Pictures of the Canyon

Have you seen that the best paintings have shadow and light? Sometimes the pictures are all the more beautiful because of the shadows in them.

I think of the hike in this way. How can it be, that something so difficult, something for which you curse yourself while you are doing it, can also be so magical? The only way I could explain it, is through the "shadow" and "light". Just like my life... the light is all the more visible, because of the shadows.

As I looked through the photos, so many memories came back. I want to share some of what it means to hike the 85 km in this canyon.

There are many stories of the canyon. Things that make it fun while you are there, things to ponder as you walk. There is the story of 2 students who tried to complete the hike with a motor bike! (Of course it would be students who tried this stunt!) The old wreckage of the bike is down there, as evidence of the truth of this tale. What amazed me is - they managed to get a long way before the motor bike called it a day.

Then there is a grave! I kid you not. It is the grave of Lieutenant Thilo von Trotha . He was a German officer killed in a skirmish between the Germans and the local Nama people in 1905. He had been sent to make peace with them. While he was negotiating with them, another Lieutenant with 30 cavalry men entered the canyon in pursuit of cattle which had been stolen from them. Believing this to be a trap, the Nama's shot von Trotha. He was buried on the spot.

There are sulphur springs in the canyon too. The others claim to have seen them! I will have to go again ... I think I had my head down and was trying to complete the day's walk, when I passed those by.

One of the most surprising things for me, is that there are wild horses in the canyon too. We were privileged to see them.

Now the group we hiked with, has gone every year for the last 8 years. They have made their own traditions and they pull some crazy stunts along the way. On about day 3 there is a sand dune. They climb it, and then have a race to the bottom to see who gets there first. I sat and watched this in awed amazement. They have spare energy for this?????

They also have a small bottle of whiskey - hidden away. Every year, they go check if it is still there, then hide it away again.

The most famous - is their beach race. There is a place which looks like a beach. The contenders, with full kit of rucksacks on, line up and do a 100 meter sprint. This is so hotly contested, that it is filmed and photographed to determine the winner! Yes - certifiable, the lot of them. What do you think happens to your brains, cooked in the hot Namib sun?

I will continue in the next post, and expand on a day's hike. My time is up for today, and I guess yours too. Next week, we will be back to the reality of Cream Puff, the Prof and NMH. But sometimes - it is nice to take a slight detour.

Foot Woes

So, turns out that hiking the Fish River with just about brand new boots, is a bad idea!!! I had only pulled out my old hiking boots about a month before the hike, and discovered to my huge dismay that they were worn through… done for.


I went off and bought new ones. While walking around the shopping centre, with some “hiking purchases”, I had run into the Prof. What are the chances! He tried to peer around me to see what I had in my packet, and I, like a petulant child, just hid it away more so he could not see!!! This was none of his business. Of course he went to ask the children what I was up to.

Even though I had tried to walk the boots in before the hike– a few weeks is just not enough. My feet blistered so badly that there was not a single toe which did not need bandaging. On day 2 – when my feet where still intact, I bumped a baby toe so badly that the toe had no skin left. There is nothing for it – you have to walk.

My friends from work still joke and say I had such an easy time – I floated through the canyon. In a manner of speaking I did… on pain killers!

After a while, the hiking friends got smart. When I stopped talking, they gave me more pain killers – they knew the pain killers had worn off ! I think I drank more painkillers than I ate food. I popped pain killers the way Jelly Tot Man popped Jelly Tots!

The doctor booked me off work for 2 days when I got back, and for a week I could not put any shoes on my feet. Believe it or not – my feet recovered!


BUT - Walking the Fish River Canyon was one of the best therapies I could have done. Being out there in the wilderness gave space to clear my head. I came back with a soul restored, with new vision and a new way of thinking. My plans of grandeur – had been grand indeed. Best of all – I did it without the Prof. So, another sign of independence.

It might sound funny to say it now, but it was a big achievement. Marriage is like a garment which you wear, it is an identity. Divorce tears that identity away – and takes a piece of your soul with it. I needed to learn to function on my own. I needed a new “garment” . I didn’t much like the “divorce” identity either… so all these processes where part of building a new me – a new identity. I was learning to be an Yvonne apart from the Prof… I was learning whom God had intended I should have become.

Flying on wings of eagles

We are still hiking! There are more stories to tell.

Another friend I made, a wise man by the name of Des – an impressive age of 60 something and walking for the 8th time? (I think) - walked a ways with me.

Yvonne, he said, in many ways, walking the Fish River Canyon, is like the divorce you are going through. In the beginning – you have to walk all the way down to the bottom. You have to hit rock bottom like you do on day 1 of the hike (yes - you jolly well climb down for the whole day long! )

Then you start walking. You have to clamber over obstacles, you have long distances with tremendous heat, and desert conditions to endure, you walk many kilometres alone, you fight pain and fatigue. It is a battle won or lost in your mind. But along the way, there are friends. They cannot carry your burden, but they can walk a few miles with you, there are rest periods, beautiful scenery, and suddenly – one day (day 5 actually), you reach the other end. Then you have climbed out – and you will fly like an eagle. The same with your divorce.

He got me thinking, and I realized how right he was. I began to compare this hard hike to the journey of divorce.

