 
## STORM

***

A JOURNEY OF SHATTERED DREAMS AND EMPTY RELATIONSHIPS

TO THE VICTORY OF A NEW DAWN & NEW BEGINNINGS!

***

Stephanie Frerk

Copyright Stephanie Frerk 2013

Published by Stephanie Frerk at Smashwords

***

Smashword's License Statement

This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each reader. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

***

ISBN: **9781301145508**

***

SCRIPTURE QUOTED BY PERMISSION. QUOTATIONS DESIGNATED (NET) ARE FROM THE HOLY BIBLE: THE NET BIBLE ® (NEW ENGLISH TRANSLATION®). COPYRIGHT © 1998 BY BIBLICAL STUDIES PRESS, L.L.C. WWW.NETBIBLE.ORG. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

New International Version, Copyright 1973, 1978, 1984, International Bible Society. All rights reserved. Scripture quoted by permission. Quotations designated (NIV) are from THE HOLY BIBLE: NEW INTERNATIONAL VERSION. Copyright 1973, 1978, 1984 by International Bible Society. Used by permission of Zondervan Publishing House. All rights reserved.

***

### This book and the story of my life I dedicate to my Almighty GOD.

### Without Him there would be no story or anyone to tell it.

### ***

### A very special thank you to Dr Irvine Eidelman,

### the most humble man I have ever met,

### for the cover of my book.

### ***

### Thank you to Sharon, who took the time to correct my mistakes,

### even though she had piles of exam marking still to do.

### ***

### Thank you to Dianne for your endless encouragement

### ***

### Thank you to my family.

### Each of you know the role you played.

### ***

### Thank you to Petro

### for your contribution, support and love.

### Most of all thank you to my husband.

### whose support in all my endeavours knows no boundaries.

***

FOREWORD

Today is the 29th day of October 2007, and I have decided that it is now or never. Today is the day I am going to start writing this book, or it will never be written. I had not even put pen to paper when the thought crossed my mind: "There are so many books written on this subject, why another one?" This very question made me hum and ha for years before I finally decided that this book had to be published.

I need to tell my story hoping and praying that someone, somewhere out there, will benefit from it. I have met and worked with so many people who are broken inside, suffering and left without hope, that I have no doubt there are many more in this cruel world of ours. My book is aimed at giving hope to those shattered souls who are ready to give up and those whom already have. My message to them is "do not give up!" Take back your life and give yourself permission to start over. Then place your life and your future in the hands of our CREATOR and see how HE enables you to turn your life right around.

One of the biggest lessons in life I have ever learnt is that EVERYONE has a story to tell. I do not, for one minute, believe that my story is the worst, the best or the most unique, but what I do know, is that it has all been part and parcel of making me the person I am today. I also know that if one allows GOD to take control of one's life, HE will transform your story into a symphony.

Please allow me, from the very start, to apologise for all the grammatical violations in this book. First of all, I apologise for all the times I have used the pronoun "I" as this seems to cast the focus onto me and that is not what I want to achieve here. The glory does not belong to me; it all belongs to our Almighty CREATOR, without whom I could not have lived this life, nor survived to tell the story.

Secondly I have, at times, used fragmented sentences, some, not making any grammatical sense, but does emphasize the confusion I was feeling and thinking at the time. In some cases, I have used the language exactly as it was spoken at the time, yet simple enough for anyone to understand.

My hope is that this book will cross all language and cultural barriers emphasizing the need for abused women and children to be heard.

Finally I have not and will not give satan any credit by capitalising his name.

***

May the symphony of my life add music to the story of yours! May it equip you to make a difference when and wherever GOD may lead you! May your questions be answered and May you find peace, health, happiness and most of all, fulfilment!

***

24 "" "The LORD bless you and keep you;

25 the LORD make his face shine upon you and be gracious to you;

26 the LORD turn his face toward you and give you peace.""

Num 6:24-26 (NIV)

Stephanie

### TABLE OF CONTENTS

Chapter 1: 21 October 1956

Chapter 2 MY VERY FIRST MEMORY

Chapter 3 MOM, STEPHEN, GRANNY AND ME

Chapter 4: 1961 to 1962 Grade 0 to Grade 1

Chapter 5: 1963 to 1965 Grades 2 to 4

Chapter 6: 1966 Grade 5

Chapter 7: 1967 Grade 6

Chapter 8: 1968 Grade 7

Chapter 9: 1969 Grade 8

Chapter 10: 1970 Grade 9

Chapter 11: 1971 Grade 10

Chapter 12: 1972 Grade 11, SCHERAGNÉ

Chapter 13: 1973 SO MUCH FOR MARRIAGE

Chapter 14: 1974 RUDI

Chapter 15: 1975 to 1976 A TIME TO LIVE AND A TIME TO DIE

Chapter 16: 1977 ONE CAN RUN FROM LIFE BUT NOT FROM YOURSELF

Chapter 17: 1978 to 1979 REVENGE DOES NOT PAY

Chapter 18: 1980 FORBIDDEN LOVE HAS A PRICE

Chapter 19: 1981 "GJ"

Chapter 20: 1982 PETRO

Chapter 21: 1983 to 1989 MOIR

Chapter 22: 1990 RECONCILIATIONS

Chapter 23: 1991 to 1993 MY DAMASCUS ROAD EXPERIENCE

Chapter 24: 1994 to 1995 THE ROAD TO DESTRUCTION AND LOSS

Chapter 25: 1996 DISCOVERING MY STRENGTHS

Chapter 26: 1997 DECEIPT

Chapter 27: 1998 IS IT REALLY THE EASY WAY OUT?

Chapter 28: 1999 NEW BEGINNINGS

Chapter 29: 2000 SKELETONS HAVE A FUNNY WAY OF ESCAPING

Chapter 30: 2001 to 2004 BABIES, BABIES, BABIES

Chapter 31: 2005 FACING MY FEARS

Chapter 32: GOD ENCOUNTERS

Chapter 33: THE SIGNIFICANT PEOPLE IN MY LIFE

Chapter 34: THE ROAD TO RECOVERY

Chapter 35: DISCOVERING LIFE SECRETS

THE SERENITY PRAYER

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

## Chapter 1: 21 October 1956

## THE BEGINNING OF LIFE

"Oh GOD no! Not now! I can't do this alone!" The contraction came so sudden and with such force that Susanna doubled over. She grabbed onto the doorframe which did not help at all as the weight of her heavily pregnant body proved to be just too much to keep upright and she landed on her knees. "If I could just make it to the bed I will be fine," she reasoned with herself. Susanna waited for the contraction to ease then started crawling across the floor. As she reached the chair, standing halfway between her and the bed, the next contraction constricted her body with even more force than the one before. "I must get to that bed!" she hissed through clenched teeth. Supporting her contorted body with the chair Susanna pulled herself to her feet. Breathing hard and with great effort she managed to make her way toward the single bed standing in the corner of the room.

By the time she got to the bed the next contraction followed, then the next and the next, not giving her a chance to catch her breath. From her experience as a trainee midwife, Susanna realised the baby was not going to wait much longer. The contractions were coming one after the other and they were very intense. She knew with each contraction the baby was moving closer and closer to making its entrance into the world.

With the last bit of strength she could muster and supporting herself with the pedestal standing in front of the bed, Susanna pulled herself onto the bed and fell back against the pillows. For a few seconds the contractions stopped and Susanna closed her eyes allowing her body to sink into the bed as she began to relax. Hearing the front door open, gave Susanna a great sense of relief as she realised she was no longer alone.

This respite was a cruel twist of nature and lasted no longer than a minute. The next contraction tore through Susanna's abdomen as the baby crowned its head. At that moment Susanna let out a scream loud enough to send the birds, resting on the branches of the tree in front of her bedroom window, into bewildered flight.

Kotie, Susanna's sister-in-law, had just walked in from doing her weekly shopping. The entrance hall was to the right of the lounge and you could walk through the lounge to get to the kitchen if you took the short cut. Going through the entrance hall into the passage was a much longer distance which did not make sense when you had shopping bags to cope with. Kotie was exhausted and being late October the heat was an indication and a promise of a very hot summer to come. She put the bags down on the kitchen counter and began looking through the post she had taken out of the post box, on her way in. The envelopes still in her hand she reached out with the other to switch on the kettle. It was time for tea.

The scream coming from Susanna's room sent cold shivers up her spine. She got such a fright that she dropped the post and almost pulled the kettle of the cupboard as her hand hooked the cord. "What on earth? Susanna! Susanna!" Kotie called out as she went running down the passage.

The sound following the scream sounded rather ominous making Kotie even more nervous. "Susanna, hold on I'm coming." Kotie began to tremble with fear. "Oh GOD, please help us! It sounds as if Susanna is in labour and I don't know what to do!" she silently prayed. Despite her own anxiety, she kept running down the long dark passage; the urgency in Susanna's voice steering her in the direction of the smallest and coldest room in the house. Kotie gently knocked at the door then hurried in. "Susanna, are you alright?" Kotie asked, worry causing her to frown deeply.

"Please, phoo, phoo, call the midwife; phoo, the baby is coming, aaaargh! Oh GOD, please help me!"

"Ok, ok, I'm going!" Kotie replied with more urgency than she meant. "You relax Sue" she said in a more gentle tone, "I'll be back in a minute." she reassured Susanna.

Kotie ran to the kitchen to find the phone book they had written all the important phone numbers in. She knew Susanna always kept it on the dresser. Relieved, she found it exactly where she knew it would be. Since Susanna had come to live with them the house was always spotless, leaving Kotie with quite a sense of guilt at times. Nothing was ever out of place. Susanna was forever dusting, cleaning and polishing. The floors gleamed like mirrors! This often left female guests clutching their dresses around their legs in an effort to hold on to their privacy and self-respect; much to the amusement of the men of course. The glasses were polished and glistened like crystal, and even the cutlery was washed and rubbed till you could see yourself in the reflection.

"Strange woman, this Susanna; it was obvious that Susanna was pregnant when she came looking for work and a place to stay." Kotie's thoughts took her back to the day Susanna sat at the kitchen table drinking coffee with her. "She looked so vulnerable and desperate. Perhaps it was the determination in those steel blue eyes that made me feel so sorry for her. Pops also felt the same. He was the one that suggested she come and work for him as a housekeeper. He could not pay cash money but he would provide her needs. He was not well since Mom died and he needed someone to cook and clean for him."

Another scream brought Kotie back to the present with a jolt. She found the phone number, rushed over to where the phone was, and called the midwife.

"Good day to you, it is Kotie speaking! I'm Susanna's sister-in-law! She is one of your patients and she is in labour! She needs you! Please come quickly!" Kotie shouted into the handset.

"Oh my goodness," the midwife said, "I'm busy with someone else at the moment, but I will get to her a soon as I can. Please tell her to remember her breathing exercises and to relax. I'll be there shortly."

"Please hurry!" Kotie just could not keep the irritation out of her voice and slammed the phone back in its cradle.

"Dear Lord, what am I to do now?" she thought to herself as she rushed back to Susanna's room once again knocking on the door before going inside.

"Susanna, the midwife said she's busy with someone but will come as soon as she can. She said you must concentrate on your breathing exercises like she showed you and try to relax."

"Is she out of her mind? How in the world, aaaargh! Please, please my LORD, I can't take this anymore, please help me!" Susanna managed to whisper. The perspiration was running down her face, the pain leaving her looking ragged and exhausted. "Remember not to push until I tell you to Susanna," the midwife's voice kept ringing in her head. Yet that was all she wanted to do! "I can't keep it in anymore. It has to come out!"

"Is there anything I can do Susanna?" Kotie asks, wiping Susanna's face with a cold cloth she had dipped in the basin of water which Susanna had placed on the pedestal earlier that morning.

The concern was evident on Kotie's face when Susanna didn't answer. "Susanna! Are you alright?" Susanna still did not respond. Kotie just could not stand it anymore so she threw the face cloth back in the basin, tripping over the bucket at her feet as she turned and made her way to the door. "I am going to phone that useless midwife again and give her a piece of my mind that is for sure!" Kotie said to no one in particular.

"Come now, Susanna. Remember! Get a grip on yourself, your baby's life depends on it!" Susanna lay scolding herself. "Think, think! Oh, pant, pant, phoo, phoo, I can't talk! Oh GOD! Oh GOD! I can't! Whe, whe, sob, whe!" She heard Kotie asking her if she was alright but she simply did not have the energy to answer. She also did not realise that Kotie had left the room.

Kotie stomped off back to the kitchen determined to give the midwife hell. Again she made the call to the number in the book. This time however, there was no answer. Kotie's fear began mounting. There was no way she could catch that baby. The anxiety caused her chest to tighten but she knew she could not leave Susanna on her own. Back down the passage she went, not knowing how to help but determined not to abandon this woman she cared so much about.

"Susanna?" she called as she entered the room. Kotie froze in her footsteps. The sight before her eyes shocking her into a solid silhouette. Susanna lay on the bed, her legs spread, with a wriggling baby laying between them in a pool of water mingled with blood. It was a little girl and the cry coming from that little body was a definite indication that she was made of her mother's genes. Susanna's upper body was hanging over the bed with her head halfway in the bucket, which almost sent Kotie sprawling across the floor a moment ago. The sounds coming from that direction seemed as if the very core of Susanna was being torn out of her belly. Kotie stood staring, unable to move. She vaguely heard the knock on the front door however, mesmerised by the picture in front of her, she did not respond until the hammering eventually penetrating her unresponsive mind.

"Excuse me Sue, I have to get that," Kotie stuttered as she left the room.

"Thank goodness you're here, come follow me," she said directing the midwife to Susanna's room without any thought of greeting.

"Oh my goodness, we just couldn't wait to get into this world could we?" the midwife said lifting the little body out of the slimy mess. "No problem with her lungs Susanna, I think we have quite a filly here."

"Is she alright?" Susanna managed between the retching and the weakened contractions still gripping her body from time to time.

"She's perfect, however we need to get the cord cut and get the placenta out and then we can chat." She goes to work and Susanna laying back on the pillows begins to relax.

"Hi there little one. You can lay with your Mommy while I do what needs to be done," the midwife chatters to the baby while cutting the cord. The towel she found next to the basin, on the pedestal was thick and soft. She wrapped it around the little infant and placed her in Susanna's arms.

Susanna protectively wrapped her arms around her little baby and holding her close, she lay looking deep into the perfect little eyes. Unexplained and undeniably the special bond between mother and child is formed. "They took Eugene away from me but they'll never take you away from me; no one will ever separate us, I promise you Storm! Never, ever!" Susanna lay whispering to the little bundle in her arms. As soon as the baby feels her Mommy's skin she begins to make sucking noises and rubs her little mouth against Susanna's breast. All else fades into the background as the baby latches onto her nipple.

The baby's sucking created a sharp contraction making Susanna gasp for breath. This contraction was the one the midwife needed to help Susanna's body expel the placenta. As soon as the baby fell asleep she took the baby from Susanna and passed her over to Kotie who had been forgotten for a moment. Kotie had moved out of the way giving the midwife space to work. She was so enthralled with everything that happened that it took her a moment to realise that the midwife needed her help. She held the baby with the utmost gentleness and sat down on the chair which somehow ended up in the corner of the room. She was totally mesmerised by this beautiful little bundle she was holding.

In no time at all the midwife managed to clean up all the soiled linen, wash Susanna and remake the bed. Now it was baby's turn

"Do you have any clothes for her, Susanna?" the midwife asked.

"Yes in the drawer" Susanna replied.

"Oh this is so beautiful. Did you make these?" the midwife asked looking at the most beautiful little nightdresses all smocked and embroidered with the most delicate stitching she had ever seen.

"Yes. Mr Cohen bought me a role of flannelette material, so I made all the clothes and nappies."

"Well let's get this little filly bathed and dressed," the midwife said as she took the baby back from Kotie.

"Her name is Storm!" the tone of voice came from very deep within Susanna and was filled with raw emotion.

"That most certainly suites her!" the midwife replies, touched by the moment. She knew from experience that something had happened here that ran much deeper than a mother bonding with her new born baby. She smiles, gently lowering the little body into the basin of water she had prepared. Storm loved her bath. She did not complain once until she was taken out of the water and then her cry just about brought the roof down. All three women enjoyed the sound of Storm's anger and were rather irritated by the urgent knock on the front door.

"Now who could that be?" Kotie asked annoyed. "I need to get that" she said to the midwife and left.

Susanna tried concentrating on the voices while the midwife tried pacifying Storm who was still making her objection very clear. All she could make out was the agitation in Kotie's voice as she tried to explain that Susanna was not able to receive any visitors.

"I will wait." Susanna recognised the deep male voice immediately. It was Bennie's. Bennie was Edgar's younger brother and the only one of them all, except maybe for Boetie the eldest brother, who amounted to anything. Susanna began to panic! She did not want Edgar to be a part of this baby's life even though he was her father. They were not legally married so she had the law on her side regarding custody issues and his track record made her case all the more stronger. However, she knew Bennie would not leave until he saw the baby. He was the only one that kept coming to see her and from time to time he would bring her money if and when he could afford it. It did not matter to him that his wife did not approve.

The rest of Edgar's family did not have much contact with Susanna since he was sentenced. Besides, she did not want her child growing up near the "van den Berg's". So when Mr Cohen suggested she could work for him as his housekeeper she grabbed the opportunity. He was an old man and this made her feel safe. It was an absolute blessing when he agreed to employ a white housemaid. After all this was a position reserved for the black folk. But she had no choice. She knew she could not go to her father. His wife would never allow him to help her, let alone give her accommodation. Her mother was remarried and there was no way she would go through the humiliation of submitting to the expectations of her stepfather or his brothers, again.

It felt like centuries ago; Edgar's arrest. He got her arrested as well. She remembers that cold cell only too well! Thinking back to that horrible day, she can still recall the look of sympathy on the detective's face.

"Don't worry; I'll do everything in my power to get you out of here. I know you are innocent, and do not for one minute believe you were involved. Unfortunately your husband implicated you and therefore I have to arrest you. I promise I will do everything in my power to prove your innocence."

"He is not my husband. We are not legally married," Susanna said, her head still bowed in shame.

The footsteps coming down the passage expelled her thoughts and Susanna could feel her whole body tense up. She looked up and saw Kotie standing in the doorway.

"Would you like to see Bennie, Susanna?" Kotie looked at Susanna and by her posture and tone of voice it was obvious that she was ready to come to Susanna's defence.

"It's ok Kotie, let him in," Susanna answered.

"Hello princess. You've been busy I see. Let's take a look," Bennie says taking the baby from Susanna.

"Hello Bennie. Yes we've had quite a morning."

"She is too beautiful. She looks just like you. Kotie was telling me she has quite a pair of lungs and from the sound of it she is going to be a strong lassie just like you are."

Susanna blushes, "I hope so," she says looking at this gentle giant who has been so faithful to her all the years.

Placing Storm back into Susanna's arms, Bennie begins to pace up and down.

"What's wrong Benny? You seem upset."

"Susanna, I did not actually come to visit. I came to give you news that Edgar has escaped from jail, again! He will come looking for you! My mother has already told him that I know where you are and he will not rest until I tell him. Come home with me to my Mom's. You can just let him see the baby and then I'll bring you home again."

"Bennie, you know I do not want Storm growing up in that environment. Do I really have to do this?"

"I'm, afraid so. He will not stop looking for you. Besides if you come peacefully he will be calm. If he has to look for you there's no saying what he might do."

"Ok! But you will have to help me up."

"Susanna is in no condition to move around. She needs bed rest and in a day or two she may get up," the midwife protested.

"It's ok, Sister. I will be fine."

"Let it be on your head, my girl, but I do not approve!"

Susanna wrapped little Storm and thanking the midwife she turned to hug Kotie. "Thank you for everything and for your love and concern. I'll be home as soon as I can, don't wait up for me." With that she walked out. She knew what Edgar was like and she did not want to cause problems for Kotie and her family. They did not deserve it! Little did she know it would be the last time she would see Kotie.

It was Sunday, October 21, 1956

## Chapter 2

## MY VERY FIRST MEMORY

"No! Please Pappa, don't hit my Mommy. Please, please don't!"

"Tossie go to the lounge!" Mom shouted at me.

I hated that name! Storm was my name and it made no sense to me at all that I had to have two names especially if they were names I despised. But Ouma Liz said it was my great grandmother's names so I had no choice but to accept it. Having family names was seen as an honour and it was not debatable. However, at that moment the name issue was the last thing on my mind. I remember the emotions and fear I felt as clearly as if it happened yesterday. Mom was shouting at me; I was screaming at Pappa; and he was hitting Mom as if she was his punching bag.

"No Pappa! Please Pappa, please!" I begged.

"Please Edgar; just let me take her to the lounge," Mom begged.

"No, you piece of trash, I am not finished! Today is the day I am going to kill you!" he shouted back at her.

"Please don't kill my Mommy, Pappa, please!"

I was not even sure what the word meant but I did sense the menace in his voice and instinctively knew it was not to be ignored. I wrapped my little arms around his legs as tight as I could. Pappa was a tall man and very muscular. His blonde hair picked up the rays of the sun, framing his face and giving him a boyish look which was rather deceiving and very few could resist. At the same time it left many underestimating his physical ability and vindictive nature.

Without hesitation he roughly pushed me aside, slamming my body straight into the wall. I bounced back and lost my balance and fell on the floor landing between the two struggling figures towering above me. Paralysed with fear and helplessness, I lay watching the six foot wardrobe being pushed over onto Mom. Then it dawned on me, "Mommy, I have to protect my Mommy!" Scrambling to my feet I fought my way through the biscuits and boxes that came cascading down from the top of the cupboard. Just before I could reach Mommy, I felt Pappa pick me up by the arm and in one swoop managed to prevent the cupboard from landing on top of me. The cupboard hit the floor so hard it broke apart and that scared me even more. I knew instinctively that Mom was in trouble and not being able to do anything about it, was just too much for me. Kicking and screaming, I began fighting to break loose from Pappa's grip. "Let me go! I want to go down! Mommy! Mommy, help me!" I believe it was my hysteria that somehow got Pappa's attention. He put me down and once again shoved me out of the way. The pain I felt from the force of falling on the floor hardly registered as I scanned the room to find Mommy. She had managed to move out of the way of the falling cupboard but lost her balance and fell between the wall and the cupboard. In the confined space she managed to sit up but did not have enough room to balance herself so she could not get back up on her feet. As Pappa walked over to where she was sitting, Mom immediately folded her arms around her head instinctively protecting herself against the next blow. He grabbed her by her wrists and pulled her up and toward himself. I thought he was going to hit her again and this time I simply sat there watching them without making a sound.

***

Blood running from her nose and mouth, her head throbbing and her eyes already swollen and very bruised, Susanna felt exhaustion and pain begin to override the adrenaline that had been rushing through her veins. She also felt relief wash over her when she saw Storm in Edgar's arms. She cried out when he put Storm down and shoved her out of the way. Her chest tightened with emotion as she looked at her little girl now sitting on the floor opposite her, apparently unharmed.

Storm had her legs pulled up and her arms clutching them against her little body. Staring at them with tears streaming down her face, she just sat there; she did not make a sound... no whimpering... no sobbing... just the silent tears flowing over her pale little cheeks.

"Oh GOD, what am I doing to my little girl?" Susanna dared not answer that question, least of all to herself. Now was not the time to ponder their circumstances. She pulled herself lose from Edgar's grip and forced her way past him. Reaching out to Storm she lifted the little girl up and pulled her out the door.

"How many times do I have to talk to you young lady? You will go and sit in the lounge like I told you to, right now!" Susanna said in a stern voice. Storm knew her Mom well enough to know that this time she dare not answer back. Reluctantly, she followed her Mom to the lounge without another word.

***

Nicolas, my second most favourite person in the world, was already sitting on the couch when we came walking into the room. Mom picked me up and put me on the couch next to him.

"Now stay here until I come to fetch you! Do your understand me? The both of you do not move!" Mom turned away and made her way to the bathroom.

Nicolas quietly slipped his hand into mine without saying a word. Although he was only one month older than me he made every effort to always protect me. The two of us were inseparable. He was Pappa's brother, Nico's, son. His Mom and uncle Nico also lived with us but she did not spend much time with Nicolas as she was very ill. On the other hand Mom loved Nicolas as if he was her own and it was for this very reason that she was being beaten.

Mom went back to the room after using the toilet and I heard Pappa shouting again. "Don't tell me you never slept with him! You are forever loving and cuddling his brat! He is not your responsibility and I always have to wait until the bastards are seen to before I get my food! You are a whore and a slut! I will show you what I do to sluts like you." The sounds and screaming that followed made my tummy turn and my chest tighten with fear.

"Why did he call Mom a slut?" I wondered, feeling quite helpless and unable to make any sense of what Pappa was saying. My two and a half year old mind was simply too immature to grasp what had just happened. I knew Nicolas felt the same. All he knew was that the rejection and animosity he sensed from Pappa was real, and he always made a point of avoiding him. He also made sure to keep me out of the way when Pappa was in one of his moods knowing he would not hesitate to dish out a slap or two.

After what seemed like forever, Mom came out of the room. Even though she managed to clean up most of the blood, the bruises and swelling still made her face look like a horror mask. She could barely see through her eyes. However, the family had to be fed and life had to go on. We heard Mom working in the kitchen but did not dare get up from the couch and eventually both of us fell asleep right there, still holding hands.

Mom cried for days and even though she was there she seemed absent and withdrawn. I realised that something was very wrong but again I was too immature to grasp the situation. I overheard Ouma Liz and mom fighting about a baby and mom storming out in tears. Pappa went ballistic and mom got another hiding.

***

The next day Nicolas and Storm were playing in the back yard. Susanna, doing washing, as always over the sink bath outside, was kind of listening to the conversation between the two children.

"Let's play doctor, doctor, Nicolas." Storm suggested.

"Ok. I am the doctor," Nicolas replied.

"Why must you always be the doctor?"

"Because I am the oldest, silly."

"It's not fare!"Storm said smiling. She loved her cousin to much to argue with him. He was her best friend.

Susanna smiled. "They loved each other so much, these two. I am going to break his heart when Storm and I leave. But what can I do? I cannot go on like this!" The previous day's beating was still very fresh in her mind and the pain and discomfort was confirmation of the cruelty of this man she had grown to hate!

For a few minutes Susanna allowed her mind to wander. She was not paying attention to the children and enjoyed the escape into a world of make believe. "Surely there must be more to life than this. Dear GOD please help us to start a new life away from here."

"If you show me yours, I will show you mine!"

The sentence shocked Susanna and she realised that she had forgotten about the children who had now moved and were playing behind her. Turning to face them, she gasped as Nicolas began pulling Storm's panty down.

Susanna was furious! "What do you think you are doing? Now you will go and sit in the corner for the rest of the day my boy, and you madam will sit inside the toilet for the rest of the day!" She grabbed each child by the arm lifting them off their feet. Nicolas was pushed into the corner where he was made to stand and Storm was marched off to the toilet, her feet barely touching the ground.

***

The toilet was a small square cubicle outside the main house. It never flushed properly and the smell was awful. The walls were all mouldy and blistered from the damp and added to the stench. It was dark and cold and all I wanted to do was throw up. I dared not breathe! The smell haunted me for the rest of my life, becoming an obsession that would result in me always spending more money on cleaning materials than food.

My cries fell on deaf ears as Mom simply ignored me. Eventually after what seemed like hours later, she decided to open the door. The joy of getting out of there was so overwhelming that I ran all over the yard, jumping with joy. This joy however, was abruptly ended when I stood on a bee! It was my first encounter with Mother Nature's cruelty and the pain made me cry my heart out.

"Ouch! Mommy it is burning! No! Don't touch it! No Mommy! No!"

"I have to take the sting out Storm! Now sit quiet or it is going to hurt even more! You see, this is what happens when you are naughty! GOD punishes you."

"But why is GOD punishing me Mommy? What did I do wrong?" Mom never answered and I never asked again. All I remembered was that GOD punished people who did wrong things. Once Mom got the sting out I ran over to where Nicolas was standing.

"Look Nicolas, I stood on a bee." He put his arm around me and together we sat down to inspect GOD"s punishment.

Soon after the scenario with Nicolas and I, we moved out of Ouma Liz's house and into a room in a place called "Dingaans Kraal." The name described the formation in which these rooms were built. There were quite a few of them and they all faced a courtyard, creating a horse shoe formation. Mom made a picket fence, using tomato boxes, and erected it all around the piece of yard in front of our room so I could not mix with the other children. There were no trees or plants on the premises just fine sand which got into every possible crevice including your ears. When the wind blew Mom took me inside immediately to avoid the sand from getting into my eyes.

Nicolas and his parents stayed behind with my grandparents when we left. Ouma Liz and Oupa Berg were Pappa's parents. I loved them a lot but Oupa Berg was a scary person so I did not spend a lot of time with him. Ouma Liz on the other hand was an Angel and we all adored her. She cried when we moved out but found comfort in knowing we were just around the corner.

I remember the police arriving and wanting to take Pappa. I clung to him as if my life depended on it. The one policeman pulled me away from him, put me down on the bed and marched Pappa through the door and out the gate, handcuffing him as they went along.

Pappa being arrested and coming home became the pattern of our lives. During one of his homecomings, Mom had to go to the shop and left me with him. He would play with me for hours combing my hair and making me pretty. When mom got home she screamed at Pappa and, grabbing me away from him, she ran out the door. We went to Ouma Liz's house and I went to play with Nicolas outside. We heard Ouma Liz shouting at Mom, leaving us to play.

It was only years later that I found out the main reason why Mom finally left him. She went out for some reason and when she got back she caught him with his hand in my nappy. She stormed out of the room to call Ouma Liz who lived right behind us, and when she got back she caught him having sex with the black lady who worked for Ouma Liz at the time.

The last time, after this incident, I remember seeing Pappa, was when we had the car accident. I remember him taking me out of the car and carrying me. The car was left where it stood, smashed into the wall. I kept asking why he was walking so fast and he kept telling me to be quiet. Every now and again he would look back over his shoulder. Mom could barely keep up and had to jog to stay with us. When we got home he gave me a hug and a kiss and left.

Pappa returned much later and appeared to be more agitated than before. I was already married when I discovered that was the night he shot a policeman. To this day no one would tell me if the man died or not. I don't think he did. Those years the death penalty was still legal in South Africa and Pappa would've gone to the gallows if the policeman was fatally wounded. Unless of course no one was able to prove that he had committed the crime. A few days later he was arrested again. This time Mom walked out with me and I did not see them take him away.

These are my earliest memories. I remember how Pappa always tried to make up every time he beat Mom. He would take me on his bicycle and put a pillow on the handlebars for me to sit on. Then we would ride all over the neighbourhood. I can still see his beautiful blond hair and blue eyes when I think back. Cruel as he was, I still loved him very much but I adored Mommy even more. She meant everything to me and I loved her with my entire being. I always wanted to protect her. As if she ever needed protection. My mother was the strongest person I have ever known.

However, all these memories faded into oblivion only to surface many years later. He escaped from jail a number of times after that and somehow always knew where to find us. Mom kept protecting me and hiding me so that I never saw him. Eventually she found a room in an apartment block in Main Street, Johannesburg, City Centre. There were many rooms and apartments in the building and we just became part of the "community," blending in well enough so that we lost all contact with the Van Den Berg family.

## Chapter 3

## AND THEN THERE WAS MOM, STEPHEN, GRANNY AND ME

The room in which we lived was no bigger than the average main bedroom in a standard suburban home. With the single bed, wardrobe and kitchen table in the room, there was hardly any space left to move. Needless to say it left hardly any place for me to play either. The outside walls, which used to be white, now stained a muddy light brown colour. The bathroom was a communal way down the passage and was shared by everyone on our floor. Mommy never trusted the hygiene of these bathrooms and resorted to bathing me in the basin she kept in the room. I very seldom saw the outside world and kept myself occupied with the empty dishes and lids I found in the kitchen dresser that Mom had made from discarded wooden tomato and apple boxes. I loved the little blue and white checked curtains with the bows made from the same fabric. To me it was paradise, except for the diet.

***

"Bread, bread, bread, always bread!" Susanna's heart broke watching her little girl, sitting at the table eating the dry bread and drinking black coffee.

"Oh. Lord, I so much wanted better for you. What am I to do? I do not even have enough money to pay the rent. Jobs are scarce and I will have to hold on to what I have for now, oh why did I not listen to my principal? Just imagine, I would've been a fully qualified matron by now. She had so many beautiful things in mind for me, yet my heart longed to be with my father. My father... He was so handsome, the women adored him and now he is married to the wicked witch. If only we could go and live with them. But she won't even let me see Eugene. She is your sister you know? They took her away from me like they took Petro away. Petro is also your sister."

Susanna spoke to her little girl as if she were an equal. Storm carried on playing not realising that Susanna was in fact pouring her heart out. Susanna would sit for hours and watch Storm play.

The thought of almost losing her little girl came rushing back with a vengeance. Even though it was just thoughts flooding her mind, they still had the same effects on her as they did at the time. She remembers only too well, the expression on the doctor's face and the feeling of helplessness clearly written all over it.

"I'm truly sorry Ms Pretorius. We have done everything we possibly can. Your baby is extremely ill. For some reason her kidneys are not functioning and that is why her bladder is not working either."

"Don't worry my child, we'll pray," Ouma Nella, Susanna's mother, reassured her and promptly joined the group already praying round Storm's bed. After what seemed like an eternity the pastor said "Amen" and to everyone's surprise Storm started wriggling and moaning. The look of total helplessness on the doctor's face turned to utter amazement when the urine, flowing from Storm, drenched the bed in which she lay.

"But, but..." the doctor immediately took out his stethoscope and began to examine the little girl. It has been days.... having tried everything known to him he was beginning to acknowledge defeat. For some unknown reason her kidneys had stopped functioning and they just could not find out why and now for the same unknown reason they began working again.

"I don't have an explanation for this. However, I believe she's going to be alright!" he said smiling broadly.

***

A couple of days later Susanna was able to bring Storm home. Watching her play now, one would never say she was that ill just days ago.

"Oh, I know the answer! I thank you LORD for saving my little girl's life and please let her always know how much I love her," she carried on praying.

"I love you too Mommy," Storm answered her Mom.

"Sorry, what did you say baby?" Susanna realised she must've prayed out loud.

"I love you Mommy! Can we play now?"

"No, Tossie, I have to go work."

"I hate that name! I should never have allowed them to give my baby those horrible names. Imagine it! Gertruida, Cornelia van den Berg. Storm had so much more character. Then to crown it all they had to give the old woman's nickname to my child as well. Tossie! May you rot in hell, Edgar!"

Susanna was careful this time, not to verbalise her thoughts. She got up and began getting dressed. "It is so cold outside. Oh LORD, maybe tonight I'll have a breakthrough."

The breakthrough came the day when she met Stephen in Joubert Park.

June was Susanna's only sister and even though they were separated for many years after being placed in separate orphanages; they still remained very close and loved each other dearly. She and their brothers always addressed Susanna as, "Ousus," which in the Afrikaans culture, defines the status of being the eldest and the respect earned. June was also the comedian in the family and had a zest for life that was unbelievably contagious. She had made up her mind that a picnic was just what Storm and Susanna needed. Storm was as pale as anything and she could do with some sunlight, she thought to herself.

"Come now Ousus! You and Storm cannot stay cropped up in this room forever you know." June was being her persistent self and had already made up her mind that today was the day Susanna and Storm were going to the park with her.

"You know how I feel about going out June. All I need is to run into Edgar. I have no idea where he is nowadays, and this time I have no doubt he will kill me."

"I hear what you are saying Ousus, but you also cannot stay locked up all your lives. He is the criminal and you are living as if you are in jail. It is ridiculous! Besides, Tossie needs fresh air and the only way she is going to get it is if you make a plan to take her outside."

Susanna knew she was running out of excuses and she also knew that what June was saying was true. Storm needed to be outdoors. She was drawing into herself more and more, and hardly ever talked anymore. Since she was so ill her colour was not healthy either and sunlight is the best thing to cure that.

"Where are we going?" Storm pulled her hand out of June's and ran to hide behind her mother.

"It's ok sweetheart. We are going to the park." Susanna said bending over to stroke Storm's hair.

"What's a park?" June could not help but look at Susanna with an accusing look that said it all.

She bent down on her haunches so that she was eye level with Storm.

"A park is a huge open space with green grass and swings and slides where little children can play and have fun."

"What is a swing?"Storm asked peeking out from behind Susanna's dress.

"Come, we are going to show you." June picked Storm up and put her in the pushcart. She pushed Storm out the door and Susanna followed, carrying the basket of sandwiches and fruit that June brought with her.

Joubert Park covered a wide open space, maybe the size of two rugby fields or more. Filled with trees and flowers, it was an absolute haven for birds and pigeons and the odd squirrel or two. In between the trees there were ponds filled with gold fish and water lilies of various colours. The stillness broken by the sounds of the birds calling to each other and the children's laughter added to the awesome yet serene atmosphere.

Storm loved the swings, but feared them as well. She squealed when June pushed her and it was difficult to distinguish if they were squeals of joy or squeals of fear. The hours just flew by and it was on their way home that they ran into Stephen.

"Hi hot stuff; do you have a phone number?" his eyes were teasing her and she wished the earth would open up and swallow her.

"Hi." Susanna could not breathe. Her chest was tightening and it felt like she was going to faint.

"So what's up? Cat caught your tongue?" his teasing eyes confirming that he was enjoying the moment.

Stephen fought hard not to give in to the desire to take this woman in his arms and smother her with kisses. Her long blonde hair cascaded over her shoulders like layers of silk. Her body was lean and muscular yet feminine. Being up close to her he was looking into the most beautiful blue eyes he has ever seen. For a split second he stood mesmerised by the smell of the most beautiful creature he had ever laid eyes on and the bewildered look on her face made her even more attractive. The chemistry between them was tangible and he just knew he could not let her go.

The idea of never seeing her again was simply unthinkable. He had been watching her the whole day drinking in her beauty. The other girl with her seemed to be caught up in playing with her child. She seemed a bit young to have a child, but that did not keep his attention for long. He was too mesmerized by the blonde goddess. He almost missed her and thanked the heavens that he saw them leaving.

