Exhausted!

There's nothing more exhausting, it seems, than a good trampoline jumping session. I admit, I haven't attempted it recently as I've been holed up at home still struggling with my breathing (apparently this is a slow healing process in the natural) but this morning I went out for a coffee with two delightful young ladies, and then this afternoon spent a very relaxed time having a braai (barbecue) with friends. It was one of those braais where the meat was eaten straight off the grill  - the most tasty, finger-licking-good way in my opinion. And for the kids there was lots of playing, until a few of them simply fell down in a happy heap.

Grade 2s

I've found that classes (the children in them, that is) often take on the personality of their teachers. The Grade 2s at Vision Valley School (VVS) in Antananarivo, Madagascar are the most well-behaved, hardworking, friendly and delightful children, all, I believe, because of their amazing teacher Kay... 

It's all in the finger

Mr Robin in typical pose

The finger. To describe. To explain. To make a particularly pertinent point. To stick up a sleeping student's nose. The finger is the thing that makes me the teacher I am. If I was to sit still behind my desk and quietly tell my students to read chapter whatsit or learn 20 vocabulary words quietly by themselves then I would go mad, and they would all become a noisy, unruly bunch or find themselves in a permanent stupor. 

I'm not a particularly good teacher, but I am an energetic one. I try to find things that will interest and inspire and excite the students and I make liberal use of the finger. 

But now that's all over. It looks like health issues will be keeping me in South Africa and I have had to resign from my teaching job in Madagascar. What does the future hold? Who knows? 

Will it be an exciting ride? I'm sure... 

And so, all my wonderful students, buckle down and make the most of the little bit of schooling left in this term. Run with perseverance towards the final exams. Grab your futures in your own two hands and work. Hard. And if you were to falter, if you were to stumble, look up and remember "the finger" and the face and voice behind it spurring you on.

Kids on Sunday revisited

Three weeks ago I did a very candid post "Kids on Sunday" while in Madagascar... Not as candid, but here are some of my favourite kids from our church in Pretoria. Admittedly, they aren't great photos, but they are the cutest children...

She shows her love for me by kicking me in the knee or standing on my foot. But an angel (sometimes).

She gives the biggest hugs; unlimited numbers of them. The sweetest thing.

I've clearly been away from Pretoria for too long because this is how I was greeted by the princess of the woods... And when I said hello to her by name she asked, "How do you know me?" Well, at least she eventually found her smile.

The confines of clothing are just too much for "W" to handle. A weekly occurrence!

Some of the children with half an Easter Bunny...

And lastly, something that just couldn't wait - time to water a tree before heading home...

A tall tale

The dearest 4-year-old, Evan, had a few more funny things to say again recently. Oh, how I miss that boy who's back in Madagascar... 

So, Andy, his eldest brother was speaking about the fact that he had had chicken pox. "So have I," replied Evan. 

"No, Evan, you haven't," replied Andy.

"Yes I have," retorted the youngest indignantly. Of course I've tasted chicken pox before." 

The Midgley's new home has a little pond outside. Evan, playing fishing had this to say: "I've caught a hummingbck whale!"

More about Evan here.

Easter Shopping Madness

Shelves and shelves of the evil stuff

What is it with people and needing to buy things, stuff, clutter?

I had to go to a major retailer today - a store similar to Walmart in the States, I imagine. I wouldn't choose to go on any day, let alone a holiday weekend, but it was the only time I could. Oh, the crush of people, the frenzy of buying, the naughty children careering around on bicycles, scooters and little kid-sized trucks. I stood there pondering about worse things I could be doing and couldn't think of any. Doing paperwork in Madagascar, traipsing through the Siberian Tundra or cleaning out a used longdrop would have been less torturous (and tortuous, as it turns out).

In short, it was chaos. And the things people were walking out of the shop with was just mind-blowing. Where does all the money come from? How do people afford all the stuff - the new flat-screen televisions, bigger fridges, carts piled high with food and crisps and candy... I've lived in Madagascar for two years - perhaps I'm just over-reacting when comparing this to the abject poverty over on the island. Perhaps this is normal.

But the worst came at check-out when I had to walk past the shelves of chocolate screaming out to be bought. Talk about real torture!

The Grade 5s

I'm highlighting some of the junior grades at Vision Valley School in Tana this week... They are all currently on Easter break, but I know they get a kick out of seeing their pics on the Internet.

Here we have a few of the Grade 5s...

H

Group work

S

Girls

Boys

Cantankerous old mule

Joy and laughter live in this home. As does my friend Wendy.

I love being back in South Africa - with people who understand me and laugh at the same jokes, with food that I understand and enjoy, and with vehicles driving on the left side of the road (which is the right side) and not the right side of the road (which is the wrong side).