Well, room left in today’s post – Jelly Tot Man. Marius works with me, and this was his first ever hike. A pretty intimidating first attempt I think.
Well, he had listened very carefully to Elisma – a veteran hiker – who works with us too. Elisma has hiked the Fish River about 8 times – yeah, crazy I know. She had told Marius to bring Jelly Tots along. They are a good source of fast energy, she told him.

He took this advice, very much to heart. I wouldn’t be surprised if he had Jelly Tots packed for every meal!

So, at a crucial time, when he needed energy, he ate a packet of these. This initially helped – sending his blood sugar sky high, then of course his body released insulin – to bring it back under control, sending blood sugar levels plummeting to lower than they were before. The moral of the story is: don't eat jelly tots for energy - they will drop you! Eat them together with something which releases sugar slowly!

The way you eat down there, is crucial. IF you get it wrong, then you can’t walk. Come to think of it - the way you THINK down there - is just as crucial - get that wrong, and you can't finish either!

So, Marius ended up with no energy and unable to continue. We fed him peanuts – slower releasing energy and sat with him until he felt better. At that stage he vowed, if he found any more jelly tots in his bag, he would throw them, all the way out the canyon. He never EVER wanted to see Jelly Tots again.

My kids loved this story and the name Jelly Tot Man was born! They still ask me - how is Jelly Tot Man? Say hi to Jelly Tot Man for us!

So ... How ya doing Jelly Tot Man!

Walking past the ghosts of yesteryear

Colleagues at work, were hiking the Fish River Canyon .

The Fish River Canyon … majestic beyond words, hauntingly desolate, remote and above all – difficult. When you are down there… you are there till the end, no turning back.

I was intrigued.

I had hiked the Fish River Canyon when I was about 19 – at the time, with the Prof. I almost said – with the Prof in tow – but hey – I must be honest and tell you it was the other way around.

I had gone on a few hikes before I met the Prof (who was a student at the time). We did this hike together, and it was not much fun. (Maybe I should have caught a hint right there and then. Hiking tells you a lot about a person. Either not enough – or I was not paying good attention.)

Be that as it may, it was difficult – when I did it that time. I was not very fit, and it took me all day to walk the approx 20 km which you hike per day.

But… here was opportunity knocking at my door. Remember the ridiculous ideas of grandeur? Well, here I could live some of that out. Along with those ideas, where some others too – like the fact that I would like to know that I could do this by myself – without the Prof. That I would have been able to do it then too – without the Prof.

The group got 2 cancellations – and so – Jelly Tot Man and I signed up to go. Jelly Tot man – works with me, and he actually got his name down there in the canyon. Later more about that.

So, in May, we set off on the long trek to Namibia. I knew a grand total of 2 people! Both from work.

I was going to walk this walk, to sort out my head. I was walking it alone, and I was going to do me some serious talking to the Lord. When I was done, I knew I would be done with a lot of baggage too.

God must have been smiling a huge smile, and said – uh uh – I don’t think so (about the walking alone part).

Down there in the canyon – I made a Pivotal Friend. I had had pivotal moments, but there, I met Jonathan.

Jonathan is a missionary, journalist, photographer… and he was in SA with his family, on missionary work from Malaysia. I think the photos I have posted here are Jonathan's.

What an unlikely friendship we struck up.

I walked slowly (nothing changed from when I first walked), and Jonathan walked fast, but was delayed by taking photos. We both love stories, we both love talking, and many times the group joked and said they heard us coming because of all the talking we did.

But that talking, was perhaps just the thing I needed. Jonathan challenged my thinking, and it was from him that I first heard of a counselor by the name of David Riddell.

I can still hear in my mind, Jonathan’s words: the King and Queen of every relationship is trust and negotiation. Trust comes through time, negotiation means that what I think is just as important as what you think. If we don’t agree, we talk it through to a settlement.

Then he would ask me – did you and the Prof “negotiate” to a settlement?
No – I said – I just kept quiet.

Well, David Riddell says – the bible does not say – keep the peace at any price, it says – speak the truth in love.

Then on another day, he would talk to me about emotional health. He would ask- do you know that each person has an “unbearable feeling”? The feeling is something they never want to feel, and for that feeling they will cover up and lie and do whatever it takes … not to feel it. So Yvonne, what is your unbearable feeling?

Down in that canyon, you can only go forwards or backwards, but you cannot run away – not even from yourself. My unbearable feeling – was to be left alone, to have no one… that unbearable feeling had probably kept me chained in that marriage.

And so we walked, and talked, and there were many wisdom's and treasures for me to learn.

Thank you dear friend, for all that you taught me, for the patient counseling, and for helping restore “family” into my little home.

The Reply

So nothing earth shattering happened! He replied with a very short email:

Hallo Yvonne

Sure, send me your contact details, then we can talk.

Hello – NO WAY. I didn’t want this guy having any contact details of mine. I eventually settled for giving him my cell number.

Thought about a name for him. Let’s call him NMH (Not Murderous Hubby), since I am still here, as well as Cream Puff and the Prof!

A few emails passed back a forth. He had a strange, short way of writing. His spelling was atrocious – as Mom was quick to point out. (Spelling is a HUGE issue for the Dutch!). Clearly this writing business was not for him. But he did persist with writing, as opposed to phoning – to my relief.