"Hey Ousus, we have to go." June could not believe her eyes. Her sister talking to a stranger...

"I'll be with you in a moment June." Susanna turned back to Steven, her sanity restored.

"No, I don't have a cat or a phone. So you are wasting your time." Without another word Susanna turned and ran after June.

Even though the meeting was but a moment, the young man with his dark hair and eyes left a lasting impression on Susanna. Stephen was very good-looking. His thick, lustrous dark hair was combed back and shinning from the layers of Brill-Cream combed through it. The "ducktail" hairstyle, cut in the favourite James Dean look, would've made Elvis Presley envious. He was dressed in tight, stove pipe denims, which was accentuated by the two tone Garmin shoes. She remembers clearly how the muscles bulged in his arms when he extended his hand to take hers. His entire being attracted Susanna. His voice, his eyes, his stance, his hair and body, all of it making up the most handsome man she had ever met. His teasing eyes were the last thing on her mind when sleep eventually came, in the early hours of the morning.

Day after day, Stephen went to the park, hoping to run into Susanna. At least he had her name but that was all he had. She haunted his dreams and his mind tortured him even more. It was more than a week later when he finally ran into her again.

Susanna had come from work and on her way home she decided to walk through the park. It was still early and she enjoyed the cool morning air. When she spotted Stephen she tried slipping away without being noticed, but she was too late.

"Susanna, please, wait!" this time there was no teasing.

"Please, can we start over?"

"Start what over?"

"Allow me to introduce myself, I am Stephen Wilson."

"Hello Stephen Wilson."

After that day it did not take long for the relationship to develop into more than just a platonic friendship, and very soon Susanna found herself face to face with a situation she could not avoid or get out of. She felt her throat close every time Stephen looked into her eyes and from the expression on his face, she just knew...

"Let's go to your place," he asked, after one of their regular morning meetings, looking at her with an assertiveness she hadn't seen before.

"No, we can't." Susanna replied, her mind working overtime to find a reason why she did not want him to come home with her.

"How do I explain Storm to him? I really like him and I don't want to lose him," the thought flashed through her mind.

"Maybe some other time?" she quickly added.

"Come now Babes, what are you hiding? It has been weeks and every time I suggest we go to your place you make an excuse. This time it is not going to work. We are going because I want to see where you live."

She knew this time she would not get out of it.

"He would have to know about Storm sometime, I can't hide her forever, so I guess it is now or never."

"There's something I have to tell you," she said in a quiet, small voice.

"It can wait till we get there."

"No, I have to tell you now."

"What is it?" Stephen took her in his arms picking up the concern in her voice.

"I have a child. NO! I have three children. One of them, Eugene, is living with my father. I was married to Dolf, Eugene's father and divorced him for abusing me. Then I have Storm who was registered as Gertruida Cornelia but everyone calls her Tossie. A year or so later I gave birth to another little girl, Petro. They were born out of my relationship with Edgar, who did much more than abuse me so I had to get away from him. Storm is living with me but my in-laws signed Petro over to Edgar's brother. By the time I came out of the hospital they had moved to Rhodesia, taking Petro with them."

Stephen burst out laughing.

"Oh my goodness! So the little girl I saw in the park with you is yours?"

"Yes she is."

"Is that why you did not want me to come home with you?"

"Yes. I have a lot of baggage Stephen and I did not know how you would react."

"Oh! You silly woman! I have fallen hopelessly in love with you and do you think for one moment that I would give up on you because you had children? Come let's go and meet this little lady, but before we do, I want to do something first."

Taking her hand he led her towards the city centre. The park was not very far out of the city and the roads were lined with shops on both sides all the way into town. With every shop he passed, he would peek through the window and keep going, almost as if he could not make up his mind.

"What are you looking for?" Susanna asked.

"I am looking for a gift! I want to buy a gift for a very special little girl."

"Oh, Stephen, you do not have to do that."

"Yes, I do!"

Eventually he sees a shop selling clothes for children and goes inside.

"I am looking for a dress for my little girl. She is almost three and it has to be the prettiest dress in the whole shop. One that would make her feel and look like a princess," Stephen explained to the young girl behind the counter, smiling at Susanna as he turned back toward her.

The shop assistant looked them up and down as they walked into the store. She knew the sort. They come into the store regularly thinking they own the place yet cannot afford one of the handkerchiefs let alone a dress. She hesitated for a moment looking at Stephen then at Susanna almost as if she were trying to make up her mind about something. Then, determined that she found the answer she was looking for, she began pulling boxes down from the shelf behind her. Opening box after box and presenting dress after dress she simply could not find anything to satisfy Stephen. Eventually just as he was about to give up, he took a last look around and right behind him he saw a mannequin dressed in the most beautiful dress. It was pink with layers of petticoats and orange flowers. The top layer over the pink skirt part of the dress was yellow organza giving it a gold shimmer. It had a broad pure silk ribbon around the waist, tied into a big bow. The sleeves were puffed and finished off with silk ribbon at the seams. The neck was also lined with silk ribbon. A dress for a princess!

"How much is that one?"

"That one is very expensive, sir," the sales lady replied, the contempt in her voice rather obvious.

"I did not ask if it was expensive, I asked how much?" Stephen asked through gritted teeth.

With absolute contempt she gave him the price.

"That's how much I make in a week", Susanna thought to herself, shocked!

"I'll take it," she heard him say.

"Stephen no, that is a fortune! You do not have to do this!"

"I know, I don't have to do it but I want to. I intend stealing your little girl's heart."

***

And that he did! I remember putting the dress on and screaming blue murder when Mom wanted to take it off. She eventually gave up and allowed me to sleep in it. I also remember the fabric scratching my skin but still I insisted that I want to keep it on. I fell in love with Stephen just like he planned me to. He would put me on his shoulders and walk down the road with me, making me feel like I was a thousand feet tall and untouchable.

Mom would go out working and he would stay with me at night. We would have tea parties and he would pour some brandy in the bottle top for me to drink, pretending it was a glass. It was our secret. Mom never found out until I told her years later.

Nothing changed much except the day Mom made me "melk kos". It was the best meal I ever had. It was macaroni, cooked in a thick milk sauce layered with cinnamon and sugar on top. It was the first time I remember tasting sugar or milk for that matter. The only milk I ever knew was the milk from Mom's breast, which I still drank occasionally.

The recession caused major job losses and unemployment was rife. Stephen eventually found a job as an apprentice mechanic after walking the streets for months. The holes in his shoes testimony to the mileage he got out of them. This was the first "payday" since he met Mom and we had reason to celebrate. No more eating the food Stephen always brought us from his home which he wrapped in brown paper. He would eat a little at the dinner table and when his mother wasn't looking he would slip the rest of his food into the brown paper and wrap it.

"Don't you think it is time you called me Daddy, princess?" he asked me one day.

"What does Daddy mean?"I asked.

Stephen realised that I only knew the word Pappa, (Edgar) being Afrikaans and all.

"It is the same as Pappa but only English," he explained.

"Oh, okay. Does this mean you are my Pappa?"

"Yes it does," he replied in Afrikaans.

"I have a Daddy, I have a Daddy!" the gold dress swirling around my legs as I danced around and around. I was not impressed when Mom spoiled my fun and told me it was bedtime.

"Stephen, I cannot go and live with your folks. Storm is my responsibility and not yours. It is enough that you do so much for us, I cannot expect your parents to put up with me and my child," I heard Mom say.

"Ok! Then at least just come and meet them. My mother is dying to meet you."

The following morning we went to meet Daddy's parents.

"So this is the little princess that stole my son's heart", she said picking me up and hugging me. Mom stood to one side obviously very shy and embarrassed.

"Come in, young lady," she said to Mom.

"Thank you Mrs..."

"Mom will do very well, thank you," she interrupted "and as for you, little princess, I am to be called Granny. Where is their luggage, Stephen?"

"We need to talk about it Mom."

"There's nothing to talk!" Granny turned to talk to the man standing behind her. It was Daddy's father.

"Dad, will you please go with Stephen and Susanna and fetch their belongings. I will not hear of this little princess being locked up in a room one more day!"

I remember Granny to this day standing in the kitchen with her apron. She was making food, her hair tied in a bun. I loved her from day one, Granddad as well. Granddad was a quiet man with a kind heart, who always had time to listen to our stories.

Daddy's sister was another ball game. She was seven years older than me and freaked out every time I played with her toys. Never having any of my own I was mesmerized by the dolls on her dressing table. Her Doll House was the best and left me crying for days because I couldn't have it. She had a Golliwog and I wanted him with all my heart but no amount of crying, kicking and screaming helped. A couple of weeks later Granny made me a Golliwog. He was beautiful. He had Afro locks and striped pants with braces. It was my prized possession until Daddy came home one Friday with a huge parcel wrapped in brown paper. It was a teddy bear. He was almost as big as I was and I did not let him out of my sight for a moment. He had to sit in the bathroom when I bathed, at the dining room table when I sat in my high chair to eat and in the back yard where I played. We were inseparable. Now that I had my own, Daddy's sister's toys did not seem to be all that interesting, although I did want to play with them from time to time. However, she did not like the idea and even though we began to accept one another we still did not allow one another to play with the other's toys.

I was so happy. Dad's older sisters all made a fuss of me and would give me clothes and shoes that were too small for their children. From what Mom told me, they all walked on eggs around us, too afraid to do or say anything that would make Daddy angry. I learned later on that you don't mess around with Daddy, ever. He had a violent and aggressive nature and would not think twice before using his fists to sort out any disagreements. He was never violent toward us though. I can remember him giving me a hiding only once when I bunked school years later. Yet I was frightened of him.

I loved and also feared him! So did his entire family! As violent as he was, he had the most incredible nature. He was a good hearted and kind man when he was sober and loved animals just as much as I did. He drank a lot but never took any of his wages to support his habits. His whole "pay packet" as it was called in those days, went to Mom.

Granny loved me very much and she loved Mom as well. I have no idea why we stayed with them for so long but what I do know is that Mom and Daddy had many fights. I think Granny insisted that we stay with them until she was convinced that Mom and Daddy had a more stable relationship. As things were at the time, it appeared that Daddy liked other woman as well and his drinking and going out without Mom was a great concern for Granny and Grandpa.

My friends were Rommel and the monkey. The monkey lived in the back yard and had a house mounted on top of a pole. I so much wanted to play with him but he was very temperamental and was kept chained to the pole. He wanted to bite me most of the time but he provided a lot of entertainment as long as I didn't wear the navy jersey Granny bought me. Rommel also was not a very friendly dog but he was a friend nonetheless. He replaced the loneliness, I felt with Mom not giving me her undivided attention anymore. She was always doing something. When she wasn't busy, Daddy would take her dancing and they were forever going somewhere, leaving me with Gran. The rest of the time Mom would be helping Granny in the house, cleaning and doing washing. For some reason it did not matter too much as I loved my days playing outside with the monkey and his antics. Having Rommel always close by also helped and I would talk to him about everything. The open air and being in the sun was new to me and I enjoyed every moment of it. Finding insects and showing them to Rommel was a favourite pastime for me and seeing the birds sitting and chattering in the trees was simply amazing.

Our fairy tale soon came to an end one afternoon when I heard Mom and daddy fighting, and then Mom went charging out of the front door. She got hold of the woman's hair who was sitting in the passenger seat in Daddy's car and pulled on her hair for dear life. The next moment Daddy got in the car and drove off. Mom was left standing with a handful of hair. She was furious. I had never seen her so angry ever!

I don't know if this was the reason why, but it was not long after that and the fight that Daddy got into with the guys across the road, that we moved to Oupa's house.

It broke my heart when we left and I cried for days over Rommel and the monkey. I cried even more for Granny and Granddad.

Ouma Nella, Mom's mother, also popped in and out of lives from time to time but I hardly paid attention to her. Besides, I hated visiting her because Mom's youngest brother would chase me with grasshoppers and crickets. Ouma Nella on the other hand would make me drink castor oil and orange juice which was absolutely disgusting and enough reason to stay very far away!

## Chapter 4: 1961 to 1962

## Grade 0 to Grade 1

## OUPA, THE MAN I LOVED TO HATE, and EUGENE

I was 5 years old when I saw Oupa for the first time. It was at a funeral. I had nightmares for days. We were riding in this huge black car driven by a man wearing a uniform. Everyone was very sombre and no one spoke at all. From the little that was spoken at home before we left, I gathered that we were on our way to someone's funeral. I had never been to a funeral and had no idea what it was all about. I instinctively sensed that it was not a very pleasant occasion and that the rule of "children are seen and not heard" should not be broken at all during this time.

After what seemed like an eternity we got to the Chapel. I do not remember what it looked like but I do remember that it was a very cold day. The people, all dressed in black clothes, hurried their way inside trying to avoid the icy wind which seemed to cut to the very core of one's bones.

As we came into the door I saw this big wooden box with the flowers on it. Everyone paused and looked inside before they sat down. Mom would not let me look inside. I was made to sit down near the back and she made it quite clear that I must be quiet. She left me there and joined a very tall, dark haired man who seemed reluctant to come away from the wooden box. Mom stayed with him throughout the service and fetched me on her way out when it was time to leave.

I had no idea who this man was or why Mom seemed to care so much for him. What did leave quite an impression on me was that he did not greet me or look at me throughout the entire day. Not at the Chapel or at the house where they served us cake and tea. As a matter of fact I got the impression that he did not like me at all... I was right!

Much later that afternoon we went home and I heard Mom and Daddy talking.

"I am going to live with my father, Stephen. He can't live on his own. If you do not want to come with me, I will understand."

"Do I have any say in this matter Susanna?"

"No! And even if you did, it will not change my mind. With his wife passing away he cannot cope with Eugene and go to work. You knew about Eugene, Stephen. I told you she lived with my father."

"You mean your father took her away from you! At least that is what you told me." Stephen responded quite abrasively.

"I think he did it because he knew I could not care for her Stephen. He was only trying to help."

"She was your daughter for goodness sake! If he cared so much why did he not take you in with her?"

"His wife would not allow it. She insisted that I was a married woman and belonged with Eugene's father. She would not help me get away from him."

I knew I should not have been listening to the conversation but I could not help it since I was playing right there in the room with them. Both of them were oblivious to my presence and too wrapped up in their own thoughts and feelings.

***

Susanna was beginning to feel very uncomfortable and totally embarrassed. She had never gone into so much detail with Stephen and this was part of her history she would rather forget. Susanna met Dolf after she came out of boarding school. They were married and she fell pregnant with Eugene soon thereafter. Dolf was from German descent and a very cruel man. Susanna had more beatings than she cared to remember and it was with one of these hidings that he broke her nose and her jaw. After being discharged from hospital Susanna decided to leave him and her father was the only one she could turn to. His wife would not have anything to do with it so he promptly took Eugene, who was still very small, and told Susanna to go back to her husband. Left with no other choice, Susanna left Eugene with them and went to live with her friend.

"I have to go and live with them Stephen, for Eugene's sake and for my father."

Hearing the sadness in her voice made Stephen feel guilty about the way he spoke to her. He pulled her into his arms and as always he could not resist her. Reluctantly he agreed to go with and called for Storm to come and help them pack.

***

I remember asking why we were packing and that Daddy would not give me a direct answer. So I eventually gave up and did as I was told. Both he and Mom seemed very quiet and did not say much to each other. Once we were finished Mom got me bathed and ready for bed. The following morning Daddy told me to say good bye to Granny and Granddad. I held onto Granny and sobbed my heart out. Daddy took me from her arms and carried me to the car. He tried to reassure me that we would still visit Granny but I still cried all the way until we got to the other house. The same tall man I saw at the funeral opened the door.

"This is your Oupa, Tossie, come and say "hello," Mom said pulling me toward her.

"Hello." I tried with all my might to hide behind Mom's dress. She kept pushing me toward the man.

"Where are your things Susanna?" he said without looking at me or responding to my greeting.

"Out in the car Dad, Stephen has gone to fetch them."

"Is he coming to stay here as well?"

"Yes Dad, he is," Mom sounded very assertive.

"Humph! Does this mean I will have to take care of the whole family?"

"No Dad, Stephen has a job and we will take care of everything."

"Mommy, he never said "hello" to me," I piped up in between, pulling on Mom's dress.

"Don't worry about it Tossie he is just a little upset," Mom said following the man into the house. "Come and say hello to Eugene"

"Who is Eugene?"

"Eugene is your sister."

"My sister? I have a sister? Hip, hip hooray, I have a sister, I have a sister," I shouted to Daddy as I ran back toward the car to call him."Come see Daddy, I have my own sister!"

"I know Tossie. Let's go meet her."

After greeting Oupa in a "brushed off" kind of way Daddy took my hand and we went inside. Eugene stood in the entrance hall, her hands clasped together in front of her. She was spotless. She wore an apron over her dress and her hair was platted in two thick braids and tied up with silk ribbons behind her ears. She had the most beautiful hair. And those ribbons! They were shiny and huge!

"Hello, I am Tossie," I said in my excited voice.

"Good afternoon I am Andrea," she said in the absolute opposite tone.

"I'm your sister."

"I know, the lady told me."

"Mommy said your name was Eugene. Why do they call you Andrea?"

"That is my name."

"Come Tossie, you are asking too many questions. Just like you have the name Tossie and Gertruida, Eugene has two names but we will call her Andrea. You girls go play, Daddy and I have work to do." I simply hated it when Mom mentioned the name Gertruida. My name was Storm and that was the name I wanted to be called. Not Gertruida and not Tossie! Mom marched us off through the kitchen toward the back yard. I point blankly refused to call my new found sister Andrea and kept calling her Eugene. If she was anything like me she also hated her other name. Eventually everyone else also got used to it and the name Eugene stuck.

It was the end of an era and the beginning of the worst years of my life. Oupa made it quite clear from the very start that there was to be no relationship between us. He disliked me and that was that! As for me, I made it my business to make him like me. I would make a point of greeting him even though he avoided and ignored me most of the time.

I started school the same year. It was very difficult to adjust to the discipline and I could not count and write like the other children could. Fortunately it did not take me long to catch up and I soon became the insignificant little grey mouse in the back of the class.

Eugene and I got on like a house on fire but we had our disagreements as well. It did not take me long to discover that she looked up to me. She hated school and got into trouble all the time because she did not understand her work. From grade two they decided she needed to go to a "special" school.

I spent my life defending her and fighting her battles, including the odd fist fight. She would come home and tell me the children at her school were hitting her. More than once, I took the bus to her school to "fight" these children. More often than not, I would get there only to find they were all gone and I was stuck without bus-fare to get back home. It was the best part of five maybe six miles home, and I had to walk back. Arriving home just before sundown and refusing to explain where I was cost me a hiding every time. Yet I would do it again and again.

From day one I clicked better with the boys than I did with the girls. I could climb the trees better than they did. I could run faster than they did. I outdid them physically and mentally, giving new meaning to the label "Tomboy." To Mom's frustration the boys would follow me home from school, carrying my books and buying me miniature slabs of chocolate. Not because they liked me but because they were afraid of me.

"And who are you?" she would ask the one boy who walked me home on the first day of school.

"I'm Tossie's friend and I've come to play," he answered shamelessly.

"Oh no, young man, I bet your Mom does not even know where you are. You go and get yourself home now."

Back inside she sat me down and made it quite clear that she would not tolerate this behaviour.

"Young lady, this is the first and the last time we are going to have this conversation. You are never, ever, to bring friends home ever again, do you understand me?"

I knew that tone in her voice very well and I also knew this was warning enough to make sure she was obeyed. I was never allowed friends. Nor was I allowed to sleep over at any of the folk's Mom and Daddy were friends with.

***

"So what is the occasion?" Stephen asked.

"Why does it have to be a special occasion to make a nice meal for my family?" Susanna replied, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

"Well it is a weekday and we are eating leg of lamb!"

"Just felt like doing something special," she said smiling and twirling around the table as she kept serving everyone.

"Get your elbows of the table. You have no manners!" Oupa growled at me. Stephen's dirty look, directed at the old man, went unnoticed. As usual Susanna just ignored her father. After all he is just trying to teach Tossie some manners, besides nothing could spoil this day. She kept humming to herself as she went about her chores. Stephen watched her closely but try as he might he could not figure out what was going on in her mind. She was even more beautiful. He loved this woman with his entire being. He sat quietly, drinking in the aura of happiness surrounding her.

"When are you going to stop with the fidgeting?" asked Stephen.

"I'm almost done. Why don't you go ahead and have your bath, I'll be with you in a minute."

Stephen knew her well enough to know it was no use arguing. She would not come to bed before the entire house was spotless. So off to the bathroom he went. When he got to the bedroom Susanna was waiting for him. Her father had gone to his room and the girls were asleep, so maybe tonight he would be able to have her undivided attention.

"No Stephen, stop that! You are going to wake the girls!" Susanna whispered under her breath as he fell onto the bed and began tickling her.

Susanna knew she wanted to spend time with Stephen tonight so she bathed and did her hair before he came home, making sure she added extra perfume. As usual he could not keep his hands of her. She on the other hand was nervous that the children would wake up so she tried with all her might to control the situation.

"We really have to do something about closing up the back veranda. The girls are beginning to grow up and it is not good for them to still sleep in our room."

"Oh stop worrying, they are fast asleep. You on the other hand have been teasing me all evening. Come here." Stephen said pulling her into his arms, drinking in the smell of her and losing all sense of logic.

Storm was not sleeping. Quiet as a mouse she laid listening to the sounds and drinking in the smell of her mother that was so familiar to her. After what seemed like hours it became quiet and she could smell them smoking.

"Stephen, I have something to tell you." Stephen's stomach turned. This statement usually meant there was a problem and it felt very unsettling.

"What's wrong?" he replied, his voice controlled.

"I'm pregnant."

"You are what? Are you sure? When? How? Oh my god, are you serious? Oh Susanna, that is the most amazing news ever!"

Susanna looked into his eyes and all she could see was love. This was the happiest moment in her life and she felt her cheeks glow. They lay talking and holding each other till the early hours of the morning. The last words Storm heard before falling asleep were...

"Susanna, will you marry me?"

"Yes Stephen, I will."

***

The wedding was concluded in the magistrate's office with Ouma Nella and Granny as witnesses. Mom told me that they went for hamburgers after and then they came home to make dinner for Oupa and us.

Mom sat for hours making little baby jackets, pillow cases and blankets using white satin for summer and flannelette for winter. Sheets for the cot and sheets for the pram were all embroidered to match the pillow cases and blankets. The net for the cot, made to keep mosquitoes out, was embroidered with little animals, silk ribbons and lace which decorated the corners to give it weight. It was exquisite. All the embroidery was done by hand. The entire layette was washed and packed into plastic bags to keep the fish moths out. The nappies were also washed and packed. They were so white it hurt your eyes looking at them.

Mom was so beautiful. She glowed and wherever she moved she was humming and rubbing her tummy. I never understood the connection at the time and dared not ask any questions. This was "grown up things" and one did not talk about it.

Oupa became more insulting and aggressive than ever. When he got drunk he would swear Mom and call her names like he did with me. She would always make excuses for him and tolerate his abuse. This frustrated Daddy to no end but he never said or did anything to Oupa. I just heard him speaking to Mom about it from time to time. It was as if this baby miraculously extinguished any unhappiness and nothing was able to upset her. She floated around the house in a dream. Eugene and I became part of the furniture and more wrapped up in each other. We were not neglected and our basic care of being cleaned, clothed and fed was seen to. But as for the rest we were simply seen and not heard.

Daddy loved her more than ever. He was forever holding her or cuddling her even though she would push him away reminding him we were in the room. It was all so dreamlike until that awful day when she came back from the doctor's room.

***

"I have to go see Dr Cohen today Stephen."

"I know and I am coming with. I am not missing out on anything."

"It's still another month and a half, Stephen. Dr Cohen's receptionist asked me to come in because he wanted to talk to me. I must admit that I can't understand why, but I don't think it's necessary for you to drag along."

"Nope sunshine, I'm coming with," Stephen insisted bending down to tie his shoes.

"Then please hurry, I don't want to keep Dr Cohen waiting."

Stephen held the car door open so Susanna could get in. Her tummy had grown quite a bit and she was becoming a bit uncomfortable. When they arrived the receptionist ushered them in immediately, saying that Dr Cohen was waiting for them.

"Good day, Mrs. Wilson, Mr. Wilson. How are you feeling my dear?" Dr Cohen asked without waiting to hear their greeting. From the look on his face Susanna knew something was wrong.

"I'm fine, Dr. Cohen. Why did you ask me to come in? What's wrong?"

"I am very happy that you came along Mr. Wilson. What I am about to tell you affects both of you and..."

"Oh for goodness sake Dr. Cohen, get to the point, what is going on?" Susanna could no longer control herself.

"Ok my dear, but please, you need to calm down. Do you remember the blood tests we took last month?"

"Yes I do. You said they were routine tests."

"Well yes they are but I did add another test because I had a few concerns."

"What test?" Stephen began to feel panic and could not hold back either.

"You never told me about any extra tests, Dr Cohen."

"I know Susanna, but I did not want to scare you unless I was sure. You showed abnormalities with the routine blood tests we did the visit before last, so when you came last month I ran the additional test to confirm the previous results."

"For god's sake Dr. Cohen could you get to the point? We are grownups so just tell me what the hell is going on." Susanna's emotions got the better of her and she was choking with emotion.

"I am sorry Susanna but..."

"Just say it for goodness sake!" Daddy exploded no longer able to control himself.

"My dear I suspect you have cancer."

As he turned to look at her, Stephen saw Susanna's body go limp in the chair and caught her just as she began slipping toward the floor.

Dr. Cohen stood beside him when he picked her up indicating to Stephen that he must lay her on the bed. Picking up a vial on the cupboard, he filled a syringe and injected Susanna. After a while she came round, the glow in her face replaced by a deathly pale hue, accentuated by the dark circles around her eyes.

"Why did I not see the dark circles around her eyes before?" Stephen asked.

"Because the glow in her face hid them" Dr Cohen answered Stephen's question with a barely audible whisper.

Susanna lay on the bed staring at the ceiling, her eyes cold as ice.

"How? What is this going to do to my baby?" she asked in a daze.

"I can't answer that Susanna. I want you to go and see a gynaecologist friend of mine. I have already spoken to him and he has agreed to see you. I took the liberty of making an appointment for you. His rooms are at the Johannesburg Hospital where he lectures and practices from. Please go there straight from here as you are already late and I will call him to explain that you are on your way." Dr. Cohen held the door open for them as Stephen helped her off the bed and ushered her toward the door. He stood and watched with sadness as Stephen helped his wife into the car.

Stephen had to support Susanna when they left Dr. Cohen's rooms. She was too unstable to walk on her own and if she were not so stubborn, he would quite happily have picked her up and carried her to the car.

The gynaecologist was a very cold and clinical man. He told Susanna that they would have to do an internal examination to determine the baby's size as they would have to do an emergency operation to take the baby out. He explained that she would not be able to go for treatment while she was pregnant.

"There is nothing to be concerned about Mrs. Wilson. You are over seven months, so your baby's chance of survival is excellent. Let's have a quick look." The doctor's voice sounded like he was in a tunnel.

Susanna went into the examination room and after undressing she put on the gown and lay on the bed as she was instructed to do. It all seemed surreal and she could not think straight.

"Stephen?" Stephen heard the panic in her voice.

"I'm here Babes. I'm right here."

"Could you wait outside please, Mr. Wilson?"

"No Doctor, I cannot wait outside. Whatever my wife has to go through, I will go through with her. So please just do what you have to."

"It's ok Stephen. I will be ok. Just wait outside." Susanna pleaded with Stephen, not sure of his reaction if the Doctor should hurt her or do something he didn't like.

"Okay, okay. I will wait outside for you." Not wanting to upset Susanna any further he quietly left the examination room and waited for them in the consulting room next door.

The doctor prodded and fiddled, the expression on his face becoming more and more perplexed as he finished the internal examination and removed the glove from his hand.

"Mrs. Wilson, when last did your doctor listen to your baby's heartbeat?"

"I don't understand doctor."

He placed an instrument, which looked like an upside down vase with a foot piece, on Susanna's tummy. Bending over, he put his ear to the flat end and listened. After moving it around a few times he stood up and faced Susanna once more.

"What I have just done, was listen to your baby's heartbeat Mrs. Wilson. Has your doctor ever done that?"

"No."

"Has he ever examined you internally, like I just did?"

"No. Dr Cohen said the gynaecologist would do that when I reserve my bed at the hospital."

Susanna could not figure out the look on the doctor's face. He seemed irritated but never said a word.

"Please get dressed and come through to the room next door. There I will speak with you and your husband."

Her arms feeling like lead, Susanna managed to put her clothes back on and went through to the room the doctor had indicated.

"What I am about to tell you is not pleasant. I cannot hear your baby's heartbeat. The reason for that is because I believe there is no baby. What you have inside of you Mrs. Wilson is a tumour. A very large tumour, it is not a baby. From the examination I was able to feel the shape and I can guarantee you it is not a baby. I will be admitting you immediately to have it removed. The examination confirms the blood tests and if we are to save your life, I must operate immediately. Your husband can go home and get the things ou will need for the hospital. You can prepare for at least ten days stay."

Once again Susanna lost consciousness and almost slipped out of the chair. This time Stephen expected the reaction and was more prepared. He felt numb inside and did not allow his thoughts or feelings to surface. He had to be there for Susanna.

***

It was cervical cancer. Mom stayed in hospital much longer than a week. Daddy would come home and go straight to bed without talking to anyone. Sometimes I would hear him speaking to Oupa and every time it would end up in an argument. Then one night he came home and he and Oupa shouted at each other again. We were told to go outside as usual so I could not make out what they were saying. But that night I heard Daddy crying when he went to bed. It was the day Mom went into a coma and they were fighting for her life.

I was too small to realise what was going on and all I did was cry every night feeling so lonely, I thought I would die. Oupa made my life a misery whilst Mom was in hospital. I attempted to cook supper one evening and it turned out a disaster. The sausage and rice were burnt and he made sure I never heard the end of it. The fact that I was only six years old made no difference to him. It made no difference to anyone.

I also bunked school and Daddy found out. He quietly sat me down and explained that he had to give me a hiding and why. He then promptly went ahead, pulled me over his lap and gave me a spanking that would last me for a long time. I never bunked again until high school.

I cannot recall one member of the family looking in on us to see if we needed anything. Oupa and Daddy were left to see to everything. Thank goodness we had Betty, our domestic servant. She became so much more than a mother to us during this time so I began to call her Magogo, the African name for grandmother.

After what felt like an eternity Mom came out of hospital. She was very ill and Daddy had to carry her to the bathroom and back. It took forever before she was on her feet again. It was so good to have her back! However, Mom was never the same after that. She was devastated because she was not pregnant and at the same time she had to cope with the radiation treatment and the trips up and down to the hospital.

Months later she convinced Daddy that she wanted to go out and work. This was the day after she had packed up all the baby clothes she had made and gave it to charity. The embroidered linen she made she gave to Aunty June for the baby she was expecting in March the following year.

Mom began working at Old Mutual down the road from our house. One afternoon we went to say hello to her, but she was not there. On the doorstep of her office was a cake box. Eugene and I both, could not contain our curiosity. We took the box and ran home. Behind Oupa's garage was a little passage and the two of us sneaked in there so we could open our find uninterrupted. There, in the box, was the most delicious looking cream cake we had ever seen. We never knew what cream cake was until that day. We did not even bother to cut it. We broke it in half and devoured the entire cake between the two of us. Mom never spoke of the cake and we soon forgot about it. To this day we do not know who the cake belonged to or where it had come from.

Stealing the sweets from the supermarket was a different story! Eugene and I had to go to the shop for Mom. French Hairdressing Saloon, the brand new retail chain store, had just opened in the main road, so we decided to go window shopping. Our favourite pastime! Food Town opened right next door and their shelves were filled with the most exciting things but the sweets isle was the best and the biggest temptation! I don't know who convinced who, but we each took a packet and shoved it into our pants. Eugene walked out the door no problem. As I got to the till, mine fell through the side of the trouser leg and landed on the floor, right at the feet of the manager, who was now towering above me.

He marched me off to his office and called Mom! That day I had an audience most performers would envy, as the entire store came to a standstill, to watch Mom give me my "well deserved hiding." The store manager's need for retribution was satisfied and Mom dragged me all the way home by the scruff of my neck.

I never knew she could walk so fast!

## Chapter 5: 1963 – 1965

## Grades 2 to 4

## FREEDOM AND LIFE"S TREASURES

It was a very hot summer afternoon when my parents fetched me from school. Eugene was in the car already when I got in. We were rather confused when we did not go back to Oupa's house. Instead we went to a flat and were told that this is where we will be living from then on. I was ecstatic! The mere thoughts of getting away from Oupa, made me want to dance and sing and shout at the top of my lungs!

It was awesome! In front of the flat, the gutters were pretty deep and formed quite a pool when it rained. Many nights Mom would come home from work and find us soaking wet from playing in the water. Eventually she got quite angry as both Eugene and I had long hair and it would take her hours to get our hair dry. My hair was nowhere near as thick as Eugene's, but I so longed to have long hair like hers; so Mom allowed the rat's tails. Coming home from work the one day she sat us down and promised if we got ourselves this wet again she would cut our hair. Low and behold this tragic event took place the very next day. She made our hair in ponytails and cut it all off just above the elastic band. Our hair barely touched our shoulders. This to us was the worst punishment ever. From then on our hair was cut "Cap Cut" and that was that. It literally looked like someone had placed a cap on our heads and cut all round it. I was never allowed long hair again which was maybe just as well. Shampoo, conditioner and toiletries were a luxury I only discovered when I started working. Until then we bathed and washed our hair with ordinary "sunlight" soap.

That Christmas Granny and Granddad came around to the flat with our gifts as they did every year. They would load all the gifts in the car and drive from house to house and take each of the grandchildren their gifts. Eugene and I were treated no different. Not once did we ever feel that we were step children. We were treated equal with all the other Wilson grandchildren, even though we hardly ever saw them.

***

Storm could not contain her excitement. Her face aglow with delight; she tore the wrapping from the box holding the most beautiful tea set she had ever seen. Every piece a perfect miniature, sculpted from porcelain with the most delicate little flowers painted on it. Gold edging finishing each of the little cups and saucers, created the perfect replication of the Victorian crockery one found in all "the well to do" homes. The teapot had an hourglass shape and stood proudly as its spout followed its shape. The best part was that it could take hot and cold water, allowing it to flow through. The milk jug and sugar bowl were as perfect as the other pieces. With great care she placed the tea set back in its box, turned around and grabbed Mrs. Wilson around her neck.

"Oh Granny, this is beautiful! I will look after it forever!" Mrs. Wilson was delighted and proud of her-self for making the right choice. This little girl still held a very special place in her heart even though she would never allow her feelings to differentiate between the grandchildren.

When evening came Storm sat on her bed playing with the tea set; the doll and pram which came from Santa, completely forgotten as she admired this priceless treasure.

"I told you girls it was lights out!" Susanna called from the kitchen.

The following morning Eugene was awake before anyone else. She couldn't keep her excitement and began shaking Storm to wake up.

"Come Tossie, wake up! Come play, please." By now Eugene was jumping on the bed, unable to wait anymore.

Storm remembered the gifts and quickly looked on the dressing table to make sure she wasn't dreaming. There, packed in its beautiful gold box, stood the tea set.

"Ok, let's go play outside." Placing her doll in the pram; she stopped to pick up the tea set, which she also put in the pram at the feet of the doll.

Coming out of the back door, the set of stairs going down into the back courtyard was steep and not meant for inexperienced little girls pushing a pram. Storm lost her footing and went tumbling down the 30 steps, taking turns with the pram at bouncing as she skipped a step and landed on the next. Eventually she landed on the ground below, blood running from scratches and cuts on her elbows and knees.

"Noooo! My tea set! Where is my tea set?"

Susanna felt a chill run down her spine as she heard the commotion followed by the scream.

She ran outside in time to see her little girl laying in a bundle of tears. In her arms she had the now crumpled box which held the tea set.

"It's broken Mom. All of it! Not even one cup left," Storm managed her broken sentences between the sobs.

"Are you hurt Tossie?" being her practical self she began to examine the child.

Storm pulled her arm away from Susanna and ran up the stairs sobbing her heart out. Susanna, close on her heels, almost ran into the door that was closed in her face.

"Go away!" Storm shouted at her mother not considering that her behaviour could have consequences. Susanna was shocked! Never ever has Storm spoken to her like that. Her child's behaviour caught her off guard and totally dumbfounded. she turned and went back to the kitchen.

***

I was devastated. I loved Granny's present the most and there was nothing left of it. I replaced that tea set more than forty years later with another, but it was nowhere near the one Granny had given me. You just could not find those original ones anymore.

Our stay in the flat did not last long. Why I don't know, but we moved back to Oupa's house and my life of hell began all over again. He now became more aggressive toward me and would swear at me and call me names I had never heard in my life before. I do not remember much of those years as I deliberately blotted them out of my mind.

I do however remember a few significant issues such as Oupa adoring Eugene and that she would always get money from him for her birthday. When my birthday came along he would avoid me until Mom made a point of reminding him and then he would give me the brush-off anyway.

He would get drunk and swear at me the minute Mom turned her back. As the years went by he became bolder and would do it while she was around as well. The things he said got worse and more abusive. A typical example was when he called me a whore and accused me of "f...g the whole of Jackson's Drift." (Jackson's Drift was an African township). I was seven years old at the time. He told me that I was a slut just like my Ouma Nella and that I would never amount to anything. He also told me my house would always be filthy and that I was filthy. His vocabulary was just more descriptive and obscene than mine. He rewrote the entire dictionary when it came to giving his opinion of me. This carried on until the day he died. I was already a married woman by then and no matter how hard Mom tried to make things right between us it never worked. On his deathbed, many years later, he almost had a fit when he realised that I was in the room and still lifted his hands in an attempt to hit me.

I remember the fear building up as the weekends approached. Then he would drink even more and the abuse would get worse. I would listen to him rant and rave until early hours of the morning when eventually the alcohol would knock him out. His hatred for me was no secret and the entire family was aware of it and no one did or said anything about it. No one dared stand up to this tyrant.

