Wednesday, December 29, 2010

She’s gonna blow!

I have known my good friend Angie since High school and she has always been 'the crazy one' filled with enough energy to light a bulb. And soon she and her hubby, Francois will be adding a wild (blue bull supporting) member to the Botha family, Divan. I asked her if I could take some pictures of her (huge belly and all) and the family to be and she willingly agreed. And I would like to share their warmth and happiness with everyone:






Congratulations, and I wish only the best for the Botha family!

Monday, December 20, 2010

Short story #1: Patience

I know ‘short story’ implies that the story should be short, but I do hope that those who do read my tale will not only be patient, but enjoy.

I was particularly inspired by the words from, Darren Hayes’ song Darkness (Click here! for the video link.)

Patience:

As he entered the over-modern hotel room, the iciness of the air-conditioning startled him. The same room he once adored was now much less attractive. For him it was another cold reminder of the empty room that was smugly waiting for his return. The darkness of the room reminded him that loneliness was now his only companion. But being isolated, lonely and depressed, was his biggest comfort. He feared his own thoughts; thoughts that were about to haunt and torture him throughout the night. Tired and still annoyed at all the superficial conversations he had to endure earlier that evening at a friend’s dinner party, Shane Larkin secretly thanked the red wine for his current state. There was just enough alcohol coursing through his veins to numb the fear of another night. Shane has always had split opinions about his visits to these overpriced hotels. They were great for getting around because everything was in walking distance, especially the one he was staying in now, which was in Victoria. Staying in Central London was particularly great for Shane because he hated using public transport. But he missed the tranquillity of the countryside, and the overcrowded tube with its crisscrossing colour coated lines only confused and aggravated him. He remembered, even as a young boy when his grandfather would take him to the Museum of Natural History (which is some of his fondest memories), the tube made him anxious and nauseous. Overpriced taxis were not an option and busses, where you have to fight some arrogant teenager for a place to sit only gave him headaches. In addition to the centrality, the Hotel now provided a dark safe haven from his problems and heartache. Almost like a metaphorical cocoon with a mini bar, where he could recuperate, grow and drink enough to be able to once again fly back into the pitiless world he had come to know. The emptiness of the hotel was now the perfect place to say goodbye. Other perks include the crisp linen, room service, the giant lavish bathtubs and the endless selection of pornographic channels. They would awaken a childlike thrill from within, which helped him deal with whatever he had to. However, the other side of the coin was not so comforting: Shane had an intense loathing for the monotonous styles and atmosphere of each room. The thought of each sheep-like guest, enjoying the same five star luxuries that he found so pleasing disturbed him. Eerie (and strangely arousing) thoughts of those who shared the room and bed before him would brood in his mind. Also the masses wandering the city with lost identities all looking for something to fill the void (just as he was) somehow shattered Shane’s sense of individuality. To feel wanted again was what Shane was yearning for most at this moment.

Desperately seeking to feel part of the outside world, Shane opened the curtains. It was already dark outside, raining. It seemed cold. Raindrops were trickling into the river Thames, becoming part of a whole. He craved to feel apart of a whole again. The lights of the London Eye were doing its umpteenth rotation filled with excited tourists trapped inside, admiring the city. Silence filled the hotel room. While admiring this scene through the window he caught sight of his own reflection. He felt dark inside, just like the window that made it possible for his reflection to stare back at him. It has been five years since his so-called ‘freedom,’ but he had never felt more trapped. It was as if he had been hibernating ever since his departure from his hometown and was only waking up now, to find the life he had created, and was now used to, was tawdry and absent of substance.

Ever since his emancipation, Shane would never allow life and time to take its natural course. He was constantly planning, scheming, and undertaking so much in his years. The self-styled happiness he had continuously created and forced upon himself would always come to an abrupt end, leaving him with an even bigger obsession to be in control. Immense impatience unnoticeably became his way of living.