When my counselor found out that I had email contact with NMH, she almost certified me mad on the spot. You have just got out the fire yourself, she said. Now you will be dragged back into the middle of it.

In the mean time, The Professor found out that I had email contact with NMH. Wow – that caused fireworks too. He found out because NMH told him. They all had some kind of meeting, I was to find out later, where NMH told them what a mistake they were making. At some point during this meeting, NMH lost his temper, and threw a coffee cup at the Prof, smashing the cup against the wall and sending coffee flying in all directions. The Prof has never forgiven NMH for this insult!

Anyway, The Prof phoned me and warned me about this dangerous man too.

So, after giving it some thought, I wrote NMH another email and said: I am sorry, my counselor thinks it a bad idea that you and I have any contact. I thought I could help you, but clearly I am too close to this situation. I am sorry.

The reply came swiftly: no problem, I understand.

The Tipping Point

In the previous post I described 2 events which happened days apart. But a third incident happened which was to be the tipping point.

I took the children to their counseling session on Friday.
Before they even started their session, the counselor pulled me into her rooms and said – you will never guessed who phoned me today?
A friend of mine from the university! This friend, she continued, is extremely worried about HIS friend. His friend’s wife just left him, and moved into a Professor’s house ….. and as I listened to the story – I realized – I know this story from the other side. This is your story!
You should contact him, you could help him so much, you have come such a long way.

Looking at her for a dazed moment – I eventually asked in an almost whisper – what is he like – is he violent?

She just laughed and said – he is just an ordinary person.

The Letter

So, how do you write an email to your soon to be X husband’s, girlfriend’s husband.

CAREFULLY?....

I gave some thought to what I knew about him.
By now he must know of his wife’s affair. He had lost his wife and children, and who knew what would happen to his house. One of the things I had been told about him was that he had never even bought Cream Puff a dishwasher.

In light of a few things – this was as ridiculous a statement for The Prof to have made as any of his silliest remarks. The fact that I did have a dishwasher, was no thanks to the Prof. I once worked overtime and the person I worked the overtime for promised to pay me enough money to buy the dishwasher. This was the deal – so that I could get back the hours I lost with Marinda – who was still a baby at the time. In retrospect, the dishwasher business is even funnier for 2 other reasons: later I was to find out that Cream Puff had a full time housekeeper (i.e. no need for dishwasher), and the Prof has not bought the Cream Puff a dishwasher either.

Other than that, I knew that he was perhaps / perhaps not … a violent man.

That mischievousness in me started a pretend email:

Hi there
I am Yvonne, the Prof’s wife – you know – they guy who stole your wife away? Well, I am happy to tell you –you DON’T have HIV AIDS!!!!

Errr….no – I guess not.

I started another one.
Hey there
You will never guess who I am…. Yep – your wife’s lover’s soon to be X.


Errr… no – not that either.

I could go along the lines – hey there, are you murderous, angry and about to commit a family murder...

SIGH. I am seldom at a loss for words, but I guess I can be forgiven for this fix.

The eventual offering went very carefully along the lines of:

Hallo Cream Puff's Husband (no – of course I knew his name). I had better protect his id too.
I am Yvonne, and by now I am sure you know who I am. I am sorry for your heartache and mine. Perhaps it will help you to write? Writing has been a huge help for me. But if it is too awkward for you, I understand. Choose the path that suits you.

Well, I hesitated one final time over that send button, closed my eyes and clicked send.
THERE – it was done.

Paradigm Shifts

In an effort to catch out the Prof in his lies, I began driving past his house every time I had an opportunity.

On one such occasion, I saw a different car parked in the driveway. I realized this must be Cream Puff’s husband. Well, I thought coldly, according to all the stories I have heard about him – he must be committing a murder in there.

Well, you get on with it, I thought. I guess I will read about it all in the newspapers tomorrow. Needless to say, no such news paper articles followed.

Well, I thought, that must mean he was visiting his little children. This was the beginning of a mind set change for me. I had thought about this man, and wondered what he was going through. I had his details, his name, his photo, and his email address – all from my PI days back in December. Briefly, I considered writing again, as before, but once again I thought better of it.

A few days after this incident, I took the children to their piano lessons. The piano teacher said to me – you know Yvonne, you should write to Cream Puff’s husband. I once had a student who was in the same situation you are now, and she contacted the other party.

I had quite a number of problems with this – foremost being that Cream Puff’s husband was a murderer and violent man. No indications from his photos as to the truth or otherwise, of this. I told the piano teacher and she just laughed. Don’t you know Yvonne, that that same stuff is being said about you?

Hey, I thought – what IS begin said about me?

Nameless Dance Moves (present and past)

It looks like Arno will remain an everlasting source of entertainment to us!

I have long wanted to write a piece about him, telling some stories from the time where the Prof left home. They are all loose bits and pieces. The opportunity just needed to be born - and that happened yesterday!

To me, the stories side by side, of old and present, shows a certain growth in maturity and thinking, which makes me a very proud mom today. It makes me think - we did not do too badly through this whole business of divorce.

I can't really remember how long after the Prof left, that these things happened - but it was still in the early days.