Night after night the tears drenched my pillow and as the years of abuse went by I withdrew more and more. I came to realise that I was on my own. Mommy never came to my rescue once. Daddy chose to ignore it. Maybe because he knew he was fighting a losing battle or maybe because he did not want another confrontation with Mom, I don't know.

I was dying inside! Little by little by little and no one cared.

Like all the other years, Christmas came and went without any special memories to hold on to. New Year ended up in the usual arguments. Mommy and Daddy went dancing. Eugene and I were left at home with Oupa, where once more, I became the target of his anger and bitterness!

## Chapter 6: 1966

## Grade 5

## DISCOVERING GOD"S MONUMENT AND LARA

We always heard of the family going on holiday. We could never afford holidays. I would often daydream of them asking Eugene and I to go with them, however, it all stayed a dream and our holidays were limited to Daddy's fishing trips. So when Eugene and I were chosen to go on holiday with the Star Seaside Fund (19/07/1966 – 13/08/1966) our excitement had no limit. The Star Seaside Fund was a charity organisation that took underprivileged children to Durban for the July holidays. This was where I learned John 3:16 which stayed with me forever.

16 "For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life. - John 3:16 (NIV)

I don't remember much except that the train ride took forever and I couldn't wait to see the sea everyone was talking about. When we eventually got there we were given time to unpack and then we went to the beach. I was awestruck! It was the first time I had seen the ocean and I fell in love with it! The beauty and power was way beyond my ability to describe, so I closed my eyes and just let the rhythm, smell and sound become a part of me, as I became one with this creation. It had me mesmerized and I sat staring at it, not moving! Just letting the atmosphere engulf me!

I could quite easily have stayed there on the beach even if it meant I would never see my family again. The day we left to go home and I had to say goodbye to the ocean, I felt like I was deserting my best friend. It left me with a feeling of heaviness and abandonment. To this very day the ocean has a hypnotic effect on me and at times has been known to influence my moods. To me the ocean is a monument to an Omnipotent Creator, way above man's ability to fathom.

Back home reality soon set in. I was also becoming aware of Mom's incredible beauty. They would go dancing every Wednesday, Saturday and most Friday evenings as well. Every time they went, Mom would have a new dress with matching shoes and bag to match. All of which she made herself. She would decorate her shoes with sequins and glitter to make them match her gowns. My favourite spot was under the sewing machine, playing with the cotton reels while Mom made her dresses, dreading the night that lay ahead. These were the nights Oupa would make life even worse for me.

I would sit with her for hours while she was getting dressed. Daddy would march up and down with a drink in his hand listening to Nat King Cole in the background. I could not get enough of her. She was so beautiful. Eventually when it came time to leave I would sit at the window watching them drive away and cry for hours. More often than not I would cry myself to sleep.

Oupa came from a very distinguished and rich family and the fact that he was the poorest of them all might have explained his bitter outlook on life. One day we were invited to his brother's house. We had to put on our Sunday-school clothes. On our way there we were given a lecture on what was allowed and what not. It was all very intimidating. Once we got there Oupa's sister-in-law offered us each an orange. They were delicious and quite something as we never had fruit at home, another unaffordable luxury. After finishing my orange, I sat eating the white part of the peels and was offered another orange which I dared to accept. When we got home I got the hiding of my life. Mom hit me black and blue. It was the last. We were never taken to visit the "rich" family again. I had embarrassed Oupa and he never let me forget that.

6/09/1966 – 14h14 Dr. Hendrik Verwoerd is assassinated by Dimitrio Tsafendas. The whole of South Africa is in shock and comes to a standstill. Mom was in the kitchen peeling potatoes and beetroot when the news bulletin came over the radio. She dropped the knife in her hand and went deathly pale. Tears ran down her face and all we got out of her was that he was a very important man.

We attended a memorial service in the City Hall a few days later. Eugene and I were photographed, and appeared on the front of page of the Rand Daily Mail Newspaper. To this day I do not understand why we were crying. We did not even know the man. The only explanation I have is that we were caught up in the emotions of everyone around us.

After the memorial service we had to listen to Oupa's drunken version of the politics of the day and how his ancestors of Bloodriver had to pay the price. The picture he painted was one where you could actually visualize the bloodied bodies lying in pools of blood with their intestines scattered as they were cut to pieces with "pangas" and "assegais". He went into detail of how the "k...s" bludgeoned the babies to death.

We had to listen to his ranting that we were blood relations to the Pretorius' of Blood River and how his family were the founders of this country. This was confirmed by Ouma Liz years later. It turned out that they were cousins and never even knew about it.

Mom saved us by declaring that it was late and we had to go to bed. That night, and for months thereafter, I had nightmares night after night. I had visions of black people breaking into our home and cutting us up into pieces with blood all over the floors and walls. I began teaching myself to stop breathing and play dead. This had such a profound effect on me, I had to be treated for a condition mimicking Sleep Apnoea many years later.

We were brainwashed regarding our heritage, the cruelty of the "k......" You voted for National Party or you were disowned. These "sermons" and brainwashing sessions carried on for as long as I could remember, at home as well as in school. We were conditioned and eventually believed all this political hogwash. That was until I discovered the book on the life story of Steve Biko, but more of that later.

The days came and went by without any significant memories or experiences worth mentioning except for the times when Daddy would become so aggressive that we would have to hide under the beds. We grew more and more afraid of him and a couple of times he would threaten to hit Mom as well; especially if she confronted him about the other women he was seeing. There were days when he was an absolute pleasure. He would let me stand on his feet while he played the Everley Brothers so I could learn to dance. I am sure Daddy had a split personality. One day he would be the sweetest guy and the next he would turn into a monster.

One of the highlights at this time in my life was the weekend we went fishing and found Lara. She was a white (albino) Alsatian. We were on our way home and she was walking along the road, limping badly. Daddy drove past her and I was crying so much that he eventually turned around and picked her up. She became my pride and joy. She would lick my eyes for hours while I was crying and telling her about all my woes and the things that were happening to me. She became the centre of my existence and I found more comfort with her than anyone else in my entire life.

## Chapter 7: 1967

## Grade 6

## THE YEARS OF RUDE AWAKENINGS

"What is this letter all about?" Mom asked without looking up.

"My new teacher said he believes in hidings and that he wants all the parents to write a letter giving him permission to do so if we do not do our work," I explained.

"That teacher speaks my language," and without hesitation she signed the letter.

"I just hope I do not have any complaints from you madam. I have had enough of you and your naughtiness. Any problem from you and it is off to boarding school."

The threat of being sent to boarding school had become an everyday thing. Whenever we stepped out of line we were told that we were going to be sent away. It was obvious that the thought appealed to Oupa as his eyes used to light up every time Mom mentioned it.

In standard 4, now called grade 6, the cousin of a famous radio announcer was our teacher. In the beginning of the year he collected letters of permission from all the parents to use corporal punishment on us. We did not dare slip up with our homework! He was a wonderful man and pushed me to do better all the time. That was until I had mumps. Mom would not hear of me staying home and insisted that I go to school. Unknowingly I ended up infecting him with mumps which left him sterile. By the end of the year he could not stand the sight of me and made sure I never forgot that I was the reason why they could not have children.

I clearly remember the humiliation when we were supposed to learn I Corinthians 13 off by heart. When it came to my turn for reciting it I hit a blank and could not remember a word. He promptly pulled me over his lap in front of the whole class and gave me a spanking. I got another hiding from him when Mom refused to sign my report card because I did not live up to her expectations.

I could never please Mom! The harder I tried the more she demanded.

Another humiliating experience I was not able to process was when we were supposed to write letters to our Valentines. I adored Francois Senekal who was the heartthrob of the school and I was bold enough to write him a love letter. Needless to say he did not even answer it. I was embarrassed and felt rejected beyond words. He had a crush on Amanda de Beer. She was everything I wanted to be. Clever, beautiful and she could play piano. I went to her house once just to listen to her practice her piano lessons. Her Mom felt that I was below their class and put a quick end to the visit. That was the one and only time she had anything to do with me. At school she ignored me because I was not part of the "in crowd." It was the first and the last Valentine's letter I ever wrote.

Meantime back home Mom's golden rule was that both Eugene and I washed our own underwear and school socks. I threw a tantrum one morning because I had no clean school socks and panties and I was running late. Mom lost it and began beating me and when I lost my balance and fell she began kicking me! It was GOD's grace that Ouma Nella walked in the door at that moment or I would've ended up in hospital. I had lumps on my head the size of eggs and I was bruised all over my body. I was so hurt by it all that I walked out of the door and went to school without saying goodbye. The physical pain had no patch on the emotional pain I felt. It caused a tightness in my chest which made it very difficult to breathe but I still refused to shed a single tear! By the time I got to school, a few minutes later, my emotions were under control and suppressed.

Sunday afternoons were spent sleeping so we were rather surprised when Daddy said he wanted to go and have a look at an old car on one of the mine compounds and we could ride with. It was an area called Jupiter. Jupiter was located on the edge of the one of the old mine dumps which was quite a trade mark on the horizon of Johannesburg. The path to the house where Daddy had to go to was a small sand road and the grass grew taller than a grown man's waist. We were told to stay in the car while Daddy went looking for someone to talk to. Looking at the dogs running around the property I saw a little boy running in the grass. He was small in comparison with the grass which was way taller than he was. Mom spotted him as well and promptly called for Daddy to go and investigate.

Daddy brought him over to us and we could see that he was dirty and the vest he had on was so big it looked like a dress. He wasn't wearing any underwear. Mom took him from Daddy and stormed into the house. She found an old lady sitting in a chair obviously drunk and smoking what smelled like marijuana, I heard mom explain to my aunt later that day when they were speaking about it. The smell of urine and marijuana coming from the house stuck to your mouth and was quite nauseating. This old lady informed Mom that the Africans living on the site were taking care of him because his mother abandoned him. He was left with her and she was not even related to him. She laughingly told Mom how entertaining the little boy was when he was drunk. She offered him the "joint" she was smoking and he pulled on it like a professional. I thought Mom was going to attack her. Fortunately Daddy was close by and stopped her from ripping the old lady apart. There was no resistance from her when Mom said she was taking the little boy home.

Without hesitation Daddy loaded him in the car and we left. The car and parts Daddy came looking for were completely forgotten. No one could tell us what his name was. He had cigarette burns on his legs and scars on his head which looked very much like the buckle of a belt could've been the cause. He was just over two years old.

When we got home I made him a peanut butter sandwich and he sat licking it off the bread. So I gave him the bottle with a teaspoon and he ate until he was sick. I had to clean up the results for the next 24 hours.

The following morning Mom contacted Social Services immediately after the police almost broke the door down and threatened to arrest Mom. Once she explained the situation to them and showed them the scars on our little man they agreed it was a case for Social Services.

Eventually Mom and Daddy were able to trace his parents and got them to sign him over to us. His adoption was legalised soon after and we named him André. He became my shadow and I loved him with all my heart. I spent every free minute of my life with him. There were times that I wanted to kill him for scribbling in my school books, but he would look at me with those puppy eyes and my heart would melt. After his arrival I did not need the family anymore. André, Eugene and I became our own little family and he was just what the doctor ordered. Everyone and everything else was shut out. The abuse made our world even more secretive and close knit.

The morning of my birthday I fell over André's tricycle. When I got to school I fainted in assembly and was brought home. Mom bought me a lucky dip which cost her a half crown (25 cents) and allowed me to spend the rest of the day at her office.

This was the year of awakenings. I became aware of Daddy "fiddling" with Eugene. The first time she told Mom, Mom threw him out. Although he did not live with us he still brought Mom his "pay packet" every week. I missed him and felt so sorry for him when he came begging for Mom to take him back. Oupa on the other hand kept fuelling the fire by making sure Mom never forgot what a useless piece of rubbish Daddy was and that she must never forget that he is a "redneck," the name the Afrikaners had for the English.

Eugene became even more insecure and I would sit in the bath for hours pacifying her with my fantasy stories. I became very protective over her and André, especially André because Oupa had turned on him as well and made his a life a misery as much as he did mine. Andre was hyper allergic to grass and when he grew older it was expected of him to take over the gardening duties from me. He would end up with a red runny nose and eyes which he could not see through for hours. I took back the chore and he was labelled a lazy sod!

Our next-door neighbours had two boys our age and they became our friends. The older one of the two was my very first "boyfriend" and I cried my eyes out because Oupa cut their tree down which was hanging over his garage roof. The neighbours on the opposite side had a pear tree hanging over the outside buildings and we would climb on the roof to steal them, until Mom caught us and gave us quite a spanking.

A couple of weeks later Daddy moved back. I had mixed feelings; Eugene refused to sleep without me.

In our backyard we had two peach trees. The big one carried huge yellow cling peaches and Mom would pick the best and preserve them for Oupa. We knew instinctively that those bottled peaches were off limits, however, stolen fruit always tastes better. So, there was this occasion when Mom had made a big Pyrex dish full of these peaches and filled a huge jar as well, which she kept in the cupboard. We did not know she counted the peaches in each one of the two containers.

"Tossie and Eugene, come here right now!"

I looked at Eugene and she looked at me. We knew something was coming.

"Who took Oupa's peaches?"

"It wasn't me," I replied, knowing it belonged to Oupa. I would not dare do anything that would harm all my hard work of gaining his acceptance.

"Not me," Eugene said, with guilt written all over her face.

"Well someone ate Oupa's peaches and the two of you will sit here in the corner until you tell me who it was."

Eugene began to stutter and after a little while owned up. Mom was furious and made her eat all the peaches in the dish. Then she opened the jar and made Eugene eat all the peaches that were in the jar as well. She was still eating when Mom dished up our supper while keeping an eye on Eugene, making sure she ate everything. Once she was done with the peaches Eugene promptly ate her supper finishing the healthy helping of curry and rice placed before her. I felt so sorry for her! I thought she was going to burst. She had way more than twenty peach halves plus her supper. She devoured it all!

"May I please have a slice of bread?" Eugene asked Mom looking up from her empty plate.

It was obvious that Mom could not believe her ears! She stood frozen, looking at her Eugene with bewilderment written all over her face!

Daddy, who had been sitting watching the entire scene playing itself out, fell off his chair with laughter exploding from his stomach and tears streaming down his face as he sat on the floor. He tried desperately to control himself, knowing that Mom was not going to respond kindly to his obvious display of amusement.

"Serves you right, Susanna, one never disciplines a child for taking food. Besides I am sick and tired of your father always getting VIP treatment while the rest of us have to make do with second best."

"I will not go down that road with you Stephen. Is it not enough that we are living in my father's house?"

"Excuse me! Who pays for the food, the water, electricity and medical bills?" Daddy exploded.

"I knew you would throw it in my face."

"That is not fair Susanna and you know it."

Daddy stormed out of the kitchen as he had done so many times before. This was a regular argument between them and Mom would not listen to any reason. Oupa was her life and she absolutely adored him. He could do nothing wrong and as far as she was concerned, he was god.

Things at school were not good either. I was not liked at all and the teachers never paid much attention to me. The only person that ever showed me any decency was my music teacher, Mr. Piet van Heerden.

I did enjoy Cadets though. Soon after we joined I made corporal and did very well. We attended marches with the old veterans on many memorial days and I loved the military discipline of it all. I enjoyed ordering the other children around even more. Unfortunately like with everything else I ever participated in the cost became too much and I had to give it up.

Money at home was always short so Mom made peg bags that I had to sell at school. I hated it because the children made fun of me and the humiliation was beyond words. The teachers bought them simply because they felt sorry for me and I could sense their pity. I vowed never to accept charity from anyone when I grew up.

Life became quite a routine with not much to mention until that one afternoon when that horrible boy at school claimed to be my cousin.

"I wouldn't have such a big mouth if my father was in jail." Nicolas shouted at the top of his voice.

"You are so stupid. My father is at work. He is not in jail," I argued. I knew it was a lie because Daddy came home every day.

"Why are you lying? You don't even know me. Come Elsa, let's go." I put my arm through her's and we walked off.

***

Nicolas on the other hand had a different agenda. Today was the day he would get this girl to realize that her father is Uncle Edgar and not the man they are living with. Ouma Liz said he was not even married to Storm's mother and that they thought they were too good for the "van den Bergs." Well, he was going to show them.

"You are the stupid one! Your father's name is Edgar and he is my Uncle so I know what I am talking about. You also have a sister and her name is Petro."

"You are a liar. I do not have a sister with the name Petro. My sister's name is Eugene. My Daddy is at work and I am going to tell him about you. Now leave me alone!"

"I won't leave you alone. Go ask your mother! She will tell you I am speaking the truth!"

By now the tears were streaming down Storm's face. Without another word she ran out of the school yard all the way home. Hyperventilating and trying desperately to control the exhaustion and emotion she began to tell Susanna what had happened. Her words were incomprehensible and it took Susanna a while to get Storm calmed down before she could understand what the child was saying.

***

Nicolas! One of my most favourite persons in the world and I had forgotten all about him. They had moved back from Senekal in the Freestate and he was to attend my school. The more he tried to convince me we were family the more I refused to believe him. We ended up in a major fight with him screaming at me that my father was a jailbird and me screaming back at him that he was a filthy liar.

I was so upset I ran home. It was during break so my school bag and shoes were in the class room. Without even thinking that I am going to be in serious trouble if my shoes or school bag was lost, I left it all behind and did not tell anyone that I was going. It was in the middle of the day and Mom was totally surprised to see me. I cried and sobbed all at the same time; took a while for her to calm me down. Eventually she could understand what I was trying to say and what the commotion was all about.

"Tossie, I need you to calm down and be quiet. What is this boy's name that said this to you?"

"It's *sob* *sob*... It's Nicolas." I spluttered between the sobbing. I was so focused on my own feelings that I did not realise that Mom had gone quiet and rather pale.

"There is something I need to tell you and it is something I should maybe have told you a long time ago. However, I cannot talk to you if you keep sobbing like this. So I need you to get a hold of yourself so you can focus on what I am about to tell you."

This caught my attention and I stopped crying. The sobs were not that easy to control so they still broke through no matter how hard I tried to suppress them. In the calmest voice ever, Mom sat me down and explained who Nicolas was and what he was talking about. She explained that he was my cousin and how we loved each other when we were little. She also explained that Daddy was not my biological father but that my father in fact was in jail. She told me about how Ouma Liz fitted into the picture and that she my father's mother. We spent a long, long time talking. Mom trying to get me to understand and me trying to absorb everything she was saying.

"If all these people are my family why have I never seen them?"

"That is hard to explain and you are too young to understand," Mom replied.

"Where is Ouma Liz now?"

"I am not sure. The last I heard they were living in Senekal. If Nicolas is in your school it means they must have moved back. I can try and find out where they live if you want to see them?"

"Yes please Mom I would like to see them."

It was time to make supper so Mom told me to go wash my face and promised that we would talk later. How Mom got hold of Ouma Liz so quick I don't know but that weekend Mom and Daddy took me to her house. She was almost hysterical with excitement when she saw me. Nicolas just stood one side watching Ouma Liz make a fuss over me. He was smiling like a Cheshire cat who had come across a saucer of cream. The look of "I told you so," written all over his face.

Oupa Berg was a silent but very violent man and he hardly ever spoke to any of us. Someone told me he killed a man for stealing his portable radio once. The man had broken into the house and Oupa Berg caught him. A fight broke out between him and the burglar and the burglar was killed. Another time Oupa Berg killed a man that threatened to harm my great grandmother. He was not a man to mess with. He had a reputation for being very violent and being a policeman made him even more dangerous as they had intense combat training. He would always sit on the verandah, smoke his pipe and eat dates. If and when we chatted to him he would respond but we definitely respected the boundaries.

Ouma Liz was the opposite and I loved her. She would talk to me for hours, telling me about the family I never knew and she also told me about Petro. She was my "real" sister. Pappa Edgar's oldest brother and his wife adopted her because they could never have any children of their own. She explained who my father was and told me that we were going to visit him the next day.

Very early the following morning we got up and Ouma made me wear the halter neck dress she bought for me from the Indian shop down the road. The sun was hardly up when we left to go to Zonder Water. Nicolas and Rosie, his sister who was much younger than us, were not allowed to go with. I think Ouma Liz wanted me to have quality time with them and also have my undivided attention so she could prepare me for the visit with Pappa.

Zonderwater, which can more accurately be described as a city, was the largest of the eighteen known World War II Italian POW camps. Commanded by Colonel Hendrik Prinsloo, it was situated in Cullinan, some 43km north-east of the city of Pretoria, South Africa, an area more renown for the discovery of diamonds. Today, Zonderwater Correctional Service is a maximum security prison.

While we were travelling to Zonderwater, I noticed that it was very primitive and the roads were all gravel. Looking at the dry trees and sandy fields as we drove along it became obvious why the place was called Zonder Water, meaning "without water."

It felt like the road would never end. Once we got there Ouma explained that I would have to wait in the car because she would have to get special permission for me to go inside. Those years children were not allowed inside the prisons. After a while Oupa came out and told me that they would not allow me in, but if I stood at the fence and looked at the visitors building, I would see Pappa when he walked past. So I climbed up against the fence stretching as high as I could; hoping to see the man they said was my Pappa.

All the people walking past were dressed in the same clothes. Except for the barbed wire fencing surrounding endless fields and veggie patches, it did not really look like a prison at all. There were some buildings that looked like the round little houses called "rondawels" where Daddy went fishing. The "visitors" building was much bigger and stood out amongst the smaller buildings.

"Who are you waiting for "Klonkie"?" a very tall man asked as he sat down on his haunches next to me. He was dressed in a uniform and although he sounded very friendly I was afraid of him. "Klonkie" was a favourite pet name in the Afrikaans language, indicating you were addressing a child, but it still did not make me feel comfortable.

"I am waiting for my Ouma Liz", I replied, remembering my manners.

"Who is your Ouma visiting?" he asked. Sitting on his haunches, he was eye level with me. His face and the manner in which he was speaking to me, was calm and friendly, yet I stood trembling.

"She is visiting my Pappa," I replied without looking up. Oupa, Mom's dad, made sure that I knew it was disrespectful to look him straight in the eye. I always looked at my feet when addressing him or on the rare occasion when he spoke to me. This man reminded me of Oupa even though he was so friendly. However, that was another time and another place.

"Would you like to see your Pappa?" he asked tilting his head as he attempted to fix my eyes on him.

"Yes please!" I answered totally focused on this gentle giant as he tilted my chin with his two fingers forcing me to look at him. I was so excited I completely forgot about Oupa and his "lessons."

I have no idea why I was so excited about seeing someone I did not even know. Maybe it was all the good things Ouma Liz told me about him. However, I think it was more the promise that she was going to speak to Mom about me coming to live with them. The mere thought of getting away from home was enough to send my imagination spiralling.

His hand was huge! My hand almost disappeared in his when he took it and led me to an office where he stood talking to another man in a similar uniform. He was obviously highly ranked because everyone saluted him as far as we went. I felt very important but still very nervous. Once we got to the "visitors room" I saw a whole lot of people sitting around. It looked like a huge classroom with a wooden bench running all along the walls. The windows were small and high up and they had bars in front of them. It was rather chilly in there and the concrete floors made it worse. They were polished and looked like mirrors. I always believed Mom's floors were the shiniest but these floors outdid hers by far.

"Where is your Pappa?" the man asked me, waiting for me to point out my Pappa.

"Uhm!..." Again my head dropped. I could not tell. I could not remember my Pappa! Then a man in a working overall came walking toward us and picked me up. He thanked the officer and walked over to where Ouma Liz and Oupa Berg were sitting. He sat down keeping me on his lap and held me close. I was so overwhelmed I did not say a word. A few minutes later they told Pappa visiting time was over. We all cried when we had to say goodbye.

A few months later he sent me a birthday card which he made himself. It was the only birthday card I ever received as a child. The outside of the card was pink marble paper with the most beautiful drawings of orchids and birds inside and a beautiful verse telling me how much he loved me.

Pappa was a very gifted man and he drew the most beautiful pictures of animals and flowers with a quilt pen. He also hand carved a chess set for one of our prime ministers, each piece a masterpiece in its own right. One of the magazines at the time did a huge article about the set and took pictures.

Sometime after the visit with my Van Den Berg family, Mom and Daddy went out leaving us with Oupa as usual. He had been drinking and started with the same old story of telling me what rubbish I was. This time he added the history of my useless, jailbird father and what a rubbish he was. The things he said cut to the very core of me, so I went outside and sat on the verandah. He got so worked up because I walked out that he locked all the doors and told Eugene to close the windows so I could not get in. Then he shouted through the window that I must leave and never come back. Not knowing what to do I decided to go to Ouma Liz's house; she would know what to do.

Oupa's house was in Malvern where we lived and Ouma Liz stayed in Denver, approximately two kilometres away. Driving the distance was not all that far but walking it was quite a distance. To me it felt like many kilometres but the hurt drove me on. I just knew I could not go back to Oupa's house. It was after eleven o' clock at night but as intimidating as the darkness was, I just kept going; refusing to give into my fear. When I got to Ouma Liz's house I told her about Oupa and what he had said. She sat patiently, listening to my story, without making any comment. She quietly got up and made me Milo indicating that I could keep talking while she was busy. She also put a plate of cookies down for me. I had never had Milo before because we were threatened with our lives if we touched Oupa's Milo. It was reserved for him only. I gulped the warm chocolate drink down so fast Ouma Liz made me a second cup to dunk the cookies into. She did not speak much, just waited for me to finish and then told me it was time for bed. After wiping my hands and face she took me to her bedroom and told me to get into her bed.

I loved her bed. The eiderdown was thick and soft and I sank into it, falling asleep in no time at all. I woke up with a noise that sounded like someone breaking the door down. It was Mom and Daddy. Mom did not even ask me what had happened or even give me a chance to explain. She grabbed me by the arm, in front of the entire household who had all come out of their rooms with the commotion and gave me the biggest hiding yet. I got such a fright that I wet myself. Again I did not utter a sound I just stood in the puddle, silent tears streaming down my face. I can't remember what was worse, the hiding or the embarrassment of wetting myself with all the people around. For some reason no one came to my rescue and when Mom dragged me to the car by my collar, no one tried to stop her. Daddy never said a word either. He opened the car door and Mom shoved me into the back seat. When we got home I went to my room and cried myself to sleep. I never spoke about what happened or why I "ran away"... nobody asked.

After that I would go to Ouma Liz's for the school holidays. I always looked forward to them even though I suffered from severe separation anxiety and became very ill every time I was away from Mom. This would result in me coming home within a day or two.

I never saw Pappa again until he was transferred to Kroonstad Correctional Facility. This time there was no doubt that it was a prison. There were bars and steel doors with armed guards all over. I was terrified. Kroonstad, the third-largest town in the  Free State province of South Africa, is about two hours drive from Gauteng where we lived. The Correctional Facility was situated on the outskirts of the town.

We went there on a Sunday and after my grandparents visited with Pappa; we went to the Brigadier's house to plead for his release. The Brigadier was the highest ranking official at the prison and his input in a parole hearing was highly regarded. So the old folks coaxed me into telling the Brigadier how unhappy I was at home. They explained that I should tell him that my parents were ill treating me, focussing my attention on the hiding they had witnessed. Oupa's swearing and abuse was also brought up, pointing out how it was making my life a misery and how he locked me out of the house in the middle of the night. I would've done anything just to get away from Oupa so I played along. The Brigadier promised to do everything he could to help with the parole hearing and that he would speak to the powers that be about my situation. We finished our tea and left. I was not allowed to see Pappa at all this time so we went home with me feeling very disappointed. A few months later he was released.

I was sitting at home when the phone rang. Mom called me to the phone and told me to speak softly so Oupa could hear me. It was Pappa and he wanted to see me. Mom agreed, and I left to meet him at Tooronga train station which was down the road from where we lived.

I was so excited about seeing Pappa that I did not even change. I was still wearing my school uniform which was a black pleated pinafore with a white shirt underneath. It was winter time so we wore black tights and black school shoes. I wanted to thank him for the beautiful birthday card he had made me so I could not wait to see him.

At the station one had to walk down the stairs into the subway and up the stairs again to get to the platform. On the platform they had a small waiting room where Pappa said he would wait for me. The waiting room was a brick building not much bigger than a garden shed. It had tiny windows and open doorways on either side leading onto the platform where the trains stopped. The benches on the inside were made from wooden slats and reached from one side of the wall to the other. When I got to the platform and into the waiting room, he was already there. He hugged me and made me sit on his lap. He put his arms around me and held me tight. Then he began kissing me in my neck and talking to me while he began touching me all over. The more I tried to stop him the more persistent he became and the tighter his grip.

"You know and understand that we did not live together as father and daughter. So this is not wrong. I am doing this because I love you." His breath was hot and his kisses sticky! I did not say I word. The lump in my throat was choking me and I couldn't breathe. His hand slipped under my dress and pulled my panties and tights down all in one movement. He pulled me back on to his lap with my back still toward him and I felt a pain rip through my body as he entered me. He did not stop until I felt a warm fluid run down my legs. The sounds he made were similar to the sounds Daddy used to make when he was in bed with Mommy.

"I did this because I love you," he kept on repeating. It is our secret and you DO NOT! tell anyone about it! If you do I will kill your mother."

He pulled up his pants and left without another word. I pulled up my underwear and made my way home. I could barely walk. The pain was unbearable and the stickiness between my legs caused my legs to chafe making it even more painful.

When I got home I went straight to the bathroom and threw up. Once the retching stopped I ran a bath of scolding hot water and got in. I tried desperately to clean the stickiness and dirty feeling off my body. I kept washing until the blood came through my skin. The pain was aggravated by the burning hot water but it somehow made me feel like I deserved to be punished this way.

I washed my underwear in my bath water and because that was what was expected from us no one noticed anything out of the ordinary. Mom did ask why I kept running water and I simply replied that I was cleaning the bath. It was the truth. The blood had stained the bath and I had to get it clean.

I went to my cupboard and tore the birthday card into shreds! I never told anyone.

I refused to see Pappa or talk about him again and I think Daddy must've realised something was wrong because he would seek me out and try to have little conversations with me. He also involved me more when he worked on the cars and I would wash the spare parts with petrol for him. It was soon after that day that Daddy began talking about adopting me.

I don't know if I was sending out some kind of message but it was from then on that men seemed to have an obsession with my body. One of my uncles fondled me and one of Mom's cousins did the same thing. A friend that went fishing with us made me fondle him when I was made to ride with them, in the back seat of the car, on our way to a fishing site. A colleague at Daddy's work made sexual suggestions. It was like I had become a sexual magnet overnight.

I still went to Ouma Liz for holidays, and Nicolas, Rosie, his sister, and I became very close once again. Pappa had remarried and moved to Durban so I did not see him. One night Pappa's brother also tried to get into bed with me and I told him I would tell Ouma if he did not go away. Nicolas, who had been sleeping in the other bed woke up and realised what was happening. He threatened to smash our uncle's face if he did not leave the room. A couple of years later when he tried again, Nicolas did attacked him and beat him to a pulp.

***

I was in standard four when we began forming gangs at school and although it was not as violent as the gangs are today, they were gangs nonetheless. We were forever getting up to mischief and as a leader I was always in trouble. The things we got up to were not malicious or violent but for some reason, being in a gang did not go down well with the teachers. The one teacher, Mrs. Vee, made a point of destroying any chances I had of ever becoming a prefect because I "mislead" and influenced her daughter who was in my class. I can still see the hatred in her face as she stood screaming at me what a "no good little rubbish" I was. I never told anyone about this either, believing I deserved it.

My only friend was Elsa, another "mouse like" child no one took notice of. She also suffered with what we called "winter hands and feet." She would come to school in winter, without shoes and her feet bleeding from the cracks in them. Her hands would do the same. She would keep her hands and feet under the tap while the cold water washed over them to soothe the pain. I felt so helpless not being able to do anything for her.

Her father was an elder from our church even though he had a drinking problem. I remember Elsa coming to school with marks on her back, the way he used to beat her with a "sambok" made from a hippo's tail. I hated her father because of his hypocrisy. He would visit our house to collect Mom's tithes and pray with us like nothing ever happened. I began to resent going to church and eventually refused to go at all. Sadly Elsa and I lost touch after going to high school.

Life at home carried on the same, and Daddy was thrown out of the house more often than not. He and Mom kept separating and reconciling because of his drinking and aggression. He was always kind to me though, and I loved him with all my heart.

It was during one of these separations that Daddy came to see Mom and to plead with her to take him back, when Oupa hit him with a police baton. I went hysterical. The blood was pumping out of his head and he barely made it to the car. Oupa made us all go inside the house and left Daddy to fend for him. He and Mom did get back together again, but things between him and Oupa were very tense and we all walked around on egg shells.

Daddy was home a few months when Oupa decided to change the front wall of the house. The wall was as high as I was tall, with pillars supporting the metal scroll work in between. It was beautiful to me. However the prefab walls were in fashion and Oupa wanted the wall replaced. So I came home from school and had to break down the wall with a four-pound hammer. As soon as it was done I carted the rubble to the back yard in a wheelbarrow just to impress him. Loading the heavy chunks of rubble tore my hands to shreds and ripped the blisters open as well. By the time he came home the job was done. He did not thank me or comment about the job having been completed. It took the best part of four weeks before my hands were back to normal again. I have the scars of this incident on my hands to this day.

I spent my life trying to gain Oupa's favour. I would spend every Sunday afternoon washing his feet and giving him a pedicure. If I hurt him or scrubbed too hard he would hit me on my head or slap me, which ever was the easiest. He would always make me count his money that he kept stashed in his cupboard drawer. There were thousands of Rands. Though he trusted me with his money, he made no secret of his dislike in me. Nothing I did could satisfy him.

I don't know if it was because Mom was feeling guilty about Oupa treating me badly, or if it was because I was rebellious that she agreed with the welfare officer that I needed to go to boarding school. I was sent to Northam boarding school and Eugene went to Swartruggens boarding school for girls. The longing for André and Eugene was terrible. I would lie on my bed and stare out the window wondering where they were and what they were doing. Most nights I would cry myself to sleep.

At boarding school it felt like I was permanently hungry and I would steal the bread crusts when it was my turn to slice the bread. We were not allowed to do anything on Sundays. It was seen as a sin and we would be punished accordingly if we were caught doing anything else but sleep or read our Bibles. I would sit and cut up my school socks to make clothes for my doll. She was made from rubber and about 10cm long. I loved her to bits even though she could never match up to the tall fashion dolls and big floppy dolls my friends had.

School holidays came and we all went home. I discovered that Mom had opened up a boutique designing and making dresses. When it came time to return to boarding school I stole a number of her Lurix dresses and took them with me for the orphans. On visiting weekend, Mom unexpectedly came to the boarding school on Sunday just in time to see all the children in her dresses. She could not believe her eyes. She had dismissed one of her staff members believing that she was the one who had stolen the dresses. Thank goodness Mom was able to reach her and reinstate her. I was made to apologise but soon after that she had to close the shop because it went bankrupt anyway.

Back at the boarding school we would go to the local shop on Fridays and buy brown sugar rocks and watch movies in the school hall. One afternoon just before the movies were about to start, I was playing on the swing in the school playground and slipped off. The swing seat, made from steel, was welded to the bottom end of the chains hanging from an A frame structure. I would swing myself until I was level with the cross bar which held the brackets that were bolted to the top end of the chains. I loved the feeling of flying through the air and the wind in my hair. On this particular day my joy came to a rather abrupt end when I slipped of the swing. Fortunately the momentum of slipping off drastically dropped the height at which I was swinging but still high enough for me to really feel the thump as I landed on the ground in front of me. The momentum also caused the swing to go back involuntarily and coming forward it hit me on the back of my head so hard I saw stars. I sat on the ground for who knows how long until I felt strong enough to get up. I never told anyone what happened too afraid that I would be labelled a ninny. Shortly thereafter I became ill and the welfare officer decided that I had to go back home because I was not coping with the separation from Mom. Being away from Eugene and André made it even worse!

Mom and Daddy came to fetch me in his small LDV. LDV stand for light delivery vehicle I'm told. We in South Africa call it a "bakkie." I went ballistic when I saw Eugene on the back of it. I had not seen her in almost a year. We held onto each other as if our lives depended on it. We laughed and cried and just clung to each other. Mom brought the jerseys with her that she knitted for us with caps to match. We were told to pull the caps over our ears to prevent the wind from giving us ear ache while riding on the back of the bakkie because it did not have a canopy.

When we got onto the main road a bird flew into the windscreen and shattering it. Daddy could not see where he was going so he and almost flipped the bakkie. We went rolling from one side to the other in the back. Fortunately Daddy managed to keep control and brought the vehicle to a stop. He had to smash the rest of the broken glass out before we could carry on driving. Mom never got out to check on us; I think she was too shaken up herself. Daddy peaked over and asked if we were alright. We nodded and he got back in the bakkie and carried on driving. Eugene and I were terrified. We were trembling and the cold wind did not help at all. But, we had each other and that was all that mattered. So we crawled into one another and hung on.

As the weeks and months went by Oupa carried on with the abuse where he left off. I withdrew more and more. Eventually the social worker insisted I see a psychiatrist once a week, every week, at the Children's hospital. It never worked. I never told him what had happened between Pappa and me or about the meeting at the school with the teacher or about Oupa. We spent every session playing games. After a number of sessions and various tests they concluded that I was nine years ahead of my chronological age. Today we know it as EQ, Emotional Intelligence, but apart from that there was nothing they could do for me, he said.

I knew what was wrong and could have written a book on all the emotions I was trying to deal with. It was as if I was catapulted from being a little girl one moment and doing "grown up" things the next. I seemed to spend my life trying to keep the men's hands off me. I developed a lump on my vagina and was treated for it at the children's hospital but no one ever questioned it.

The welfare officer visited us forever and a day, and all she ever did, was tell Mom how to run our home. This mindset, which I term, "Poverty Mentality," came as a result of the policies of the time that social workers were there to control families. These families were stripped of their responsibilities and became totally reliant on the social worker to think and decide for them. Her visits were a weekly event. She would tell Mom how to discipline us, what to do and when. She would spend ten minutes with us at the most and the rest of the time was spent discussing the family's financial situation with Mom. This was done to justify placing me in a "government subsidized" boarding school. Even though we were not living in a low cost housing scheme at the time, we were still classed as poor whites. The sad part was that all of this was done in the name of charity and the church.

