3. Lies

3. LIES

06/09/2002

All my life I carried on with the assumption you have to accept whatever cards you get dealt in life, get over it and make the best of it.  I know now that this is a lie because everyone has their own destiny in their hands to some extent.  The choices you make, determines your destiny.  Pity you only find that out later in life.

Like most children, we did not have a happy childhood.  Mom and Dad got divorced when I was four and Biscuit was about ten or eleven.  Mom had custody of us and not being the perfect mom, also made her fair share of mistakes.  All is forgiven now, but they unfortunately left scars.  John was a train driver and had an accident for which he was suspended without pay for a period of time, leaving mom to support a family of four.  Needless to say she could not make it. 

I do not remember much about this time, but there are one or two incidents printed in my memory.  Now if this is a true reflection - I do not know.  Keep in mind that all these letters are my feelings and how I experienced it.

That morning mom said good-bye to go to work and asked us to please stay in the house all day, not to go outside and stay away from the windows.  She did not explain to me why.  Then a car stops outside, and wow, it’s my daddy!  I can remember him and Elizabeth sitting down with us on some or other steps, holding us and crying.  They said we had to take a drive with them.  I said mom’s instructions were not to go anywhere and we better get back in the house.  They convinced me to go along eventually.  After a few hours I was getting worried because we were driving and driving and driving.  I told daddy to turn around because we are not going to make it back home in time for when mommy returns from work.  I was then informed that we are not going back.  We are going to stay with them now, and that Auntie Elizabeth is my new mommy and I have to call her mommy.  There will be no crying, because this is the way it’s going to be.  I do not remember much after that.  I don’t know if it was because I blocked it out and if that is where the seed of silent rebellion was planted in my heart.

Biscuit was the rebel.  She had the guts to persevere.  I just bottled it all up deep inside where no one could see and day-by-day the hate would grow.  I accepted what life dealt me, but I hated every minute of it!  And I hated every person I ever got in contact with.  One half I hated for doing it to me and the other half for having a better life than me. The only one I never hated was Biscuit, because she was in the same boat as me.

The same went for my marriage.  I married my X not because I loved him, but because he got dealt to me, and I made it work.

I met him at Balmoral, it’s a dance venue just outside Witbank, and we both loved dancing.  I was only nineteen at the time.  Dad warned me from the start that he was not the right one for me, but being the rebel by heart, I would not listen to any advice.  And because dad said it wasn’t going to work, I would show him, I’m going to make it work!  Then dad made me choose between him and this miner, and I chose the miner. 

I ran away left home one day when they weren’t there, and moved in with a friend for a few months.  I worked in Bronkhorstspruit at the time and Mr X to be was an apprentice in Witbank.  We were engaged for a few months and I suspected that he was fooling around.  So I found a job in Witbank and moved in with him to keep a close eye on him.  We shared a three-bedroom mine house with his parents, his two sisters and two of their children.

I was once again rebelling in silence with every aspect of my life and this relationship, but I was making it work.  Then he qualified and the mine said we could have a house. Now this is all we needed to get the flame going.  The mine said we had to be married and so we got married to get a house.  He did not even propose to me, and I had to buy my own ring.  This was all decided on the Tuesday, and the Saturday

1 October 1988 we were married.  All planned and executed in less than a week.

Biscuit still asked me while I was getting dressed if this is what I really wanted, and I said yes, but in my heart I was screaming so loud that she must please take me away from there, because I am in so deep and don’t know how to get out.  For some or other reason I am scared to change my mind.  I always think about the others and how I will be letting them down instead of thinking of myself.

When after a while the flame died down and the fighting started, I thought babies would make it better, mistake number two.  That even complicated things more.  Then the lying, drinking and disappearing started.  When my daughter was six months old, I just could not take it any more living a lie, and I left.  I moved in with my friend from Bronkhorstspruit once again.

