Touches of Christmas

2015

As I write this, time is already rushing through the month carrying us speedily towards another Christmas. So often we have been reminded that there are only so many days to shop before the next festive season is upon us.

When I look back to our Christmas last year, it is not the festivities that touched me as much as the little acts of precious kindness which preceded our gathering together on THE DAY.

I have some tests

In the little suburban shopping centre just up the road I went to visit the optometrist for an eye test. 

She spent some time with me, trying this and that and the other and finally suggested I went to see an eye specialist. When I asked her how much I owed her for her time she replied: “Nothing. Had I been able to help you there would have been a fee but there is nothing I can do. Come back and tell me what the eye specialist advises.”

Having accomplished that visit I then went to have tea at a little Chinese shop round the corner, charmingly decorated with lanterns and bright colours. The owner came to the door and glowered at me as the little tables and chairs had not been set out yet.

“I only wanted a cup of tea,” I told him, whereupon he set up a table and chair and tea was served. I noticed him sitting nearby with his head bent over, considering his day’s reckonings I expect. I went over to him, thanked him for tea and asked him how much it was. He waved his hand above his head and said: “Alright… it’s alright.”

I said: “Thank you – and happy Christmas.” He just nodded his head without looking up.

On Christmas Eve we went to son Paul’s home in St Stithian’s School, set amongst many acres of fields, bushes and tree-lined roads with beautiful views overlooking Johannesburg. 
Some neighbours of Peta and Paul’s two houses up had invited anyone who wanted to join them in the road for a glass of wine. There were chairs set out on the side of the road and opposite us on the grass verge in front of the house was an interesting display of angels, Mary and Joseph and the new born babe, cows, rabbits, stars and from a tree hung a sort of waterfall of lights.

There was too a gnome, which I believe stays there all year round. At Easter time I believe the Christmas display is replaced with rabbits!

We were offered mince pies and a drink and as it was very hot our host rushed up to the shops nearby and bought us all an ice lolly.

Above us, shining down on this great city and ourselves was the most magnificent moon. It seemed to me to be a Super Moon. When my grand-daughter Emma looked it up on her constant stand by “Google” she told me that the last moon on Christmas Eve was in 1977. I was deeply touched. We were warmly entertained by strangers under resplendent moonlight.

Grandson Philip came with me to a carol concert at St Michael’s Church. The majestic flower arrangements, the beauty of the words of the hymns and the atmosphere of wonder, joy and hope lifted our hearts in worship of Christ our lord.

 Philip & I singing at the carol concert

       Standing next to me grandson Philip sang and delighted those around us with the beauty of his voice. These are the touches of Christmas that delighted and filled me with warmth.

With the excitement of Christmas day upon us, we all seemed to go off in different directions. Some to church, others to start cooking, others to put the last wrappings on presents which were arranged under the beautiful decorated Christmas tree where we all eventually gathered.

Having mentioned that I really like marshmallows I was given a huge amount of marshmallows, some in a large glass container, others in twists and another large ring of marshmallows arranged on a stick like a large marshmallow sucker (aka lollipop). 

It had taken me some months to eat them all and now I have gone off them entirely. Moral – never mention anything you like before Christmas!

Guests arrived for lunch in the late morning, and tables were set on the long, spacious front verandah to seat about twenty guests.

We all sat down after grace was said. The first course was served -Parma ham and melon. We all set to with enthusiasm, when one of the guests shouted out angrily: “Don’t talk to me from the bathroom window!”

 A small voice replied: “I am locked in.”

"I am locked in!"

It was Squirrel, one of my grandson David’s friends. David rushed off to help accompanied by another young man, while the rest of us appallingly went on eating Parma ham and melon, ignoring the situation in spite of the shouting through the bathroom door and the odd bang.

Next to the verandah in an alcove is a window for the bathroom. 

Squirrel’s Dad finally went through to the bathroom door to give assistance, but was told that his help was not needed. I suppose he was considered too old to be of service although he had years of experience as a motor mechanic.

by JR

"we were well into the second course..."

Time 
Time ...Time moved on and we were well into the second course of vegetables, lamb, chicken etc before David and his friend finally broke the door down and a shaken and embarrassed Squirrel sat down as unobtrusively as he could to eat his disturbed lunch.

In the evening the older guests all drifted off to bed while the young ones carried on with their party. When they all finally went to bed much, much later, they could not find Squirrel. Having searched everywhere for him they left the back door open for him.

The next morning he appeared looking quite fresh and perky. “Where were you Squirrel?” everyone asked.

He had slept under the fir trees far away from locks and keys and bathrooms – and where else would a squirrel sleep?

Women of Zimbabwe

 In September I went on a visit to Zimbabwe, that beloved, destroyed country where I had spent most of my life.

I stayed with my son Richard and his wife Fiona at Peterhouse School. There, a reliable supply of electricity and water are available. 
Across green playing fields in the school grounds a great orange ball sinks quite quickly behind the earth’s edge, leaving its glow for some moments and an abundance of purple jacaranda blossoms. This is the oval sun, spilling its heat and light from cloudless skies. What a paradise.

 The school has a game park where granite rocks balance one on top of the other or lie flat in great sheathes where one can picnic and watch the light change, where animals wander freely and the stillness creeps into your soul.

It is only an hour’s drive from this oasis into Harare and I had the opportunity to visit dear friends, some in retirement homes and some still living in their own houses. There are two very well kept retirement homes in Harare, and women living there make friends and communicate and go for walks together. 
Widows living there are sometimes helped by their families who now reside outside the country, far away in Canada, Australia or Dubai, so instead of being surrounded by children and grandchildren they are with friends - and they look after each other. 

They laugh together, play bridge, go to lectures and enjoy entertainments within the generous facilities at the retirement homes. There is fun, laughter and smiles, fellowship and the comfort of companions. 

Yet day-to-day living is not so easy. There were electricity cuts for 18 hours a day. This was not a spasmodic cut, but continued, day after day.

How do we do our washing? When can we iron our clothes? Where did I put the candles? Has my solar lamp run out? Do I need gas for my gas stove? Has everything gone off in the fridge? These are some of their daily thoughts.

Single women living outside retirement homes have a similar battle, perhaps even more difficult when they have to buy water to fill their tanks. Some houses have inverters which give enough power for the television and one light bulb. Wealthier and younger people have generators, meaning they have to buy fuel – all very expensive.

There is too, the problem of turning things off. Sometimes when a tap is turned on it is followed by an expletive such as “Damn! There is no water,” and one easily forgets to turn it off. When – if – the municipal or borehole water does come on, a flood ensues if the offender has been away for an hour or two. 

But I suppose that is better than having to walk for miles to scoop water out of a well or river as other friends like Sophie do.

The same pitfalls apply to electric heaters or electric blankets in the winter. “Damn, the lights have gone, I’ll go to bed without my hot water bottle,” one may say, and while they try to keep warm the electricity switch may have been be forgotten, which can result in a fire.

For survival it is necessary to keep your wits about you all the time.

Less expensive homes for the elderly in the not-so-elite suburbs have walls around them to protect the residents from passers-by, litter and the traders from small businesses that operate in the street. Behind the filth is a secure peaceful haven of care and orderliness.

Yet none of these inconveniences, annoyances and shortages detract from the spirit of the people who live there still. Their cheerfulness, resilience and flexibility are wonderful to see and their faith in a loving father supports them. There seems to be no wingeing and whining, but rather an acceptance and the courage to use each hour they have been granted positively, come what may.

Women of Zimbabwe, I salute you.

 [Illustrations by Pauline Battigelli]