In the bleak mid-winter

I sometimes feel a bit feeble and a little apprehensive that the phone will ring to say a dear one is dead, or worse, dying.

Those are some of the prospects of the downhill side of the age spectrum.

Of course, there are others.

My newest grandchild is 3 months old today and can count to 42 and speaks some Italian. I have another due in a month! My oldest grandchild is already ten and growing into a terrifying beauty.

Six sprouts to water with tears of pride and joy.

Our children are grown up and independent; indulgent of their sometimes unwieldy parent. The tick tock is inexorable and marches on at pace.

I am dismayed to find we have been in Australia for 10 years already, after 15 in New Zealand.

Yet, Africa still aches within me: its politicians infuriate me and the increased pace of the crumbling of the infrastructure sickens. But it is where most of my extended family are and a trace of guilt lingers: that I will not die there where 9 generations of ancestors died and my parents, 4 sisters and two brothers have chosen to die.

But my chosen home is a bright, comfortable place and we see the grandchildren quite often, but not too much.

There are still four more Ashes tests and the Rugby World Cup this year.

Who do I want to win? Australia for the Ashes of course; the rugby is more difficult: I am a citizen of Ireland and New Zealand and live in Australia but my playing days were in Southern Africa.

I think I may bet on the Irish but my heart will be with the Bokke.

Perhaps I should re-read Desiderata:

… in the noisy confusion of life, keep peace in your soul.

With all its sham, drudgery and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world.

Be cheerful.

Strive to be happy.

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Author: manqindi

Post imperial wind drift. Swazi, British, Zimbabwe-Rhodesian, Irish, New Zealand citizen and resident, now in Queensland, Australia. 10th generation African of mainly European descent. Catholic upbringing, more free thinker now. BA and Law background. Altar boy, wages clerk, uncle, prefect, student, court clerk, prosecutor, magistrate, convoy escort, pensioner, HR Practitioner, husband, stepfather, father, bull terrier lover, telephone interviewer, Call Centre manager, HR manager, grandfather, author (amateur)

3 thoughts on “In the bleak mid-winter”

  1. I find it strange that a Swazi would support any foreign rugby team such as the Springboks, ABs, Irish or Wallabies. As a Zimbo from the last outpost of the British Empire where they consistently over looked Tommy I am extremely comfortable in supporting the Wallabies. If I put my life into perspective you will understand. Zimbabwe 10 years, ZAR 28 years and Australia 32 years.

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  2. Yes, amazing the speed at which Grandchildren grow .Recently born 10year old lifts grandpa off the floor of a 3C tent in Estcourt. Already waiting for his third breakfast and the sparrows have not even coughed yet. So grateful that they are all still here in the last outpost of the British Empire, still able to make a racket in our home – all seven of them and with three piano players, the old Bechstein talks with much gusto amidst the chaos of a three year old who single handedly has demonstrated the Laws of Entropy by distributing the entire toy cupboard throughout the house in about 10 nanoseconds. what a Pleasure. Now to watch the soccer match followed by the hockey match followed by the rugby match and yes many Springboks, Banyana Banyana and Bafana Bafana in the making . So pasop julle skaap vreters en kangeroe boertjies ons is op pad……

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