I had no income and at that stage did not even know I could apply for child support.  Mr X knew I was shit scared of my Dad and that’s where he went.  My dad called and said:  “Stop your nonsense and go home with your husband.”  And that’s just what I did.  Not because I wanted to, but because I was scared of my dad.

I dealt with my version on life from 1988 until 2001.  By then I had two kids.  My daughter (Garf) and my son (Rusty).

During August 2001, I took a trip.  This is a trip that changed my whole life drastically.  I tasted the sweetness of freedom to be myself, and I was hungry! ! !

2. History

2.  HISTORY

29/08/2002

Everybody has a story to tell about their family and their history.  Most of us even have a sad story to tell.  What matters in life is not about how bad or how good it was, but what lessons have you taken from your life experiences.

Now where to start?  I will try my best to paint you a picture about this family’s history.

My name is Alice and my sister’s name is Biscuit. We are the only two who have the same blood running though our veins.  Our Dad is Patrick (he can even move on the dance floor like Patrick Swayze).  At the time of me writing these letters, he is still alive and kicking.  Our Mother is Eileen and at this stage I will not give her a surname, you’ll see why.  Sadly she passed away on the 10^th of October 1999, never even seeing the new millennium.

I think they were married in 1961 and got divorced in 1971.  They both remarried not long after.

Dad married Elizabeth Pretorius and they have two children.  Suzy and Lewellyn.  Mom married John Doe and they have Sammy.  John has a son, Luke.  That makes Suzy, Lewellyn & Sammy our half siblings and Luke our Stepbrother. 

I never knew Dad’s parents; they passed away when he was still a young lad.  I met two or three of the brothers and sisters, but can however only remembers Oom Danie.  He’s the alternative to normal.  Likes to think of himself as sexy and charming, therefore, needless to say that he goes out of his way to look larney and smell nice, and believe me, you do smell him from a mile away.  Ok, let’s make it at least twenty paces.  I also know that he is the type of person who counts his canned food and measures the bread.  Dad and them were ten kids, can you believe it?  Poor Grandma.  I only went through the birthing process twice.  Can you imagine doing it ten times! 

Dad is the type of person who battles to show love and affection.  He hides it very well.  That’s understandable if you take into consideration that he was number ten out of a line-up of ten.  Like I mentioned earlier, his parent passed away while he was still a youngster.  He became the responsibility of the older brothers and sisters and was sent from the one to the other.  I think it could have made him eager and ready to explore his options of sustaining himself.  By the sound of it Dad was doing his own thing round about fifteen, sixteen.  He worked as a shunter in Durban harbour.  He met mom in a Jive Bar.  They were both very good dancers.  She worked at the Post Office when they met.

Mom didn’t do any better either during her forming years.  They were just two sisters.  Our Grandma on that side is “Abraham Stephanus”.  Can you imagine how difficult it must have been for a girl having a boy’s name?  That was the result of a death bed promise – try to stay clear of those.  While her mother was pregnant she promised her father that the baby in her womb would carry his family name.  No wonder grandma was always rebellious and difficult.  She had to cope with being teased and laughed at from as far as she could remember.  So she got on her high horse and stayed there!  She changed her second name to Stephanie with her first pay and introduced herself as Steph from then on.

As we speak she is residing in Huis-de-Graaff (an old-age home) in Graaf-Reinet, a beautiful little town in the Karoo.  She, like her mother suffers from Alzheimer’s disease, but I still love her to bits.  She has no idea who she is.  No one can stand being with her, and believe me, all have very valuable reasons. SHE SIMPLY DRIVES YOU INSANE!  Biscuit and I were the ones responsible for getting her into the facility, but that’s a chapter all on its own.

She had a very sad and lonely life and my heart goes out to her for not finding any peace, joy and comfort in this life of ours.  She is the sole inspiration for the way I lead my life and who I am. I’m learning from her mistakes.  Hopefully you could learn from mine.

She was born with the surname of Erasmus.  First time round she got married her surname was Bowles, shame again, sounds like something you have to do at least once a day if you want to stay healthy that is.  I’m not sure how long it lasted before they were divorced.  One child was born from that union (Patsy). 