Because Oupa and I did not get along it was decided that I would go and live with Ouma Nella for a while or at least until they could decide what to do with me. She had just had a stroke and I could take care of her at the same time. I had learned to love Ouma Nella and she had a soft spot for me. It went well and I took great care of her. I would help her use the potty and feed her. I would also help her walk to Dr. Cope's rooms everyday for her injection. Eventually she was healed completely.

It was during this time that one of the other uncles decided to fondle me one night while he was helping me with my homework. I never told Ouma because he said it would make her ill again. That was the last thing I wanted.

I took to drinking cooldrink through a teat which I pulled over the neck of the cooldrink bottle. It gave me a feeling of comfort and security but Ouma's husband, Oupa Staphe, teased me terribly so I threw it away.

## Chapter 8: 1968

## Grade 7

## SO MUCH FOR FAMILY

"No Tossie you cannot go with!"

"But Mom all the children are going! We will all be together and the movie comes out while it is still light. We will be home before sundown! Please Mom!"

"I said no and that is that! Now get your backside into the kitchen and get the dishes done."

"That is just not fair!" I stormed out of the lounge and into the kitchen. I did not see mom follow me.

"What was that? Did you backchat me?" I ducked as Mom took a swing at me and missed. She stormed out of the room leaving me shaking from head to toe. Quietly and without another word I picked up the dishtowel and began to dry the dishes; the resentment and anger leaving me raw with emotion.

With both sides of the family avoiding us as much as possible, even when we attended funerals and the occasional wedding, we grew up alone and separate from our cousins, aunts and uncles. The only ones that would visit regularly were the ones that drank with Daddy and those who would put up with his temper and tolerate him for Mom's sake.

They would visit for the holidays and the cousins would get together and go to movies or visit the other side of the family but always made sure that we could not go along. They kept very much to themselves and their own agendas and we were always excluded. Eugene simply paid the price for my sake, because if they took her with they would have to let me come too, and it was me that they did not like. So I would go to my room and suppress the hurt by replacing it with anger. Whilst I was angry I did not feel the pain. Like the saying goes, "attack is the best form of defence." So the more they rejected me the more I retaliated by doing and saying things that drove us further and further apart. Yet on the inside I was dying. I so longed to be a part of the group and share the things they did but it just was not meant to be. How could they understand? They had no idea of what was happening and what made me the way I was.

It made no difference to Eugene. As long as we were together she was happy. We would sit in the bath for hours rubbing soap on each other's back till the foam made a thick layer on our skin. Then we would write or draw pictures on the soaped layer and the other one had to guess what had been written or drawn. I would always get her to write on my back the longest while I told her fairytale stories of castles and all the toys I would buy her one day. We bathed together, we slept in the same bed together, we did everything together and I took care of her. André was never far away and he would sleep with us, every opportunity he had.

Our days were spent playing Cowboys and Indians with the two boys next door. We always wore shorts and t-shirts which were the best attire to accommodate my tomboy nature. I was forever challenging the boys, climbing trees and somersaulting over the poles at school. Whatever they did, I did better.

I think Mom was becoming concerned about me being labelled the "tomboy" because this Christmas we got new blue dresses with embroidery around the hems, and black patent leather shoes, instead of the shorts and t-shirts which became my trade mark. They were our "church dresses" to be worn on Sundays and special occasions only. The shoes were cleaned with Vaseline, boxed and also kept for these times. The only other shoes we had were our school shoes, which had to be polished every day of our lives. The rest of the time we were bare feet.

I loved the fishing trips Daddy took us on. I would go and explore the camping sites and discover all kinds of little animals and insects. Daddy used to make sure he had enough brandy and beer to last for as long as we were there. He loved fishing and so did Oupa, so Oupa would always come along. Their mutual love for fishing and their love for alcohol was a huge thing they had in common, and I think it was during these fishing trips that they began to bond. Back home it was a different story. Oupa would still from time to time swear and call Daddy names. I believe that Daddy being English, disqualified him from being the perfect son in law in Oupa's eyes.

However, we often went fishing and my one cousin on Daddy's side of the family would often go with us and I remember him getting a fishing hook in his foot which Daddy had to cut out. I loved him for as long as I can remember myself. I would think of him all the time and treasured the song of Neil Diamond "Girl you'll be a woman soon" that he always played for me. I lived for the day that I would marry him and live happily ever after. He on the other hand did not think of me in the same way. The day he got married was one of the days I came the closest to committing suicide.

As a gift, Susan a lady from our church took me to see a live show in a theatre. It was the most exciting experience of my life. I fell in love with the theatre and opera. Unfortunately no one else in my family had the same interest. Susan was also a social worker and allowed me to work with her during the school holidays. I had to do all the filing and make coffee. I loved it and it became my dream to become a social worker until I decided it was not as good as being a veterinary surgeon. So I changed my mind and started volunteering to work at our vet in the school holidays. In return he would see to my animals free of charge.

It was nearing the end of the year and our junior prom became the centre of all our attention. Mom made us canary yellow "empire line" dresses. The bodice was lace and the bottom cotton fabric all in the same bright yellow. They were beautiful, and try as she may, Mom could not get me to wear stockings. The memories were still very raw even though it was almost a year later! So I wore my beautiful patent leather shoes with bobby socks. Attending the prom was as miserable as every other function we attended. Mom and Daddy went with us and argued most of the time. We had cake and tea and went home long before the events of the evening were concluded.

This marked the end of my Primary School years and preparations for High School began. Even though I was only 11 years old it felt like I had lived a number of life times.

## Chapter 9: 1969

## Grade 8

## HIGH SCHOOL

Mom, Daddy and I ran around looking for everything I needed for high school. Every now and again Mom would complain about the prices and that it cost more than she expected. Daddy would tell her to stop moaning and put the item in the basket anyway. He was a lousy and very impatient shopper and they would end up arguing every time Mom managed to convince him into going with her. I on the other hand enjoyed every moment. A new beginning was just what I needed and I looked forward to the challenge.

It was the school uniform, physical training outfit and whatever else appeared on the list, which by the way, was never ending. It was a uniform for this and a uniform for that; from stationery to fabric for the Home Economics class, and it still was not the end. When the term started there was not a single day that I did not come home needing something else. Mom fought hard to keep her patience; steeling from Peter to pay Paul, so to speak. She did not like spending money especially on school necessities. She and Daddy both were of the same opinion that they paid enough taxes and did not need to pay school fees and additional expenses on our schooling. They simply refused to pay fees of any sort and I remember only too well how embarrassing it was when the teachers would confront me in front of the whole class about fees not paid. But... they were adamant and refused to budge on the subject. I lived with the stigma...

Mom's moaning and Daddy's impatience was not enough to dampen my spirits. I was excited beyond words and nothing was going to spoil the feeling I had,k when I fitted on my blazer. It needed a few adjustments and I was to fetch it in a few days. I was not impressed! Yet the excitement got the better of me and the feeling of pride drowned out all disappointment. It was the first school blazer I ever owned. It made me think of the day when I had to borrow my friend's blazer for the school photos in grade seven. It was our last year of junior school and the photographer insisted that I wear a blazer. I was always the biggest girl in the class and Elsa, my friend, was much smaller than me so the sleeves of her blazer were hopelessly to short and I felt quite uncomfortable.

This day, however, would not be spoiled by bad memories. I was in another world. I felt important and quite special having all the attention focused on me.

I could not wait for school to start. After all, I was going to Helpmekaar Girls High School, one of _THE_ high schools in the country. I walked around on cloud nine the entire holiday. I had visions of being part of the athletics team and visualized playing netball. The fantasies and dreams flooded my mind. I counted the days...

Unbeknown to me this pride and excitement would soon bring me crashing down from my pedestal. What was supposed to be the best years of my life turned into an experience that would leave very deep scars!

I hated it! The initiation was only the beginning! I was so out of my league! I had just turned twelve in October making me the youngest in the class. That in itself already placed me at a disadvantage. Then I had to contend with only the best of the best who attended this school. Little "pathetic," my latest label, who came from Malvern Primary School which was located in one of the poorest suburbs in Johannesburg, stood no chance!

I had pimples and oily hair which kept getting worse because I had nothing else but toilet soap to wash it with. The hem of my dress was below my knees while the other girls had theirs above the knee. Mom simply ignored my plea to shorten it. I had no friends and no one wanted to be associated with me. I was too simple and did not fit in at all. What made it worse was the fact that I could not communicate very well. I had built a wall around myself and no one could get in. The only one I ever shared my inner thoughts with was Lara, my dog. I did not trust anyone else.

The highlight that year was when Lara had her puppies. They were so beautiful! I would hurry home just to spend time with them. I would sit on the floor next to their box all afternoon while doing my homework. More often than not they would all curl up in my lap and we would all fall asleep curled up on the floor. Lara would wrap herself around the puppies with her face so close to mine, we would breathe each other's breath.

Then came that awful day Daddy was appointed fleet manager of the construction group that build the hospital in Phalaborwa. Because it was almost 600 kilometres away it meant they had to go and live there. Without any further ado, the decision was made that I would stay behind with family because of my schooling; at least till the end of the year anyway.

It felt like the bottom of my world had dropped out when I was told Lara had to be down euthanatized. We had no place for her to stay and the weather in Phalaborwa, I was told, was extremely hot and because she was albino it would kill her. Her puppies had to be taken to the animal shelter to find homes for them. I begged and pleaded... I made promises to go and work weekends and holidays to support her. No one listened...

Daddy put Lara and her puppies in the car and drove off. The confused look on her face looking at me through the back window, was edged in my memory for ever. I stood watching the car driving down the road silent tears streaming down my face. Someone had ripped my heart out and left a huge empty hole!

Because of Eugene's learning disability it was decided that she would go back to boarding school and André would go with Mom and Dad. This all happened in less than a few weeks and before we knew it the time had come for Mom and Daddy to leave. They hooked the caravan and without a second goodbye they were gone.

I hated them yet missed them terribly. I would have nightmares about André and Lara. Strangely I did not miss Eugene as much as I did André and Lara. However, my grades began to drop and I was always in trouble with the teachers. The more they punished me the more I withdrew and kept to myself. I spent my days crying and it took forever before I settled down and learned to live with the fact that everyone was gone and nothing I did or say would change the situation.

Whether it was a blessing or a curse that I had my own bedroom, with the family I stayed with, I cannot say. It was a small room at the back of the house and bitterly cold. The wall paper pattern had tiny flowers which matched the bedding. The plus side was that it did offer privacy and gave me the space to be alone which I preferred anyway. It just did not feel like mine. All the time I lived there I felt like a visitor.

One night my aunt called me to their bedroom. My uncle was on the bed looking at a book. He asked me if I would like to see it and put the book in my hand without waiting for a reply. It was a book with hard core pornographic pictures of Nuns and Priests. As I began paging through it I was shocked and disgusted by the unknown feelings stirring inside me. I did not understand it at all. He began to fondle me and I was horrified when I saw that he was naked. I had never seen a man completely naked before. Pulling me down on the bed he gently removed my clothes while he whispered how much he loved me and how beautiful I was. I was terrified yet my body seemed to have a mind of its own! My aunt was watching him do this while she kept kissing and fondling him.

A few minutes later he rolled off me and told his wife "I couldn't stop myself, help her clean up." With that he turned his back to me and covered himself. She took me to the bathroom where she mixed water and an antiseptic in the basin. Then she passed me an instrument that had a rubber blob at one end with a hard black pipe on the other, called a douche, and told me to squirt the water into my vagina. Without another word she turned around and walked out. This was the first of many nights. I dreaded these nights but I was convinced that I deserved it. This must be what people do when they love each other... Both he and Pappa said they loved me...

Eventually he coerced my aunt and me into touching each other and made us kiss. It drove him wild and I made another visit to the bathroom. It did not take me long to learn how to disassociate myself from what was happening to me. All I would do was think of the pictures in the books he kept showing me and I became a pro at acting out what I saw. I loved the power it gave me over them both.

Once it was over, I was again left in the bathroom by myself to "douche" and "clean up" which often included more than just the personal hygiene. In the beginning the discomfort was hard to deal with but it soon healed however, the worst was the nausea. The disgust and belief that GOD was going to punish me, turned into indescribable nightmares.

## Chapter 10: 1970

## Grade 9

## DADDY, DADDY I AM A BIG GIRL NOW

Things at school were really bad. One of my class mates tantalized me to the point where I threatened to kill her. She challenged me to a fight behind the gym and I lost! I was the joke of the year.

Wanting desperately to fit in I joined a group of so called outcasts. We spent our breaks sitting on the hockey field tripping on drugs. It made my head spin and I loved the feeling. One afternoon we were all buzzing when our history teacher Ms Elize Botha caught us. She called me to her classroom and gave me quite a lecture. She went to great lengths explaining I could choose whether I wanted end up a washout or become someone who would do something with my life. It was the first time a teacher or anyone else for that matter showed any interest in me as a person and this made a major impact on my life. When she left the school she also left a major void and once again I felt totally abandoned. I never forgot that lecture though and it became one of the lifelines that helped me pull through the bad times. I broke away from the group and was rejected even more for doing so.

At the end of that year Mom and Daddy decided I must go to boarding school once again. So when the New Year started I moved into Helpmekaar High's boarding school. This was the year I became friends with Scheragné Lamprecht, a girl in my class. She was very special to me and years later I named my daughter after her. Her Mom would make me cookies and send it to school with her. I would sneak out and go visit her over weekends. She was very conservative and we kept to ourselves most of the time, so we were left alone and gradually the rank of being the school's freak began to fade into the background. Today I realise it must've been Scheragné's prayers. They were very religious people.

One afternoon in boarding school, it was my turn to do telephone duty and the loneliness made me think of Oupa. So I decided to phone him. He was quite nice to me on the phone and I agreed to visit him over the weekend. It was very pleasant, but I think it was because he was lonely and the only reason why he was able to tolerate me was because he drank himself into a stupor the entire weekend. All I ate for two days was a small pot of maize porridge with some processed meat bought from the "fish and chips" shop. He made it for me and burnt it so badly that I could barely stomach it. Yet once again I had to impress him so I ate it and kept telling him how wonderful it tasted. On Sunday afternoon I went back to the boarding school by bus.

It wasn't long before I became ill again and Mom and Daddy had to fetch me. It was awesome. They took me back to Phalaborwa with them and we lived on the building site in caravans. It was the best year of my life. The foreman's son and I were the same age and we became great friends. We also had the same nicknames, "Tossie," and had major fun when the grownups called us saying we were not sure who they meant. Tossie and I spent our days in the bushes exploring and finding the most incredible insects and birds. It was unbelievable! My world had changed into a Utopia.

The hiding I got from Daddy's black "boss boy" for playing around the monstrous earth moving equipment on the site, was as normal to me as if it were Daddy himself. He was praised by both Mom and Daddy for doing so as they realised that he did it because he got the fright of his life when he turned the caterpillar around and I almost ended up under the huge wheels. Wheels are not actually the right word. They were huge steel belt type bands like the ones you find on army tanks. John was quite ill after he hit me and I remember him almost pleading with Daddy to understand. Daddy understood only too well and the two of them became even bigger friends. I loved John as well. He would allow us to ride on the little dumpers even after we were banned from the construction site and it was great fun.

Being banned from the site did not worry us at all. We lived in the bush surrounding the area. Our favourite spot was the hill a little way off from the camp. We would climb to the top where the huge rock formed a natural rock pool deep enough for us to sit in. This position allowed us to look out over the camp and construction site. We could clearly see the single quarters where the unmarried guys lived. Then there were the houses where the married couples stayed. The buildings were prefab and could be torn down and erected in a couple of hours. Ours was the only caravan as Mom preferred to be one side, slightly away from the rest of the camp. We would often bring eggs to cook on the edge of the rock and bread to eat with it. It never once dawned on us that it was dirty. We loved it.

The wild animals walked around freely and being on the border of the Kruger National Park they would break through the fence and visit the camp looking for food. One afternoon we were on our way home from there when we heard a strange noise. Without considering that it might be dangerous we followed the sound and came across a goat with his throat slit open. We carried him home and Daddy took him to the pharmacy who gave us medication. It was touch and go for quite a while but he made it and became part of the family.

That was the year I became a "big girl," nowadays known as menstruation, and ran all the way to Daddy's workshop just to tell him. This was after Mom calmed me down. When I saw the evidence I was convinced I was dying and she had to explain that I was a big girl now and I received a lecture on how to keep clean and that I MUST NOT TELL ANYONE ABOUT IT. Daddy confirmed this when he picked me up and sat me down on his huge toolbox in his workshop on the side of the building site.

"This is something that you keep to yourself and not something that you go around announcing to everyone", he explained.

Not one word was mentioned about sex. Nor was I told about the way babies were made. I felt like it was something to be ashamed of. Being told I was a "big girl" was quite important to me, so sad and disillusioned, I wandered back to camp. For the first time since I arrived in Phalaborwa I was reminded of what had happened to me with Pappa, my uncle and my aunt. I had no idea why but I was convinced there was a connection of some sort and was even more convinced that this was some sort of punishment. The "big girl" scenario turned out to be a week of torture every month and what started off as something I felt proud of, very quickly became a time of dread and I began praying for it to go away.

Tossie and I were either on our way too or from the bush. It was on one of these trips that we found Scraps. She was a Fox Terrier and what should've been a black and white coat was a huge course scab of mange covering her entire body. From her head to her toes we could not find a single hair. As usual I went running to Daddy with the sick animal held close to my chest. The locals told him to put old diesel on the animal and so we did. Within a few weeks the hair had started growing back and soon her coat was healthy and shinning. She was beautiful and stole Mom's heart as well so mine and Mom's arguments over the soiled bedding was soon forgotten.

When Tossie and I came from the bush we would have to stand so Mom could pull the ticks of us and Scraps would join the queue. She followed us all over and her favourite game was bringing Mom presents. Her doggy mind could not comprehend why Mom went hysterical every time she presented her with a dead rat or snake. Daddy would come running all the way from the site in a flat spin because of Mom's screaming and as soon as he got rid of whatever it was that she dumped at Mom's feet, she would begin her next pursuit to find something else she could kill and present to Mom.

Shortly after Scraps joined the family the goat we found got tick fever and died. Mom cried over him but I think deep down inside she was relieved. Their bed was in the side tent of the caravan and she would often wake up with Goat sitting in front of the bed and his head on her pillow. The smell of his breath would wake her instantaneously and she would curse and carry on until Daddy took him outside and closed him up in the bathroom. He was forever stealing her veggies and we did not dare leave bread or any other food laying around. He was quite at home in the caravan and often slept on my bed with Scraps when Mom wasn't around. I was sad when Goat died but the pain of losing Lara was still the overriding emotion. I would often talk to Scraps about her but never discussed her or what happened with anyone else.

Before we could wipe out our eyes the year was drawing to a close and so was Daddy's contract. He was transferred back to Johannesburg just before Christmas and we ended up living with Oupa again. His hatred toward André and me intensified after he found out that Eugene was in boarding school and André and I were living with Mom. Now André became a victim of his abuse as much as I was. He hated us both with a passion! I was very excited to see Eugene when she came from boarding school but something had changed and we were not that close anymore. I still protected her though and was often punished for things she did wrong. I did love her but it was different to the bond that André and I had developed and with Oupa's abuse we grew closer than ever before.

#

# REJECTION or BETRAYAL!!

# WHICH IS WORSE?

Oupa's abuse got so bad that I was extremely unhappy, to the point of becoming physically ill. My dream of becoming a VET was about the only thing that kept me going. I could communicate with animals much better than I did with people and I loved being with them. Eventually Mom agreed that I could go to an agricultural school. These schools taught farming and veterinary subjects in addition to the normal school curriculum. We decided on Marenski High in Tzaneen. Unfortunately it was miles from home, so once again I was off to boarding school. The only shop where we could buy everything I needed, was in Tzaneen itself. Daddy took a day's leave and the whirlwind of getting school, physical training and church uniforms began as everything had to be done in that one day. By late afternoon everything was bought and labelled which Mom sat doing in the car. Before I could think twice the day was over and Mom and Daddy had left to go back home. I felt very alone but somehow the excitement got the better of me and I dealt much better with the separation this time.

I was there for three months when my dorm buddies and I decided to slip out one Sunday afternoon. We were not allowed out on Sundays and I just knew this was not the right thing to do. However, the thought of sitting the entire afternoon doing nothing was not my idea of fun. Besides I needed to see Daisy. Daisy was one of the cows we had on the farm. She had the kindest nature and would always snuggle up to me when I spent time with her.

Long pants were totally taboo and we were not even supposed to have them with us let alone wear them. We kept them hidden for occasions such as these. The fruit orchards were planted behind the school buildings where we had to go through to get to the animal sheds. We had to cross the huge lawn in front of the boarding school to reach these buildings and I could feel the adrenalin pumping through my veins as we ran. Once we reached the other side we collapsed in a heap of giggles relieved that we were not seen. We made our way through the hall and then the court yard and on the other side of the biology class we crossed the rugby field which was our last obstacle before we reached the orchards. As we walked through the orchards we picked the mangoes off the trees and ate them as we headed for the sheds. They were delicious!

I loved the animals and their babies. It was just awesome working with them and even though the stench in the sheds was terrible I loved spending time with them. My whole motivation for this outing was to come see how Daisy, our Mommy cow, was doing. They had to take out her baby who had turned bridge and she was very weak. I was not allowed near her until she came out of anaesthetic. The VET and the teachers made a hammock especially for her which hung under her tummy like a sling, to keep her off her feet. She knew me well enough to snuggle up to me when I put my face against hers. I fed her some grass and after giving her a hug I left to join my friends who were all quite impatient having to wait for me.

By the time we made our way back the sun was scorching hot. The nylon fabric, which the long pants were made of, was sticking to our skins making us itch. I came up with the idea that we should go for a swim. Not having costumes I coerced everyone into swimming naked. My hair had turned a dark blonde with natural gold highlights and I was tanned a golden bronze from my time in the bush. The physical work on the school's farm firmed my muscles and my body had begun to develop rather fast. Being as tall as I was gave me an appearance that made heads turn. I had a beautiful body and I was not embarrassed to take off my clothes in front of my roommates. After all we were all girls.

It was this very same body that became my biggest enemy...

We did not know the grade 12 boys could see us from their top floor dormitory. They made such a fuss that the principal decided to investigate and caught us in the act. All the friends had managed to get to the edge of the pool and hover behind the edge as he entered the gate. I had been swimming under water so I did not see him come in. When my head surfaced I was in the middle of the pool and try as I might I could not get my body back under the water. He was angry and turning around he shouted that we had 5 minutes to get dressed and meet with him in his office. I immediately owned up and said it was my idea and the other girls got off with detention. He was not that lenient with me. He first gave me the option between taking cuts with a cane and being expelled. I demanded I wanted to speak to Daddy. He called Mom instead and said he needed to see them urgently. I was expelled!

Daddy and the ever famous uncle, who introduced me to the world of pornography, came to fetch me. Daddy was in the principal's office for less than ten minutes and when he came out he simply said I need to go pack my things because he was taking me home. I asked why and he refused to discuss it. I did not want to go home. I loved the school, the animals and my friends. The thought of going back to Oupa's house filled me with dread. Those days children did not speak back so when the grownups made decisions one adhered to them and knew your place. I cannot explain what I felt that day. All my dreams were shattered and I knew it would be futile to even try to convince anyone to listen to me. I felt so helpless!

On our way home Daddy and I slept in the back of the Combi while my uncle was driving because Daddy had to be back at work the next morning early. With Daddy's arms wrapped around me I felt safe and warm. The day's anxiety and unpleasantness soon took its toll and I fell asleep almost immediately.

"No! This is not real! This is my hero, my Daddy, this cannot be happening! He would never do something like this to me. Oh GOD! Please tell me I am dreaming! No! No!"

The thoughts and feelings of unbelief bombarded my mind and my entire being! I was horrified when I woke up with Daddy's hands all over me. It felt like he was touching me all over, all at once. Trying desperately to come to terms with the emotion and unbelief, I was trying to convince myself that it was a nightmare! I did not want to believe what was happening! It all seemed so surreal.

The emotions flowing through me at that moment were beyond words. My entire world came crashing down! The thrusting did not last very long and then I heard him sigh and tell my uncle he would drive the rest of the way. Then the uncle, getting in next to me, had his turn as well. By the time we got home I was too numb inside to feel or think anything. That night Storm died!

Daddy could not look me in the eye after that. I did catch him watching Eugene and I through the bathroom window while we were bathing, but he kept his distance. I refused to think of that night. What was the use! I could not tell Mom, she never believed Eugene, why would she believe me. So I kept quiet and would protect Eugene by covering her body with mine while we were being watched. I avoided him as much as possible. The only one-on-one conversation I had with him was later that year when he asked me what I wanted for Christmas.

I remembered the floppy doll I had been admiring in the shop window down the road. Every time Mom sent me to the shop I would stop by and stare at her for ages to the point of getting myself in trouble time after time because I stayed so long. I asked for that floppy doll. He told me that I had just turned fourteen and was way too old for it, so he bought me a watch instead. I lost it a few weeks later.

Mom on the other hand could not stop telling me what a disappointment I was for the lousy performance at school. I passed grade 9 with my grades just above class average but she wanted distinctions. The fact that I had passed and did well in English was not enough.

This all happened round the same time Eugene met Robert and they started going out. They got married in December. I was happy for her that she could get out of the house and envied her at the same time. Ten months later her daughter, Anne, was born. I adored her and would come home after school and wake her up just so she would cry for me. She had the most beautiful blue eyes and cherry blonde hair. She always stayed special to me. The greatest gift I ever had was when her daughter was born on my birthday 20 years later.

Back to the present! Mom's Sister June, came to the house one evening and asked if I could accompany them to a dance. Her husband's boss's son was going with and he needed a partner. For the first time in years I felt excitement again. Mom made me a skirt with slits all the way up the side to reveal the matching hot-pants underneath. The top was made to match as well and it fitted me like a glove. I felt like I had stepped out of Vogue Magazine. The evening was beautiful and my partner was an absolute gentleman. We went home to my aunt's house because we were all staying over and he and I shared the children's room. He slept on the top bunk and I had to sleep on the bottom one. We had no desire to sleep so I got on to the top bunk and we started chatting.

He kissed me and just at that moment my aunt walked into the room. It turned into a night I would never forget. I had to hear how I had embarrassed them and that she will never take me out with them ever again. The next morning she dropped me off but made sure I heard every word she said to her mother-in-law who happened to be our next door neighbour. She explained in detail how she caught us in bed and how humiliated they were. She did not know how her husband was going to face his boss... She kept on and on and on.... She exaggerated so that the whole truth was distorted. We had not even contemplated doing "it".

The following day I tried to commit suicide. I drank medication that I found in our medicine cabinet. I have no idea what it was but Betty, my Magogo, caught me and half dragged me to the same neighbour. Mrs. G forced glass after glass of milk down my throat and made me walk up and down the passage for hours. Eventually she gave me a lecture and sent me home. She never told anyone and neither did I. I did however think about death and dying all the time.

Betty was the African lady that worked as our housekeeper. She was my second mother but because of her age I called her Magogo. Magogo is the African name for grandmother. Magogo was very protective over me and she would spoil me terribly. She taught me values and morals which I cherished all my life. I spent a lot of time in her room at the back of the property, just to avoid Oupa and Daddy.

My life was a misery and I existed one day at a time. Mom turned the back verandah into a bedroom for me and she made everything lilac. My joy was an act, just to please her, but it did give me what I thought would be my own private domain. That was a misconception if ever I had one. Mom would make a point of turning my cupboards out weekly. My room never had a door on it and anyone could walk in and out as they pleased. It did serve as a hideaway and Scraps could sneak in at night to sleep on my bed.

All of this was soon forgotten with the arrival of Maria. She was only fourteen days old and in such a neglected state that Mom had to wrap her in nappies for six months to heal her bottom. When Mom took her nappy off the first time, her skin came away with it. She was the daughter of someone my aunt June knew and this lady was unable to take care of her as she already had two other children and was living in someone's garage. It took some convincing but it was agreed that we could adopt Maria. Mom was in her element and André and I became part of the furniture.

## Chapter 11: 1971

## Grade 10

## ALL GOOD THINGS COME TO THOSE WHO WAIT

My love for André kept me sane. Daddy would not allow me to mix with any friends and I was not allowed to go out with anyone. The only friends I had were the guys that I saw on the school bus to and from school. I began to sneak out in the afternoons to visit them while Mom and Daddy were at work. We would listen to music and I enjoyed their company.

The following year I teamed up with a girl and the two of us decided to run away to Durban. The fact that it was over 560 kilometres away never entered our minds needless to say we had no concept of what that distance meant anyway. We hiked and on the way there we were in a car accident. I had fallen asleep with my head resting on Bibi's shoulder. I woke up as we went crashing through a maize field. The LDV came to a sudden stop as the bottom carriage fell out. Bibi and I got out, dusted ourselves off and just kept going. We arrived in Illovo early the next morning and had a swim. It was my first experience with spring tide. It took the best of maybe two hours of struggling and fighting the currents, coming from opposite directions, before I realised that when I relaxed I seemed to move closer to the beach. Eventually after what seemed like a life time I made it out of the water and collapsed on the beach, exhausted and struggling to breathe. The thought that I almost drowned once again convinced me that I deserved the punishment. My awe of the ocean was now mixed with fear and extreme respect for this huge mass of water I loved so much.

Because it was out of season there were no people on the beach, not even life guards, so we decided to hike to Durban City Centre. Halfway there we got picked up by two policemen in a police vehicle. They convinced us they would give us a lift but had to stop of at their station first. Little did we know that Mom had already reported us missing and by 07:00 that morning my description was sent to every police station in the country. We sat in the "pickup" van while they went inside and the next thing the senior officer came out and instructed us to get out. They took us inside and informed us that they knew who we were and that we would have to wait there till our parents collected us. We spent the night in the cells after we were scrubbed down with Lifeboy soap by the prison matron. Lifeboy soap was punishment for us as it was believed to have been for the black folks only.

Behaving like we did not have a care in the world we would sing our hearts out but as the night grew on, our nerves began to fall apart and fear set in. There were two sleeping mats in the cell and we were given two course blankets. The fear drove us closer and we both slept on the one mat holding on to each other looking for comfort. It felt like my heart was going to jump out of my chest when we were informed that my parents had arrived. We were terrified not knowing what to expect and completely flabbergasted that I was not given a hiding. For reasons only they knew, we were not even reprimanded. All Daddy said was that we chose a bad time for a holiday. I did not respond.

Daddy had become more aggressive and we became petrified of him! We would often hide under the beds to get away from him. He would go out drinking and fighting, coming home full of blood and reeking of alcohol. He and Mom had major arguments leaving us even more afraid and insecure. They went dancing one night and he slapped her and from then on she refused to go dancing with him again.

Our conversation still limited to direct questions, he once again asked me what I wanted for Christmas and I told him a floppy doll.

"Oh for goodness sake, you are in Standard 8 (grade 10), what on earth do you want to do with a floppy doll?" he replied, quite irritated.

I could not understand his response, after all I was only fifteen years old and I enjoyed playing with my little doll but she was kind of boring. I also didn't have any school socks to cut up for clothes. In boarding school I could lie and say they were stolen. At home Mom did the washing.

"Play with it," I answered.

I never opened a book to study for the exams that year, or any other for that matter. When my report came to say that I had passed and was being promoted to standard 9, grade 11, the relief was huge! I was visiting Ouma Nella at the time and went charging up the stairs shouting my news to her. She was just as happy for me.

I got the floppy doll that Christmas.

## Chapter 12: 1972

## Grade 11

## SCHERAGNÉ

Standard nine, I was told would be the most difficult year of my schooling. I could not understand what all the fuss was about. At the same time I had to admit that it was overshadowed by all the survival techniques I had to invent.

In the meantime Pappa had reappeared and I was meant to spend the holidays with him, but he and I got into a fight because of my step Mom and he slapped me. I walked home and told Mom I never wanted to see them again.

Soon thereafter we were summoned to court as Daddy's application to adopt me was to appear before the magistrate at the children's court. The summons included my adoption papers requesting Pappa's signature to acknowledge that he was my father and to consent to the adoption. Mom told me to go and see him and ask him to sign the papers. When I got there he kept me standing at the door without inviting me in. He read the papers, gave them back to me and said "I can't sign these papers because I do not know if you are my daughter. As you know I was in jail when you were born." With that he closed the door in my face and I heard him talking to Mitzi, my stepmother.

It was another one of those moments that I wanted the earth to open up and swallow me. I stood there for the best part of fifteen minutes, waiting for him to open the door and tell me he was joking. The door did not open and I ran across the road to find Jackie. He was a friend I made at Sunday school whilst visiting Ouma Liz. We both climbed into the chicken pen and he held me while I cried trying his best to comfort me. By the time I calmed down the sun had almost gone down and I started my way home which was almost an hour's walk.

I found it difficult to deal with Pappa's rejection and none of it made any sense to me. Mom refused to talk about it so I kept it all inside. The law of retribution makes many turns and when Pappa's wife gave birth to a baby girl a few months later she looked like my twin. Their punishment was being reminded by every single person that knew all of us, how much she looked like me. It also so happened that she had the same rebellious nature as I did.

I was very hurt by Pappa's denial and walked home. The next week we signed my adoption papers for Daddy to adopt me; without Pappa's signature. The commissioner of child welfare asked me if I wanted to change my name and I jumped at the opportunity. He then asked what I would like my name to be and I asked if I could have the female version of Daddy's name. He agreed, so I was named Stephanie. Daddy chose my second name, Laura. It was a blessing because I could not stand the name Gertruida Cornelia van den Berg. The adoption was not legal just yet and had to go through the process first. We would be notified as soon as it was finalized. On the 16th of May 1972, the Children's Court Johannesburg ordered the adoption.

Oupa bought Mom a Plymouth Fury Convertible as a gift for her birthday the year before but because she could not drive it became Daddy's toy. One afternoon I came out of the classroom and he was waiting to pick me up. He was surrounded by giggling girls and a number of teachers who all admired the car. When he saw me he brushed them aside and opened the door for me to get in. I could smell that he had been drinking and I got the all too familiar hollow feeling in my stomach. Something was not right but I was not going to ask why he had come to fetch me. He kept up the jovial one sided conversation telling me he came to tell me my adoption was finalized and I was now Stephanie Laura Wilson. I had mixed emotions and was too overwhelmed to say anything.

We drove in silence and eventually he pulled up next to Alberton Spruit. It was a small stream that wound its way through open fields with trees growing on the banks. The birds singing, together with the wind in the trees, created a musical master piece which only nature can compose. Daddy knew it was one of my most favourite places in the world.

My appreciation was short lived when Daddy's hands began to roam. He had just finished a full bottle of sherry and when he pinned me down on the seat the smell of the alcohol almost made me choke. He did not stop with the fondling, and when he penetrated me I instinctively knew that this was a moment I would pay for. This is a sin and GOD was going to punish me for it. I felt as cold and naked as the trees staring at me through the car windows. Being May they had lost their beautiful leaves as winter was beginning to set in.

Once he had finished he passed me a rag that he found in the back of the car. I refused it and without a word I pulled up my underwear. Getting behind the wheel he drove me home and dropped me off at the corner with instructions not to tell anyone he had fetched me from school. I went to my room and stayed there for the rest of the day. When Mom asked me why I didn't eat my lunch I made and excuse that my tummy was aching. It was not a lie. I was doubled up on my bed, not knowing how to feel. I fell asleep and woke up when Mom told me it was time to bath. Daddy never came near me again. As a matter of fact he avoided me like the plague.

A couple of weeks later some of the girls at school suggested I come and spend some time with them. I had been trying for so long to fit in that I did not need a second invitation. I did wonder if Daddy's coming to fetch me in that car had something to do with it but I never asked. So I told Mom I was going camping with the school and sneaked off. We ended up at a party and I remember drinking a cool drink. Soon after I began to feel very funny; my head was spinning and I could barely stand on my feet. I slipped off to the bedroom and apart from the flashes of Jacky, my Sunday school friend, John, his friend, and a few more faces on top of me I could not remember a thing. The following morning I woke up and could not find a soul in the apartment. I knew something had happened because the soiled evidence between my legs was only too familiar. I caught the bus home and managed to sneak in without anyone noticing. Mom and Daddy had gone out and I was only to grateful that I did not have to answer any questions.

I missed my period that month. I was not exactly sure what it all meant but I knew something was wrong because my cycle dates were normally very regular and I was not feeling too well. Ouma Nella was the only person I could think of that may be able to help me but it still took the best part of three weeks before I could pluck up the courage to tell her. She took me to her doctor who confirmed that I was pregnant and suggested that Ouma take me to the Queen Victoria Maternity Hospital. Their services were free of charge and because I was so young they were the best equipped to help me. I did not even think that far. All I kept thinking was that Mom and Daddy were going to kill me. Ouma agreed to go with me when I went to tell them.

Mom was sitting at her dressing table and Daddy was walking around with his ever famous glass of brandy. Ouma and I walked into the room and I told them I had something to tell them.

"I know what you want to say Tossie, you did not have to bring your grandmother into this," Mom said without missing a stroke of eye shadow. She was doing her makeup and hair while she spoke.

"You're pregnant," she said.

I burst into tears and started trembling.

"I will go and wait downstairs my girl," Ouma said and walked out of the room.

"How did you know?" I asked through the sobbing.

"Never mind how I know. What are you crying for?"

"I am scared!"

"Scared of what?" Mom was becoming quite irritated.

"Scared of what you and Daddy were going to say." Out the corner of my eye I saw Daddy approaching me.

"Who is the father?" he said aloud followed by a quiet whisper that only he and I could hear, "did you for minute think I would adopt strange children and throw my own away?" He had put his arms around me attempting to hug me. I pushed him away.