The Prof had given Arno a pocket knife. The knife was put in a drawer and forgotten about. But, after the Prof left, Arno began searching frantically for it. It was almost like an obsession, and it broke my heart. To me, it felt like he was trying to keep pieces of his dad, through that knife. He became so upset about it, that we all became involved in searching for the knife. When we eventually found it, he looked at it sadly and asked - now who will teach me to use this? .... Oh boy - heart breaking stuff... things I had no answers to.

Another thing that happened in those early days, is that we started to notice that around evening, the doors became locked. It didn't take long to realise that Arno was locking them. He did this every evening, with a frightening regularity. Eventually I asked him about it, and his reply was as follows: "I don't feel like waking up in the middle of the night - all tied up".

Although it had a sad element - we did laugh about his way of expressing that concern!

The final story of that time, is one I struggle to express. I am not sure what was going on inside his little head, but he began to get very frightening "visions". They weren't dreams... it happened while he was awake. He would "see" things like a man falling down, blood spots spraying around etc. These were petrifying things to have happen, and we had no answers. We didn't understand what was happening, and we didn't know what to do about them. The doctor prescribed sleeping pills, or tranquilisers - or something of that nature.

I think that these "visions" were all part of the stress he was feeling. They have completely stopped, and we have forgotten many of the details of the visions - thank goodness.


Well, now the present day story.

Apparently one of his teachers had given the class some dance instructions, written down on a piece of paper. The class was divided into groups and then told to perform this dance.
His group however, thought they had more practice time, and when it came time for their "performance", they had not even practiced it once.

When the music came on, Arno stood for a moment and weighed up the options. On the one hand this was going to count 10% on his report. (I'm wondering - WHICH subject does this count toward - but I leave him to tell the story in his usual Arno style:
"Moooom, the kids in my class, hey... they are actually LIKE nasty. If you even trip then they make fun of you - then you have lost your reputation like..." and so it continues.)

On the other hand, he is concerned about his fragile "reputation" in front of his friends.

"Well, I decided I WANT that 10%", he said. He had no idea of what dance was on that piece of paper, but he started dancing. He demonstrated to us what he did. I wouldn't know what it is called but he rolled his arms, did a funky move with his hands in front of his eyes, and bent over backwards. We laughed so, that the tears were running down our faces. Hey - I didn't know my kid even KNEW moves like that. He hates singing and dancing, so what are the chances that he can pull any dance moves?

Well, apparently the teacher liked it too, and awarded him 18 out of 20 points, despite the fact that it wasn't the dance it was meant to be.

"And MOM - the class applauded. They didn't do that for anyone else". He then said - dad had told him, if ever he forgot words of a speech - to "wing" it. And that is what he did with the dance - he winged it!

Well done Arno - I am so proud of you.

So, the visions have stopped, the locking of the doors is left up to Werner, the pocket knife is once more lying in a drawer forgotten somewhere, and Arno knows dance moves which I have no names for!

Lofty walking plans

I had a tremendous urge to do something extraordinary. Maybe it was the idea of “team building” with the children, or something to make my life worthwhile, when someone else had declared it “unworthy” and not good enough. Maybe it was to feel some kind of grandeur – to make it count. I can’t define the feeling really, I just remember it was there.

I had some mad ideas like: the kids and I taking a year off life and walking around the coast line, riding bicycles from here to Cape Town on all the round about off routes – or something of that nature. (Smile!)

Well, along those lines, but nowhere near my “lofty walking” plans, we set off for the Walter Sisulu Botanical Gardens. Yes – VERY tame in comparison to my ideas of grandeur!

I was aware of a hiking trail going up beside the water fall, but had never walked it completely. We set off with great gusto, but not a lot of preparation. I think we had 1 bottle of water between us, and that was it. Once we reached the top, I became aware of the idea that we were at a cross roads, decision wise. We didn’t know how far it was to walk, how long it would take, if we would need water along the route and above all, it was pretty late in the afternoon. A vague feeling of unease settled over me. Did I have to make this decision, alone?

Wake up and smell some roses Yvonne, do you see anyone else?
Heck no, except for the kids. Guess I had better decide then.

Ok, we can do this… and off we went. As I walked, God spoke to my heart. “You really can do this you know. You can take leadership, make decisions, you can be whole, though you are a single parent.” A huge peace settled over me. God said it, that settles it – I was now the head of this little unit.

We reached the top of the mountain and were rewarded with a beautiful view. I, of course, tried to imagine what this must have looked like 100 years ago – with lions and animals walking around, with no house in sight! But that is just me. The children seemed to get the same sense of peace and well being that I had. We felt proud of our achievement, small though it was. And, it did cement a sense of “team” into our family unit.

Click this link to see some more photos of that day.

At a later date, I took my sister and her family along the same walk. Roy said to me – they measure your “balance” in life by how much time you spend in this kind of recreational activity. Well, I was getting balance back!

That day, happy and tired, we turned homeward. We had not walked the coasts of South Africa, but we might as well have, for our sense of achievement.

Honesty

April came, and with it the occupation date of the Prof’s house. Guess what – Cream Puff was going to move into the house!

Well, well, well – THAT was interesting information. What had happened to the murderous husband? He was then now aware of the situation? He had to be, his wife had just moved out and taken their 2 little children with her.

The Professor was going to stay on in the garden cottage (he claimed).