That’s when the paw-paw hit the fan so to speak.

We were all under the impression (including mom) that she was also a product of this happy union. But oh no, no, no, this story gets complicated!

During the Second World War a certain soldier Badenhorst landed up in Graaf-Reinett.  Grandma was in love and putty in his hands.  By the grapevine they had one hot relationship.  Grandma was in love, and when she shared the happy news with this chap about her tender condition, it was revealed that he was in fact a married man.  To make things worse, Mr Badenhorst disappeared, never to be seen again.  Granma was shattered and vowed never to love again.  To the best of my knowledge, she did just that.  She had so much bitterness and anger in her system and that changed her life into one living hell.

And while all this was going on, mom was growing in a womb filled with hatred, bitterness and rejection.  When grandma gave birth to this “whore child” of hers, she just left her to die, she wanted nothing to do with her.  She left her on the bed to die.

Auntie Jane (grandma’s sister) came in and realized what was going on.  She picked mom up, cut the umbilical cord and rubbed her to get some warmth back into her cold little body.  That day not only saw the birth of Eileen with no surname, but also of unspoken hatred born between two sisters.  Auntie Jane could never forgive Grandma for leaving her child to die, and Grandma could never forgive her for bringing the evidence of her love for one man back to life again.

Funny thing is, this is the news that killed mom in the end.  She and Ouma Steph were not speaking to one another for years because of a misunderstanding between the two husbands.  Mom realized that grandma was slowly but surely losing it, and John took her to Graaf-Reinet to go and make peace.  Only problem is that by the time mom actually got there, her mother had almost lost it and lived in la-la land all by herself.  She spoke about her “whore child” once and mom overheard.  Auntie Bella (Ouma’s other sister) had some explaining to do.

She called me (15 September 1999) from the restroom in Port Elizabeth airport on her cell phone.  They were waiting to board the plane.  She sounded different.  Usually she was laughing and teasing me.  This time she was serious.  She asked me if she ever told me that she loves me.  I laughed and said no.  She told me again:  “Alice, you are blood of my blood and heart of my heart – I love you”.  The signal was bad and she promised to call me from the landline when they get home.  I waited in anticipation, because something was up with my mom.  I could hear she was heartbroken.

 

I did receive a call that afternoon.  It was not from mom, but Sammy.  She said mom complained of numbness is her arm and chest pain.  John took her to Kingsway Hospital.  It was discovered that she suffered an aneurism and was admitted for observation at approximately 11:00am in ICU.  Her doctor said it was caused by severe trauma.  I could not speak to her but the nurse on duty told me it is only routine and the doctor would probably transfer her to the normal ward first thing in the morning.  At approximately 23:00 she had a stroke and heart attack and went into cardiac arrest.  The doctor fought for 45 minutes to resuscitate her and she was hooked onto a ventilator.  She was in a coma.  Biscuit paid for my plane ticket and I spent ten days at her bed-side reading to her and just talking to her about anything, hoping she would open her eyes.  I’m sure I made a lot of stupid promises myself in an attempt to get her to wake up, but to no avail.  I want to believe that she knew I was there.  There were times when she cried.  I once told her that I love her more than life itself and I’m sure she squeezed my hand.    She also cried when I did a prayer for her salvation.  The doctor said it was spasms. But like I said – I want to believe she heard me.  She passed away on the 10^th of October 1999. 

My mother was gone…  Forever.

This sad event taught me some more about regrets.  John and I could not get along at all.  As a child I hated his guts for reasons I will not reveal at this stage.  I did forgive him though.  Hatred eats you up from inside and drags you down.  Forgiveness sets you free.