I never answered him and stood looking at Mom finishing her makeup. The silence hung in the air like thick fog suffocating me. Eventually she turned around and simply said, "We are late. Go with your grandmother, we will talk about this later." She turned her back on me and carried on brushing her beautiful blonde hair.

The next day Mom and Daddy came to see me. We all agreed that I would stay with Ouma Nella for a while. Daddy bought me the most beautiful white fur coat. I gave it away.

The violation was entered on my records at school and I was expelled with no option to ever re enter the schooling system. After handing in all my books at school Mom and Daddy dropped me off at home and went their way.

I went looking for Jacky. Although I did not know anything about pregnancy and how babies were made I instinctively knew it must have something to do with having sex. That made me think of what happened the night of the party. Jacky was supposed to be my friend and I could not understand what he was doing there that night with those people. I needed some explanation and I had to tell him I was pregnant. When I got to his house he, John and their friends were sitting on the sidewalk. I called him aside and asked him to explain what happened that night.

"Oh we were just having some fun. You also enjoyed it." Jacky said.

"NO, I did not! I cannot even remember exactly what happened! All I do remember was seeing your face and feeling you on top of me. I have been to the doctor and he said I am pregnant."

He burst out laughing and when his friends asked him what the joke was about, he told them loud enough for the whole neighbourhood to hear. They all burst out laughing and eventually he shouted at me, "You're going to have a hard time proving who the father is because all five of us f..... you that night!"

I was horrified. I turned away too embarrassed to say anything and started running and kept running till I reached Ouma Ella's apartment! She knew something terrible had happened but just left me when I went into her room and closed the door. I cried myself to sleep and when I woke up I decided that I will get him back if it took me a life time. I spent nights planning and preparing what I would like to do to him, but fortunately never got round to it. Fate however, did!

A few years later Jacky got engaged to a girl to be married. She was seven months pregnant at the time and they were on their way home from the shop when a car ran her over and killed her and the baby. When I got the news it felt like I was going to faint! I would never have wished that kind of punishment on anyone! Not even Jacky. So I went to see him and told him how sorry I was for what happened. He then asked if he could see my daughter and I took her to him. We stood talking for a while and talked about what had happened. I forgave him but left it at that and never saw him again.

But wait, I'm getting ahead of myself.

While I lived with Ouma Nella she made me go to church with them and the son of their priest and I became friends and soon fell in love. His parents accepted the pregnancy and I was totally shocked when they forbid him to see me after his sister's mother in law spread a story that she caught us having sex. They made him marry the girl of their choice. I found out later that he got divorced and became an alcoholic.

Their animosity and Ouma's attitude was the last straw for Mom. She had enough of everyone bad mouthing me and having to listen to Oupa all day complaining about the damage done to the family name. I still had a way to go with the pregnancy so she packed my bags and a few days later I was on a train heading for Senekal in the Freestate. I was to live with my godparents who I had seen once in my life at a wedding when I was ten years old. I was terrified. To make matters worse I had to change trains so I could catch the one that went in the direction I needed to go. I had no idea what to do. The conductors were very kind and helpful so I managed and did arrive safely. I cannot say the same for my nerves though. I was a wreck.

My godparents were Pappa Edgar's sister and her husband. I learned to love them dearly and they loved me. They were from the old school and their morals and standards were unquestionable. They lived their lives according to strict Christian principles and in all the time I stayed with them I never heard either one of them raise their voices once or even use a single obscene or harsh word in any one of the conversations. I was made to rest every afternoon when the heat became too much. Ousus, as my godmother was known, would insist that I retire to my room and have an afternoon nap. Because all the shops closed over lunch time and everyone in town did the same, there was not much else to do. It was rather strange for me in the beginning but eventually became a blessing.

Senekal is a town situated on the banks of the Klipspruit River in the eastern part of the Free State province of South Africa, approximately two hundred and ninety eight kilometres from Johannesburg. The entire town had four traffic lights at the most. The main church in the centre of town had a waist high wall built around it using fossilized tree trunks. It was beautiful.

Everyone knew everyone and traditionally the church minister came for cake and tea on Sunday afternoon to check up on the "flock." Bets, their daughter, owned the hairdressing shop in the main road. Her sister, Francina stayed in Bethlehem a neighbouring town which was just as small and freezing in winter. She was married to an engineer and they were very well off.

They all treated me well and I was spoilt rotten but I still cried myself to sleep every night. I longed for Mom and I felt lonelier than I had ever felt in my life. The baby growing inside me was not real to me. I would feel it move which made me feel very uncomfortable and afraid. I had no connection with it and feared it with my entire being. Christmas came and was over very soon but when January came I insisted I wanted to go home.

I stayed with Mom and Daddy. They had since moved out of Oupa's house and were living on their own with André and Maria. It was a duplex flat and I had to share the bedroom with Andre. Maria was still small and slept in Mom's room. It was terribly hot and the baby had grown so much it made my feet swell like two distorted balloons and I could barely walk. The thought of food made me feel sick and I could just not stomach it so I lived on Sultanas and Coke. My hair was very long and combined with the heat got the better of me so I cut it short. Daddy avoided me and refused to talk to me because I had cut my hair. At least that was what he claimed. I knew better.

## Chapter 13: 1973

## SO MUCH FOR MARRIAGE

On the fourteenth of February 1973 Scheragné was born; a 7 pound 14 ounce baby girl.

Mom and I decided to move furniture around and spring clean earlier in the day. It was just after five when the most excruciating pain shot through my tummy. Mom helped me bath and she and Daddy rushed me off to hospital. The birth was not very pleasant. When they cut me I screamed and the security had their hands full keeping Daddy out of the theatre.

Because baby could not drink from me I ended up in the fever section with a temperature of note. All the sick babies infected with various venereal diseases and other ailments were admitted to this section of the hospital, quarantining them from the healthy patients. It was another scorching hot day with my temperature soaring when an old German speaking nurse came and checked up on me.

"I think I know what is wrong with you young lady. Will you promise to work with me? It is going to be very painful but I promise you will be better in no time!"

I agreed and so she set about extracting the milk from my rock hard breasts. It took forever before they were soft and drained and only then did the fever break. The exercise left blood trickling from the holes in my hands as I dug my nails into my palms trying to cope with the pain.

I could not bond with Scheragné. She screamed from morning till night and I hated the feeling of her sucking on my breast. She would not latch and the harder I tried the more she cried and the more she cried the more I resented her. Mom and the nursing sisters tried counselling me but nothing seemed to work. Eventually they gave up and we put her on formula. She would not stop crying!

I was home two days when the cut pulled open and going to the toilet was excruciating. The fever from the milk still built up and to help with this the district sister arranged for me to milk my breasts every day into glass containers. A driver would come and pick it up for them to use on babies whose Moms could not afford formula.

The week I was in hospital my folks moved back to Oupa's house. One night she woke me up crying at the top of her lungs. Oupa swore at me and told me to shut the brat up. I kept begging her to keep quiet but she just kept on screaming. After two weeks of sleep deprivation and pain indescribable, I cracked and gave Scheragné a hiding that made her lose her breath. Mom took her away from me and refused to give her back.

I tried with my entire being to bond with my baby but it just did not happen. I did not know what to do with her. I couldn't burp her; as a matter of fact I could not even comfort her. The minute I picked her up or came near her she would start crying. Eventually I backed off and stayed away from her.

Daddy bought her the most beautiful pram and clothes. She had everything and it was the best money could buy. He adored her but I could see that he kept his distance.

Scheragné did well with Mom and Betty. I started working and had an excuse to stay away from her and very relieved that they were thoroughly enjoying their new doll.

Soon after I started working I met Matthew.

Mom and Daddy moved out of Oupa's house once again. I have a feeling it was because he resented Scheragné but no one would admit to it. I thought life would improve once we moved out but in fact it got worse. Daddy carried on like a hooligan and Mom withdrew more and more. She lived for the three children. Scheragné was only a few months old, Maria was almost two and André seven. So her time revolved around the children. In my effort to avoid being near Daddy, I spent most of my time with Matthew and his family.

Matthew and I decided to get married and because I was only seventeen we needed Daddy's signature. He refused and I threatened to fall pregnant again if he did not sign for me to get married. It was my ticket out of there and I was not going to give up. Finally he agreed and we were married November 23rd 1973.

We moved into our own apartment and were there a few weeks when Daddy and my uncle arrived to "visit". Daddy had been drinking and once again all the fear from the past came flooding back. My legs felt like lead and when he pushed me down on the bed I was too afraid to resist. I could not speak. My tongue felt swollen and I battled to breath. He pulled me over on top of him and at the same time my uncle came from behind. It did not work so each one took his turn. They left and I spent the rest of the afternoon with my head in the toilet. I once again never told anyone. This is how whores and sluts were treated. So I deserved what I got.

Daddy got into serious trouble when a young girl laid a charge of rape against him. She was hiking and he gave her a lift and apparently he got fresh with her and she went to the police. He won and the case was thrown out of court.

Matthew was in the army when all of this happened and I was alone. Later that night, after I had cleaned up the mess, I went to bed filled with a hatred that would be the cause of many a broken heart.

24th of December, the same year, I decided to leave Matthew and when I opened the door to leave Daddy was waiting outside to take me home. He heard that Matthew and I were getting divorced and demanded that I come home. I did not have anywhere to live so I did not have a choice and I knew better than to argue with him. I also knew I could not live with him in one house again so I prayed for a way out.

## Chapter 14: 1974

## RUDI

##

Mom and Daddy had moved to a house out on a plot toward the south side of Johannesburg. Mom had started a flower business and I helped her make the arrangements. It was quite a successful business and kept us all very busy.

One night I went out dancing with friends and met Gordon. We had an amasing evening, dancing till early hours of the morning. We agreed that I would meet him there the next week end. The week went by very slowly. I could not stop thinking about Gordon. He had the most beautiful voice and often sang with the band playing at the venue where we met. Eventually Friday came and again we had the most wonderful time. I went home with him to his apartment and spent the night there. By morning he had convinced me to move in with him which I did. Daddy was furious and so was Mom. But I had become quite assertive and they did not resist my decision too much.

We stayed in Yeoville for a month and then we moved to the apartment block in Hillbrow where Ouma Nella was caretaker. We lived a couple of floors above her so I used to visit her during the day. One afternoon she invited me for tea. As I took the cup from her I fainted. She brought me round and called the doctor. After he finished examining me he told her that I had low blood sugar and had fainted from hunger. He also informed us that I was pregnant and on the verge of losing the baby due to malnutrition. Ouma was furious and told Gordon his fortune. He in turn was so excited about the baby that he got drunk for days.

I spent my days coping with morning sickness and with Gordon not working we had no choice but to move in with Pappa and my step Mom for a while. Pappa and I had made peace and I did go and visit them from time to time. We got on okay and when he heard that Gordon did not have a job he offered us the spare room. I knew my step Mom was not too happy about it but I had become quite vindictive and accepted his invitation simply to irritate her. Gordon was out the night we had a huge storm and I woke up with Pappa standing in front of my bed naked. When he attempted to climb into bed with me I threatened to scream, which would wake my stepmother, so he backed off. I phoned Mom the next day and she sent Daddy to fetch us.

Daddy tried hard to become friends again but I kept him at a distance. In the meantime Gordon had found a job with the South African Railways and he was doing okay. My parents hated Gordon but tolerated him for mine and the baby's sake. On the 4th of November 1974 my son was born. I loved him with my entire being. The birth was easy and he and I bonded from the moment they laid him on my tummy. Someone had called Gordon at work and he arrived just after Rudi was born. He was so proud I thought he was going to burst!

When I got home from hospital Mom told me they had arranged an apartment for us and as a gift Daddy gave me a Ford Fairlane 500 motor car. They took us to see the apartment and I was ecstatic. It was fully furnished and the curtains were too beautiful. Mom must have worked her butt off because she only had a week in which to complete it all. We moved in over the weekend and I was beyond happy. I spent my days with Rudi.

He was a few months old when I caught Gordon messing around with two other women. I was under the impression he went to work every day and was totally shocked when a friend of mine told me Gordon lost his job and was in fact at a restaurant in Johannesburg with two girls. I was furious! This explained why we never had any money. When he got home I exploded and we had a huge argument. He on the other hand had been drinking and accused me of refusing him sex. I tried explaining that Rudi was only two weeks old and I was not "clean" yet. Being as intoxicated as he was, he simply did not listen to a word I said so when he demanded and I refused him, he pushed me over on the bed an forcefully took what he believed he was entitled to.

My heart jumped into my throat when there was a knock on the door in the middle of all this. It was Daddy. He was in the area and decided to visit. When I opened the door he gave me one look and lost it! I was barely able to walk and my clothes were soiled with blood. He insisted on an explanation but I refused to talk. Gordon stayed in bed and did not bother to get up. Daddy pushed me aside and went to the kitchen where he opened the fridge and cupboards; they were empty. He asked me where Rudi's formula was and I had to admit that I did not have any. The look on his face was ominous. He told me to pack, he was taking Rudi and I home. When Gordon heard this he got cocky with Daddy and that was a mistake. Daddy almost took him apart and told him to stay in bed if he loved his life. He also took the car keys away from Gordon.

I broke up with Gordon after that and refused to have anything to do with him.

Ria, Gordon's sister, was married to one of the most horrible men I had ever met. He made Gordon look like a saint. His brother Anton was the opposite and made no secret that he was interested in me. I made it quite clear to him that I could not jeopardise my relationship with Gordon because of my baby. He respected my wishes and I did not see him after that conversation until I ran into him a few days after I broke up with Gordon.

I was on my way somewhere and he drove past me. He offered me a lift and we began chatting. He did not know that Gordon and I had split up and was quite excited by the news. Yes he heard that I had a little boy and congratulated me. We chatted as if we were lifelong friends and he then suggested that we go for a drink at one of the local hotels. What began as a drink ended up in dinner and still we wanted more of each other's company. As the evening progressed we could no longer ignore what was between us and booked into the hotel. We made love all night long. As much as I cared about him I could not bring myself to commit to a permanent relationship. He wanted more than I was prepared to give and the breakup with Gordon and the circumstances surrounding it was still very fresh in my mind. I was afraid of getting involved again. Being the gentleman that he was he understood my situation and honoured it. The following morning he took me home and I never saw him again.

A few weeks later Gordon came home pleading and begging. I did not want Rudi growing up without his father so I agreed to give him another chance. Again my parents helped us get an apartment and once again a few months after we moved in Gordon lost his job. His life revolved around drinking and women. I had no food or money and sold my clothes to buy Rudi formula. Little did I know that Daddy was eager to arrange this apartment because it would become his halfway house. He would bring his girlfriends there and send me to the shop while he entertained them.

## Chapter 15: 1975 to 1976

## A TIME TO LIVE AND A TIME TO DIE

22nd March 1975; it was Easter Weekend. Gordon was home and he and I were sitting watching a movie of Jerry Lewis on the old 16mm projector, casting the picture on the opposite wall. I was laughing my heart out and suddenly remembered the old superstition of too much laughing brings tears to your eyes. I mentioned it to Gordon who laughed it off as superstition.

Rudi was sitting on my lap chatting away in his baby language and laughing as loud as we were. I looked at Gordon and said "we are laughing too much we are soon going to cry." Gordon got irritated with me and went to the kitchen to make coffee.

I had no sooner ended the sentence when there was a knock at the door. I got up to open and there stood my uncle. I was not happy to see him at all but stepped back when I realised he had been crying. Before he said anything I knew something had happened to Daddy. He simply said "your Dad was killed in a motor car accident."

My legs buckled and Gordon helped me to a chair. I burst into tears and years of emotions spilled out in raw sobs... I cried for my Daddy... The man I loved with all my heart, the abuser completely forgotten.

The funeral was a formality that had to be dealt with but Mom was assisted by family and we were not a part of it. At the chapel I asked to see Daddy and after a lot of convincing my uncle got the undertakers to open the coffin for me. The man in the coffin looked like Frankenstein gone wrong. The picture haunted me for years.

Our lives fell apart. Mom had André, Maria and Scheragné and I had Rudi. Not one of us had jobs or education to even find a decent job. The flower business that Mom had, fell apart because not one of us could drive. Gordon as usual was not working either and we just could not trust him to do the driving. Mom did give him an opportunity to work with her but caught him out within a day or two stealing money.

Months later Mom and Pappa somehow got back together and moved to Senekal. Oupa refused to have Pappa in his house so my godparents offered to help them start over. They adored Mom and there was absolutely nothing they would not do for her. They left Scheragné behind with me and I found it very hard to cope with her and Rudi. I just could not communicate with my little girl and I knew it was not the same as the feelings I had for Rudi. A few weeks later Mom's cousin approached me and asked if they could adopt Scheragné. I agreed because I was having problems coping with her and Gordon could not stand her either and he had begun ill treating her. I was upset giving her up but I knew I had to do it; for her sake more than mine. We just could not bond and I knew that Gordon would eventually hurt her so this was an answer to prayer. They fetched her and then I phoned Mom to tell her what I had done. She went off at me and told me what a useless mother I was.

Once Scheragné was gone Gordon began focusing his abuse on me. I had no place to go and having no education, I was forced to put up with his abuse. We were constantly on the move. He would gamble away or drink out his entire earnings and Rudi and I would have no food.

Ria was very fond of me and did everything in her power to help us out even though her husband made it quite clear that he did not approve. She then introduced me to her godfather who happened to own a security company. He was an elderly gentleman and enjoyed my company. In turn he would buy Rudi formula and clothes.

At four months old Rudi got measles and I had no medication. My baby was very ill and he had a temperature so high his whole body was on fire. So I took his clothes off and held his naked body against my naked breast and prayed. I asked GOD that if my baby were to die I want to die with him. An hour later his fever broke and he fell asleep. I kept him there all night. That was how we spent our days for the next two weeks. Every time his temperature went up I would strip his clothes and hold him close to my body.

Things between Gordon and I was not good and I kept getting sick. I never made a connection between the nausea and missing my period for the third month. They told me at hospital I would not fall pregnant if my baby breastfed and I did not know enough to understand it only worked while the baby stayed on the breast. On the other hand I could not understand the weight I was picking up. We hardly ate so the weight gain did not make sense at all. However, I was so focused on surviving that I simply ignored all the signs.

I missed Mom very much. Senekal was far and I had not seen her for ages. It took all I had but I eventually did manage to persuade Gordon and we move there as well. Our relationship did not last long and eventually he moved out.

Sitting in the bath and looking at my body I knew I could no longer ignore my growing stomach. Everyone was telling me it was winds and I was imagining things. When I did decide to go and see a doctor he confirmed that I was six and a half months pregnant. I had no idea what that meant in layman's terms. All I kept thinking to myself was that Rudi was only seven months old. I went hysterical! I was eighteen years old, had two children with another one on the way! I had no husband, no job, no income and no education! I was as ignorant as I was when I left home. Eventually I cracked. My cousin took Rudi home with her for a week so I could recharge my batteries and figure out what I was going to do with my life...

It did not take long for Mom to realise that she got involved with Pappa on the rebound and that it was a mistake. She told him she was moving back to Johannesburg and he agreed that he would go with. They left a few days later.

I was devastated! Left to make sense of it all I took a bad turn. I could not shake the feeling that Mom kept abandoning me. I fell into a deep depression and would not even comb my hair. I would go to sleep in the same clothes I wore for days. It took every effort to bath which I seldom did. I stopped eating and within a short period of time looked anorexic. With no one else at home I did not bother to clean up around me and literally slept all the time.

It was late one afternoon when my cousin and her husband came and talked to me about adopting Rudi. They vowed that I could come and see him whenever I wanted and that they would send me photos... I agreed. It was the break I had been waiting for.

However, when it came to signing the papers it felt like my heart was tearing apart. It was a Friday afternoon and I could not bear to be with anyone. I signed the documents and ran out of the magistrate's office. As far as I ran I was sobbing!

It was June 1975 and I was to pay the ultimate price for ignorance!

I was alone at home when I mixed and administered the fluid. I remembered the conversation I overheard when I was a little girl of 10 years old. I had no idea what the ratio should be, but mixed the potion according to memory, hoping it would work. I also remembered the person saying it was not bad. It all ended in a blood clot with a bit of bleeding. Why would it be any different for me?

It was round eight o' clock in the evening when the contractions started. I thank GOD Miles, Gordon's friend, decided to come round looking for him. I was curled up in a ball, the pain tearing my body apart! I had never in my life experienced pain like that. Miles rushed me to hospital and they took me to a small room where the doctor examined me. He did not speak a word until he was finished.

"This baby will have to come out the way it went in. Admit her," he said to the sister standing next to him and walked out of the room. It was a small country hospital and the staff were very conservative. They obviously knew what I had done and treated me as if I had some infectious disease.

"Please can you give me something for pain, I can't handle it anymore," I pleaded.

The sister gave me a look that made me cringe and walked out of the room. Miles came into the room explaining that they had told him to leave. He gave me a hug and left. I lay on that bed with its starched white linen and prayed that I would die. A couple of minutes later the sister walked back in with a huge stainless steel dish, which she placed on my bedside table, and a syringe.

"This will help for the pain," she said, injecting me and left.

The pain got worse instead of better. I just knew I had to get up and walk. There was no way in hell that I could lie still with those pains gripping my body. So I began parading the passages of the hospital and kept walking up and down. Just before six the next morning I felt something dangling between my legs. I called the sister and she told me to get on the bed. I felt her tugging and whatever it was, she placed in the dish next to my bed. Just before she walked out again she said, "if you don't want to bleed to death you had better get the rest out."

I had no idea what she was talking about and lay back feeling exhausted. The pain just would not let up. It kept on and on and on... Eventually I rang the bell and a black nurse walked into the room.

Her voice was soft and kind. "Come let me help you."

She lifted me into a squatting position and then something popped into her hand which she placed into the dish as well. She made me lie down on my back while she massaged my stomach. The pains felt even worse! She lifted me once more into the squatting position and a huge blob of tissue slid out which she also placed in the dish. She cleaned me as best she could and squeezed my hand when the sister called her away. By now the pain was beginning to ease up and I turned to look at the contents of the dish.

To this day I find it hard to describe what I felt at that moment. All the years of abuse, all the years of emotional pain; everything I had experienced, had no patch to what I felt at that moment. I wanted to vomit but was so choked up with emotion that I could not breathe let alone throw up. I could not believe what I saw! I did not WANT to believe what I saw! I sat there staring at that dish!

In the dish was a perfectly formed, beheaded, little body of a baby boy. He had ten fingers, ten toes, a perfect little penis and testicles. Next to his body was his little head, perfect nose, ears, eyes and mouth. Next to his head was the blob with a tube like thing attached to it.

Something was very wrong! It was supposed to be a clot of blood! It was not supposed to be a perfectly formed baby! Oh! GOD!

I murdered my baby!!!

Hours later I had suppressed my emotions enough to convince the doctor I was fine and wanted to go home. He agreed and left the room. I still sat staring at what I had done while I felt every bit of feeling and emotion drain from my body.

They left that dish next to my bed until the doctor discharged me at ten o clock the same morning. I walked out of that hospital a dead person. I could not wait to get away from those people. I can still see the judgment and condemnation in their eyes, and I did not blame them for one minute. I did NOT deserve any better!

I named him Anton...

As I came outside I looked up at the heavens and made an oath to GOD that I would never, ever, again, while I was able, ever again, pay the price of ignorance! I got home packed my bags and hiked to Johannesburg to find my Mom. I discovered that they were living in a caravan park and arrived there late that afternoon, early evening. I was not feeling good and put the shaking down to the cold weather. Looking like death warmed up, I collapsed into the chair standing in the side tent of the caravan. Mom gave me one look and knew there was something very seriously wrong here.

"What happened?" she asked.

"I lost my baby, and I don't want to talk about it," and that was all I was prepared to say.

Mom told me to go lay down and brought me some tea. I fell asleep and at eleven that night I woke up feeling like my bladder was going to burst. The pains still came in spasms. As soon as I would relax the following one would grip my body.

"It's cold outside, you will have to "wee" in the bucket," Mom said.

I felt so tired and weak that I was not going to argue. The ablution blocks were quite a distance from where Mom's caravan was, and I did not have the strength to walk there. As I got off the bucket I heard Mom catching her breath.

"Get back on the bed and lay down," I heard her saying.

It felt like I was going to faint so I did as I was told. I vaguely heard her waking Pappa and telling him we need to go to the hospital because I was bleeding. I don't remember much more after that.

When we arrived at the hospital Mom told them that I lost my baby that morning and was bleeding. They rushed me into theatre and did what they had to do to clean the womb out and stop the bleeding. All I remember was coming round and seeing a sea of faces in white clothes standing round my bed. My first thoughts were that I had died and gone to heaven.

"Hi there, welcome back," the doctor said leaning over me to look into my eyes.

"Where am I, on heaven or on earth?"

"You are on earth young lady and very lucky to be alive. Would you like to talk to me about what happened?"

"No, I don't" I said, almost choking as I felt my chest and throat tighten with a rush of emotion that I had never before or since experienced.

The doctor must have realised that it was painful for me because he simply said, "Ok. But you do need to talk to someone and please do it soon."

He did not force the issue and left it at that. I was taken to a ward and Mom told me what happened and how concerned everyone was. That was the last time we spoke about it.

The next two years went by without much excitement. Every time the memories and emotions came into my mind I would suppress them and find something to do. I refused to let them surface. If I could not get the thoughts out of my mind I would grab the first drink I could lay my hands on.

I worked and came home and tried my best to survive. I had subsequently moved in with Eugene and her husband and lived with them for some time. As soon as I was able I contacted my cousin to make arrangements so I could see Rudi. She made it quite clear that I was not welcome and that if I came near Rudi she would have me arrested or shot. This was not an idle threat either!

I checked this out with the authorities and was devastated when they told me she had the law on her side and there was absolutely nothing I could do about it. I was also officially warned by them that I was not allowed anywhere near my son. I once again I paid the price of ignorance. I never did get over this one and it almost cost me my life.

One afternoon Mom and I were watching a movie about a little boy that was rejected by his parents and he had to sell newspapers to make a living. The little boy was the same age as what Rudi was at the time and looked exactly the way I imagined him to look. Halfway through the movie the suppressed emotions got too much for me and it felt like I was going to pass out.

I lay down on the carpet and soon lost consciousness. I faded into an abyss that was so peaceful no words could describe the "holiness" of it all. My mother's screams in the background, fighting with GOD, did not even matter to me. I was floating in a long tunnel with the most beautiful, brightest light at the end I have ever seen. The next thing I remember was me being held up in a sitting position by someone and my two year old niece was hitting me on my back with her fist. I realised I was coming round and I was furious.

Mom called the ambulance and I was rushed into hospital. After a number of tests and a school of doctors the prognosis was a "sudden death episode" and I would have to take heart tablets for the rest of my life.

With Mom's help we managed to get Scheragné back. It took everything we had to keep it out of court and after many meeting and threats we managed to prove that the adoption was illegal and she came home. Even though I knew it was the right thing to do, I still found it very difficult to bond with her. In my heart I loved her dearly but I just could not communicate with her.

Maria on the other hand was a very intelligent little girl and I adored her. I got into serious trouble because of her more times than I care to remember. She was the reason I was finally driven out of Oupa's house, at gun point, and was never allowed back again.

I was going to the neighbour's house across the road for some or the other reason and without thinking I left the gate open behind me. Maria almost four years old by now followed me and ran across the road on her own. Mom went crazy and smacked her. Oupa also lost it and promptly slapped Mom through her face which made me lose it and for the first time in my life I stood up to him!

"You made my life a hell and that is fine but you will never! Ever! Lift another hand to my mother while I have breath in my body!" I screamed at him.

I stood between him and Mom and had every intention of attacking him should he come near her. I did not for a minute consider that he was almost seven feet tall. He picked up an upright solid wood chair to hit me with, and as luck would have it the padded cushion, which weighed close to five pound on its own, came out of the frame and fell on his foot. He turned around limped to his room and got the gun from his drawer. Pointing it at me he said in the most chilling voice, "Get out of my house and make sure you never come back because if you do I will shoot you!"

I never had time to pack my clothes or take anything with me. I walked out with the clothes that I had on and because I had nowhere to go I had to leave Scheragné behind.

## Chapter 16: 1977

## ONE CAN RUN FROM LIFE BUT NOT FROM YOURSELF

I moved into a girls hostel in Hillbrow and from there decided I was moving to Durban with my roommate. We stayed with her family for a while but they were not doing too well themselves. I realised this would not work and more often than not did not have food to eat. Eventually the friendliness ran dry and after spending my 21st birthday alone on the beach I decided it was time to go home.

The only one I could think of going to was Ouma Liz so I stayed with her for a while. My life was very messed up and so was I. Mom and Pappa had broken up shortly after I had the abortion and he got involved with a lady by the name of Corrie. I went to visit him and he introduced me to Harold. Harold was Pappa's "drug buddy," and he made it clear that he liked the idea that I should become Harold's girlfriend. Today I know that he was in favour of it because Harold was his merchant. It was not Pappa's fault altogether though.

Pappa's brother, asked me how long I was going to sponge on Ouma Liz and demanded to know when I intended on finding a job. I had been there a week and Mom had sent money for me to live there. At the same time I was helping her make clutch bags to earn an extra income, but she never said a word in my defence. I got the message loud and clear.

At that stage Mom had started a flower business again and hired a house to work from. So Harold and I moved in together. We went out for three months when I had my first hiding. He hit me for being friendly with his brother. It never stopped. He hit me for no rhyme or reason and thrived on me begging for mercy while I was crawling on the floor. I was too afraid to get up, in case I provoked him more. He made me take drugs with him and soon I was as hooked as he was. We would stay awake for days without eating and just kept popping the pills. A couple of weeks later we were visiting Ouma Nella when he hit me again and when they tried to stop him he turned on them. Oupa Stafe, Ouma Nella's husband who was in a wheelchair, lost his leg to due to gangrene when he was still a young man. The two of them were quite vulnerable and were no match for this lunatic.

Harold hit me so badly that day I had to go to hospital. Ouma called the ambulance to fetch me and he insisted he was going with. The more I begged them not to let him come, the more persuasive he became and told the driver he would stay in the back with me and they don't have to worry. They allowed him in the ambulance. He kept hitting and threatening me all the way there. When we arrived at the hospital I again begged them not to leave me alone with him. They did not listen and he just kept on hitting me. After what seemed like eternity, the sister told him to leave as visiting hour was over. Only then did she see all the bruising in my face and realise what he had done. The end result was concussion and Harold was banned from the hospital.

The following day I went back to work and arranged with a colleague to stay with her for a while so I could get away from Harold. This was in the apartheid era and she was coloured, and if we were caught we would've been in serious trouble. Being as desperate as I was I did not let this influence my decision. I took clothes to work the next day and it was arranged that she would go home, get her brothers and they would fetch me. She rode a bike and I was too scared to go on the back, so she arranged that they would come and fetch me in a car. On the way home she was in an accident and I was stuck at the office. I was terrified beyond description because it was getting dark and being alone in a building in an industrial area was no joke. It was after eight when her brother turned up and explained what had happened. We went directly to Coronation hospital. When we got there she was still laying in the passage waiting for someone to see to her.

I lost it with the nurses and demanded immediate help. Me being white and Coronation being a coloured hospital was in our favour. She was wheeled into x-ray and the doctors saw to her without any argument. I loved the feeling of power that it gave me and from then on there was no stopping me. The anger turned into a determination that scared even me. It became my life's mission to fight for the underdog.

They helped me find an apartment in Hillbrow which had controlled security so no one could come in without my knowledge. The building was called Hoffman's New Yorker and the apartments were furnished. They were small and compact but very luxurious.

I did hear via the grapevine that Harold stole Mom's Combi to go and look for me in Durban and that she was furious with me. So I called her to let her know I was fine and gave her my number. I called her regularly after that so she would not be concerned and also so I could find out how Scheragné was doing. When we got Scheragné back from Mom's cousin she promised me I could fetch her as soon as I was settled and on my feet. However, every time I asked when I could fetch her Mom made some or the other excuse.

One afternoon I sneaked into Oupa's house to see Mom because I needed my adoption papers. Looking through all Moms' documents I came across a court order placing Scheragné in Mom's permanent foster care. When I questioned her about it she said the Social Worker decided it is the best for Scheragné and she did not know where to find me, that's why she did not tell me about it.

It was an utter lie. She did have my number and I called her almost daily. Once again I felt totally betrayed! Being in Oupa's house I knew I dare not start an argument. However, by now it had become such a regular occurrence that I once again suppressed the emotions threatening to suffocate me and left without saying another word.

## Chapter 17: 1978 - 1979

## REVENGE DOES NOT PAY

I began to go out with guys and would not rest until I destroyed them. I would let them fall in love with me and manipulate them and then tell them to leave. I walked in and out of relationships at a rate that I could not even keep up with. I loved the control I had over them. I loved the power of being able to manipulate them without them even realizing that they were being manipulated. The entertaining part was that they believed they were in control.

I also began drinking and playing as hard as I was working. I worked hard and I played hard. I was thriving at work and was doing very well for myself so I decided it was time to move up in the world. I found an executive studio apartment in Nedbank Plaza in Hillbrow. The building was right on top of the hill and was quite exclusive. I met many people after making friends with the care taker. I got involved with swinging parties and mixed with the so called "elite" only to find that their lives were even more messed up than mine and felt quite at home with them. I saw and experienced things that would make your hair stand up, but somehow managed to survive it all.

After the bad incident I had with the drugs and alcohol mixed I moved away from the drugs and focused on drinking. We were on our way to a disco one night and we were all smoking marijuana. When we arrived there we drank wine and the combination of the two made me violently ill. I lost all control over my bodily functions and spent most of the evening in the toilet. It was sufficient to put me off for a lifetime. After that experience I did enjoy my glass of wine from time to time but controlled it very well.

I never stayed in a job for longer than two years and I made sure that I took a different job every time. I did not have money to go to college, university or to pay for correspondence. So I worked hard and as soon as I mastered a position I would leave and look for something else. By the age of twenty four I held the position of Area Administration Manager.

I became an ardent reader! I consumed every book I could lay my hands on, all of them educational. I very seldom allowed myself to read fiction. The few fiction and romances I did read were the books I got for gifts. I was like a sponge! I just wanted more and more knowledge. At one stage I began to study the zodiacs and had every possible book on the subject that was worth mentioning. I also loved poetry and inspirational writings, with Desiderata being one of my favourites. Religion never crossed my mind and was limited to reciting the Our Father prayer every night before I went to sleep.

During this time I had quite a number of acquaintances but no close friends. I just would not allow anyone to get close to me. I was also not interested in getting involved with anyone.

Two of these acquaintances decided they were immigrating and I volunteered to arrange a farewell party for them. We decided the Ellis Park Clubhouse would be the perfect venue and so the arrangements began in all earnest and I would flop down on my bed exhausted every evening. I loved every minute of it. It had to be on the Friday as their flight was leaving Saturday morning.

The evening of the party everyone drank. I took the hostess thing serious and was so focused on the guests that I did not think of drinking. Halfway through I decided I was thirsty and went to the pub to see what was available. The huge sink bath filled with ice was meant to keep the beers and cool drinks cold and doubled up as a self help service. As I walked past the sink bath, I slipped in the pool of water which had formed around the tub. I twisted my ankle and collapsed right in the middle of the miniature dam. It was very painful and being the vain, proud person I was I rather bravely helped myself up and convinced everyone I was fine. After trying to stand on my foot I realised I was in trouble and explained to everyone that I was going home.

Outside the clubhouse I tried standing on the side of my foot again and the most excruciating pain shot through me ankle and the side of my leg. I sent someone to call Casper, an old school friend of mine to come take me home. He suggested I stay over at his place so he could keep an eye on me and I agreed.

He dropped me off and went back to the party. By Sunday afternoon he still had not come home and I needed more pain killers and something to eat. Casper stayed in a flat in the centre of Johannesburg on one of the upper floors. So I went hobbling down the corridor to take the elevator down stairs. By now my leg was more black than blue and it was swollen as thick as my knee. It had no shape and the pain was beyond description.

The pain combined with the forty eight painkillers I had taken since Friday night was not a good combination and I wanted to faint. I started making my way back to the flat after I picked up the tablets from the shop and I realised the pain was too severe and I was not going to make it much further. I would hop a few steps and then stop; hold on to the burglar proofing of one of the shops; hop another few steps... That was when a mature black lady came past me and convinced me to get on to her back. Ever so grateful I hung on to her back and she carried me to the entrance of the building where Casper lived.

By the time I got upstairs my heart was thumping in my throat. I was on the verge of passing out and grabbed three of the pills and chased them down with a glass of water. A few hours later Casper turned up and was horrified when he saw my leg. No matter how much he begged I still refused to go hospital.

By Monday morning I could not take it anymore. I still had not slept and the painkillers were doing absolutely nothing to relieve the pain. So Casper had his way and took me to hospital. After a number of x-rays and an ignorant doctor crushing the already fractured ankle by trying to set it, I was told that I had to be admitted because they would have to operate to put in pins and plates.

The bottom line was that I had fractured the ankle and the fibula bone running up the side of my leg. The doctor never looked at the file properly and never picked up that the fracture was already over two day old. So when he tried to set it he actually crushed the ankle in the process. Even though I was sedated I still screamed from the pain it caused.

They called the orthopaedic surgeon and he quite frankly told me they had to operate and that I should not expect too much. The chances were that I would be cripple for the rest of my life.

I was finished! My vanity would not cope with that and I told him so. After the operation I spent three days of absolute bliss going from dosage to dosage of the most amazing pain killers I had ever had. I understood only too well why people abused this drug. Once it took effect my entire body disappeared so the speak. All that existed for me and what I was conscious of, was my mind. It felt like I was floating on a huge cloud of cotton wool. I imagined that would be what heaven would feel like one day. When the doctor stopped them I flipped. He ignored my plea and explained that I would become addicted if they did not stop it immediately. I was already addicted.

The following morning I was discharged. Keeping my balance was never one of my strongest points and try as I may I could not walk on the crutches. Time after time I ended up on the floor falling over the crutches or losing my balance. It was frustrating and extremely humiliating. I found it very difficult to get to and from work. Having to travel by bus it became a nightmare and eventually I gave up trying and resigned. Eugene suggested I come and stay with them for a while. At least until the plaster was off and I agreed. I loved being near Anne so it did not take much convincing.

