No Matter What – There is Always Hope

I don’t know about you, but I talk to myself, about all kinds of things. 

The other day midway through a conversation (with myself),  the sound of my neighbour’s laughter – a real hearty belly laugh stopped me in midsentence.  

Gabriel my five year old neighbour had made a kite of sorts using a shopping bag and bits of string.  Whilst running up and down trying to get his kite to work, he was singing and laughing and just being joyful.  

Oh what balm for the soul.

I calmed down, made myself a cup of tea and took a break from my ranting about how dreadful and scary the world appears to be.

Whilst drinking my tea and watching  the birds at the birdfeeder, childhood memories came flooding in.

Growing up as a Preacher’s Kid meant that every five or so years your father was transferred to a different town and a new congregation.  I was born in Maclear, and then we lived in Cathcart and Sterkstroom, Port Alfred, Uitenhage and Oudtshoorn.

My earliest memory was life in Sterkstroom – a tiny Eastern Cape town on the Hex River at the southern foot of the Stormberg – about a forty minute drive from Queenstown.

I must have been about three years old when we moved there.  

Every morning the local dairy delivered milk door to door in a donkey cart.  I loved rushing out to gently stroke the donkey’s face.  Sometimes I got to ride a little way on the cart.  

A friend of mine who grew up in Sterkstroom and now resides in Gqeberha reminded me that “The Night Men” who emptied the outside latrines did so in a horse drawn cart.

Generally, the townsfolk got on; however, every now and again, the Afrikaans/English divide raised its ugly head.

My mother’s most embarrassing moment, so she reckoned when she related this incident to years later!  The man who worked in the National Party Office told her that I visited him, asked for a cup of tea and then proceeded to tell him verbatim what the United Party followers thought about him and his party.  

Apparently my parents decided then and there never to discuss politics, religion or the neighbours in my presence ever again.

I do believe that from time to time my sister Vanessa and I were a source of embarrassment and amusement.   My mother in her capacity as Sunday School Superintendent directed the annual Nativity Play.  My sister Vanessa who at the age of three was probably the youngest member of the Sunday school was cast as the little angel who sat close to the crib.  She was a model angel, so cute, did exactly as she was told, sang away heartily and kept watch over baby Jesus in his tiny crib.

Oh how we loved dressing up in our little outfits, some as angels, other as shepherds, three slightly older boys as wise men and of course, Mary and Joseph. With great excitement we gathered in the sanctuary ready to impress friends and family with our acting and singing skills.  Except, the little angel decided otherwise….she got bored of just sitting there watching the baby, she got up, went and sat down on the cushions in front of the communion rail and did her own bit of entertaining.  She pulled off her halo, sat in a very unladylike fashion all the while pulling faces at the congregation.  The congregation really enjoyed her antics and giggled away, to her credit, my mother ignored Vanessa’s side production, believing that she would eventually get bored and come back to the crib.  Eventually, Vanessa decided to “behave”, she went back to her place at the crib, sans halo, hair all awry and her little angel outfit looking crumbled and creased.  

There is something to be said about growing up in small towns between nowhere and nothing; it takes a village to raise you.  We felt loved and safe and every adult kept an eye on all of us.  

I love the fact the my little neighbour plays outside, he kicks balls, talks to his dog, sings and laughs and takes delight in the simple pleasures like trying to turn a plastic bag into a kite.  

Maybe, just maybe from time to time we should all indulge in simple pleasures like flying kites on a windy day with joy in our hearts and reminding ourselves that no matter what – there is always hope.

This post is dedicated to Gabriel who has the ability to make me go back to my childhood and view the world in childlike wonder.