Last night I went to visit Wendy, one of my oldest friends. Okay, perhaps that's the incorrect use of the word and she would be offended to hear me calling her that... not oldest, "most longstanding". The friends I saw for lunch on Sunday say that Wendy and I have one of the most bizarre relationships they've ever seen, but she's nice to me, feeds me, and seems to enjoy my company, so I'm stubbornly holding on to her...

(It took her dad around 10 years to build the quaint little abode, seen in these photos, for his daughter but Wendy has since transformed it into a simple place of creative flair).

And so, there I sat relaxing after a phenomenal supper of soup and fresh bread (with a glass of red wine in hand) on an evening that was more wintry than it should be at this time of year, when a fellow friend and teacher (we'll call Shirley "Anonymous" to protect her identity) threw a vicious barb in my direction - she called me cantankerous!

And there it was, out there in the open, like a prickly pimple in the middle of one's nose - absolutely impossible to ignore or shake.  One of the other guests reached for her phone to look up what the word meant, and then everyone proceeded to cackle with glee at the description - "disagreeable to deal with; contentious; peevish: as in, 'a cantankerous, argumentative man'."

Oh how they all laughed. Oh, how they all nodded liberally in agreement!  

But at least "Anonymous" found such a descriptive word to differentiate me from others. Imagine if I was just "ornery", or even worse, "nice"?

"Anonymous" with Wendy under the sign that typifies the home - Live Well. Laugh Often. Love Much

A window-sill filled with little knick knacks gathered from around the world

Above the fireplace...

There's even a little piece of Madagascar in one of the corners.

Framing love

The wrong date but never out of date

 

Z

"Z" is one of the little Grade Ones at the school I've been teaching at in Madagascar. She's the cutest knock-kneed gangly child; shy with an impish smile. Throughout summer she would come to school in the most out of place clodhopper-like boots. At first she was incredibly wary at the site of a camera, but in time she warmed up to it and developed into one of my most photogenic subjects.

I'm not the most patient of people (I am a bachelor; I'm not sure if that has something to do with it) and kids sometimes just drive me mad. But the last two years at Vision Valley have been an absolutely blessing. I wouldn't have changed a thing...

Z after lunch

Z and those boots

Z the pseudo-tennis star

Z on the climbing frame

The mall of choice

Climbing the hilarious cow sculpture.

Madagascar doesn't have malls. It has one coffee shop and no movie theatres. The DVDs that one rents are all pirated. Clothing stores and sport shops exist, but few people buy from them. Illegal street markets thrive. 

Good restaurants are few and far between. More common are street vendors, preparing kebabs on rinky dink barbecues or batter-smothered fried eats in oil long past its expiry date.

But I'm in South Africa and making good use of the many malls. My favourite, and closest to my dad's home, is Irene Village Mall - open-plan, inviting and more creative (with its cow theme) than most of the other generic shopping centres around here. Kids can be found playing in the fountains, or relaxing on the udder of the upturned-cow sculpture in its central square.

It's a fun place. Laughter can be heard. And there's place to sit and just enjoy the setting of the day to the calming sound of flowing water.

Children having fun in the fountains while their parents relax with a cappuccino in one of the restaurants lining the square.

Just relaxing at the end of the day

At the Movies. With comfortable seats. And high-quality screens and sound ... Amazing what brings enjoyment when it's not the norm.

Relaxing on the udder. Bizarre, but hey, why not?

Boring, boring, boring...

I'm sorry to say that life here in South Africa just isn't as exciting or as crazy as back in Madagascar. I know one has to make one's own adventure and excitement, but I just cannot seem to stop sleeping because of my not-entirely-functioning lungs and the meds I'm on. And the routine of normal life goes on for most of my friends, so I can't really hang out with them all of the time either.

Yesterday I did visit some friends who go way back to a time when they didn't have children and I was still young and stupid. We ate well, had a few laughs, and I took some pics of their non-photogenic teenage daughter (that's what she called herself) and their dog.

Pray that my world becomes a bit more interesting, for your own sakes, or this blog might become as boring as many of the others out there!

Playing coy

Well, that's kind of a smile...

The dog. I never did get its name, and it didn't complain about me taking photos.

Without

Without country, without home, without car, without job and without good health …

A wanderer for God - one step at a time.

But Jesus.

More Midgleys by the minute

I'm sitting in Pretoria, South Africa at a coffee shop with a cappuccino in front of me blogging - about Tana, and about the Midgley boys in particular. My good friends Kim and Sue and their five boys recently moved to a new home, mostly so that their boys, who are homeschooled, would have more friends to play with. 

And now their home is like a train station, with the "Dutch boys", who live five houses down from them coming in and going out as if they're part of family. At any given time one can find 3 Midgley boys and two Dutch kids at the Midgley home, with the remaining Dutch boy and two youngest Midgleys at the Dutch family's home. (And, in fact, in any combination one can think of...)

I was amused to hear Sue asking her 4-year-old at supper recently if he had eaten during the day... She hadn't seen him for the whole afternoon, and just assumed that he would have snacked at his friends' house... And the two families have a good understanding that when it's time for the children to go home then a simple command will restore the balance.