Whilst lying on the hotel bed staring at the ceiling, Shane recalled the days when he first moved to London. It had been an exciting time for him. Moving away from his home represented freedom, which also meant he would be able to live an openly gay life. This was a thought he had only dreamt about as a teenager. Thus, living in the city where there were many other gay men meant he finally felt part of a whole. However, the immense freedom he had discovered was not only enticing but also intimidating. Within this enormous city and all those who had become used to its splendour, Shane felt young and naive. This was exactly what he was, an eighteen-year-old boy who had been sheltered most of his life. He had no understanding of being independent and all the responsibilities that came along with it. Although being terrified Shane never admitted it to anyone, especially himself and was ashamed and annoyed by his own inexperience. Shane then consciously reconstructed his identity and pretended to be blasé about things that terrified him. He figured this way he would learn more and would not come across as naive. Shane also felt he had no time to waist as he had already lost so much time and experience in High School. Things most adolescent kids had experienced and some even mastered, Shane still had to encounter. A fear of peculiarity and ending up alone due to his immaturity fuelled Shane to learn as much as possible. Friendship, success, financial independence and alcohol abuse; but out of all experiences Shane longed for, the most vital was finding love and a relationship.

Back in the chilly room Shane had now climbed into bed, the soft sheets covering and warming his body, and for the first time since his return from the party, Shane found himself smiling. He thought about the first time he met him. Jesse Smith. Shane had just come back from a brief visit to his parents. They had been very concerned about his sudden weight loss since his move to the city. After many teary kisses and a final speech about his diet, his parents greeted him as he climbed into the train that would lead him back to his freedom. When the overland train stopped at St Pancras railway station, Shane stepped off onto the platform, carefully minding the gap, and immediately ran to the loo. He refused to use the mucky toilets trains provided and was puzzled at how any person could ever urinate whilst the train was in motion and not end up making a mess. When he walked from the restroom, he noticed a young attractive man wearing a dirty cap, confidently leaning against a pillar, about to light a cigarette. As he passed, he gave Shane a lingering stare and an almost smug smile. It was a well known fact that the English had never been particularly enthusiastic when it came to greeting strangers and Shane was no exception. Therefore, he just blankly stared at the oversized pigeons wandering around the same pillar and walked by trying to ignore the man’s overconfidence. Shane was feeling peckish after his trip from Otford and decided to have lunch at the local pub. After placing his order and waiting, it seemed the smug man had followed him and sat next to him. A couple of minutes of awkward silence passed when the guy assertively introduced himself, “Jesse Smith, nice to meet you.” Awkwardly, Shane reached out his, “Shane, nice to meet you too” he replied, still feeling apprehensive about the man’s spontaneity. Jesse then asked if he had a lighter to which he over eagerly replied, “No sorry, I don’t smoke.” Jesse then made a patronizing joke about how he would rather smoke and have more or less an idea of his cause of death. Shane just smirked and once again felt like a total prude. Jesse then asked if Shane would join him for a pint of beer and Shane thought what a great way to redeem his overly prudish image. After his second pint, Shane had relaxed more and started to enjoy the stranger’s company. At first, he suspected a flirtatious vibe coming from Jesse, then discarded it and blamed the alcohol. But when Jesse asked him what his plans were for the rest of the evening, he knew Jesse had ulterior motives. At first, he found this arrogance, confidence and forwardness intimidating and semi-annoying. Now, it thrilled him. Although scruffy looking and untrimmed, Shane admired Jesse’s beauty. He had a perfectly tanned skin accompanied with dark features and a very appealing, yet comical, Scottish accent. They agreed to find a more suitable venue to continue their flirtatious acquaintances. With bags from their trips, they walked for miles talking, laughing and sharing funny stories about their lives not knowing or caring about their destination. Hours passed before either of them realized that they were tired and sat on a step in front of a building they both had never seen before, in an area neither of them had ever been to. They continued talking without any hesitation. It was only then, that Shane first noticed Jesse’s beautiful lips. The mere thought of Jesse kissing him made his stomach stir, but with his confidence now once again low after the tipsiness from the beer earlier had subsided, he doubted this would happen.