There occurred a very funny event soon after this. The children went to visit the Prof in his garden flat, every 2nd weekend or so. On one such visit, Arno decided he wanted to sleep over at his dad’s place. This caused a crisis for the Prof. Why? Well, because there was no bed at the garden cottage.

He told the kids he lent the bed to a friend, and took them post haste to the shops to buy 2 sets of bunk beds, sheets and duvets.

“O dad, where have you been sleeping then“ , they asked very innocently.

On the floor, he told them. Yeah right.

So continued the lies to the children. The little ones were still completely unaware of the existence of Cream Puff.

If there is something I have learnt in this whole process, it is to always tell the truth to the children, no matter how much it hurts, no matter how difficult it is. If they catch you out in a lie, you will have broken a very fragile link called TRUST. We now have a saying in our house which says – the truth always pays you back.

There were other indications of the lies we were being told. There was a weekend when the Prof could not take the children on a certain Monday during school holidays, as had been arranged. When questioning him about it, I stumbled upon the truth by guessing it. He had been with Cream Puff to her mother’s farm in Witbank.

Backtrack with me quickly all the way to where this began. Do you remember the night the Prof got mad and left? He went to “Bronkhorstspruit” – where his gran used to have her farm – to clear his head? Well, Cream Puff’s mom had a farm in Witbank. These 2 places are next door to each other – in a manner of speaking. I would discover later that the night the Prof left in such a temper, he drove through to Cream Puff and her family, on the farm in Witbank. An ever such a slight twist of the truth. Her family – her mother, sister etc, thought the Prof was divorced. So, even her family was being told fibs.

I asked the Prof in sickly sweet tones – o could you not have waited until the divorce went through before getting up to such stuff. O no – I answered myself – I guess not, you are, after all, already living with her.

He vehemently denied this. I just laughed.

I look back at these events and feel sad for the person I was then. At that stage – all these details still mattered so much - and hurt so much....

Sisters - Guest Blog by Joan

My sister asked me to write a “guest blog”. At first I dismissed it, but it has such a nice ring to it – like being the celebrity invited onto a talk show, and the more I thought about it, the more the idea started to grow on me until I knew exactly what it was that I would write about – sisters.

I have two daughters of twelve and ten and I would describe their relationship as a classic “hot/icy” one. Either it is working very well (the minority of the time) or it is very volatile (the rest of the time). The following conversation I had with them describes it well. My eldest daughter, Nicole, was working hard at having a generally good attitude (not so easy for an almost-teen, I think). She told me that she thought it was easier to have a good attitude at school than at home. Ashlyn, my youngest, then piped up that she thought it was easier to have a good attitude when there was no one around! That, I imagine, would include bossy older sisters…

Well, I have an older sister myself, and there were times when I was young where I would have fully agreed with Ashlyn. I can still recall my sister telling me, an impressionable 5 year old, that she had magic powers and that if I didn’t do everything she told me to, she would use them against me. I think I might have been her slave for a day or two before I realised that that was worse than anything she could do to me.

Not only did she manipulate me with fear, she also used physical strength, and one Sunday evening my parents were forced to drive me to the doctor after Yvonne tried out a judo throw on me that broke my collarbone. Oops, did I say Yvonne? Maybe we need an “alias”. How about “Black Belt”? (I fully realise that you, the committed blog-reader may never actually read this material since “BB” obviously has some editing powers over her own blog, but nevertheless, I think this needs to be brought out into the open).

For the record, I will admit that younger sisters aren’t angels either. One of the nastiest things I did to my sister was “steal” her prefect badge. “BB” had been chosen to be Head Girl and I was jealous and irritated because now she would have even more reason to lord it over me. So I did the unthinkable: I hid the badge. This caused much greater consternation in our household than I had anticipated – my sister cried while my parents moved beds and went down on their hands and knees in search of the missing badge. Maybe that would have been a good time to own up, but I did the only, cowardly, thing I could: I snuck the badge into my hand and ‘joined’ the search, eventually pretending to find it in a dark corner!

Well, somehow we made it through the teen years and into early adulthood with a fairly intact relationship. Yet even as adults, jealousy and competitiveness could rear its ugly head. When my sister took up guitar lessons about ten years ago I was childishly MAD! That was always the instrument that I had played and I thought she was trying to show me up.

Looking back on it all I realise that the relationships we have with our sisters are complex, sometimes even incredibly fragile. But what a beautiful bond it can grow into if we work on it. That is what I have now with my sister - a powerful, sustaining friendship that I never have to doubt and I know would carry me through the toughest times of my life. And that is what I pray Nicole and Ashlyn will find in each other.

Oh and Yvonne - I forgive you for the collarbone!

The Professor Upgrade (Present-ish)

Especially for you Denise! An extra long post to make up for yesterday!

Thank you to you all for all the loyal support and encouragement to write! I never dreamed this would be so much fun. It is such a compliment to hear that readers are waiting for the next post and are disappointed when I miss a day! Sorry!!!!

I have only been posting 4 post in the last few weeks, all for different reasons. I had a dear school friend visiting from Australia, and so, I took off the first Friday! (No posting).

Last week, Werner and I were photographing a wedding of friends. I took Friday off to go help her. Don't get me started on Garmin. I have long had the joke that Garmin is my Professor "upgrade", because she tells me where to go, and when I am tired of her, I switch her off. That is way better than a cranky husband don't you agree?