Robert had become quite a horrible person and many nights Anne would come crying to me and crawl into my bed refusing to stay in her Mom's room.

I was going through mental anguish trying to come to terms with the possibility of being disabled but little Anne always made me feel better. Walking with crutches stayed a major challenge. I ended up on my bum regularly and the day I fell down the stairs when I went to see Mom was the last straw. That night I cut the plaster off. My leg looked terrible! It was half the size of the other one and even Anne went hysterical and ran out of the room.

I tried bending the ankle but was not very successful. The pain was bad but I was determined. I exercised daily and soon I was able to stand on the foot. By the time I went for my check-up I walked into the doctor's room. He was rather surprised but very pleased to see how good my foot looked. I was not cripple...

## Chapter 18: 1980

## FORBIDDEN LOVE HAS A PRICE

I stayed with Eugene only a few months when I realised that if I stayed any longer I would end up killing Robert. So I found a job at an International Hotel in Pretoria as a receptionist, come night auditor. It offered accommodation as part of the package and was exactly what I needed. I did well and was loved by my boss who offered to pay for me to attend a deportment course. I had no clue what that was all about and to proud to ask for advice. So I turned it down.

I was soon promoted to night auditor and the reception supervisor. One afternoon Mac, my boss, called me to the office and informed me that we were expecting VIP guests from the Navy in Cape Town. The commanding officer and his group were to arrive at the hotel the following day and we were to ensure that they received the best service ever.

I felt extremely resentful that I was told to make sure this guy and his team were treated like royalty. I did however dress nicely and specially did my hair. When they arrived I made a point of standing with my back to him and instructed one of the junior receptionists to serve him. When he had completed his guest card he asked to speak to the person in charge. She called me and I told her I was busy and if she cannot help him he must come back later.

He did come back later. This man would not let up. When I came off duty he was there to buy me a drink. He insisted on having me at his dinner table and that I was there for his beck and call. Mac, my boss, ensured that all my shifts were changed to accommodate this man. I hated him for it, yet I loved the attention and I was flattered by the flowers and gifts he sent me to say thank you. They stayed for a week.

Later that year they came again and the same service was expected from us. He once again demanded my attention and I did not resent it too much. I got to know him over the months as he phoned me often and we had long chats. So this time I was friendlier and decided to make his stay a pleasant one. It did not take long for us to become lovers and before I knew it I was pregnant. He was a married man and I made it quite clear that I did not want anything from him. Having a lover at a distance suited me and even though I was very much in love with him I would not be responsible for his marriage breaking up. He felt differently and told his wife. She in turn got hold of me and the whole thing turned into a terrible ugly mud-slinging mess. To cut a long story short, they reconciled and I was left carrying the baby which I felt was my due. I overstepped the line and deserved every bit of what came my way.

When Johan, my doctor confirmed the pregnancy I was extremely excited. This was going to be my "lovechild" and no one was going to take this baby from me. This was _my_ baby! Fate however, had other ideas. The abortion years ago had caused so much damage that the egg was not able to come down into the womb. The baby was developing in the tube and I would have to have an operation to remove it. It is called an ectopic pregnancy and it was life threatening.

I was admitted and what would've been a standard procedure turned into an experience that put the fear of death into me, literally. While going under from the anaesthetic my heart decided it would not co-operate and they had to bring me round. I in turn realised that they were touching me and I could feel it! I sent the equipment flying and lashed out at the doctors and nurses, ripping out drips and electrodes from my body trying to free myself, and eventually calmed down after being pinned down and sedated. I was sent home and scheduled for theatre the following week.

On Monday morning I was admitted and went in to theatre at about nine o' clock. Going through the motions is about the best I could describe what I was feeling. I was going to lose my baby, my baby... My lovechild was going to die today! I remember going into the theatre wishing that I would die. Those were my last thoughts as I lost consciousness...

I thought I heard my name being called out. It sounded as if it was miles away. I began to come round, but was not fully awake. I heard this voice talking to me, reminding me that I had a daughter that needed me and that I had a family who cared. I did not want to wake up! I did not want to hear this voice! All I kept thinking was, "You don't understand, my daughter has my mother, my son has my cousin, and they don't need me. This baby, my baby needed me and now he/she is dead and I have nothing to live for. Just go away and leave me alone. Stop talking to me and go away."

"I won't give up on you! Sepi, please open your eyes and look at me. You are awake I heard you and I understand, but you have to carry on. Please Sepi wake up!"

That was when I realised I was not just thinking those thoughts. I actually spoke them out loud. I opened my eyes and there by my bed was GJ. GJ was a colleague who had joined our staff a few months ago and he adored me. He decided my name was a pain in the butt and began calling me Sepi.

"What is the time?"

"Nine o clock," he answered.

"But it can't be I went into theatre at nine."

"It is Friday Sepi. You have been in a semi coma all week."

"I need a cigarette."

"No you can't have one."

"I want one and I want it now!"

The sister looked at him and indicated that he should give me one. I had the smoke and it helped me wake up completely. Smoking in hospitals was allowed then so she fetched me an ashtray.

"What happened?"

"I'm not sure, the doctor said there were complications but they would not give me any details."

"When does he make his rounds?"

"He's due any minute now. The sister called to inform him that you've come round. So I expect that he will be here soon."

Just then the doctor walked in.

"How are you doing?"

"I am as well as can be expected. What happened?"

The doctor explained that my entire cervix was filled with fibroids and their initial suspicions were confirmed. The damage done as a result of the abortion was so bad they had to do a complete hysterectomy, removing the fallopian tubes together with the baby. The baby was already dead and from what he explained they had removed it just in time. There was major infection and I would be on antibiotics for quite a while. I was extremely emotional and all I wanted to do was to get out of there.

"I am truly sorry. I realise you are only twenty four years old but I'm sure you can adopt if you want a baby at a later stage." He tried desperately to be encouraging and I hated him for it.

"May I go home now?"

"Let's have a look at your chart."

He picked up the file at the end of my bed and paged through it.

"I can't see why not. I am very concerned about your emotional frame of mind and would prefer it if you stayed longer."

"I need to go home!"

Whether it was the tone of my voice or the coldness in my heart I don't know but he did not argue any further. He signed my file and with a very concerned expression on his face he said, "Just make an appointment with your GP to have the stitches taken out," and walked out.

The sister came in and asked if I needed any help getting dressed. I nodded and she helped me get into the clothes I brought with me when I came in. The cut ran all the way across my tummy and was extremely painful. She put on a clean dressing and while she was working she told me that GJ had been there the whole week, going home only to shower and eat.

"He seems such a nice young man. Is he your boyfriend?"

"GJ? No! No he is a colleague and very close friend."

## Chapter 19: 1981

## "GJ"

My dearest GJ! What I didn't put him through! I just took it for granted that he would always be there and he was. For years! When the paw-paw hit the fan with my navy officer, GJ was there. The days following the hysterectomy, drinking myself into a stupor, GJ was there. Every waking moment he was there. Fetching and carrying. Comforting and taking care of me. Eventually he asked me to marry him and I did, unfortunately for all the wrong reasons. I was an emotional mess and I believed that my life had come to an end. I also believed that the love GJ gave me was enough. In my mind I had convinced myself his love would get us through. He adored Scheragné and she adored him. It was the perfect solution; I kept telling myself! It wasn't! We got divorced less than two years later.

My year at the Manhattan before marrying GJ was not all doom and gloom. I enjoyed the time there but also realised that I was becoming a full blown alcoholic. It was with one of the staff member's birthday that I got so drunk I woke up the next morning naked on my bed, but could not remember how I got there. Looking at myself in the mirror I was horrified! My eyes were swollen. I had black rings under my eyes, mostly due to lack of sleep. The smeared makeup made me look like someone from a horror movie. I looked terrible! That was when I decided enough was enough!

Later that day GJ came to see me and I told him what happened that morning.

"I know. I brought you to your room and you went in. I just made sure you locked the door and left. What happened thereafter I cannot tell you. We were all up till very late and we never saw you after that, so I assumed you went to sleep."

"I must've. GJ I cannot carry on like this. I cannot go one day without a drink. And most days it's more like a bottle. I need to get out of here. I'm going to look for another job."

I did find another job. I started with OK Bazaars as a receiving clerk and within a few months I progressed to assistant Personnel officer and before the year was out I was promoted to Departmental manager. A few months later GJ and I got married.

He was not doing too well at the Manhattan either and accepted a job in Magoebaskloof. They offered me a job as assistant manager at the chalets and GJ as assistant manager at the hotel. Scheragné came to live with us and all was well for a while. It did not last for long though. I had terrible nightmares about Rudi and baby Anton, not to mention the baby I had lost. I would dream I was giving birth and everything was full of blood. The more the nightmares kept me awake, the more my conscience haunted me. Eventually we came back to Johannesburg and shortly after that we split up and got divorced. Scheragné went back to Mom and I began a road of self destruction.

I moved into a garden cottage and André came to stay with me. I kept drinking and spent my life waiting for the next party. I had been going to the local club and soon became part of the "in" crowd. We would start drinking and partying on a Friday and go right through till Sunday. I went through relationships like it was going out of fashion. I worked just as hard and climbed the ladder pretty fast.

I went to our local club one evening and met Marius, an ex navy guy. He was huge and I loved his muscular frame. We had a wonderful night and soon our relationship got more serious. Like all the others, this relationship did not last and I was totally to blame.

GJ decided to visit me one afternoon in the hope that we would reconcile. When he got there he had already been drinking and he was quite out of it. We got into an argument and he challenged me. As he slapped me I retaliated and hit him so hard he went flying through the wall of plants which separated my bedroom from the lounge. He landed on the floor surrounded by pot plants and unconscious. Not knowing any better I ran to Oupa's house which was just down the road from the cottage where I was living. I called Mom from the gate screaming that I had killed GJ. She came running out with the children right behind her. She told them to go and see if GJ was okay while she gave me a pill to calm down. When the girls got to the cottage they found GJ sweeping up the sand from the pot plants that went flying during the fight. I don't know if it was relief or anger that made me throw him out or even the shock, but he went out the door faster than he came in.

My life was a mess. I refused to feel anything. I would not look at or allow any emotions to surface and the nightmares were taken care of by the alcohol. The long hours of partying also helped me to forget only until I sobered up and started remembering again, which set the whole vicious circle into motion once again.

André and I spent a lot of time together and when he was called up to go to the army I was devastated! I missed him very much but the two years of military service went by quite quick and he moved back in with me when he came home.

He was home a few months when he met Linda and she stole his heart. He was very much in love with her and they soon got serious and took their relationship to the next level. I did not cope with this very well and decided to move out. They were together just over a year when she was killed in a motor vehicle accident. She was only nineteen years old. André was devastated and he was just never the same after this.

When the phone call came from Mom to tell me he had been arrested for attempted murder, I was finished. Apparently he had gone to visit Mom and she was not there. Oupa heard him in the house and began swearing at him again telling him how useless he was and that he was "rubbish" just like me, making us one of a kind. At this stage Oupa was bedridden and hardly ever got up anymore.

"Is your whoring sister with you? Get out of my house! I don't want scum like you here! Don't let me get out of this bed because I will shoot the both of you!"

He just would not let up! Eventually something snapped and André walked into his room, put a pillow over his face and tried to smother him. However, when he felt the old man growing weaker he could not bring himself to go through with it. This sealed our fate with Oupa to his deathbed.

André was arrested and the following morning he had to appear in court on charges of attempted murder. Mom actually for the first time in her life stood up and testified on André's behalf. She told the judge about the years of abuse he and I suffered and she begged the court for mercy. But she made it quite clear that she did not want anything to do with him.

He was sentenced to receive six "cuts" with a cane and a suspended sentence for life. I went with him and was allowed to witness the proceedings. We were taken down to the dungeons at John Foster Square, the main Police station in the centre of Johannesburg. Inside a huge cell they stripped him down to his underpants. The doctor gave him a quick examination and indicated that he was fit enough to take the punishment. He signed the forms giving permission for them to go ahead. He was made to lay down across a bench and this huge sergeant did the honours.

I stood there watching my brother's knuckles go white as he clenched the legs of the bench. It looked like every drop of blood had drained from his face as the first lash cut into his body exposing the flesh beneath the skin. He did not utter a sound! Every single one of those lashes tore deeper and deeper into his flesh and even deeper into my soul! I stood there, numb with pain and a hatred that no amount of words could ever describe!

We did not have a car so we went home by bus. He could not sit on his behind and rested his body sideways against mine. Once we got to my apartment I took his pants off and began bathing the open cuts with salt water. The sound that came from his throat tore through every fibre of my being and then he cried! We sat there in each other's arms for hours, sobbing our hearts out! I finished cleaning the wounds and lay down next to him. We fell asleep in each other's arms. It took weeks for him to heal and every time I cleaned those wounds it flamed the hatred inside of me.

## Chapter 20: 1982

## PETRO

In between all of this Ouma Liz encouraged me to contact Petro, my biological sister. It took Ouma Liz forever to put everything into perspective for me. Once again she patiently sat down and explained that I was about eighteen months old when Petro was born. Because of Pappa going to jail and Mom not being able to cope, Mom decided that Petro would be better off living with Pappa's eldest brother. He and his wife could not have children. They were living in Rhodesia (Zimbabwe) and had all the money their hearts desired but they did not have children. They took Petro home and went through an official adoption process.

Ouma Liz gave me the contact details and telephone number. I called and Petro and I spent forever on the phone. She agreed that she would speak to her husband about visiting us as long as we kept it quiet because she did not want her adopted Mom to get hurt. As it was, her Mom and Petro's adopted dad were getting divorced and if she should find out that Petro and I had contact with each other, she would be devastated.

I was so excited and immediately let Mom know. I could hear the anxiety in her voice and decided not to push the issue.

Petro and her husband came to visit a few months later. We spent four weeks together and caught up on our lives and made up for time lost. It was very emotional when I took Petro to meet Mom. Petro was even more stubborn than I was and insisted that she go into Oupa's house to see Mom. I dreaded her confronting the old man and wanted to protect her. She on the other hand walked in like she owned the house and had all the right to be there. Oupa did not challenge her. I stayed outside as I did not want to upset Mom by getting into another argument with her father. I loved the fact that she was not afraid of Oupa and we sat giggling about it all when we got home.

I'm sad to say that Petro and I did not develop the unbreakable relationship of sisterhood that I had hoped for, and today we hardly see each other. Maybe one day we will be able to set things right and restore the bond I so desperately yearn for.

## Chapter 21: 1983 to 1989

## MOIR

I was appointed Area Administration Manager at the company where I was employed and at the one branch we had a lady by the name of Gertrude join us as a cashier. She was an alcoholic and I kept catching her drinking at work. I would spend hours counselling and threatening to discipline her, but just could not bring myself round to actually doing it. How could I discipline someone when I myself was no better? Admittedly, I did not drink at work and also did not allow my private life to interfere with my work. However, she would tell me how they drank and how her husband would hit her. She really did not have a good time.

In the meantime her son, Jay, and I became great friends and he kept asking his Mom if I could adopt him. He was about seven years old at the time and I loved him to bits. He was from her previous marriage and he and Moir, Gertrude's husband, did not get on too well. One day the boy came to visit me. A friend of mine was there as well, and while we were in the kitchen he took money from her purse. A little while later he left and shortly thereafter Louise noticed the money was gone. I replaced the loss and begged her to let the matter go. She insisted she was going to see his parents. Within minutes Gertrude called me and I could hear over the phone how she and Moir were arguing. I also heard Moir threaten her and me. Then I heard her gasp and it sounded like he had slapped her. The phone went dead.

Shortly thereafter, Jay came to my apartment and told me his Mom and dad had a fight that morning, and then his dad left. His Mom had been drinking all morning and now she is ill because she wouldn't wake up. I knew Moir hated my guts and I really did not want to get involved with their domestic problems. So, thinking she had passed out again, I told him to go home and watch her. If he noticed anything out of the ordinary he should call me. It was not five minutes later when he called and said his Mommy was not breathing! I told him to go to my Mom's house immediately until I fetched him.

I went to their home and when I knocked on the door there was no answer. I walked in and found her body on the bed. I knew she was dead as her body had already begun to turn blue. I phoned the police and they came out immediately. I told them what I knew and explained that if Moir should find me in his house he would go ballistic. So they asked me to identify the body and then I could go. I phoned Douglas, my boss, and he and his partner came to fetch me.

We picked Jay up from my Mom's and left for Pretoria. Douglas arranged with his Mom, Aunt Edna, for bedding and things so we had to go and pick it up. I was hoping the welfare would place Jay in my foster care and I knew I would have to upgrade my apartment to meet with their approval. That's where Aunt Edna came into the picture. She gave me linen and carpets and quite a number of things like lamps etc to refurbish the apartment. Jay did come to live with me for a while but the welfare decided that he had to go back to Moir and they promised to monitor the situation.

We attended Gertrude's funeral and later heard that it was concluded that she had taken an overdose because of the fight they had. She apparently threatened suicide on a regular basis and they always caught her in time to save her. This time she miscalculated and Moir did not come home at the time she thought he would.

Because Moir threatened to kill me, I was escorted wherever I went for a long time, when visiting this store. For my own safety it was suggested that I should move, and the best option for me was to live with GJ until I could find another apartment. His apartment was in a secure block and no one could get to me without going through security control. Ironically it was the same building as the one I lived in after breaking away from Harold.

GJ and I were still very good friends and he was always in the background picking up the pieces. It never once occurred to me what it was doing to him. Even though we were not involved anymore and he was doing his own thing he still had feelings for me but never mentioned it. Gertrude's death touched me more than I cared to admit. It did make me reminisce and I was thinking of the past and how things could've been. I also realised since André and his girlfriend, Fats, broke up we did not see or hear from him that much. I realised how important life is and how important the significant people in your life are. But, they had their lives to live and I needed to accept that.

When Andre met Tessa I had my doubts that the relationship would last. She was living with her parents and not long after they met, he moved in with them and pretty soon she fell pregnant. No matter how hard I tried to convince Mom to give them some time to see if the relationship could develop, the more stubborn she became. She never gave him a choice! "If she is good enough to sleep with, she is good enough to marry," was all Mom had to say on the subject and on the 15 June 1984 André and Tessa got married. He was a month away from his 20th birthday.

As much as I was against the relationship, Tessa soon crept into my heart and I became very fond of her. She had a kind and gentle spirit and I began to understand why she was able to break through to my brother. Her Mom also adored him and for the first time in his life he felt like he belonged. Jnr was born a few months later and not too long after his sister was born. Sadly their marriage did not work out and they got divorced.

Months later GJ and I were sitting at home one evening, chatting, when security called to say there was someone to see me. When I walked into reception, I saw Moir and my blood turned ice cold. I turned back and hoped he did not see me. I was too late. He took my arm and turned me toward him very gently.

"Please give me a chance to explain. I won't hurt you," he said.

"There's nothing to say," I answered; my whole body shaking like a leaf.

"Yes there is. I owe you money."

"What money?"

"The money you gave my wife."

"I don't want it."

"Well then I'll throw it on the floor. Please just take it."

"How is Jay?" I asked ignoring his remark.

"He's fine and wants to see you. Please will you come to the house?"

"What?" I could not believe my ears. "Is this man mad? A few months ago he threatened to kill me. Does he think I am stupid?" The thoughts flashed through my mind.

"I promise, I won't harm you, please come see the children," and without a second glance he turned around and left.

After some serious consideration, I did go and see the children and we began spending a lot of time together. I realised that Moir was more bark than bite and that he in fact had a very good heart. Our relationship grew and eventually I fell head over hills in love with this man who became the ultimate love of my life. I had never loved a man as much as I loved him. His silver gray hair gave him a distinguished look and his steel grey eyes had the ability to look right through you. Yet when he looked at me they would take on a gentle baby blue colour that melted all my reservations. He was responsible for the butterflies in my stomach. My legs would turn to jelly every time I saw him walking toward me and many years later, even after the divorce he still had the same effect on me.

It was amazing how much he resembled Daddy. Not in looks but in mannerisms and the way he walked and talked. He was born the same year as Daddy. He had a reputation and was as violent as Daddy and after a while we discovered that he and Daddy had mutual friends. Moir was seventeen years older than me but he was able to give any young man my age a run for their money. He was very good looking and took great care of his body. He was tall, lean and muscular, and he took pride in being fitter than any one of his sons.

He had eight children, five sons and three daughters. Five of the children were from his previous marriage and two of the children were Gertrude's from her previous marriage but Moir thought of them as his own. The youngest one was his and Gertrude's they had together. The eldest son was two years younger than me and the youngest was seven years old when we got married. The three oldest were all married and only the five youngest came to live with us. I had an instant family with children and grandchildren and I loved every one of them with my whole heart. Unfortunately the feelings were not mutual and for most of my married life, Moir and I spent hours fighting because of the children. The eldest son's wife and I were pretty close and I was extremely fond of her. His youngest son on the other hand made it his life's mission to make my life a misery and created major problems in our marriage. It did not change the way I loved my husband though.

I was madly in love with him and was devastated when our marriage ended almost eighteen years later. It was a roller coaster ride and thinking back I realise now that we should never have married. We were worlds apart and instead of my life improving we ended up getting involved with things that should never ever have happened. We got caught up in the world of pornography and soon took part in wife swopping parties. We had extra marital affairs and did things that I am just too embarrassed to even talk about. In the process we began destroying one another. We went for counselling and marriage guidance but nothing worked.

The damage was done...

As turbulent as our marriage was, a number of good things did come out of my relationship with him. I gave my heart to GOD and began going to church. Unfortunately our relationship did not favour the religious way of life and so I fell off the bus more often that I was on it. Today I realise that once you give your heart to GOD you can break fellowship but you cannot break relationship. Our CREATOR simply will not give up on us, but once again I am running ahead of myself.

I was sitting at home one afternoon and the phone rang. It was Pappa's brother-in-law.

"Please don't tell anyone that I phoned, but I think you need to know that your son is being abused."

"How do you mean abused, in what way?"

"Well, your cousin is living with another man; you do know that her husband passed away a few years ago."

"No, I didn't know, but please get to the point, what has happened to my son?" I replied, still taken aback by the call, not to mention the thoughts flashing through my mind as to what was happening to my son. I had not had any contact with this side of the family for years, so this call came as a total shock. Telling me about my son was enough to push me over the cliff.

"This man that she is living with is an alcoholic just like her and they get drunk just about every day. Most of the time, he is so paralytic, Rudi has to carry him to the toilet. Many times he vomits and loses control of himself, emptying his stomach and bladder in bed. Rudi has to clean it up. He also makes Rudi brush his dentures. When they stayed in the caravan, he would use a bucket because he was too drunk to walk to the ablution block and Rudi would have to take it away and clean it."

I felt my stomach turn. I wanted to be sick! I could actually picture my 12-year-old son having to wash and clean the genitals of this drunken sod, and then still clean the mess he had left in the bed.

I could not wait to put the phone down. I was flooded with guilt and remorse. It took a couple of minutes to get a hold of myself and then I phoned Moir. The next morning we were at the offices of our local Social Services. I was given a very stern warning that I had no legal rights and that I was to stay away from my cousin's house and from my son. They would take the matter up further and let me know what they find.

Two months later I received a letter in the post requesting that I report to their offices in order to discuss the matter of Rudi being abused. I was surprised when they told me they found absolutely nothing wrong and the Social Worker that investigated the allegation assured them that Rudi was doing fine and all was well. I was left with all my hopes shattered. I had all these dreams of him coming home and that we could be together again.

One evening, still very emotional about everything and after a long struggle, I fell asleep. I dreamt that I had given birth and I was holding this minute baby in my hand like you would hold a dumbbell. He was busy dying and I ran down the road screaming for help and no one would listen. Everyone walked past and ignored me, looking at me as if I was crazy. I woke up drenched in my own tears. I knew I would not go back to sleep so I got up and walked to the lounge. Just then Scheragné's doll began crying. I had put it in the bottom of my sewing machine the night before so I could fix it for her. The lounge had a wooden floor and it must've tilted under my weight, pulling the dummy out of the dolls mouth, activating the sound box in its tummy. It scared the life out of me and I collapsed into the chair, my legs no longer able to hold me up. The baby I dreamt of was the exact same size as my baby that I aborted. He looked just like my baby.

Anton! The ABORTION!

It struck me with such force I thought I was going to die. I had never allowed myself to think or feel anything about the abortion since it happened and that night it all came flooding back. My chest closed up and I couldn't breathe. I was totally paralysed. The tears ran like a river down the front of my nightgown. It felt like someone had ripped my heart out with their bare hands. My whole insides were torn apart. I fell on my knees pleading and begging GOD to forgive me. I sat like that for hours...

It was around four in the morning before I felt like I could breathe again. I got up, had a bath and woke Moir for work. I did not speak to anyone about it and carried on doing what was expected of me. As always I would not allow myself to feel. I soon suppressed the feelings and carried on with life as normal.

July 1986 I began working at Metro Trade Centre, Denver. Once again Mom's philosophy proved to work. When you are hurting, WORK! I gave it all I had and within a few months I was promoted from Reception Supervisor to Perishable Manager. I loved what I was doing and soon the hurt of the past was pushed to the back of my mind once more.

My drinking and our social life did increase though. One of my colleagues and I would slip out at lunch time and grab a couple of beers, inevitably getting back late and bombed out of our minds. Fortunately for us, no one ever noticed except for my gay friend who worked in the canteen. He was this huge teddy bear and I loved him to bits. It was his life to prepare meals for me and keep my diet going. He, apart from Moir, was the closest I had ever come to having a friend of the opposite sex that did not awaken feelings of vengeance in me. I believe it was because of his homosexuality that I did not feel threatened and why I allowed myself to enjoy the friendship I had with him.

Moir taught me about sex but at the same time exposed me to pornography in every possible form available. This became an addiction and we would spend a fortune on entertainment. It ended with us swapping partners and the rift which had already begun just got deeper. My drinking did ease up though and eventually stopped all together.

We joined the Wychwood Tabernacle and after a number of years in church and dedicating our lives to GOD I was delivered, or so I thought, from alcohol, drugs and pornography addiction.

I sincerely wanted to change my lifestyle. I wanted to become a better person and clean up my act and I truly gave it my all until the next time. I made more judgement errors than ever and before long my health started playing up. I had to take tablets to regulate me heart and I realised that I had to make some serious lifestyle changes. Unfortunately I made this decision in my own strength and still was not able to have a relationship with GOD. I spoke the right language and went through the right motions but there was no personal relationship with Him. I simply could not relate to Him. JESUS was a man on a cross who supposedly died for my sins. I could not reach Him.

I nevertheless did resign from Trade Centre and decided I would become the housewife Moir wanted me to be. If ever I made a bad decision this was it.

After more than a year of playing housewife for Moir and Mommy to his children I realised that I was going to lose my mind. I had started picking up weight and became even more depressed as time went on. When I saw the advert for a branch manager at our local Central News Agency store I grabbed the opportunity. I got the job and loved every minute of it.

I was with them for a few months when my ex boss from Trade Centre called me and offered me a position as warehouse manager at the company he was working for. I joined them and thrived. Because I qualified for a company car it forced me to get my driver's licence and this achievement I had in my hand when I walked into his office the morning I started.

"I did not think you would make it Stephanie. Even less so, that you would have your licence" he said.

"Never, ever underestimate me Boss man. You should know that by now" I joked.

"That much I do know" he replied. "Let's get down to work."

I loved and respected this man very much. He was Jewish and had very high morals and standards. He also acknowledged my achievements and abilities giving me credit for everything I achieved. He also pushed me very hard and would grill me if things were not up to standard. He taught me most of what I know today in the industrial relations arena and was also instrumental in me reaching heights I never believed possible.

His faith in me enabled me to write an entire training manual for the company on safety measures, procedures, rules and regulations in the warehouse. This manual was adapted for the entire company nationally.

Leon was very proud of his protégé and made no secret of it. I thrived on the power and acknowledgement and became addicted to being in the limelight. This motivated me to do better and I achieved a lot in this year that I worked for this man.

Sadly my marriage with Moir had reached the end of its tether and I filed for divorce. This caused major havoc as he threatened to kill me and I had to get a protection order. Because of the problems he caused at work I was forced to resign and start a new life elsewhere. Our divorce was finalised in June and I believed this was a new beginning. Moir had other ideas and began stalking me. Even though I desperately wanted to start a new life I was shattered. I loved him so much and I simply could not imagine my life without him. More often than not I would cry myself to sleep, longing for him with all my heart.

## Chapter 22: 1990

##  RECONCILIATIONS

I decided to contact my old boss at OK Bazaars and was offered a position in White River. Before I could leave I was to go for two months refresher course at one of the local branches.

I had just come out of the cash office after checking the bank one morning when I received another phone call from the same uncle that warned me about Rudi being abused.

"I phoned before to tell you that Rudi was being abused. Well! He is sitting in a police station near their house. He was assaulted! Again! I suggest you do something!"

He did not even give me time to respond and simply put the phone down in my ear.

I phoned the police station in question and asked for the commanding officer. I told him the whole story about Rudi being adopted and that we have asked the Welfare Department before to investigate. He refused to give me any information but did suggest that I phone the Social Worker in town. He gave me her name and number and I called, once again telling my story. She immediately knew who I was talking about and asked me for my details. She explained that she could not give me information but promised to give my details to Rudi and it would then be up to him to decide if he wanted to contact me.

He did contact me, the very next day! I was at the office when he called. It was one of the best days of my life. We spoke for a long time and arranged that he would slip out of the house that night and we would pick him up. A friend of mine agreed to fetch him as they were personal friends with my cousin as well and if they should get caught they would be able to talk themselves out of trouble.

I sat awake the whole night. The pickup was to take place just after midnight and they would call me to confirm that all went well. The call never came. I was exhausted and just about fell off the chair when the phone rang the next morning.

"Well, where would you like me to drop your son off?" I heard Tobie's voice ask over the phone.

I was so excited I forgot to freak out because they never called me. I asked him to drop Rudi at my office. I will never ever forget the feeling in my stomach when my son came walking across the floor towards me. Then we just ran into each other's arms and held each other while I sobbed my heart out. It felt like the dam wall of emotions had finally erupted.

I was charged with kidnapping and before the case went to court I went to see the Social Worker in our area. I told her my side of the story and Rudi confirmed everything I said by telling her his version. She contacted the social worker in Parys where they had subsequently moved to and the same lady I spoke to confirmed it all. I was given temporary custody pending the investigation. Six months later the case was concluded and Rudi came to live with me.

In the meantime Scheragné decided she wanted to marry her childhood sweetheart. No amount of counselling helped. She was only in standard nine and we wanted so much more for her. However, the young man was my blued eyed boy and the son of very close friends of ours so I eventually I agreed. We began making wedding arrangements for the end of the year. In October she came to my bedroom one evening and told me she did not want to get married anymore and we called off the wedding. In November we discovered she was pregnant.

On the morning of the 10th of July 1990 we booked her into hospital for induction. She had a very difficult time and when I wanted to stay with her she asked me to leave and let my Mom stay. It felt like someone had put a knife in my heart and twisted it as the realisation of our broken relationship became evident. However, my emotions were not important at the time so I asked Mom to come in and stay with her. By 6pm the evening baby had still not budged and it was decided that they would do a caesarean.

When the doctor came out of theatre and announced that it was a girl, I lost it! Another girl! All I could think of was that we had another little girl to fall under the family curse. Another girl to be abused! Thinking of the things that could be done to her made me sick to my stomach! I wanted nothing to do with her and walked out of the waiting room.

Eventually a friend of mine came and called me where I was smoking outside the hospital. Scheragné was out of theatre and in the ward and she was asking for me. When I got to her she asked about the baby and insisted that I go and see her. I did not want to do this! Not wanting to hurt my child any more than she already was, I agreed.

The nursery was down the corridor and I walked as slowly as I could, thinking of ways to get out of it. To no avail! I reached the nursery and stood at the window as we were not allowed inside. The nurse was busy bathing a baby that had just been born. She recognized me and indicated to me that it was ours. As I looked down the baby tilted her head back and looked straight into my eyes. Our eyes locked for a moment and I fell in love with her for life! We called her Scharné.

Mom walked in and domineered Scheragné's life and thereby took control over Scharné as well. This cemented the already existing rift between Scheragné and me and to my own detriment I just let it be without doing anything to change the situation.

By then Rudi and I had already moved to White River and we were very happy. I got to know my son and he loved being the man of the house and "taking care" of his mother.

I thought having my son back in my life would be enough but my longing for Moir got worse and the more I missed him the more I drank. Eventually I admitted to myself that I could not go on without him so I asked him to visit.

My son did not like this very much and started having behaviour problems.

The travelling distance between Johannesburg and White River was getting rather expensive and meant that I could only see Moir for a weekend, once or twice a month. So we decided it was time for me to move back home. We stayed with Moir and unfortunately I was too blinded by my love for this man to realise what it was doing to my son.

Soon after our arrival Rudi ran away and went back to his adopted mother. I tried everything to convince him to come back but he would not even speak to me.

## Chapter 23: 1991 to 1993

## MY DAMASCUS ROAD EXPERIENCE

The morning of my birthday arrived without any excitement. To me it had become a way of life and just another day but the angels were smiling down on me and my niece gives birth to a little baby girl. It was an awesome gift and I loved her from day one. Anne was very close to my heart and spent a lot of her childhood with me. She would go fishing with me and preferred being with me more than with her folks. When she met her husband they lived with Moir and I until her baby was born.

Moir and I had been doing so well that he asked me to remarry him. This happened as part of a church service on Sunday morning 12 September 1992.

It was a beautiful day and we were happier than ever.

Fate, however, had other ideas! The abuse of my body together with all the unresolved psychological baggage caught up with me at last!

On the 27th of March 1993 my heart decided enough is enough! An EPS, electrophysiological study, was done giving us absolutely nothing except that it left me feeling terrified as a result of me being awake whilst they sent all the various rhythms through my heart. I was told that I had to stay flat on my back for at least four hours before getting up. Not realising the consequence I got up before the time and went to the toilet. This was not a very wise decision. I began haemorrhaging from the holes in my groin where they had fed the catheters through. Fortunately one of my ward mates realised I was in trouble when she caught me cleaning the blood off the floor. By then I had the entire bathroom red and the more I bent to wipe the floor the more the blood was pumping from the arteries. The sister who gave me permission to get up was disciplined and I was summonsed to six hours in bed. The following morning I was put on different medication and sent home.

A few weeks later I went for a check up with the cardiologist and collapsed in the toilet. They caught the arrhythmia on an ECG and it was thought that I have an additional bypass that should not be there and it had to be ablated. This was done by cauterising the artery, sealing it off permanently.

On the 23rd of June I was admitted to Millpark Hospital. Another EPS was done and after I don't know how many ampoules of intravenous morphine I still lay staring at them. It only began to work after quite some time as the adrenaline induced by my fear began to wear off. I was semi conscious and hated the feeling. However, try as I might I was not able to fight the paralyzing effect of the drug. I vaguely remember hearing the cardiologist calling my name and telling me that my heart had gone into a block and that he will have to insert a pacemaker. I refused and got very upset.

"You never said anything about a pacemaker! I will not allow you to do this..."

"Wake up Stephanie..." he said shaking me. "I have to put in a pacemaker or you will die. Do you understand? You cannot get off this table without it. Your heart cannot beat on its own."

"No!"

After what seemed an eternity to me in my drugged state, I agreed and the pacemaker was inserted.

My first semi conscious awareness was hearing the theatre sister handing me over to the intensive care sister telling her I was pacemaker dependent and had to be watched very closely. They were to monitor the vital signs every half hour. Once again I was confined to bed, flat on my back for six hours and my right arm was strapped to my body with strict instructions that I was not to move it away from my body or above my head for six weeks.

This was my Damascus Road experience! It was crunch time and made me take a long hard look at my life and I made the life changing decisions I should've made a long time ago!

I began having panic attacks and spent more time in hospital than out. I woke up one evening, once again, with symptoms similar to the panic attacks but this time I had chest pain with it. So off we went to hospital and after going through all the motions once more, the cardiologist told me he thinks it is my stomach creating all the problems. So they suggest I go for a gastroscopy. It was booked to be done within a few hours. However, as soon as the nurses turned their backs I was out of there. There was just no way I was going for an anaesthetic.

***

My Birthday Card from GJ arrived, two days early, faithful as always.

I was always receiving letters and cards from GJ in the post. I can't help wondering why it always happened that I heard from him when I was down or had a problem.

Shortly after the card arrived I received a letter from GJ in which he really opened up for the first time since I met him. He shared with me the insecurities, the "disability" if one can call it that. Most importantly he voiced his fears and feelings of incompetence and the fact that he did not fit in with society. He even mentioned that he could never speak to his folks about this as they would freak out if they knew how he felt. That one I could identify with, I never could speak to any of my parents either. For very different reasons though, but still, they were the last people on earth I could share my hang-ups with. He even admitted his inadequacies in our marriage and decided that it was his fault that our marriage ended in divorce. I could not help but wonder how things would've worked out if GJ had been more mature and assertive. It left me drained, and feeling guilty that I was unable to do anything for him. He had always been there for me and I so wished I could do more for him.

When we got married after the hysterectomy we were both still so young and immature. I am inclined to think that we found solace in one another and mistook it for love. He, because of his disabilities and birth defects; me because I had lost my love child followed by the hysterectomy. We were both birds with broken wings and believed we could somehow carry each other. It did not take a rocket scientist to know that it would not last. The worst part of it was that GJ did love me. I owned his whole heart.

"Oh Lord in heaven how much I have hurt this man! I do not deserve his love and dedication." My conscience would not let up and kept haunting me.

I went to spend some time with Mom in Kroonstad a little while before and it just so happened, that GJ was passing through on holiday so I convinced him to stay for a week. That way I would be able to travel back to Johannesburg with him and it gave us an opportunity to spend some time together. Most of our time there we spent talking about where we had gone wrong and tried to analyse this unexplainable bond we have. It was the first time we really opened up and talked to each other. I have no doubt that had we done this when it mattered we might have been able to save our marriage. However, we blew it and I was married to Moir so we both kept that in mind and did not allow our feelings to go beyond this incredible bond of friendship.