Hundreds of people strolled by on adventures of their own, while they were still on the step. Both agreed they were starving and decided to continue talking over dinner. Finally figuring out where they are, which was Victoria, they had trouble finding an affordable restaurant open at this late hour. After another few miles and many closed restaurants, they discovered a random Persian restaurant willing to serve them despite having a private wedding function. Both Shane and Jesse found the two Persian cat sculptures at the entrance and the very outlandish decorations hilarious. A waiter showed them to a table, separated from the newly wed couple’s ceremony and both were relieved, finally, to be sitting comfortably. In the background, the ceremony sounded festive and seemed to have a karaoke theme. They chuckled as some old woman (it had to be the grandmother of either of the wedding couple) being heckled while she was trying her best to sing ‘I will survive.’ With much effort, they ordered from their non-English speaking waiter, forgot the ceremony and once again enjoyed each other’s company. After dinner, Jesse insisted on a few drinks and ordered shots. It only took three tequilas for Shane to feel confident. Six tequilas and two pints later both had befriended the family of the wedded couple and were invited to join the ceremony. They found themselves mingling, despite the lack of fluent English speaking relatives. Another few shots later (sponsored by the brothers of the groom) Shane and Jesse had joined in the party. They dared one and other to get on stage at the Persian wedding and join in on the karaoke. Both their solos were enjoyed by everyone, especially the wedded couple. Finally, they said their goodbyes and left the restaurant, which had closed hours ago to the public. It was now after midnight and both were desperately trying to sober up wile drowning themselves with bottles of Evian water. They then decided to share a room and started looking for a hotel. Both being tired and annoyed by the lack of reasonably priced hotels, they agreed to book into a five-star hotel.

The same hotel and room Shane was in now, still smiling under the covers, reminiscing about that eventful evening. He then remembered finally kissing Jesse’s gorgeous lips; lips that had been haunting him the whole evening: even while they were falsely singing Queen’s, ‘Bohemian Rhapsody.’ They were sitting on the balcony, laughing about the randomness of the evening when Jesse suddenly stopped talking. An awkward silence, filled wile the sound of traffic in the background descended. He had a serious look on his face and for a second Shane was concerned. When Jesse pulled in and gave Shane the softest kiss, all his concerns melted, his hopes finally paid off and the moment devoured both of them.

After that night, they frequently met at the same hotel. Each time was better than the one before. Jesse was more than Shane’s first kiss. Shane had become infatuated. After the third visit, they agreed to be a couple. The first three months were filled with young love: they were obsessed with each other. Shane had finally found what he had been longing for most of his life. Jesse had been more than he ever had anticipated. The more they met, the more they planned to meet. Four months, and plenty of expensive hotel bills later, Shane knew it was love. He loved all the amazing qualities about Jesse. He was confident, spontaneous, fun and had so much ambition and plans for his future. In addition, Shane had learned the less flattering qualities about Jesse too, and his drug abuse was one that concerned him the most. He never supported it, but also never judged it. He believed Jesse when he claimed it was only for fun and he had it under control. Being in love was much more important to him. Their visits to the hotel had become less, due to Jesse having to work more often but they still saw each other every other weekend. Jesse had had many financial troubles to which Shane never hesitated to offer to help. Shane borrowed money from his parents to help Jesse, and Jesse assured him it was not for drugs and continuously promised that he would pay him back as soon as he had found a decent job. Shane never doubted that he would. He loved him too much.
Due to their lack of finances, by their seventh month anniversary their romantic hotel excursions had come to a complete halt. The last time Shane saw Jesse, they planned to meet at the hotel for their eight-month anniversary. It was only three weeks until then and they said goodbye at London Bridge Station as Jesse bordered his train. Shane felt that Jesse had been very quiet that weekend and he felt odd while walking down to the tube station on his way to Tesco’s to do some grocery shopping for the week ahead. The whole time while walking through the isles, Shane had a knot in his stomach about their parting and Jesse’s attitude towards him but chose to ignore it and give him some space. Days passed without them texting. Shane found it odd and tried calling but Jesse never answered. A few days later, Jesse’s phone number was disconnected. Shane tried every possible way to get hold of Jesse but had no luck. Shane was worried and wondered if Jesse was all right. Thoughts of an accident or death haunted Shane every second of the day with still no word from Jesse. It was only a week later that Shane received an email from Jesse saying:

Dear Shaney.

Sorry, things would have never worked out between us. I have too many things to sort out. I love you but I am moving back to Scotland soon. I promise to pay you back when I can.

Regards, Jesse


Shane had already had a whole month to process what had happened when he booked into the hotel this time, but the heartache and pain was still very much real. Alcohol and sleeping pills had been his only solace. But, Shane still went, hoping that Jesse would come. But he never did. He was now crying under the sheets. The room was dark and silent and the sound of his own sobs annoyed him. He hated feeling so vulnerable. But the closed doors, curtains and windows somehow made him feel less vulnerable. He was completely covered in darkness, hoping for change to come. He hated Jesse, but still missed everything about him, and this made him feel even more like of fool. His ears would constantly anticipate a knock at the door but silence was all they could hear. Hours passed and he fell asleep dreaming of Jesse.