Well I needed to go to Pretorius Street in Lyttleton. Garmin did not know where that was (yeah - I had not updated her). Turns out that Garmins do need some attention after all. BUT... Garmin did know where Pretorius street was in Pretoria. Well, that is all the same direction isn't it? How many Pretoriuses Streets can there be in 1 city! So - killer logic of programmer has decided that that sounded pretty right to me. Off I went, full of confidence (on my 2nd Friday off).

Well, somewhere around the time where Garmin took me past the Prison, I began to chew my lip and wonder if perhaps Pretoria had more than 1 Pretorius Street. When I was turning up and down streets in the CBD I was sure I had it wrong. Out comes cell phone. Checking around for cops - last thing I need now is a fine for this, but hey - I am in a fix. Except for garmin, I wouldn't even know how to get home.

My friend is buying flowers at the market, for the wedding. She says I am not in Lyttleton at all, but more than that she can't really pay attention to right now. Mean time I am driving around and around the same block. Don't really know where to drive to now.

I phone Werner. He goes like so: Lyttleton, er Lyttleton.... yes, that sounds familiar, now why does that sound so familiar....O yes - I think that is in the direction my parents stay in.

WHAT ?????????????

He has been married to me for a year. Does he not know yet that I don't even know the direction my own house is in, never mind that of my in-laws!!!!!!!!!!

In fact - I have been a master disguiser of all things embarrassing - like the little detail that "left" and "right" are abstract concepts for me. If my watch and ring are not on - then I am "offline" regarding what is left and what is right. (Let's hope he skips this blog!)

I put down the phone, pick a direction and drive. That took me back past the prison. O good, that sounds like it is direction homeward. Now, who can help me here.... AH LYNETTE.
She is a darling friend from work, she stays in Pretoria, and she knows all sorts of stuff. (I can't even begin to define stuff - but Lynette knows it all!)

Lynette...HELP. I am somewhere in Pretoria, and I need to be somewhere ELSE in Pretoria. What a honey... she looked it all up on the Internet, she talked me through from the 1 somewhere to the other somewhere, and I got there in 1 piece. Shooo... big relief.

Now I have been doing some thinking about this Garmin business. You see, after the prof, I said - who needs a husband when you have a Garmin... but now... I am saying: who needs a Garmin when you have Lynette. I can't exactly switch her off, but Lynette needs no upgrading. Sounds good to me. She is now the new Garmin.

That accounts for my second Friday.
This weekend, other than taking the wedding photos, got me started on creating a website for Werner and his photography . If you want to take a peek at his photos they are there somewhere under the wedding link!

But, by now, I can hear you asking - so what kind of programmer ARE you, if you have never designed and made a web page? (An oldish one!!!!) I was taught programming way back when, and not taught about Internet and anything webby. I had to learn the rest myself. Just in my defence - I am an SQL programmer (ha ha - some technical stuff just so you can see I can do that too) and I work on things tax related-ish.

So, we are now into this week and the point I am trying to get to. 2 things have happened. Problogger says I must invite participation, and the 2nd is my aunt was visiting from Holland. She read one or 2 blog pieces and said I sounded "bitter. "

I took yesterday off to give this a good think. Last thing on earth I am is bitter, and I would be failing in my effort to help other people with my writing, if I do sound bitter.

Ha -so, I wanted to ask you for your comments. Do I sound bitter? Is there anything you would like to know more or less of? How can I improve?

I know commenting is difficult in terms of - you have to create an account with google in order to do so. But I would LOVE some feedback. Something else - is there anyone reading who doesn't know the ending to this story? OH I really do hope so!

That Old Geyser (No not the Prof!)

At last the geyser story. Remember I told you our geyser burst – and it had a funny story. Well here goes.

The house and general garden needed a lot of work and repair. I began slowly and cautiously. A friend - Handy Heinz, helped with these tasks.


Somewhere along the lines – whilst the Prof still had some goodwill left toward me, he had asked me if he could help me with the geyser. Apparently the pipes looked rusted, and he had bought pipes and valves the previous winter already, to do these repairs, and he was willing to help me.

At this stage I had developed a serious allergy against the Prof and his help. Something inside me just said –NO.

Before it became an issue, the geyser suddenly lost pressure, and heat. I had Heinz over, who found a burst pipe, and needed to repair a whole stack of the old hot water pipes.
While this process was continuing, Heinz told me, I notice that you have a 400KPA geyser. (This is the pressure of the geyser.)
O, I said – knowing diddly squat about this stuff. Not programmer related language this, you understand.

Well, he continued, you have a 100 KPA valve on the geyser, which means that the pressure which comes out is very low.

Ooooh – now he was starting to speak a language I understood. This was starting to make sense. For 14 years the Prof had been trying to sort out the pressure in the shower – with limited success. Could it be that THIS was the reason why?

Well, shall I replace it for you with the correct valve, Heinz asked.

Yes please. The new valve made an amazing difference to the water pressure in the shower. More good stuff coming out of this whole business.

The Prof became aware of the geyser problem via the children and came to talk to me about it. "O", he said, "I hear you have someone helping you?"
Yes.
"Who?"
I shrugged. Not his business, I thought to myself.

