ons wou so graag ´n nice fancy rekenaar gehad het, maar het nou elkeen ons eie laptop. Nou weet ek hoe die mense in eerste wêreld lande woon, en dit laat my wonder waar ´n mens die strepie moet trek. Het hierdie mense te veel? Hulle sal nooit regtig verstaan dat daar mense is wat maar net kan wens om ´n deeltjie te hê wat hulle het nie.

Ons geniet die melk en heuning, maar dink baie aan waar ons vandaan kom en hoe om hierdie dinge te waardeer.

Friday, 2 October 2009

Onse wiekinge


Die grote wieking dag

Hoe spel ´n mens nou weer wieking?? So omtrent 3 weke terug het die groot radio stasie, Radio Reenboog, besluit om geld te skend aan verskeie dorpe en stede in ons staat. Hulle het begin uitsaai dat hulle ´n wettenskap wil aangaan. Hulle sou elke oggend vir die volgende paar weke dorpe uitkies en die burgermeester wet dat sy dorpie iets moet doen voor ´n ´n sekere tyd. As die dorpie die wettenskap kan nakom sal die radio stasie ´n sekere bedrag geld aan die dorpie skenk vir die opkikkering van publieke plekke, soos speelparke ens. So het hulle ons dorp gewet dat ons dit nie sal regkry om van sewe uur die oggend tot 12 uur die middag 500 wiekinge met ´n wieking boot, ´n vark op die spit, ´n ystersmit en wieking tente sal kan bymekaar kry by die plein voor die munisipale geboue nie. As die dorp dit kan regkry kry voor 12 uur die middag, dan kry hulle die geld, as nie, dan maar net bad luck.

Sewe uur die oggend lui ons foon, daar word gevra of ons asb. soos wiekinge kan aantrek en so gou as moontlik in die bo-dorp kan wees. Die hele dorp was in oproer. Ons bel die bure en vra vir ou gooing sakke. Die meisiekinders vleg hulle hare, ons trek boots aan met gooing sak rokke. ons maak karton swaarde en gooi nog ons vloer mat velle oor ons skouers. Nou is ons werklik almal te skaam om uit die huis te gaan en lag ons morsdood oor ons kostume. Tot ons verbasing, stap daar ´n wieking om elke hoek en draai. Van hulle het moerse horings op hulle koppe, van hulle het wragig genuine swaarde, daar was ´n reuse vark op ´n outydse spit besig om lekker gaar te word. ´n Seiljag staan daar met ´n groot draak voor op gemonteer. Daar staan die ystersmit en slaan daai staal met ´n blaasbalk wat die kole rooiwarm blaas. Die verbasing was groot, almal lag vir mekaar, ander komplimenteer oor die klere of die grootte van die horings, die bier vloei vrylik. Die radio stasie se toerende wa was reeds daar en die musiek blêr uit sie speakers.

En raai wat, daar was oor dsie 1500 van ons wiekinge teenwoordig. Die Party het tot laat in die nag aangehou. Dit was nou vir jou iets anders

Tuesday, 29 September 2009

So nou is ons in feeverhaal land

Julle ken die veeverhale, Hansie en Grietjie, Rooikappie, ens. Daar waar al daai donker woude voorkom. Ons gesin woon nou al 2 jaar hier in die Swartwoud. Hoekom hy swart genoem word weet die hemel alleen, want hier is alles wit. Wit asblik manne, wit poets vroue, wit trok drywers, wit straat veers, ja nee, hier doen die boere alles self. Dis asof ons weg is uit die besigste land in die wêreld en gekom het na ´n land wat nog net in storieboeke bestaan. Ons was verslaaf aan adrenalien waar ons vandaan kom, en was meeste van die tyd high. Nou ondergaan ons vreeslike ontrekkingssimptome. Jy kon ons maar netsowêl in ´n time machine gedruk het en ons ´n honderd jaar teruggestuur het in die verlede.

So wat nou? Nou moet ons leer fietsry van vooraf, ons moet met ´n rooikappie mandjie na ´n regte ou bakkery toe gaan en broodjies koop wat hulle net soos 200 jaar terug gebak het koop, ons moet ´n ander taal praat want (en dis genuine) hulle kan NIE ingels hier praat nie. Ek onthou nog toe ons nog in die kar gespring het en bottelstoor toe gery het om ´n sixpack te gaan koop al was die winkel net ´n blok weg. Hier stap mense flippen vêr om iets te gaan koop of net om te stap. Ek en manlief ry nou die dag fiets en lag ons nog morsdood oor wat ons nou juis aanjaag. Ek was uit asem uit maar trap redelik hard toe hier van agteraf ´n tagtig jarige ou blikskottel sy klokkie lui om verby te kan gaan en steek my verby teen ´n honderd km per uur. Nou vra ek jou watse slap gatte ons nou eintlik geword het. Ek kan nou rêrig baie sê van die ou generasie germane maar sal dit los vir my volgende post.