Life on the farm…and other stories…


Blogging began as a way for me to just speak. Nothing else. A little platform to voice a thought, opinion or record something.

I enjoy reading other blogs. I don’t always have the time to read other blogs. I admittedly always make time to read the Reluctant Mom’s Blog though. She has a refreshing way at looking at things. She’s not scared to have an opinion. Her world in the suburbs of Cape Town is a world apart from mine here on the farm. But intrinsically we have lots of things in common. Like loving the husband, kids and most things a thirty-something South African woman, would find important. I do admire most, her zero tolerance for bullshit. A most commendable trait in anybody.

So, as I mentioned earlier, blogging became a way for voicing and recording. Life on a farm in post Apartheid South Africa has changed greatly from life on a farm during Apartheid. With fundamental things, like housing and salaries. But fundamentally, on our farm, the respect is still there.

My matric class was the last only white matric class in our school. They had started integrating all kids that year. I’m writing this matter of  factly, because how do you begin to apologise for a whole body of ignoramuses that made descisions before I was born. I’m envious of our kids. They have the opportunity to go to school with all colour groups and become colour blind. In our part of the world it is disrespectful to not respect the different cultures. If someone is black, they’re black, and they have a heap of traditions that go with it. Like amakweta’s. Like circumcision. A huge deal for a Xhosa boy. So it’s not a simple case of not seeing colour but rather respecting the package that comes with it.

People look at my magnificent view from my verandah and comment that I must really appreciate this. I do. I really do. I appreciate it every day. It’s just that sometimes it’s difficult to stop and smell the roses when you’re in a rush in the mornings with the school run, bags to pack, framing, admin and books to do and staff to organise. It’s not that slow-paced, methodical life you may think we have on the farm. Well not for us. Not for John and I and the kids. There’s always something going on, something to do and somewhere to be. In fact it’s sometimes downright hectic. 

I like it like that. He who seeks rest finds boredom. He who seeks work finds rest. Dylan Thomas. and all that……..


One response »

  1. I am rather amazed at how colour blind our kids actually are. My daughters’ favorite rugby player is Chilly-boy. He is appranetly cool beyond words. Colour seems not to come into play. I love that my boys talk about their friends being Tshwana referring to their traditions etc and not black, or brown or whatever.

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