"Well", he continued, "shall I give you the stuff I had bought for the geyser anyway, then Mr Campbell can use it."
Mr Campbell was not helping me with the geyser – but I let the Prof assume whatever he pleased.
He walked into my garage and came out with a package containing a box.

To this day I don’t know how I got so lucky. I don’t know anything about valves, pressure etc. But, as I glanced at the package, I realized it was a geyser valve, and happened to catch sight of the 100KPA written on the side.

I felt an awful, mischievous glee bubble up inside me. I did not have to accept the Prof’s charity after all!

Sticking my nose in the air and giving a dramatic sniff I piped up with my new found knowledge:
"O – I see you have a 100 KPA valve. But my geyser is a 400 KPA geyser, so I don’t want your valve , thank you very much. THAT is why I have been battling with the pressure for as long as I have."

A moment of stunned silence, before the Prof grabbed the package in a huff, turned on his heel and left. Good Riddance.

Boy, was that fun.

The link to the present day, is that some 2 and a half years later, this very old geyser of approximately 18 years (we think), burst.
We managed to contain most of the damage because we were home when it happened.

The Prof, of course, had to make some sarcastic comments. He told the children : "well the geyser burst because your mother put a 400KPA valve on it. That’s what happens if you do stuff like that."

When the geyser guys came, they installed another 400 KPA geyser. Werner casually asked them, so what pressure valve do you use for that, 400 KPA?
They looked somewhat surprised – and then answered politely – yes OF COURSE.

Humph, well Prof, wrong again – you are the weakest link, please leave.

A Goodly Dose of Reality

The day I decided to go for HIV AIDS testing, I actually shocked myself. I had not really given this aspect much thought. But, I suddenly stood still and did some hard thinking. It was like having a bucket of ice poured over you. Your mind cannot even begin to comprehend the effects of a positive outcome.

Did I believe the Prof , when he said he had a chaste relationship with Cream Puff .... duh – NO.
Well then, you have better get yourself tested, Yvonne.

My GP, just looked at me. After a moment's thought he said – I am glad you came to this realization yourself. I wanted to tell you to have it done, but it is better that you realized this for yourself.

He sent me off to the labs. It would take a few days to get the results. If the results were negative, I was to bring myself back in 6 weeks time, to have them repeated again - window period.

I was still on the Prof’s medical aid scheme, so not long after the 1st set of tests, he phoned me up FUMING mad and spitting volcano fire. He had seen on his medical aid bill that I had been for the tests.
There is not a bl…y chance in hell. IF you have AID’s we will have to find out where YOU got it, he shouted, slamming down the phone.

I started laughing. That reaction really tickled my funny bone. I must admit, THAT was a lot of fun. As with so many things in my life - the light side to a shadow story.

The results were negative, as well as the subsequent set of tests.

But, to me...No proof of the Prof’s innocence.

Goodwill

"Goodwill" is another chapter straight out of The Script. It says that you are responsible for keeping the goodwill between the parties.

Well, the Prof was picking up the kids for school every day, and he still had the remote for the gate, as well as the keys to the house. I had asked him not to enter the house, since it was now my territory. (Did I really think he would respect those boundaries?)

I changed the alarm on the house, and lo and behold: guess what we found sneaking in to the house while I was at work?!!!!!!!!.

Yes, one certain sneaky Professor.

O look, now you’ve ruined the friendship Yvonne!

He phoned me and demanded to know why I had changed the code.
Very sweetly, I told him, I don’t have the keys to your new house do I?
Oh– he offered, would you like them?

I ignored this ridiculous remark. It took a while to sink in, then he phoned me back to tell me that I am busy destroying his "goodwill." Yeah right – by the way – WHAT goodwill?

He decided he would show me his house when I was in a better “mood”. Well, I never did get to see his new house – so I guess I am still in a "mood".

In the mean time I would have to start taking more measures regarding access to the house. I changed the locks, and called the alarm company to change the master code. It had transpired that the Prof knew the master code, and I did not know how to reprogram it. (But - I do now!)

The Prof then began watching the children putting in the code to the alarm. He would refuse to stand away while they set the alarm. I was only just beginning to learn that he was a control freak. I had never really "noticed" it before.

Another thing which was running around in the background, were the divorce papers. Trying to get a settlement document through proved to be stressful and traumatic.

I had excellent advice and support from my brother in law. He pointed out things I must look out for etc. He helped me word and reword that document so many times over. He helped me to see things in a different perspective. Once again, my family was my saving grace. Thank you Roy, I would not be where I am today, if not for your crucial, to the point advice and backup.

One of the things people told me to watch out for, was not to feel sorry for the Prof. I had to get the best possible deal from the divorce, because these things are difficult and expensive to change afterward. So, that all was messy and unpleasant.

Divorce does not tear 2 people neatly along a perforated line. It is like taking a sheet of paper and tearing it. It will not tear straight.

Secrets, Lies and Deception

The day after Marinda found out about Cream Puff, the Prof spoke to her about it. He told her his sad life story – how hard his parent’s divorce was on him etc.

A quick aside: By now you should know I am opinionated, so here is my view. For many years I pandered to this excuse in his life. I was “rescuing” him with the idea of – shame he grew up in difficult circumstances. BUT – there comes a point in one’s life where you are responsible for the choices you make. You choose your path and walk it, and then do so with responsibility. At 40 years of age, I reckon that time was long overdue for the Prof.