Months passed with Jesse occupying his dreams. Shane would fondly look back at their wonderful times together and the hotel room in Victoria. He never went back there after that weekend. Shane’s resentment and longing faded. However, Shane could not forgive Jesse for breaking his trust. He felt betrayed and humiliated. Shane would always love Jesse but he was relieved to be able to move on without someone that could potentially have destroyed his future. He hoped only the best for Jesse wherever he was. Now conscious about how much he had learned from this experience, Shane felt more mature. He knew now to be more patient. Take time to trust. Take time to love. Practice self-control and just to let things be.

Sunday, December 12, 2010

Verwyder die blinddoek

Elke persoon het daardie iemand in hulle lewe wat stil-stil jou maak wie jy is. Hulle is amper soos jou lewende en tasbare weergawe van ’n ‘engel bewaarder.’ Hulle breek, bou en beskerm ongesien jou hele lewe lank, terwyl jy te besig is om dit te geniet.

My ‘engelbewaarder’ was nog altyd by my. Maar die blinddoek van my jeug het my nooit toegelaat om hom rêrig te sien nie. Ek het net altyd hom vanselfsprekend aanvaar en het net aangeneem hy is deel van ‘die pakket’ van my lewe. In my naive dae van jonk wees en selfsug het ek selfs aangeneem dat hierdie persoon my net nie ken of verstaan nie. Ek het gedurig gedink, hoe kon iemand so eenvoudig en stil ooit ’n eksentriese wese soos ek verstaan. Maar ek was net bederf.

Dit was nie totdat ek grootword en my aandag verskuif van myself na dies om my wat die blinddoek verwyder word nie. Ek het my ‘engelbewaarder’ herontdek en het besef dat ons kan saamstem, gesels, saam huil en staaltjies deel van ons lewe. Dit het gebeur een middag terwyl ons in die motor ry en spontaan klets wat my self-sprekende liefde van al die jare verander het in ’n liefde wat nie beskryf kan word nie. Meteens besef ek dat hy my nie net verstaan nie maar dat hy my met sy hele hart liefhet. Ek is gedurig opsoek na onvoorwaardelike liefde en hier was dit, reg voor my. Die idioom, as dit ’n slang was, het hy jou gepik eggo laggend in my kop. En alhoewel hy altyd daar was en gesorg het, het ek hom nooit gesien nie maar nou net die gedagte van hom nie meer in my lewe nie, veroorsaak ’n hartseer wat ek nooit wil ervaar nie.

Ironies genoeg, dieselfde eenvoud, geduld en stilte wat ek eens nie kon verstaan van my pa nie is nou die einste karaktertrekke waarna ek strewe. Hy het gegaan vanaf net iemand in my lewe, na my grootste rolmodel. Ek wens in my toekoms kan ek dieselfde geduld en liefde hê wat hy nog sy hele lewe lank so suutjies gedeel het. Ek sien uit om in my ouer jare soos hy te wees, net sonder die boepens.

Saturday, December 11, 2010

Pay no attention to the ‘Keg-guys’ of today

I have recently been relaxing (which is code for just being plain lazy) in my hometown, Rustenburg during the summer holidays. The other night I met up with a few high school friends and we had some sushi and ended the evening with a nightcap at... the... Keg and Bull. Do not judge me. The options for a suitable or tasteful venues for socializing in this area are very limited. Nevertheless, as usual when accompanied with the right crowd the evening was more than enjoyable. I spent the whole night socializing and networking (as we social butterflies love to do), with a glass of the finest blend of boxed-wine (it was the Keg, they don’t exactly specialize in fine wines) in hand and met a couple of really interesting people. One individual whose company I enjoyed in particular was Lebo, a first year drama student at Tuks. Now Lebo is exactly what you would expect from a drama student. She is fun, loud, eccentric, funny, spontaneous and just plain mad. I loved her! It was karaoke night at the Keg and she had no hesitation, jumped up on stage, and rocked the crowd. We shared plenty of funny and embarrassing stories about varsity and in usual semi-tipsy character, we promised to be best friends as soon as varsity starts in the new semester.