It was good to hear from him though and it was one of those days that I really needed encouragement. Things between Moir and I were not good and I just needed to know that someone out there still loved me.

## Chapter 24: 1994 to 1995

## THE ROAD TO DESTRUCTION AND LOSS

1994 went by without much excitement. Moir and I spent most of our time arguing. We got more and more involved with "things" that is just to evil to mention. We had stopped the counselling and hardly ever went to Church. I gave up on going to Church because the children would get it the minute we got home and things were not to his liking. I could not stand his aggressive nature anymore and it brought back all the bad memories from my childhood. The day he hit Jay across the bed was too much for me and I took a six pack of long tom beers and sat down on the verandah steps finishing all six in less than a half hour. The alcohol gave me the courage I was looking for. I physically assaulted Moir and I thank GOD that he controlled himself because he could've killed me if he wanted to. However, all the years of psychological abuse surfaced and all I felt or could think of was all the fear and hurt I had felt all those years. I pummelled him with my fists until he lost his resolve and grabbed my wrists. I broke loose and went about smashing everything I could lay my hands on. It was not a nice picture and not one I am very proud of. My cherished fine china dolls I had collected through the years were the first to suffer. In one sweeping movement with my hand I sent them flying through the main bedroom window. Everything I got hold of ended up against the wall shattered. Moir found himself on the floor with bruises and blood all over his face. After hours of ranting and raving I fell on the bed exhausted and spent. My body felt like it was convulsing as the raw sobs escaped through my throat.

Moir walked out and only came home late that night.

I always believed that when a relationship gets to this it has reached a point of no return. I did apologise but things were just not the same after that.

1995 was one of those years I wished I could just wipe from the slate!

I had to go out shopping and when I got home my business partner was there and said someone called asking to speak to me. It had to do with my brother and they left a number asking that I should call them back urgently. I went ice cold. The feeling of foreboding was not in vain.

The voice at the other end of the line was very clinical and straight forward.

"Good day to you. I was told to contact this number regarding my brother, Andre Wilson."

"Good afternoon madam. I am a sergeant from the Belfast Police station. There was an accident and your brother was killed."

"How do you know it is my brother?"

"We found his identity book in the vehicle and his driver's license."

"You must be mistaken! I will call you back."

I put the phone down and called Audrey, André's girlfriend.

"Hallo Maud, I just had some policeman tell me my brother was killed in a motor vehicle accident. Is this true?"

"Yes it is."

"What happened and why did it happen in Belfast."

As calmly as she could she explained that he had done the trip and was on his way home when it happened.

"What time did he leave Maud?"

"Just after five this morning."

"And he came home? If he left to go to Musina this morning and came back all in one day it meant he had done more than 1150km in one day! Are you serious? Why?"

"He called me from Musina to say he was finished and I told him I would wait up for him. So he came home."

"I'm sorry but I can't speak to you right now."

"I will be going through to Belfast to go and identify him."

"No you're not. I will do it myself. Besides you are not married so you are not his next of kin. I am. I will contact you when I get back."

From that moment I went into a conscious absence so to speak. Everything was surreal and I went through the motions like a programmed robot.

Moir, his son Dee, who was very close to André, and I went to Belfast to identify his body and make the necessary arrangements. I was shocked and pretty shook up when I saw Daddy's face after his accident; but nothing prepared me for this. He was laid out on a stainless steel table. They never cleaned him up, explaining that they were not allowed to until he had been identified. His face was bruised and discoloured and he had no teeth in his mouth except for the left over splinter of what once was a front tooth. He had taken the full impact in his face and that is what killed him. The rest of his body was badly battered and bruised. His right arm bent at the elbow, stood up almost as if he was waving a last goodbye.

I closed up like a book. I locked up and shoved the emotions and physical pain in my chest very deep down inside of me. What was the use of crying! My tears belonged to the one and only person that lived in my heart? NO! I would not allow anyone into that space! It was our space! Mine and my brother's! I will go one side! Alone! When the time was right...

It was July 24th, 1995, a week after his birthday. He was thirty one years old.

Once we got through the formalities I demanded to see the truck that drove in front of André's vehicle and also demanded to see the man that caused the accident. They told me he had already been transported to Johannesburg. I then asked them to take me to the scene of the accident. The gloves they had used were still lying there. The road was full of sweet corn kernels that were part of the lunch Maud had packed for him. I walked around looking at the broken glass and pool of blood which had dried up by then, when a gentleman from a house on a small holding right opposite came walking toward us.

"Good day" he said.

I did not look at him I just kept walking up and down absorbing the scene making a common sense calculation that there was nowhere in hell that my brother would've seen the truck crossing the road in front of him. There were no street lights. It was a deserted country road.

"Hi" I heard Moir's voice in the background.

"Are you people family of the person that died in this accident?" the stranger asked Moir.

"Yes it was my brother in law."

"I was the first person on the scene," he volunteered, "I was sitting on my verandah having coffee when the accident happened. The horse and trailer truck did not stop at the stop sign. The smaller vehicle went right underneath trailer. He did not see the truck at all and did not even try to break. I could see it was going to happen and I began running. By the time I got to his vehicle he was already dead. I think he fell asleep and that was why he did not see the truck."

"He did not fall asleep the truck's reflectors were black from the smoke and the chevron sign as well. On a dark road like this no one would've seen it before it was too late," I responded in a very cold and calculated voice.

Dee put his arm around me and guided me toward our car. Soon after Moir followed and we drove home in silence. Dee was very quiet and so was Moir. Neither one of us could deal with the shock or the fact that we had all seen him just a few days ago healthy and very much alive.

I was devastated but by now had firmly established my role as the matriarch in the family and knew I could not let my emotions show. I had to be there for Mom and the rest of the family.

Mom made the wreath for his coffin and my whole house smelled like flowers a smell that I detested after that day. Maud came over and we went to arrange the funeral. I hated her and blamed her for my brother's death.

She was too much of a miser to give André money to stay over. When the police gave me his personal belongings he had on him they found R10.00 and some change. Not even enough to buy a meal.

The month before he was killed, they had started a courier business and they had just bought the new light delivery vehicle. That was the reason why he did the trip personally. He wanted to run the vehicle in properly before handing it over to one of the drivers. He began the route in Johannesburg going all the way up to Musina which is 715km from Johannesburg via Nelspruit. Then he came back down via the same route past Belfast which is 439km from Musina. It was on the Belfast road where the accident took place. When he called her from Musina earlier in the evening she insisted that he come home.

I could not help but to believe that he should've stayed over. It was a very long trip and he must've been exhausted and no matter how much I denied it, I think the stranger that came and spoke to us had a point. I think André did fall asleep. If not then surely he would've attempted to apply his breaks.

She also made sure the funeral was officiated by her clergywoman at a church we could not find. When we eventually got to the church everyone was seated and the service was about to start. We rushed to put the wreath on the coffin and Moir helped me to the back of the church. I somehow think he was afraid of some kind of retaliation from me. He was not wrong. I sat there watching Mom cry. The children and his friends as well and as the service carried on the hatred and anger in my heart kept building up. After the service I insisted that I wanted to see him and they sent one undertaker after the other to convince me otherwise. I demanded and would not give in. I just knew that I had to make sure it was him they were burying. As I stood looking at him the pain in my heart choked me and they called Moir to help me to the car.

Maud suffered the brunt of my pain.

At the grave she stood crying whilst the coffin was being lowered and all I could think of was that I was going to kill her. It was her fault! I remember walking toward her and the next thing I woke up in cousin's arms. Afterwards he told me that he saw me walking toward Maud and the sound that came from my throat was more a growl than a sound and he knew something in me had snapped. He immediately pushed through the people and as I was on the verge of throwing her into the grave, he managed to pick me up off my feet and carry me away.

They took me home immediately and a few weeks later I found out that she told Tessa, André's ex, that the only reason why I contacted them was because I was after the road accident fund which the children would be entitled to. I then made up my mind that I would not see André's children again until the money was paid out so I could prove this was a lie. Unfortunately I lost all contact with them and wasn't able to trace them at all.

I never saw or heard from Maud again.

## Chapter 25: 1996

## DISCOVERING MY STRENGTHS

The week after André's funeral I went back to work. I still had not allowed myself to mourn or cry and when anyone tried to talk about him I would close up and change the subject. Soon the Christmas holidays were over and things returned back to normal. Normal on the surface though. I knew I was in trouble and that I was going through the motions as if in a dream. However, crisis management has always been my strongest trait and I managed to fool everyone around me.

One afternoon Jay's friend came to visit. They were fooling around in the yard playing with the dogs and from where I was sitting it looked like the friend kicked my dog. I lost it! I vaguely heard Mom's voice going hysterical calling my name. Somehow she realised that I was going to attack the young man and stopped me. After they had calmed me down and convinced me that the friend was playing with the dog and not hurting him I went to my room and called a crisis centre. Their resident psychiatrist agreed to see me the same afternoon at a local rehabilitation hospital. Moir drove me and I was admitted immediately.

I had finally cracked!

I agreed to all their treatment programmes but refused to go on any medications although it was strongly recommended.

"It was no brain imbalance that got me here, it was life! Teach me to deal with it," was my argument.

They agreed. I attended intense occupational therapy classes. I also saw a psychologist who, after two sessions told me that I was wasting her time and she was wasting my money. After listening to my story she simply said that she could not believe that I had achieved what I had and that according to statistics I should've been a drug addict, alcoholic or a prostitute. Little did she realise how close I was to becoming exactly that. I told her that it was my desire to write a book and she said she did not think people would believe me because it sounded like a story from a novel gone wrong.

Fourteen days later I left the hospital on request of the psychiatrist. He admitted that he was unable to treat me as I was having a power struggle with him and we were not getting anywhere. As a matter of fact it was more like an eviction than a request to leave.

After this incident Moir and I went on fine for a while but it didn't last. Soon things carried on where they left off.

The final straw was when I came home after work one afternoon and found my cat, Dumpy, sitting in a bundle. This animal adored me and I could do to him just what I wanted to. So when he growled at me when I tried to pick him up, I knew there was something drastically wrong with him. I tried to coax him with food and milk but he wouldn't budge. He appeared to be more agitated. So I decided to leave him till the morning and see he was.

It was a Saturday and I had shopping to do so I was up early. When I got to Dumpy he was still in the same position I left him the night before. I quickly got dressed and asked Moir to take me to the veterinary hospital. He refused and told me he was busy.

It was not a joke! I did not have a cat basket and trying to drive, with an injured cat that would not sit still, was quite a mission. We eventually made it. After taking x-rays, the doctor, as sympathetically as possible, explained to me that there was no hope for Dumpy. Someone had kicked him and crushed his entire chest and there was no way they could save him. I left the hospital in such a state that I could not even complete the cheque. I signed it and asked the receptionist to fill in the rest.

I knew who had done this. Moir's youngest son! He could not get rid of me any other way. The one way they would get to me was by harming my animals. This cat was my child. When I got home I told Moir how I felt and what my assumption was. We ended up in a massive argument and I took an overdose of tablets.

Jay found me in driveway sitting in my car door vomiting. He begged me not to die. Then it struck me what I was putting this child through. He had already lost his biological mother to suicide and now had to witness me taking an overdose. I went back into the house and drank milk until I got sick. I kept myself occupied and awake all night. The following morning I bought the newspaper and looked for an apartment.

I thank GOD that I had started working with Leon again and I was in a position to fend for myself. On Monday morning I paid and confirmed the cottage. By Thursday I moved out with just my clothes. I dared not take anything out of the house even though 90% of it belonged to me. It did not take Moir long to find out where I was and I knew I was in trouble. I had to move! That much I knew but I had an appointment for oral surgery the following morning and it was rather urgent.

So after spending three days in bed, sick as a dog, I managed to drag myself out of bed and began calling on the various estate agencies in the area. I also got the local newspaper and the next day I was ready to move into the new apartment. It was a beautiful sunny apartment with huge windows. I could lay in bed every morning watching the sun come up. I never had any curtains to put up so I could just soak up the rays on weekends when I was not working. The apartment was a few blocks away from our local club and soon I had caught up with old friends and became the ever famous social bell of the ball.

We danced every night Monday to Saturday. Sundays we would join the karaoke and make absolute fools of ourselves. We had fun and catching up with everyone was amazing. One of the local guys and I were dancing one night when Moir walked into the club. My blood turned cold. Fortunately he did not see me and walked out after having a drink. I slipped off the dance floor and made my way home as quick as I could. Heart thumping and breathless, I was shaking so much I just could not get the key in the door. My next door neighbour realised something was wrong and came out to help me. She made me a cup of tea and got me to calm down. We spent the night away just chatting and sharing stories.

As Easter Weekend neared I began wondering what to do with the holidays. GJ's phone call came as a blessing. Yes he was still in the background, always available when I needed him. He had in the meantime moved to Cape Town and was visiting his folks in Johannesburg and wanted to know if I would like to go to dinner. I accepted the invite and by the end of the evening it was agreed that I would drive back to Cape Town with him to visit Mom and catch the bus back. She had moved down there and GJ had kept contact with them. It was the perfect solution for the holidays and solved my thoughts about spending the holidays on my own.

It would also solve the problem with Scheragné. She picked up problems with the boyfriend she was living with and asked me to take care of Scharné for a while. Going to Cape Town with GJ meant I could take Scharné with. She was living with me for a week already and was as excited as I was about seeing my Mom again.

We behaved like little children. It was the longest trip I had ever taken. It felt like it carried on forever. The 1260km felt more like 10000km. Trying to keep Scharné occupied was no mean feat either.

I had not seen Mom in years and I couldn't wait to see her. She moved down there with my niece Lettie and one of her unofficially adopted son's, Dietmar.

It was night time when we arrived in Melkbos. Scharné was sleeping in the car but when I picked her up she was wide awake and freaked when she saw Mom. It was obvious that she had longed for her. After having a cup of coffee GJ left and Dietmar drove us to the beach. It was freezing and very dark so I was easily convinced to rather come back the next morning.

Mom and Dietmar had started a catering business and a mobile food stall, called Snack Shack. He had been boarding with Mom on and off for almost seven years at that stage, but because he was close to thirteen years younger than me, I never took much notice of him. Another fact was that I was married so he mixed more with the children than with us "grownups."

They traded at a flea market on weekends and that was a family all its own. I was welcomed with open arms and made amazing friends. Being long weekend the market was buzzing and Snack Shack was extremely busy. They had built up a reputation and people would come from all over for their "Vetkoek" and breakfast. Their burgers were notorious and they could hardly keep up.

The hard work did not get Dietmar down too much and when I asked to go out on Saturday evening he was all for it. We went to one of the renowned clubs which Cape Town is known for. We loved every minute of it. The most amazing part of the evening was finding out how much we had in common. We talked and talked for hours.

The setting was quite romantic with high round cocktail tables and matching high barstools. They were rather small and created quite an intimate atmosphere. One of the local bands was playing music in the back ground and I can still hear the lyrics of Black Velvet resonating in my ears.

We were so engrossed in our conversation that we hardly noticed an elderly man approach us. "I do not want to interfere but I just want to tell you that you make a beautiful couple." He had the most amazing smile which made his eyes laugh and sparkle at the same time.

We both looked at each other in shock but remembered our manners and thanked him. After he left we both burst out laughing but the seed was planted.

It was one of the most beautiful weekends of my life. I felt like a teenager. We spent time walking the dog on the beach and watching the sun set over the ocean. I had no scruples getting into a bathing suit. The dancing had firmed my body and I think even Dietmar was taken aback with the amount of weight I had lost. My hair was long and I knew I was looking good. We played on the beach till the sun went down and would walk home. It was idyllic.

On Sunday GJ came through and took us to the Water Front where we had dinner and what was meant to be a few beers ended up in a pub-crawl of note. Totally zonked out of our minds we made our way back home round 4am the following morning. Mom threw her toys out the cot because she had been up all night waiting for us. She was livid! Being intoxicated gave me a false courage and for the first time in my life I stood up to my mother and we ended up in a very unpleasant argument. I went into the bedroom to pack Scharne's and my luggage.

"You are not taking this child with you!" she yelled at me.

"Yes I am. Scheragné asked me to take care of her!" I yelled back.

"Not in that state! Over my dead body will you take this child out of here!"

"Have it your way!" I replied and walked out.

Dietmar brought my bags to the car and I left with GJ. I decided to stay over at his place till the following day when I was due to catch the bus back home. Dietmar looked at me and I could see the sadness in his eyes. This man felt more for me than I realised. I could not ignore what I was feeling either and it made me feel very uncomfortable.

GJ and I left with me apologizing to Dietmar.

"I am sorry the weekend had to end this way," I said looking down.

"It is not your fault. I should also have known better." I could see that he wanted to say more... do more...

"I hear you, but I am sorry that I am leaving you to face the music all on your own."

"I am a big boy and I can handle it."

"Keep well and take care," I looked at him expecting him to kiss me but he didn't. Without another word I got into the car and drove off. GJ had no idea what was going on. He had passed out on the back seat hours ago.

The following day I moped around and try as he might not even GJ could make me feel better. He organised lunch and really went out of his way to cheer me up. It didn't work. I felt like a dog because of the animosity between Mom and me. I couldn't bear it! Even worse was the sadness I felt because for not having an opportunity to get to know Dietmar better. He had woken something up in me that I could not explain. I could not stop thinking about him. I also had a hangover of note and hardly slept. The mere thought of food was enough to nauseate me.

When the phone rang Dietmar's voice was the last person I expected to hear.

"Hey, how are you?" he asked almost apologetically.

"Hi, I am fine, how are you?" I replied not knowing what to say.

"I uh... I had to phone you..."

"Why Dietmar? What's wrong? Did something happen to Mom?"

"No, no! It's nothing like that. I needed to speak to you, about the weekend!"

"What about the weekend Dietmar? Get to the point!" I could sense his nervousness and being as tired as I was, I was beginning to get quite agitated.

"Stephanie, did you think there was more to our friendship than just being friends or was it my imagination?"

"Why do you ask?" I was not ready to admit or even speculate what I was feeling.

"I could not stop thinking about you. I want to be with you all the time. I will do anything to stop you from going back home."

"Dietmar it is a bit soon to be having feelings like that don't you think?"

"No! I cannot deny what I am feeling. Please can I see you once more before you go home?"

"Ok. The bus leaves the station at six tomorrow afternoon. Meet us there."

I couldn't sleep that night. I just could not understand what was happening. When I fell in love with Moir I had butterflies in my tummy and he turned my legs to jelly and still did. But, Moir was history and life moves on. Dietmar made me feel special. His gentle nature touched something inside me and he made me feel so special. A feeling I had never experienced ever in my life before. Mad, passionate love it most certainly was not! But then what was it. Why was this young man able to keep me awake wondering what could've been?

Sunday came and after lunch we left Franschhoek where GJ was staying. Only once we left his cottage did I realise the beauty around me. The picturesque mountains towered above us circling the little town and creating a valley filled with historic buildings, world renowned restaurants and little shops magnetically drawing any visitor and resident alike. Not exploring this beautiful place extended my list of regrets.

When we got to the station Dietmar was waiting for us. GJ excused himself to get us some cool drinks. As soon as GJ was out of site he walked up to me and gently took my hand in his. Looking into my eyes he said, "Stephanie, I think I have fallen in love with you. Please don't go home. I haven't slept and I cannot think of another day without you."

"Dietmar, I don't know. I am still married. My divorce is not even finalized and I cannot deal with another relationship right now."

He hardly gave me a chance to finish my sentence. He took me in his arms and kissed me. It was possessive yet gentle at the same time and simply impossible to miss the passion. I kissed him back and it felt good to be in his arms. When I saw GJ approaching I pushed him away and focused my attention on GJ.

"What was that all about?" GJ asked.

"Dietmar was just saying goodbye," I responded quite embarrassed.

"Humph! Looked like much more than a goodbye kiss to me."

At that moment the bus came around the corner and I was relieved. The goodbyes had to be said quite quick as the bus had to stick to its schedule and we were already running a few minutes late. As the bus pulled out of the station I looked back and was in time to see Dietmar wipe his face. It appeared as if he was crying which made me cry as well.

I was not ready for another relationship. There was hopelessly too much pain and unresolved issues in my life. The divorce with Moir was turning ugly and I once again had to get a protection order. My life was an absolute rollercoaster ride and I simply did not need any more complications.

I was sitting in the office finishing Leon's correspondence when I received a phone call. It was Dietmar. He was calling from a public phone.

"Stephanie, I need to talk to you but my money is not going to last long. Please give me an address where I can write to."

I gave him my address and a few days later the first letter arrived. The entire letter, almost six pages full, was a declaration of love. It had little pictures of flowers and hearts and "O" for hugs and "X" for kisses. It ended with ps: your Mom said thank you for the flowers.

The guilt would not leave me so when I arrived home after the Cape Town trip I sent Mom a huge bouquet of purple Irises, her favourite flowers. I never even gave it a second thought and that was when it struck me that the bond or rather obsession I had with Mom is gone. I still loved her dearly but something had changed.

I replied to Dietmar's letter, still playing it very safe and keeping him at a distance. I did enjoy the attention though. The company I was working for had a Cape Town office and we had to courier documents to them daily so I arranged with Dietmar to drop his letters off there and collect mine at the same time. What started off as a letter a week soon became a letter a day and we got to know each other better than I did any one of the previous men in my life.

A few months later he had me convinced that Cape Town was a much better place to live and even Mom had started nagging that I should move down there. So I resigned and GJ flew up to Johannesburg to drive down with me.

I was sad leaving my neighbour Susan and her son behind. We had become very good friends and shared a lot of good times together. Friends were not part of my life. I had many acquaintances but real friends I could count on one hand and she was one of them.

My "bakkie" was loaded to full capacity. We tied the ropes as best we could and the time to say goodbye finally came. Tears streaming down our faces Susan and I promised each other we would stay in touch. GJ indicated we need to get going as the sun was already going down and it was getting late. With a final hug I turned and got into the "bakkie". Knowing me the way he did, GJ never said a word. Two hours and a few hundred kilometres away he asked me if I would like something to eat. I said yes and we pulled off at the one stop to have a burger and use the toilet. We drove right through the night and in the very early hours of the following morning we pulled over at a town so small I doubt it even appears on the map. We slept in the vehicle for an hour or so but two grownups in the front of this small vehicle was no joke and eventually gave it up as a bad job. I insisted I wanted to drive so that GJ had a chance to sleep. It gave me an opportunity to think and deal with all the emotions flooding my heart and mind. I think that was when it truly struck me that Moir and I were history. It made me cry. The tears just kept coming and I could not or would not stop them. By the time GJ woke up my eyes were red and swollen.

"Having second thoughts?" he asked in his gently voice.

"Nope just sad for all the years lost." And sad I was, without volunteering any further explanation. So many years and nothing to show for them, wasted youth and time which I would never be able to get back.

## Chapter 26: 1997

## DECEIPT

We arrived in Melkbos quite late that night. We were both exhausted and in no real mood to socialise. GJ refused to stay over so Mom suggested that Dietmar drive GJ back to Franschhoek in her car as she could see that neither of us were in any state to be driving. It was quite a distance and being as tired as I was I was rather happy that the two men enjoyed each other's company. They left me to doze in the back of the car. Coming back Dietmar held my hand but did not say much. I kept dozing off and by the time we got home I was beyond exhausted so I had a shower and got straight into bed.

The following morning Mom suggested we spend the day at home so I could unpack and just catch up. Scharné was looking so good and she had started school. She was quite excited to see me and followed me everywhere I went. I loved it. After lunch we went to the beach and she went with. We played with Shandy, Mom's poodle and Scharné and I hosed ourselves laughing because this little dog managed to drag Dietmar all over where she wanted to go. He could barely keep up and we just sat there laughing. It was so funny watching a six foot four inches tall man being dragged around by a miniature poodle.

We soon settled into a routine and I would go out with Mom and Dietmar to run Snack Shack. It was not my cup of tea so I began looking for a job. I also had to report to Grootte Schuur Hospital so they could monitor my pacemaker.

The pacemaker check went much better than I thought it would. At least it did once I made the professor realise that there was no way I was going to allow them to set the pacemaker to different settings. I was still way beyond terrified of the thing and the past few years did not help especially after the onset of chronic panic attacks. He understood where I was coming from and agreed to just monitor my condition. I was to report to them on a monthly basis until such time as they had a history and we would take it from there.

After making a few copies of my CV I gave them to Dietmar to drop off at the various suppliers where he shopped for Snack Shack's supplies. I also asked him to drop a copy at OK Bazaar Distribution Centre down the road from where we traded. A few days later the manager called me to come in for an interview. He and I hit it off immediately and I started working as his personal assistant a week later.

My divorce was finalised a few months after I arrived in Cape Town so when Dietmar asked me to marry him it was a calculated answer when I said "yes I will marry you." The relationship between Dietmar and I had grown stronger but I still refused to let my feelings go beyond anything other than friendship. My reasoning was that Mom needed him in the business and if he and I were to marry it would somehow secure the business.

We got married on the 31st of December 1997. Two days after we were married I discovered that Dietmar had lied to me about something I felt was serious and told him to get out of my life. We separated and I divorced him. We still stayed in the same house with Mom and Scharné but each of us went our own way.

Shortly after we split up Dietmar met someone and soon thereafter asked Mom if she could move in. I did not deal with this very well and we fought like cat and dog. Fortunately I did not have much to do with him so I tolerated him as best I could. It was not easy though and I could not shake the feeling that I felt more for him than I cared to admit.

## Chapter 27: 1998

## IS IT REALLY THE EASY WAY OUT?

##

Listening to the Radio Tygerberg one day, a children's home was appealing to the public for people that were interested in taking in orphan children for the school holidays. We decide to get involved and ended up bringing the twins, nine months old, and a little boy, Brent, of six months home with us. The twins were HIV+. Though they said the little boy was not, the chronic diarrhoea told a different story. However, we had them for the holidays and we were adamant to make their stay as pleasant as possible. This almost cost us the business though. The minute people heard we had HIV+ babies at home they would no longer support us. Our sales dropped dramatically and being dependant on the income we had no choice but to withdraw from the program.

I wanted to adopt Brent but knew that our circumstances were not in favour of it and besides he belonged with his family. Because he was so sickly I spent a lot of time with him. He had to be changed frequently and was awake more than he slept and when he did sleep, it was in my arms. He spent more time with me than he should've and it was quite a story when he had to go back. It was like having to give up my own. The consolation was that he was given to an aunt and was doing very well at the time of my last enquiry.

My son also made it quite clear that he would not accept this child in our lives. The letter I received was so aggressive that I realised more than ever that this little boy would not be welcome in our family. Our families were all racists and even though my daughter, Mom and I thought differently believing that skin colour does not make a difference, the rest of the family did not agree.

It was a year of loss.

At the flea market I had built quite a big circle of friends and that was how I met Joe. She was gay and pursued me with all her might. We became very close and soon were seen as a couple. I tried my hand at the gay life style but it took me less than six months to realise that I was definitely not gay but that it was the closeness of having someone that I could relate to, that attracted me to this girl. When I broke off the relationship with Joe I was in the deepest depression I had ever experienced. I felt empty and useless.

I was not having a good time. Having to give up on Brent was difficult and very emotional. Joe could not accept just friendship from me so she walked out of my life for good as well. The relationship between Dietmar and I was a disaster and things between Mom and I even more so. Since Dietmar and I got married Mom and I had been at each other's throats because he was so much younger than me. She also kept telling me that I was embarrassing her by marrying him. When I developed the relationship with Joe it made the situation a hundred times worse, leaving Mom and I hardly speaking.

A friend of mine at the market gave me a puppy and I felt way better than I did in ages. He was a Staffordshire terrier crossed with and English Boxer. When I got him his eyes were still closed and he had to be bottle fed. His Mom had 10 puppies and she was not coping. This animal gave me a new lease on life and went all over with me including to work. My boss agreed as long as I kept him hidden especially when the big bosses were in town. I called him Draco and he was way more than a child to me. He would sit in the front of my bakkie like an absolute gentleman and GOD help anyone that came near. Every morning we would share an apple on our way to work. Eventually he got too big to take to work and I had to leave him at home. He would be so angry with me that I came home more than one night only to find my cottage trashed.

One school holiday my nephew, Blair, came to visit. We had to pick him up at the train stations. Joe was still around at the time and offered to drive so I could take Draco with. Blair's train was running late so we had to wait for quite a while before he arrived. It was good to see him and I was shocked at how tall he had grown. As I got out of the car to greet him Draco pushed past me and bit him. Fortunately his jacket was quite thick and there was no serious damage. I never thought that Draco would do this but being on the safe side I suggested that I sit in the back of the car, with Draco, going home. We were chatting and everything was fine until Blair turned to look at me and the next thing Draco went for his throat. It was not nice! Blair saw it coming and pulled back just in time but we still had a major problem keeping Draco from tearing him apart.

When we got home Mom told me that Draco almost bit the next door neighbour earlier in the week. When I asked her why she didn't tell me she said she forgot. She also told me that when some of her friends from Church came to visit he pinned the child down and almost bit her when she wouldn't give him her little dog she brought with. That's when I realised we have a problem. I called a policeman who was a friend of mine to ask for advice. He gave me the number of an animal psychologist and a friend of his who had worked with the dog unit in the police force for over twenty five years. Both the psychologist and the trainer told me there is no other way out but to put him down. He saw me as his alpha female and he would destroy anyone who even looked at me twice.

I did not want to believe this! This is not what I wanted to hear. After spending the afternoon on the telephone searching for someone that would tell me otherwise, and still coming away with the same answers, I had to accept the fact that Draco was dangerous and a threat to even our own family. We took him to the animal anti cruelty unit and as a last desperate attempt asked the vet what we could do and like everyone else he told us the same thing. Draco would eventually kill. I stood holding him as they injected him. But because he was in such a good condition and so strong the injection did not take and neither did the second one. They eventually injected him directly into his heart. As he faded away it felt like my blood was draining from my body. I once again closed up, silent tears running down my face. I locked myself up in my cottage for a week without eating or drinking a thing. I just lay on my bed crying. By the end of the week Mom insisted I open the door and she forced me to have some soup. As usual she gave me the speech about feeling sorry for myself and that I need to snap out of it because life goes on.

I was not having a good time at all. Feeling depressed and sorry for myself I received a letter from Noekie. She has been my friend since we were fifteen and even though we never really saw much of each other she meant more to me than my own sisters did. Because she lived in Johannesburg and I was in Cape Town we wrote to each other. This letter meant a lot to me and had a lot to do with the decisions I made thereafter. This is an excerpt,

..."remember this little piece from me to you

"ENJOY LIFE.... LAUGH A LOT....

LISTEN TO YOUR HEART AND FOLLOW WHERE IT LEADS YOU....

DO WHAT YOU LOVE, LOVE YOURSELF AND

SHARE THAT LOVE WITH OTHERS.

THIS IS THE WAY THAT YOU TRULY MAKE A DIFFERENCE....

ADD YOUR BEAUTY TO THE WORLD AND

GIVE SOMETHING PRECIOUS TO YOURSELF AND OTHERS.

YOU HAVE ALREADY MADE AN IMPRESSION ON THE WORLD....

YOU HAVE TOUCHED OUR HEARTS AND OUR LIVES....

IN A WAY THAT HAS FOREVER CHANGED US.

THANK YOU FOR COMING INTO MY LIFE....

FOR FORGIVING ANY ERRORS I HAVE MADE IN OUR FRIENDSHIP AND

FOR ALLOWING ME THE CHANCE TO LEARN AND GROW WITH YOU.

I LOVE YOU MY FRIEND!

Take care."

I don't know if they were her own words or if she got it from somewhere else and I don't care, at that moment in time it meant the world to me.

The good feeling did not last though and on the evening of the 5th of December 1998 I decided to commit suicide. What follows is word for word what I wrote in the suicide letter!

"I don't know why I'm writing this letter, but I have to. My most prominent thought right now is to die! Yet when I think it through I want to live. I still have so much that I want to do but do not have the motivation. Talking to my cousin today I was telling her how empty I feel. I have no more tears, no more emotions, no more love. I don't want another relationship, as there is nothing left to give!

My life seems empty, worthless, nothing to live for, and nothing to hope for. I was born and lived for 42 years and have nothing to show for it. My own mother cannot stand being around me, how can I expect anyone else to want to be around me? What a load of bullshit!

The worst is that I don't even know how I feel. Trying to capture my thoughts on paper is a major effort. I cannot formulate or describe my feelings/emotions. It seems like I'm going through the motions and then...,

NOTHING!

I EAT, I SLEEP, I DRIFT THROUGH THE DAY ON AN EMPTY VOID,

I EAT, I SLEEP......

I try to pray and NOTHING! – Put it in a nutshell – NOTHING! EMPTY!

I don't feel, I don't think, I'm empty!

I don't cry, I don't anything!

All the emotions spent!

All the tears have been cried!

All the orgasms spent!

All the love loved!

NOTHING!

Yet something in me won't allow me to close my eyes and drift off into eternity. Fear?

Somehow I have managed to alienate everyone, my children, my family, my parents, my friends, my lovers, my husbands....

Self Pity! Depression! Alone!

No one to love! No one needs me! No hope! No purpose! No GOD! I think even He has given up! I don't blame him; I would've given up long ago.

I don't like me and I don't have the energy or motivation to change! Don't want to live anymore! Had enough! Don't have fight in me anymore!

I need help! Depression! Despair! Loneliness! Helplessness! Self Pity! I am evil!!!! Disjointed thoughts! I want to sleep, sleep, sleep, forever. Living seems so pointless!"

... the voice on the radio penetrates my mind. It is a panel discussion on sin and broken lives. Then I hear "If you are out there, contemplating suicide, giving up on life, please call us, before you do anything foolish give us a call."

How I made that phone call I don't know. I spoke to Pastor Christopher Horn and he convinced me to meet him the following day. It turned out that he was founder of the Christopher Horn Gangster Ministries and they did outreaches focusing on the areas caught up in the gang wars and everything that goes along with it. He asked me to give life another chance and join his group. He convinced me that I could help others by telling them my story. I agreed to try. We worked on the Cape Flats and very often we were invited to visit surrounding towns that were having problems with their youth.

We went to a service in Delft the day after I responded to the call and he announced that I would give my testimony. I shook so much I could barely speak. My mouth was dry and I stuttered. I spoke for +/- 5 minutes and realised that I wanted to faint. I could not talk about everything that had happened to me accept to say that I was thinking of giving up but now do believe that GOD has a plan.

"It was your mouth speaking and not your heart, Stephanie," the Gentle Voice said to me.

I have since learned to hear this VOICE more clearly but at the time I thought it was my own "inner voice" as some call it, so it was no problem just to ignore it.

I did like the idea of speaking to people though, and so I decided I wanted to become a pastor. I still smoked. Still swore like a paratrooper, but decided to heed this drive and I started seeking GOD in all earnest. I cut myself off from everyone. I spent a year and a half in what one could call solitary confinement. I exchanged my LDV for a caravan which I parked in Moms back garden and lived in it. I only went into the house to bath and eat. The rest of the time I studied my Bible and prayed. I wanted answers and I knew the only one that could give me those answers was my MAKER.

## Chapter 28: 1999

## NEW BEGINNINGS

On the 25th of January 1999 Christopher had to officiate a funeral of a young man whom he did not even know. Being a Chaplain in the police this was one of his duties. This man was only 39 years old and he loved cycling. One morning he died of a heart attack whilst on one of his practice runs. Because Christopher did not know the guy or his family he asked if I would go with. It was one of those wake-up calls and it got me thinking about my life and where I was heading.

0n the 16th of March 1999 I gave up smoking and realised that it had been years since I had stopped drinking. It never once occurred to me that I had not had a drink for ages. The smoking was a different story though. I spent months on my knees once I stopped. There was no way I could do it on my own, but I somehow persevered and with the help of the Holy Spirit I was finally delivered.

I also realised that I had a passion for people living with HIV and Aids. I began reading up on it and tried to find someone that would give me some training. It was a waste of time and not having any money I could not pay for any courses. That was when I packed up and took myself off to Johannesburg and spent two weeks in a home for people living with HIV/AIDS.

One had to go through a security gate to get to the front door due the stigma and threats to the lives of these people because of their condition. It was almost a daily occurrence that we would look out the window and see someone standing at the gate with a little suitcase in their hands, dropped off by family too embarrassed to have them as part of their lives. The family more often than not walked away and would not see them again.

The inmates nursed their own till death and when someone died they would have a private cremation attended by the housemates only. The families very often did not attend these services. To accommodate the ashes they had planted a rose garden where they would scatter the ashes of those that had passed on, planting a rose bush in memory of each of the departed.

Those young people taught me what HIV/AIDS was all about! They exposed themselves to me completely; their lifestyles that led to their demise, the partners in their lives and what happened to them when they got sick, their families and how they were ostracized. They told me everything and kept nothing back from me. They allowed me into their inner circle opening their bodies, lives and souls to me.

The Gauteng Department of Education decided that HIV/AIDS was becoming a real issue and arranged a conference which all the principals and teachers of all the schools on the East Rand in Gauteng had to attend. It was compulsory and no one was excused.

As part of the program one of the inmates was asked to testify so the attendees could see that the outward appearance of a person living with HIV was not obvious. Also to make people realise that the disease was real! I was invited to go along as an observer. The entire team that presented the course was young black educators and Greg, the inmate who agreed to talk about his life and I, were white. Majority of the teachers and principals attending were also white.

What was meant to be an educational afternoon turned into a political, racist war zone. I could not retain my anger any longer. I got up and asked the young man presenting the course to give me the microphone. I gave them all a piece of my mind. By the time I was finished, challenging their attitudes and suggested they question their position in the future of our country, half the audience had walked out. The rest that stayed behind did indicate that they were prepared to listen. It was obvious that the young man was way out of his league so I offered to present the course and he gladly conceded.