Now, he said, he had met someone who understood him like Muff and Jack understood me. How can you compare such a friendship with and affair - and then dare to use it as an excuse for such behaviour? (More excuses to avoid taking responsibility.) He also told her not to talk to me about it – to prevent our having a “misunderstanding” about it. (What's to misunderstand?)

What confusion for a 13 year old to try sort out. Even I was battling with it. You have a father who is not telling the truth, and telling you not to trust your mother either.

I thought about it for a while, and then told Marinda to speak to her counselor about the whole thing. I told her that she needn’t walk around with a head full of secrets, she needn't be part of the deception.

I also said that the reason he didn't want her to speak to me about it, was because he was afraid that I would take a moral stand against what he was doing. I told her – "but that IS what I am doing – I am taking a moral stand. What he is doing is so wrong. "

Oi – what awful lessons for children to learn. I however, was also learning that I could not protect my children from these lessons. The best that I could do was to give them good, solid advice. The best I could do... was give them the truth.

A much worse divorce

We are now still only in March 2007. The Prof had immediately bought a new house.

The kids pointed out the house to me. It was 5 minutes drive away from my house. Grrrr…

Around this time, Marinda started to become suspicious about the smses the Prof was sending. She also happened to see a valuation certificate for a tanzanite ring.

One afternoon she came to ask me," mom – what is tanzanite?"
I told her it was a stone with which the Prof had long since had a fascination.
"Does dad have a girlfriend", she asked.

I told her the truth. It hurt, it was a shock, but I am still glad I was honest.

The Prof found out via the kids' counselor, that Marinda knew about Cream Puff. He was mad as rats.

He said some VERY ironic stuff to me :
“Now I know I can’t trust you, you should keep the children’s highest good in mind”. Hey buddy - have you looked in the mirror lately????

Are we talking about TRUST? Do you know the meaning of that word? Duh.
Who has been keeping the children’s highest good in mind until now? Double Duh!

His problem, when it came down to it was this: that Marinda knew he had lied to her. He wanted to lay the blame of that broken trust at my door. I was having none of it. His excuse was given in an sms later that evening:

"Yvonne, I am sorry for the hurt, the confusion and the pain. I am unfortunately not sorry about my decision to leave. If I seem dishonest in my dealings, then it is simply because I am trying to keep the hurt to a minimum. I know how hard it is, because as a child I went through a much worse divorce. I am sorry."

A much worse divorce??????? IS there anything worse than your own divorce?

A small peak at my journal entry:

A few thoughts. How on earth can he know how I feel because of his parent’s divorce? He destroyed the most precious thing we had – trust. He shattered my dreams, broke my love – there are no words to describe this. A tornado has gone through my life, and now I am sifting through the broken rubble to see if there is still anything of value to pick up and take with me. What a sad picture. Also – how could his parents’ divorce be worse than his own divorce.
I often think I have lost a “living” husband.

History is a good indicator of the future

Picking up the thread of the story - we were last at the point where the Prof went house hunting. I had been to see the bank to stop him using the existing bond to do so. Well, the Prof bought the house, and not with our finances.

I remember asking the counselor – at what point do I sue for divorce?

Her words to me were: you have moral, legal and biblical grounds to sue for divorce. How would I feel about it? Would I let him come back if he should change his mind? If so, I had to tell him that. I had a brief debate with myself. I did not want to be the one to start the divorce proceedings, but in the bigger scheme of things – did it matter who did the actual filing? The marriage was over.

But… I would give it my last best shot.

I can’t remember why, but on that particular day he was waiting outside for me to finish up. I decided to tackle the problem there and then, in the waiting room of the counselor. No time like the present!

"I want you to decide what you are going to do", I told him. " I am going to seek legal advice, to protect myself and the children, and if need be, to sue for divorce. "

He looked extremely shocked. He had never thought I would take it further. A part of me wonders if he would have left everything as is? In that way – he could walk back whenever he wanted to?

I said further, " I think we can walk the path of healing, counseling, and we can fix this mess. Give it a try? If you don’t, at some point the regrets will come, be it 5 or 10 or maybe even 20 years. "

"However, if you decide this is it, then so be it. I will walk the path of divorce with equal success – and be assured – it WILL be a success (even though the world views divorce as failure)."

After listening to my speech, he asked if he could have 2 days to think about it. (cheek!)

O boy – I was back in “no man’s land”. But I was living there without any blinkers on. I thought about the past 2 months, and realized, every time that the Prof was confronted with a new step, he would hesitate, take a step back, and then eventually choose the Cream Puff.

With that in mind, I made an appointment with a lawyer. I was taking control back of my life, and I felt empowered and proud of myself for doing so. It changed me from being a victim, to being someone who was dealing with the cards life had just dealt me.

The Prof proceeded to take 5 days instead of the 2 he had asked for. Then he came over and started:
"I can see that you still want to try BUT… "

At that point I held up my hand and said ENOUGH.

" I have listened to enough of your BUT stories, and I refuse to listen any more. I have already been to see the lawyers, get off my property. "

I had been right. The Prof’s history had become an excellent predictor of which way he would jump.