The rest of the evening was very pleasant until Lebo’s best friend came back from the bar and said that a very large and pathetically drunk guy had just walked up to him and threatened to assault him for socializing with Lebo. The reason for his threat was that she is black (which was ironic as she wasn’t even THAT black, more creamier I’d say). Still we managed to offend this Neanderthal so much that he felt the need to warn us that he would harm us if we continued to talk to Lebo (which is impossible, she is a drama student and they love to talk). Now I have gone through this scenario a thousand times in my mind, but I still cannot grasp why a table, who might be more liberal (and therefore I personally think is more fun than any white-conservative-heterosexual table) would offend someone. If the gay men at our table were doing body shots off each other while wearing pink feather boas, and the sexy girls that accompanied us were flirting with married men and Lebo were doing traditional topless dances before slaughtering our dinner for the evening, I might have had some understanding about his reaction. However, we were not! I promise.

Now my time back home has been very educational and liberating. Just the other day I went jogging past my old High school, (both panting and sobbing while missing those carefree days) and realized that I am not the scared and fragile teenager I once was. I also became conscious that I had been avoiding Rustenburg ever since I finished High school. The reason was that I wanted to avoid just this exact small-town mentality that the ‘Keg-guy’ had proudly presented to us. Which is the the type of attitude I had experienced while growing up and learned to despised all these years. Every time I would come home to visit I chose to rather stay indoors with my family and avoid dealing with the memories and people that reminded me of the days I felt trapped and scared. As soon as I would leave to go back to varsity, I felt excited to be able to be myself despite what the people of Rustenburg or my past might think or say about my sexuality.

Like I said, those days are over. Five years have passed and I can both be home and myself without any fear of judgement. I have bigger things to worry about these days (like finishing my damn degree) and my past does not haunt me anymore. I have actually learnt to embrace my high school memories, old friends and Rustenburg (which is not as bad as I remembered). I have also learned that when people like the ‘Keg-guy’ chooses to share his foolish opinions and threats one should not take it personally or feel ashamed. I say we should carry on having an awesome time with our dazzling black bordering on creamy friends and continue to flirt the pants off the cute person *** next to you, who just happens to be the same sex as yourself. I think the best response to give to those narrow-minded fools (whom I will now always refer to as the ‘Keg-guys’) is first to get pissed at them, then you may pity them and finally carry on drinking your cheap wine. Ps. this was exactly what we did!

Friday, December 10, 2010

I see dead animals, true story!

I have recently been told that my blog posts (although still amazing, don’t forget!) tends to be a tad bit too technical and formal. I welcome criticism (especially if it is about my spelling ‘cause I tend to slip up on that one a bit, I do apologize) as it helps me grow as a writer. And I have scanned over a couple of my posts last night and saw this is very true. I guess I am so use to writing for publications, which expect a certain more ‘formal’ writing style, that I have unconsciously been forcing it into my posts.

So today, I thought I would just ramble a bit. No confessions of heartache, no philosophical explanations and no blast from the past. Just a random thought. On the other hand, maybe a worrying cry for help (or attention). Let me know...
You see, the last couple of weeks I have been having this reoccurring unusual dream. Now, I know what you are thinking, “O great, here comes another boring story about someone’s lame dream.” Goodness knows I find it particularly dull when someone wakes up and feels the need to share their dreams. However, the dream of mine is very odd.

In this dream, I have three flies as pets. Yes, pets! I feed them, walk them regularly, talk to them (like you would do with a cute puppy), pet them and even occasionally kiss their foreheads. All of which are things you would normally do with your cat or dog (or even birds!). But I had to choose flies! And the best part of this dream is that I love these flies more than life itself. Just seeing them excites me. Nurturing them gives me purpose and just the thought of some mean person swatting them angers me more then you would ever imagine. And I have to confess, I enjoy these dreams. Just experiencing the emotion of the unconditional love for one and other is such an amazing feeling. Yes, even if it is for three very unclean (but also very delightful) flies.

Throughout history, people have sought meaning in dreams. Dreams have been described as psychological reflections of the subconscious, spiritual messages from the dead or even predictions of the future. Some feel that dreams are prophetic and contains messages. Then what does my dream mean? (I ask with an anxious and confused tone in my voice.)

I have no idea what this bizarre dream might mean. Maybe a dead pet is trying to reconnect with his former owner. Does this mean I am now a psychic medium for animals that have ‘crossed over’ using me to connect with the living world (as flies)? Will cats, dogs, fish and any other pet that has passed be bothering me while I am just trying to have a good nights rest? Maybe it means that I have a subconscious yearning to procreate and love my offspring. Or does it just mean that I have somehow developed some sick fetish for flies. Who knows? One thing I know for sure, is that Sigmund Freud would of had a field day in my subconscious.