So where was I.  Oh yes, the biggest regret I have in my life is because I did not stand up and fight for my rightful place in my mothers life.  I always stayed on the sideline and did not go to visit too often because John did his best to make me feel unwelcome.  I always thought that one day when he was out of the picture, I would spend serious bonding time with my mom.  But life pulled a trick on me, and my mom died first.  So much for my dreams.  Dreams are good, but life is much nicer.  If your dreams are possible, go for it.  If not, let it go and live!

Eventually Grandma married Bill Hall.  Biscuit and myself worshipped the ground he walked on.  I have a fond memory of one holiday we spent with them on the farm at Kendrew (just outside Graaff-Reinet).  Every night I went to bed he gave me a small packet of candies.  He would make a big fuss of how difficult it is to open the packet.  I remember that I impatiently told him I knew how.  His reply was that only grown-ups could do it.  Eventually open, I would have one candy and fall asleep holding the packet in my hand.  Next morning the candies were always gone.  He explained that fairies came during the night to share with children who were less fortunate.  I never suspected that he gave me the same packet of candies each and every evening of our holiday.  Gran told me many years later.  I think it’s the only time in Grandma’s life she knew happiness and stability.  She would not admit it though – she made life as difficult as possible for Oupa Bill.  I only realized this morning looking at his birth date, that he was only 7 years younger than Grandma’s dad!  Just goes to prove that the “Sugar daddy” theory works!  They were married for many a years.  He passed in 1982.  He had a heart attack while sitting at the kitchen table, waiting for Grandma to come home from work. 

Ouma married Fanie Meiring in 1988 and they are currently still married.  He feels like he has abandoned her by putting her in the Home, but I don’t think so.  Both these men deserve medals for sticking it out with her!  And believe me, she drives you to the point of no return, and this is no exaggeration . . . she drove me to the point of trying to . . . .  no wait, will tell you about it when I’m ready.

Letter 1 - Introduction

1.  INTRO

28/08/2002

Hey there you all,

If you are reading this, it means you must be part of my blood and therefore this makes out part of your inheritance.  If you are not part of my blood, then you must be part of my heart, because what you are about to read are my feelings and experiences that shaped me, and who I am.

I don’t know how these letters will take shape as yet, just know that I want to share my legacy and not let it die with me - part of my plan for living forever.  I have been toying with the idea for more than a year now and even started a few times but always got stuck.  It’s not all that easy telling your secrets.  Some I will have to keep though simply can’t allow you to read me like a book! Get that?  Like a book? Ha-ha-ha!

I reached a stage in my life where I realized I don’t have a heritage.  I know nothing about my bloodline, about the people responsible for my genes, and I would love to know what my grandma & grandpa was like.  What made them tick?  How did they handle certain situations?  Were they liked and adored or known as stubborn and unreasonable?  Would grandma possibly be someone you could sit and chat to, or was she always busy on a mission in the kitchen?  Could she cook or did grandpa slip her offerings to the dogs?  Maybe she made porridge with lumps...  Yuck!

What was the old man like?  Full of mischief and forever teasing grandma... or was he a very serious dude?  Did he like biltong and would he be the kind of guy to share?

Dad once told me that my great-grandfather on my mother’s side was a real cool dude.  Apparently he did not say much and had an aura of confidence and wisdom.  Dad liked and respected him.  My grandmother’s sister once told me that he was a commander in the Anglo-Boer war.  He did not say much, but when he did – you listened.  Wonder where I got the verbal diaree from?

Next up is my grandma’s mother.  All I know is that she was a bit crazy (don’t you dare say:  so, that must be where she gets it from....) and climbed over the fence more than once trying to go walkabout.  Years later did they only realize it is Alzheimer’s disease, but in those days, she was just declared nuts.  My grandmother was diagnosed with the same disease a few years ago.  Before she was sent to the old age home, Oupa had to lock her up in the house because she would leave the house and not remember who she was.  She also became aggressive and was constantly hitting him over the head with his walking stick and even broke his hearing aid a few times!

Now, this is my version of life.  And remember, it is how I experienced my life... the truth according to me.  Here I am, this is me, no other place on earth I’d rather be …..