A lounge filled with boys. One Midgley, one de Waal, one Midgley, one de Waal... Best of friends.

The three eldest Midgley boys. No, hold on, that's two Midgleys on the left and a de Waal on the right.

The eldest de Waal boy in the Midgley lounge with some funky glasses left over from the World Cup in South Africa

Friends ...

I still haven't been feeling wonderful, and so had a lazy morning yesterday, but the rest of the day was filled with friends:

First-up I stopped by 3Ci, to visit my former colleagues and specifically the amazing Russell, juggler of at least three people's work! And somehow he even managed to fit in a semi-deep and profound conversation with me...

Then it was off to Thorsten, aka T-Bone, to celebrate his birthday with him. Another amazing man with a passion for God and a heart for the hurting. Paralysed from the chest down in a motorbike accident several years ago, and suffering from all sorts of regular health complications, he nevertheless remains the heart of the party, has a wicked sense of humour and is humbly working at being the best husband and dad possible (despite his self-admitted shortcomings). This is him in his special wheelchair that allows him to "stand", which helps keep all those pesky internal organs doing what they should do.

My next stop was a serendipitous cappuccino with a friend before I ended up at supper with my two beautiful girls and their mom. Whenever I need some lung-crushing hugs and amazing food I can't go wrong with stopping by their house. Here Kimmy shows her delight at her mom's home-made butternut soup.

Pigeon poop and a couple of parties

Last week the students heard that I would be leaving school early to return to South Africa because of my health. 

The Grade 3 girls and their teacher threw a party for me complete with "pigeon poop", Doritos and biscuits to eat, then at lunch time the Grade 10s invited me to join them for pizzas. 

At the end of the day I discovered that the Grade 11s and 12s had organised a very creamy cake to say goodbye.  The fact that it had a beautifully-written "Bonne Anniversaire" iced across the top was irrelevant. In this case, it truly was the thought that counted!

"Pigeon Poop"

Is one allowed favourites? Well, Lilyn, in Grade 3, must be one of mine... After school her older sister came to me with a gift - a little bouncing ball snow-globe with a smiling, waving alien inside. She said Lilyn had wanted to give it to me to say goodbye, but was too shy. Thank you, L!

I'm okay, but now where's the car?

I am currently in South Africa seeing doctors to find out more about the lung condition I developed over in Madagascar.

On Monday morning I borrowed my dad’s car and drove through to see my first-choice doctor, who poked, prodded, asked about the history of my condition and then sent me out to the hospital down the road to get x-rays taken of my chest and sinuses. I walked out to an empty parking lot. I looked right, looked left and looked right again, shrugged my shoulders and realised that car thieves in my native land had upped their game – the car was gone.

Reporting the loss to the police was, well, amusing. Firstly, my life bears a remarkable resemblance to Days of our Lives or some similar soapie. It was quite something explaining that I was driving my dad’s car, which actually belonged to my mom, who used to be married to the doctor outside of whose practice I was parked at the time of the theft… Then I pointed out that I work in Madagascar at “Vision Valley School”, A-n-d-r-a-n-o-m-e-n-a,  A-n-t-a-n-a-n-a-r-i-v-o. Try getting a policewoman who has been on duty for two days to spell that correctly. In the final reading of the report it had become “Virgin Valley School” and the town name had lost several syllables. But the police were very helpful. At least it wasn’t a cellphone that had been stolen, because that seemed like a much more harrowing offence to report.

But back to the doctor part of the story. My sister very kindly picked me up from the hospital and took me back to my ex-stepfather, who examined the x-rays, carried out a few other tests and (jokingly) told me that I should live at least another month. My sister, who had at this stage wandered into the consulting room uninvited, suggested I start a “bucket list” of things I’d do in my last month, like movies I’d love to watch. I said that Facebook would be the perfect place to post it, but she was horrified at the thought because of all the people I would have in tears as a result….

It turns out many of my friends are just not that sensitive, however… Here are some of their reactions to the “What if I only had a month to live?”:

• Would it be utterly insensitive and self-absorbed if I asked you to write a blog?
• I would cry then ask to inherit that Nikon of yours.
• We could go on holiday for a month. Who’s paying?
• I’m not surprised, quite honestly. At least we have an excuse for a party.
• Can I have your camera and laptop? It’s for a missionary.
• I’d act sad for a minute, then take leave and go on an adventure with you.
• Great, we can fit in one last barbecue!
• Good, that’s enough time for you to come and see us. We do love you. Sometimes.
• What? At least another month!?! And at most? Where will you do this living? 
• I know what I wouldn't have said: "Can I have your house and millions?"

Many of my friends were too shocked at the possibility to comment and told me so when they saw me…

What would I do if I only had a month? I’d definitely spend it with friends and family… I’d go out to restaurants more… I’d probably try to laugh as much as possible.

What would you do?