Ps, how funny is this cartoon!?

Thursday, December 9, 2010

Sestien steke is niks in vergelyking...

Ek was onlangs in die hospitaal vir ’n operasie (dit is ’n blog vir ’n ander tyd maar ek gaan net noem dat ek sestien steke gekry het... Boooya!). Ek hou hoegenaamd niks van hospitale en die morbiede atmosfeer wat hulle skep nie. Alles vanaf die kos, die reuke, die siek mense wat drentel met hulle drip sakkies wat saam agtervolg en die ongelooflike vernederende blou weggooibare onderbroeke is alles iets wat ek liefs vermy. Terwyl ek in die saal lê en wag vir my operasie probeer ek my bes om geselskap met ander in die saal te vermy. Sodra iemand na my kant toe kyk glimlag ek net en maak asof ek iets dringend moet tik op my selfoon. Omdat ons ’n saal deel is dit nie goed genoeg rede vir my om met vreemdelinge oppervlakkige geselsies aan te knoop en onderlangs te kompeteer wie is die siekste nie. Maar helaas na ’n hele paar mislukte pogings om te maak of ek slaap kon die moeder langsaan my net nie meer haar opwinding inhou nie. Sy begin gretig deel hoe haar seun (wat ingenieurswese studeer by Tuks!) op pad was om sy verstand tande te verwyder. Geïrriteerd met ‘n grommende maag (ek vra met trane in my oë, waarom mag mens nie eet voor operasies nie) sit ek toe maar regop en gesels saam.

Oorkant my bed was daar ook ’n jongman. Dit was duidelik waarom hy in die hospitaal was, sy regterarm was onlangs geamputeer. Terwyl hy besig was om te eet, verskuif die moeder haar aandag oor na hom toe en lig hom ook dadelik in oor haar seun se studiekeuse. Sy vra hom toe ook uit oor sy ongeluk.
Hy verduidelik hoe hy onlangs in ’n myn ongeluk was en het dus so sy regterarm verloor. Die moeder gesels verder met hom en hy geniet die aandag. Ek wat oorkant sit en luister hoe hulle klets, vermy toe enige oogkontak met die man. Ek het nog nooit geweet hoe om met mense met ’n gebrek te hanteer nie. Ek dink dit is omdat ek vir hulle jammer voel en so graag wens ek kan dit beter maak vir hulle. En is dus bang dit wys in my gedrag teenoor hulle. Ek weet ook nie of ek die persoon sal te nakom deur die verkeerde vrae te vra nie. Maar terwyl ek luister hoe hulle gesels bly ek wonder of die man weer gaan gelukkig wees? Of voel hy sy lewe is verby? En hoe gaan hy kan aanbeweeg?
Maar toe gebeur die volgende. Terwyl die susters die seun langs my instoot om sy verstand tande te verwyder vra die man sonder die arm vir hom, “Wat gaan hulle aan jou doen?” Die seun (wat tans bleek was van angs) antwoord, “Ek gaan my verstandtande verwyder.” Die man antwoord met baie entoesiasme en verligting terug, “Shoe, ek is bly ek is nie jy nie!” en wens die seun sterkte toe.

Heel verbaas en geskok probeer ek om nie hardop te lag vir hierdie ironiese scenario nie. Hier sit ’n man sonder ’n regterarm en voel verlig dat hy nie op pad was om vier tande te verwyder nie. Was hy sarkasties? Of dink hy rêrig om verstandtande te verwyder is erger as ’n geamputeerde arm? Dit het my dadelik laat besef dat die man ‘fine’ is. Hy is positief en kry homself nie jammer nie. Hierdie is vir hom net ’n struikelblok in sy lewe en hy gaan nie dat dit hom onderkry nie. Hy het wel vir die seun se ma gebieg dat hy steeds bang en hartseer is, maar hy weet hy gaan ’n volle lewe lei omdat hy baie hoop het.

My operasie het vlot maar heel vernederend verloop omdat ek in my lokale verdoofde staat vir die dokter bly vrae vra soos “Dokter, hoeveel mense is al vandag op hierdie teater bed dood?,” en “Het jy al ooit ’n vak geher want ek het al BAIE!” Maar na daardie dag in die hospitaal het die afarmman my inspireer. Ek het besef, en bly myself herinner dat geen probleem of uitdaging wat die wêreld jou kant toe stuur nie oorkombaar is nie. Al wat jy nodig het, is genoeg hoop.