It opened a door for the Education Department inviting me to do a HIV/AIDS presentation to a group of underprivileged learners that we would take to Rand Afrikaans University Island. It was an island situated in the middle of the famous Vaal River which demarcated a number of borders between the provinces; the main one being the border between Gauteng and the Free Sate. These learners came from various back grounds, cultures and races. We would spend three days on the island teaching and educating them about HIV/AIDS.

I realised that I would have to stay in Johannesburg longer and called on GJ once more for help. He agreed that I could stay at his place till I got myself sorted out.

It was a great success and the beginning of a new path in my life. I met young people with great promise. I also learned that weekend that there was no difference between black and white. The learners had quite a time adjusting to each other but once the ice was broken and they began to share their stories, friendships began to form and they began to bond. I spent my nights chatting with the girls who slept in the dormitory next to my room and we never got to bed before one sometimes two o' clock in the morning. They shared their fears and bad experiences with me. Some even admitted to being sexually abused and raped; many of the incidents by family members.

I am enclosing some of the poems they wrote and posted to me after the weekend, which have become some of my most prized possessions.

This poem was written by the learner herself.

"ODE to CHRIS"

My eyes see a different light,

My heart beats a different beat.

I find my thoughts wonder to a place where I cannot be.

Where my heart wishes to be but is tormented with yearning.

My thoughts, my heart, my soul will always be with you.

Like the setting sun that changes the sky

From placid blue to vibrant warm colours,

So you have changed my look on life and myself.

Have you ever sat by a clear blue pond of water?

When the sun is setting the sky ablaze with colour

And the warmth of the day has just settled in?

Look at the pond and find the reflection of the sky on it

Everything perfect

Just pause that moment;

Bring you near and

Ease my hearts yearning

Hold me near,

Now the whole world can fall apart

Feel my breath, soft,

Warm and sweet on your check

As I whisper the words

I LOVE YOU

***

The following poem I am sure was written by someone else but this learner wanted me to have it so that I could see and hear what she was all about.

"LISTEN"

When I ask you to listen to me

And you start giving advice you have not done what I asked

When I ask you to listen to me

And you begin to tell me why I shouldn't feel that way

You are trampling on my feelings

When I ask you to listen to me

And you feel you have to do something to solve my problem

You have failed me, strange though it may seem

LISTEN!

All I asked was that you listen

Not talk or do \- just hear me

Advice is cheap:

25 cents will get you both, Dear Abby and Billy Graham

In the same newspaper!

I can do for myself. I'm not helpless

Maybe discouraged and faltering, but not helpless!

When you do something for me that I can

And need to do for myself

You contribute to my fear and weakness

But when you accept as a simple fact that

I do feel what I feel, no matter how irrational

Then I can quit trying to convince you and

Get about the business of

Understanding what's behind this irrational feeling.

And when that's clear, the answers are obvious

And I don't need advice

Irrational feelings make sense if we understand what's behind them

So, please listen and just hear me

And if you want to talk, wait a minute for you turn,

And I'll listen to you

Author Unknown

***

"Before I end I need to ask if you could give me information as to where I could have an AIDS test done, somewhere near to where I stay and not at a great expense," was the footnote at the end of the letter.

I felt like I could cry. This was such a beautiful, intelligent young lady and the fact that she asked this confirmed that she was sexually active and afraid. She could not have been one day older than fifteen.

Before we could wipe the sleep from our eyes the weekend was over and life returned to normal. The children returned to their various homes and I went back to GJ's.

On the 30th of October 1999, Dietmar wrote me a letter asking that I please phone him. He had broken up with his girlfriend and he was thinking about us and what we had. He asked that we give it another try. I was kind of amazed that he had actually kept record of the time we were separated and that he could recall so much of what was said and done.

"Can you believe it took us almost one year and seven months to actually "talk" to each other again? In December we would've been married two years," he wrote, "and the last couple of days have just proven to me once more how much you really mean to me. I thank GOD that I have been given another chance. I know it is going to take some time but I want you back as my wife and we will make up for everything we lost. I love you."

Although I agreed to give our relationship another try I had my doubts. I heard all these sweet words but the experiences of the past two years left me hurt, and resentful not to mention the fact that I would not trust.

To make matters worse, my friend, Joe, decided to visit. She and GJ hit it off like a house on fire and become the best of friends. I made it quite clear that she and I were just friends and that nothing else could develop between us. One night I overheard her and GJ speak about me.

"She is an absolute "b...h" and uses people. Not to mention being self-centred." GJ tells his new found friend.

"I know what you mean, I can't say that I disagree," she replies.

"The only reason why she is still here is because she knows that I do not have the heart to throw her out."

I could not believe my ears. This was the one man I believed understood me. The one person I trusted beyond anyone else and that was how he felt. Shocked and hurt I went into my bedroom and began to pack. GJ came and tried to stop me and I think he realised by my attitude that he was treading on thin ice and eventually just got out of the way. I moved out of his house the same night. Thank goodness I had organised the flat because I would not have had anywhere to go. GJ knew about the flat but we had agreed that I would only move at the end of the month so I would have time to get some furniture and also have the flat painted and cleaned out properly.

I got to bed early hours of the morning and was totally exhausted. I did not have anyone to help me and my fitness level was not that good either. Laying on the bed exhausted, I was trying very hard to stop the tears streaming down my cheeks.

Why? Why do people think of me this way? Why do people say these things about me? Am I really like that? Why do people love me one minute and hate me the next? I don't know what time I fell asleep but when I woke up the next morning I could hardly see through my eyes. I got up, made myself a cup of tea and took painkillers, hoping the throbbing in my head would go away.

So Dietmar's letter came just in time to give me hope once more, although I was very nervous about the whole situation. He kept writing and his letters became more demanding. He wanted me to come back to Cape Town and he wanted answers. It was something I could no longer put off and besides I needed to be honest with him. I explained that I enjoyed his letters and I heard everything he said but that I needed time to build up trust. I also explained that we needed to take it one day at a time.

Once I realised I was going to stay in Johannesburg for a while I decided to look for a job. I was offered a position at a company that sold locally manufactured and imported gifts as a sales secretary. A few months after joining them one of our reps resigned and I applied for his position. His area was local but also included a trip to Botswana once a month. Application for my passport started in all earnest and I cannot describe the feeling of excitement I felt waiting for the day to arrive that I was supposed to leave. I have to admit the excitement was mingled with a certain amount of fear. I had never done a road trip alone and most certainly not one with this kind of distance.

At the same time the old familiar feelings of guilt kept haunting me. I felt so guilty that I was able to experience this trip and the family was not there to share in it. One would've thought that after all this time the guilt would've subsided. Whenever I was given an opportunity to experience something exciting or go somewhere I always felt guilty. Often questioning why these nice things came across my path but never happened to Mom. No matter what I did or where I was, I always carried this guilt of her sacrificing her life for the children and never allowing herself any enjoyment.

The Botswana trip took five days. In those five days I drove more than 3 000 kilometres. The trip was quite an experience but the heat was something else! I thank the Lord that I had an air-conditioner in my car because without it I would not have been able to cope. "No wonder Malaria is such a problem in these areas," I thought to myself. It is so hot, there is no way that one could sleep under covers and that left your entire body exposed to the onslaught of the mosquitoes known to be the carriers of the deadly Malaria parasite.

The Malopo Sun Hotel in Mafikeng was out of this world. Being Sunday most of the hotel's amenities were closed including the casino. This did not worry me much as I had no desire to gamble. My first appointment on the trip was the gift shop in the hotel. This Indian lady was one of my biggest and most pleasant clients. She would not discuss business until we had lunch and got to know each other better. A hostess of note!

Because of her contacts in the hotel, Reshnie, arrange one of the most luxurious, air-conditioned rooms they had available at half the price. The room's décor was done in a colour scheme of pastels blue, jade and pink, complimenting the coolness of the court yard, which had water features with geese and ducks living in the garden, filled with huge leaved, evergreen plants. The water fountains surrounded by these exquisite plants created an impression that you have just stepped right inside the core of an oasis.

The next morning I went down to the dining room and ate a breakfast meant for a queen. The food was set out buffet style and had three to five different varieties of each item, which you could choose from. It ranged from cereals to warm porridge. Fresh, dried and canned fruits were arranged in a beautiful display of South Africa's best. A variety of yoghurt and fruit juices added the final touch. Your eggs were done while you waited and you could have toast, fresh bread, muffins, scones and or Melba toast. I settled for bacon, eggs, fruit and yoghurt.

The hiding I had for taking another orange, while visiting Oupa's sister, flashed through my mind and because I was very self-conscious, I did not have the boldness to go back for more, even though I felt like some more of the delicious juicy peaches.

The only complaint I had about the entire trip was that I could not stand their drinking water. The heat was extremely dehydrating and it cost a fortune to buy bottled water. Bottled water was seen as a luxury in Botswana and therefore the price charged for it was astronomical.

It was one of the good experiences I had and I loved every minute of it. The trip took me five days in total and even though almost all of the time was spent in the car driving from town to town it was still amazing. Botswana is a country almost untouched by Western Civilization. The planes of open spaces stretched for hundreds of kilometres marked by small villages built between the trees. The cattle walked around, as if they were having a Sunday afternoon stroll, without a care in the world. The children ran around playing with total abandon, until they spotted the car and would then run after the car clapping hands.

The people were friendly and accommodating and even though we had a major language barrier we were still able to communicate. The customers I had to see were mostly immigrants that came to South Africa to do their business. My last customer was in Francis Town and then I still had 469km to the Beitbridge border, re-entering South Africa. It was Friday lunch time and I wanted to push through so I could spend the week end with my sister in Atok, Limpopo Province.

I think I overdid it and that the travelling had pushed my balance senses way over their threshold. I thoroughly enjoyed the weekend with Maria and her family and by Monday morning I was rested and ready to roll. My thinking was to do the Limpopo province while I was there and even though it meant another week away from home it did not concern me. It wasn't like I had anyone waiting for me and I enjoyed the open roads and scenery. It was more like a working holiday for me.

We said good bye to Maria and her family after a weekend of eating and drinking and visiting second to none. We had made up for lost time and were ready to go on again; each with her own life. I had driven quite a few miles when the next moment it felt like the mountains were closing in on me and the drive through the pass was horrifying. I felt closed in and absolutely terrified. By the time I got to Pietersburg I felt ill but I had a long way to go and the job had to be done. So I grabbed a sandwich at a take away and got back on the road. It was a cloudy morning and the rain was imminent. The road opened up before me like a snake winding its way through the vast open space stretching before me as far as the eye could see. I looked down to reach for the sandwich and as I looked up again it looked like everything was in three dimension. What was an open road now appeared to be going straight into the clouds and heaven and earth joined each other and melting together. I got the fright of my life and pulled over. The nausea convulsed my body and the dizziness made me feel as if I had been drinking all night.

I realised that I was in trouble and there was no way I could go any further. I took a very slow drive to the local hospital where they immediately ran tests for malaria. The doctor on duty was convinced it was malaria especially in lieu of the fact that I had spent a week in Botswana. After all the tests came back negative they diagnosed severe acute vertigo and gave me a stern warning not to drive. I called my son and he and his dad came to fetch me so one of them could drive my car home.

The acute vertigo turned into a chronic vertigo that prevented me from driving for almost two years. I was forced to resign from the company and it left me no option but to go back to Cape Town. Dietmar was beyond excited and kept saying it was destiny.

## Chapter 29: 2000

## SKELETONS HAVE A FUNNY WAY OF ESCAPING

As soon as I touched base in Cape Town I started looking for work. I contacted my ex boss, Donald, whom I had worked with at OK Bazaars Distribution Centre. He had in the meantime changed jobs and was working for Maskew Miller Longman, a publishing company who provided most of the text books for our schools. He was quite excited to hear that I was back in town and asked me to send him my CV. I did and was offered a position as the debtor's team leader.

Even though Dietmar and I were on speaking terms and considered reconciliation I still let the divorce go through. I was not ready to just get involved again. I had to admit we got on much better than we did just before I left Cape Town and he was really trying very hard to gain my confidence again.

The divorce was finalised 7 February 2000. He was devastated and I simply went through the motions as if it was just another bad day. He did not speak to me for days and I did not volunteer any explanation either.

One morning I was going through the notes I was putting together for the course I was writing on HIV/AIDS. I was focusing on the process of Mother to Child Transmission when I really looked at the information on pregnancy and the calculation of the expected date of a baby's birth. Just as a matter of interest I began counting the weeks before the birth of my children. My breath stuck in my throat when I realised Scheragné was four weeks early if she was indeed the result of the rape as I had believed all of these years. The only other contact was Daddy and that was in May! It had to be him! My mind began racing and I rushed up to my office to phone my aunt.

"Hi Cooks, how are you?"

"I'm fine and you. It's so nice to hear from you. It has been ages" was her friendly reply.

"Tell me something, who out of Mom and dad were unable to have children? Am I right in believing that he was sterile after the diving accident he had?" I asked.

Many years ago when I was still very little Daddy had a diving accident hurting his neck quite badly. Catching bits of conversation from the grownups talking I had carried the belief that Daddy could not have any children.

"No, it wasn't your dad it was your Mom. She had the hysterectomy because of the cancer so she was the one that could not have children. Your dad fathered other children before he and your Mom got married. Why are you asking? Does this have something to do with Scheragné?" she asked

"Yes it does, why?" I was so shocked by her question and was not sure what to say next.

"I have been waiting for this call for years," she said.

"What do you mean by that?" now I was even more taken aback.

"You tell me why you want to know," came her reply.

"If Daddy could have children then it means he was Scheragné's father!" I whispered into the phone.

"Yes he was." Her tone of voice was matter of fact and very calm.

"Why did you not say anything?" I asked accusingly

"I couldn't. Too many people would get hurt!"

Out of the blue it made sense to me what he meant by saying "did you think I would adopt strange children and throw my own away?" the night when I told him and Mom that I was pregnant.

He knew!

I was just too emotional to carry on with the conversation so I ended the call and began making phone calls. After a number of weeks of investigation it was confirmed that Daddy was in fact Scheragné's father and the time to tell her had come.

We were going through a very busy period at work and I had to employ quite a few temporary staff. Scheragné was one of them. We travelled to work together and in the mornings we would leave home earlier so we could sit and chat in the car. Mom had always been very possessive when it came to Scheragné and whenever her and I would try and spend time together Mom was sure to interfere. So this was our quality time and also a period where we got to know each other on a much deeper level. It was on one of these mornings that I decided to tell her.

"Scheragné, my angel, I have something to tell you."

"You seem so serious, what have I done? Are you going to fire me?" she asked nervously.

"No my child this is much worse. Besides you have signed a contract. I will not dismiss you before your contract ends."

"What is it the?" She seemed nervous.

"It's about your Dad."

"What about him? You told me you do not know anything about him."

"I didn't until last week."

I sat telling her the entire story from beginning to end. I told her about the rape and the sexual abuse. I told her about Oupa's emotional abuse and about my relationship with Mom and how she had broken my trust by having Scheragné placed in her foster care. I even told her about the abortion. Then I told her about the phone call to my aunt.

She just sat there with tears streaming down her face.

"That explains why you rejected me."

"I don't know my angel. I don't know why I rejected you I did not understand it then and I still do not understand it now. All I know is that I thank GOD for the relationship we have now. I want you to know that I love you and I would not change you for the world."

"Even after all you have been through. I am after all the product of you being abused..." she could not finish the sentence.

"The abuse was not your fault and I would never ever let that be a factor between you and me. I will never give you up again."

We walked around like zombies at work that day and could not wait to get home. Once we did get home we hauled out all the albums. We spent hours crying together and going through photographs and comparing her and Daddy's photo's. I could not believe I hadn't noticed it. She was his splitting image!

Once we got chatting and talking about her life we realised she also inherited the family's weakness in their eyes. Daddy's one sister was blind and grandpa was almost blind when he died. Daddy had to give up his soccer career as a result of his eyes. To this day I do not know exactly what was wrong with their eyes but Scheragné had an auto immune disease and they believed it to be genetic. This disease had caused a type of arthritis in her eye and she would've been blind had it not been for the awesome doctor she had. She also inherited their scraggly hair to mention just a few obvious characteristics. Her addictive and rebellious nature most certainly came from him.

We decided not to talk about it and put it all back in the closet. I, on the other hand had to deal with emotions ranging from lack of trust to bitterness to sadness to every other emotion you can think of. The worst was the feeling of betrayal. This was the man everyone elevated just short of a god. The man that everyone thought was the greatest gift to mankind, amazingly only after his death, before that he was the hooligan.

I resented Mom even more. She had to have known. It explains why she was so possessive over Scheragné. I could not believe that she did not know. However, life carried on and so I once more added another box of emotions to my collection...

## Chapter 30: 2001 to 2004

## BABIES, BABIES, BABIES

On August the 28, 2001 my granddaughter Sheri was born. I could not wait to see her. Cape Town however, was 1700 kilometres away from where my son lived and most certainly was not around the corner, so I just had to bide my time. Rudi and his wife stayed in Pretoria and that was even further than Johannesburg. Unfortunately they got divorced and I only got to see Sheridan twice in total. My daughter in law decided to move away and break all contact with us.

Whilst all this was going down Mom suggested she would like to start a place of safety for abandoned children. Mom being Mom, hinted at the idea and never said anything else and we accepted it was just another thought which would end up in file thirteen. I was at work when she called to tell me "the stork had arrived. "

"What do you mean the stork has arrived?" I was not sure how to react.

"We have a little baby boy. His name is Brandon and he was found abandoned under a bridge."

"You must be joking! How old is he?"

"Three months."

Mom was like a child that had just been given a birthday present. What started off as a dream ended up with us taking care of fifteen abandoned babies. At one stage we had twenty one but some of them were fortunate enough to find foster homes and some were reconciled with their families. The majority were too old to be placed. People are reluctant to take in children older than two years for some unexplainable reason.

We loved them as our own and it was amazing to see how they would all stand in their cots early in the morning waiting for Pappa Dietmar, to make their bottles. We had cots in every single room in the house. The lounge was converted into a dormitory. It was an experience and they were awesome!

I did very well at MML but was not impressed when they appointed a young man as credit manager and especially not when he started treating us like school children. I did stick it out for quite some time but soon realised that this young man and I were not going to hit it off so I resigned. In retrospect this was one of the worst decisions I ever made. I had a good future with MML and I resigned as a result of an insulted ego rather than realistic facts. I was also not going to allow a novice to come and dictate to me. Bad decision!

Dietmar and I were getting on quite well and even though it was hard for me to admit it, I began to realise that this gentle giant was stealing my heart. He was never forceful or assertive for that matter. He always stayed on the background tolerating my mother's abuse and putting up with my selfish demands. He truly had the worst from both ends. Mom's abuse was the worst though and I used to cringe when she was abusive toward him. He did not deserve it! In her defence one could say that she had very high standards and Dietmar doing all the cooking was expected to comply with those standards. We who knew her better knew that it went beyond that. Mom had a hatred for men and Dietmar paid the price.

I still kept him at a distance and when he asked me to remarry him I was rather reluctant. I did not trust him and no other man for that matter. The fact that I had been married so many times before was another nagging memory I could not ignore. When I mentioned it to Mom in a casual conversation she threw a hissy fit. So I turned Dietmar down.

He on the other hand just would not give up. We normally did shopping for supplies as we needed it, so we found it very unusual when Mom told us to go for supplies one afternoon in the week after we decided to close up shop early. Dietmar looked at me and I could see he had something up his sleeve but he would not budge. We finished the shopping in no time and as we came out the store he pulled me toward the window of the jewellery store next door. They had the most beautiful rings and he kept asking me which one I liked. I told him he was being silly and that we did not have money for it.

"That my Babes is my problem not yours. Pick one or I will pick one for you."

"What is this all about Dietmar?"

"I am buying you and engagement ring! Today! This time I will not take no for an answer Steph. Enough is enough! I have waited for too long and the time has come for us to do this right. It's been more than a year that we have been back together, if you can call it that."

"My mother is going to have a fit!"

"For once in my life I actually do not give a damn what your mother thinks. Are you going to choose a ring or shall I?"

I chose an eternity ring which had stones right around. Fate was with us that day because the ring I chose was marked at half price leaving us with enough to buy wedding rings as well.

It was the first time I saw the other side of Dietmar and even though I was intrigued I still would not allow myself to feel anything more.

After paying for the ring we went to the beach and Dietmar asked me to marry him... again... I said yes and he put the ring on my finger. I took it off when we got home because I did not want Mom to see it. Whenever we went shopping after that we would look for a wedding ring to match my engagement ring. After several shopping sprees I decided on two single wedding bands; one on each side of the eternity ring. Knowing Mom was going to have a coronary if she knew Dietmar and I want to get married again, we decided not to tell anyone. So we hid the rings in my cupboard and decided they would stay there until the time was right. Our Pastor, at the church we were attending, was beyond excited and kept on calling and nagging us to set a date.

***

Being unemployed made it easier for me to do charity work and I got quite involved in our community.

I was also very involved with the Christopher Horn Gangster ministries and went on a number of outreaches with them to various towns, often quite far from home which meant we had to stay over, sometimes a whole week at a time.

I had some wonderful experiences and have many memories of those times.

One experience that left me with a life changing decision was when we attended Uncle Martin's son's funeral. Uncle Marty was a member of our group and had done a long stretch in jail. He would testify and encourage the young people to stay away from gangsterism and drugs. His sons were also gangsters and one of them was murdered in jail. He, together with his two cell mates, were burnt to death. I was never the same after that funeral. It changed my outlook on life and also opened my eyes once more to life's realities. This is the letter I wrote in my journal, to this young man, when we got home.

" _For a few hours I was exposed to the reality of your life. Your death was as cruel and violent as the world in which you lived, a truth that would never reach the news! They are speculating as to the cause of your death. Some say it was suicide! If that were the case, why were there three of you?_

While moving among your family and friends, praying for them, crying with them, I realised that I was actually an intruder, so instead I sneaked back to the safety of the stage. I sat staring at the sea of faces before me and all I saw was hopelessness! Lifeless eyes circled by dark rings; testimony to the pain and despair.

It is sad when one realises that the majority of those in attendance are women and children, the absence of men very obvious. The sound of their voices rising to the heavens, filled with faith and encouragement; emanating from the very core of these beings.

Together we sat listening to the admonition of the Gospel which is the lifeline of your people.

Family, friends, the curious and I. Pastors, Deacons, Preachers all fighting for an opportunity to get to the microphone and I cannot help but wonder; where were THEY when your life fell apart and you began to follow in your father's footsteps?

The dilapidated little building with its broken windows and doors, shouts out the senselessness of it all. The cold, wet Cape Town winter day forcing its way through every open crevice emphasizes the tragic end to a story that will never be told.

The dogs wandering in and out at least had the decency to pay THEIR last respects.

Young man, this day I ask forgiveness! I had so much more than you and I wasted it, please forgive me. Forgive me that I took the education, automatically offered to me, for granted. Forgive me for not making the time to notice and realise what was being done to you and your people. Forgive me for judging rather than listening to what you were trying to say.

I work with your father and it is because of my respect for him that I am here. We travel across the country, speaking to young people trying to make a difference in their lives. I preach to them and dictate to them about the do's and the don'ts and only now do I realise how hollow it must all sound.

How do all these lessons make any sense when you have to go back – go "home" at the end of the day?

I did not know you but I saw a ray of hope in the eyes of your three year old son when he ever so bravely kissed you on your head to say goodbye one more time. The pride when he looks at his Mommy. A young girl hardly ready to be a mother!

The song she dedicates to your dad, which she wrote especially for him, "Pappa, you still have us", speaks of strength and determination.

For you it is too late! But once again I have been given the privilege to do more! In honour of your memory I humbly ask your permission to make a difference!

These were the feelings in my heart when I got home from this young man's funeral. I was sad. Sad for him, for his girlfriend, for his three year old son especially, but most of all for what could've been. He was just another statistic and the chances are that his son will follow in his footsteps as he followed in his father's... circumstances dictating his destiny even before he was born.

The Cape Flats is known for its gangsterism and violence. These young people live and breathe violence from the moment they see the light of day. One of the guys in our team told us about the rapes and killings he had to do to qualify his acceptance in the gang. The territories were demarcated by invisible borders and should one dare to cross that border they were bound to end up dead. This would then spark revenge and by the end of the day the death toll would be devastating.

Pastor Christopher was often called in as mediator between the various gangs. We would then do outreaches and try to help them see a different side of life, often testifying of our own experiences. I often sat thinking that I learned more from them than they did from me and the more I got to know the people on the Cape Flats the more I realised that they were people! He was someone's son, more often than not someone's father, and sadly someone's brother.

We were treated like royalty almost as if we were these angelical beings that could change their circumstances by our mere presence. I remember the day an elderly lady begged me just to come into her house because she believes that my presence would bring some kind of blessing direct from GOD. I wanted to run away. My fear of GOD's wrath was tangible and while praying for them I begged GOD to please forgive me and to help the people understand that we are people just like they are. I have learned that one never steals GOD's glory.

It was during one of these outreaches, years ago, that day a young girl came out with the altar call and asked me to pray for her to stop smoking. I wanted the world to open up and swallow me.

"I cannot pray for you my angel because I smoke. I tell you what let us pray for each other."

I said a simple prayer and she began praying. Her prayer was so intense and sincere that she made Pastor Christopher sound like an amateur.

I stopped smoking that very same day.

I began to realise that people were watching me and they began to see me as a representative of GOD and this made me realise that Dietmar and I were actually living in sin. Yes we were married but we also got divorced. The people on the Cape Flats do not understand grey areas and I knew this would have a serious impact if they should find out that I am on the stage preaching to them while I was living with a man. The fact that this man is my ex-husband would be of no consequence to them. When I got home I spoke to Dietmar about it and we set a date for 14 February 2002.

I had a radio interview lined up in Fishhoek and we decided to do the formalities the same morning. The family still had no idea and we never said anything. I made the mistake of sending a message to Dietmar over the radio and as Murphy would have it my Mom was listening. By the time the message was broadcasted we were well on our way.

There we stood, in church with Pastor his wife and a friend of theirs as witness. We were both dressed in denims, sneakers and T-shirts. The entire ceremony lasted less than fifteen minutes. Dietmar was glowing and I was doubting...

The interview was scheduled for eleven o' clock and we still had quite a drive from Bothasig to Fish Hoek. We were about five kilometres away from home when my vehicle began giving problems. I prayed all the way to my friend's workshop hoping it was something small and that he would be able to fix it, keeping in mind the time limit. It turned out to be something more serious and we had to practically beg for a courtesy car. We eventually got away and made the appointment in time.

The morning had taken its toll on my nerves and I thought the interview was a disaster. My husband on the other hand did everything in his power to make up for it. We drove all along the coast and visited the many little shops lining the road for miles. They kept me enthralled. The antique ornaments and trinkets testifying of hand craft that one could never equal. Cut glass sugar bowls which reminded me of my childhood lined the shelves. The biggest attraction was the antiques teddy bears. I bought little ones, big ones, and my absolute favourite was the one we bought in Simons Town, dressed as a sailor.

We stayed as long as we could and only started back home once the sun began setting. Both of us were very quiet, treasuring the beautiful day we had at the same time fearing to go home and face Mom. Low and behold she did not disappoint us. We got blasted and both of us stood looking at her like naughty children. Once she vented her anger we turned around and walked out. Realising we were totally dependent on the Dietmar working for her the reality hit us. The following day Dietmar went job hunting and thank GOD, found one at the local supermarket as a baker.

Still we were persecuted from every possible angle one can think of. Dietmar picked up problems at work and there was talk of him losing his job. Mom was making our lives a misery. I could not find a job and financially we did not know how we were going to survive. Mom's business had taken a dive and the stress at home was becoming unbearable. Mom tried carrying on with Scheragné and her daughter, Scharné, helping as much as they could but still it did not go well at all and Mom blamed Dietmar and me for it.

As difficult as it was living under these conditions I refused to allow Mom's attitude to influence me and carried on pursuing my passion. I completed a number of courses in HIV/AIDS awareness and counselling. I wrote a course on HIV/AIDS awareness and began facilitating this course to volunteers of the Victim Empowerment Program launched by the South African Police Services and various Children's Homes. I thrived on being a part of these people's lives and some of them have become very close friends.

It was the time in my life I truly got to know GOD. I knew I was nowhere near to where I was supposed to be in my walk with Him but I was also nowhere near where I used to be! – As Joyce Meyer put it. My relationship with my Maker began to take on new dimensions and I grew to love Him.

# BAGS OF SALT

Amongst all of this we still kept the children and took care of them. They were a very integral part of our lives. Our kiddies were mostly under two years and those that were older had major psychological problems ranging from being HIV/AIDS infected to being used in prostitution. Two of the boys that come to mind are the two brothers that were prostituted by their parents on the beach in Sea Point. They were placed back with the parents only to be found a few weeks later doing the same thing. They were eight and six years old respectively.

Another case was where a brother and sister were brought to us. Their mother was into prostitution. The little girl was about three years old and she was HIV+. Her brother was eight and her self-appointed protector. He would not think twice about resorting to violence to protect his little sister.

Our saddest story was Joseph. He was brought to us when he was four months old. He had to be loved, bathed, dressed and fed on his back for the best part of three months due to the damage done to his oesophagus. His mother never had anything to feed him other than chicken and rice and this caused the damage. By the age of nine months he was a strong, healthy little boy ready to take on the world. Totally against all our opposition he was placed back with his parents. A month later he was brought back to us very sick. We nursed him back to health only for him to be returned to his parents once again and this time they buried him; three months later. Yes you heard right. He got sick with diarrhoea and was taken to a traditional healer. His death was never questioned and he simply became another statistic. We tried very hard to come to terms with this incident but it took its toll.

Shortly after they placed Joseph back with his parents Mom got very ill. Sadly, it almost cost her life! We were unable to determine what was wrong with her so the family came to see her expecting the worst. When she came out of the coma they spoke to her about going back to Johannesburg, claiming that she would receive better medical treatment there. They were in a much better position financially to pay for private care and without discussing anything with me I was informed they were leaving a few days later, taking Mom with them.

The girls, Scheragné and her daughter, Scharné left a few days later. That left Dietmar and I alone with all the responsibility. All our little ones were placed and sorted out accept for Brandon. His mother arrived to fetch him the day we were meant to move out of the house and it broke my heart. Dietmar was as devastated as I was.

We had lost everything! Our home and everything we owned was gone. We still had my car which was a VW Jetta and this vehicle became our home for the next three months.

Pastor had asked me to manage the counselling centre at church so I was given a small office in the small hall on the side of the main church. We kept most of our meagre belongings in the office and managed to make small meals there.

The main church building and the hall stood parallel with each other creating a small passage which was kept closed by a gate. Having the keys to the church we had access to the kitchen and this passage where we would shower at night when everyone had gone home. Then we would sleep in the car which we parked either in the parking lot at the local shopping centre or on the beach depending how much petrol we had to spare.

I would sit awake while Dietmar slept. He had to work and I had time during the day to have power naps in the office. We kept it up for three months and just as I got used to the open air and freedom of it all Dietmar started complaining that he was not prepared to live like that. So we started looking for an apartment. It soon became apparent that we just could not afford it. So when he was offered the position in Brackenfell Super Store he grabbed it. Shortly thereafter we were able to rent a garden cottage and our lives improved.

The highlight of this year was when Scheragné and Scharné came to visit. Scharné wanted to be baptized and she wanted me to baptize her. We decided to do it a bit later in the afternoon because it was really cold and the Atlantic Ocean is not exactly very warm. Carol, a friend of mine from church and her daughter, Angel, joined Scheragné, Dietmar, Scharné and I. We went down to the beach and on the 31st March 2005, in the freezing cold ocean at Blaauwbergstrand, I baptized my granddaughter. No greater honour could ever be bestowed on a grandmother than this! It was to be one of the most incredible moments of my life. This little girl I took GOD on about has just committed her life to GOD on a level very few children do at the age of fifteen.

Scharné and I walked into the water until we were waist deep. Both of us were shaking from head to toe and the cold was not the cause of it. GOD's presence was almost tangible. As I dunked her under the water my emotions got the better of me and the tears began to flow. After the third time I pulled her up and held my precious granddaughter in my arms. Both of us were freezing but the joy in our hearts warmed us beyond any physical weakness which would attempt to steal the glory of the moment. We cried together and we prayed and sang songs to our GOD right there on the beach oblivious to the bystanders.

Scheragné brought us back to reality moaning that she was starting to feel the cold. Only then did Scharné and I realise that our feet were solid blocks of ice and turning blue in the icy waters. Dietmar took a few quick photos after which we made our way to the car. The wind had come up and we were all rather pleased when we walked into our warm cottage. Dietmar set about making lunch after making us hot chocolate and we females sat chatting and ministering to one another. I drank in every second feeling the memories sink into my heart to be sealed and treasured for the rest of my life.

The week went by much too fast and it was time for the girls to leave. We dropped them off at the airport not knowing when we would see them again.

When Christmas came we were invited to lunch with some friends. We met a couple who were visiting from Norway. They showed a lot of interest in the work I was doing and offered to sponsor my studies for the following four years. I was ecstatic! At the same time I was frantic because I hadn't studied for years and if my school grades were anything to go by... My faith in myself was none existant and it took a lot of convincing and encouragement from Dietmar and Carol, my friend. To qualify my entrance at the University of South Africa I had to do two modules and pass them within six months. This I did and when my assignments were graded with distinctions I was beyond thrilled. I passed the exams and was well on my way to studying Social Science with psychology as my second major.

Dietmar was doing well at work and was beginning to get recognition as one of the best bakers the company had. At the same time he supported me all the way with my studies. I could not ask for better. Many days he would come from work change into his house clothes, cook and clean and very often do the washing for me as well. We did not have a washing machine which meant he had to do it by hand. Most of my time was spent in my books until early hours in the morning.

Even though he was beginning to build a reputation at work there was no financial recognition. Our finances left much to be desired. We had no luxuries and our monthly outing consisted of a B-B-Q chicken and rolls, which we would enjoy and eat on the beach. Sometimes we could even afford a Coke to wash the meal down with.

It was after one of our outings that we were sitting at home one evening. I was enjoying one of the rare moments which I allowed myself to take a break from studying. Dietmar was sitting next to me on the sleeper couch watching TV. I just sat there watching him, taking in his frame and looking at his blue eyes that held so much love when he looked at me. His huge hands were wrapped around the mug he was holding and his long legs stretched out in front of him. He had crossed his legs accentuating the strong muscles in his thighs. His thick lustrous, dark hair looked like he was having a bad hair day and hung across his forehead, making him look like a dishevelled school boy rather than a grown up man. A smile teased at the corner of his mouth as he became aware of me watching him. He turned to look at me and his gentle kiss soon turned into so much more. That was the first time ever that I made love to my husband. It was the first time ever, that I made love to any man for that matter. It had nothing to do with the act of sex. It was a mutual flowing together of two people who became one, emotionally, spiritually and physically, melting together, creating a symphony of love. Afterward I lay in his arms and started crying. Every single humiliation I had experienced, every dirty fantasy and memory came spilling out. Sobs came tearing from my inside through my chest making me catch my breath in agony as the emotions became a physical pain threatening to crush my insides. It felt like someone was ripping my entire body apart! After what felt like forever I looked up into the softest, most gently blue eyes radiating love like I had never seen or experienced ever before.

"Are you okay? Can I get you anything?" he asked in his familiar, gentle voice.

"No. Just hold me," I answered.

He wrapped his arms around me and we fell asleep like that until the next morning. I realised that something happened that night; something that no author could ever put into words. I began looking at my husband through different eyes and realised with quite a shock that I had grown to love this man. With his gentle nature he slowly but surely had been breaking through the impenetrable wall I had built around myself.

It felt like we were on honey moon. We could not be away from each other for longer than an hour without the one texting the other. It turned out to be the best time of our lives.

We enjoyed being together and spending time together. Just being in each other's company was more than enough for us. We spoke for hours; many times we would just watch movies without saying a word. We did everything together and never went anywhere or did anything if the other could not be part of it. This included work functions.

Our happiness was short lived...

## Chapter 31: 2005

## FACING MY FEARS

Ivan and I were discussing breast cancer as a topic for our community awareness campaign. A few weeks before this we were all visiting together when I mentioned that I had a lump in my breast. So I was not uncomfortable when he almost had a fit when I said that it had gone bigger.

"Stephanie you cannot ignore this any longer. I can see in your eyes that you are concerned and you know better than anyone else that you are playing with your life," Ivan kept pleading.

Ivan was a friend of ours and worked with me in the community from time to time. We became very close and he was like a brother to me. I also adored his wife who was the same age as my daughter. They spent a lot of time with Dietmar and I and we loved them to bits.

"Oh stop nagging," I answered smiling. "You are wrong! I am not concerned at all. I am convinced it is scar tissue. It is in exactly the same spot where they removed the lump years ago and those pathology reports came back negative."

"I don't care. I still think you should see a doctor about it. Does Dietmar know?"

"Yes he does but I don't think he grasps the implication."

"You need to talk to him Stephanie. He needs to understand what is happening."

"Understand what Ivan? There is nothing to be concerned about."

This conversation took place a month before I finally decided to go to the doctor. I could no longer ignore the lump growing under my nipple. It had doubled in size and turned an ugly bluish colour. I still would not believe that it was anything other than scar tissue and even though I was concerned, I still believed it would be nothing at all.

Because we did not have medical aid I had to go to the local clinic. The doctor gave me a referral letter to the pathology department at the Tygerberg Hospital where they did a fine-needle aspiration. This is a method of collecting cells from the breast to look for signs of cancer. A doctor inserts a thin needle into the lump and withdraws a sample of cells or fluid.

The procedure was nowhere near as painful as I expected it to be and I was out of there in no time. Having Dietmar with me made it much easier even though he was not allowed into the lab with me. I would have the results in two weeks.

I went about my life refusing to allow these concerns to dampen my spirits. Dietmar did not speak about it either and if it wasn't for Ivan not giving up I would've kept putting it off. I do have to admit that my breast had become quite painful and this made me even more confident that it was going to be ok. Everyone has told me that if it is painful it is not cancer. It is the silent lump that is bound to be cancer. So when I went for the results it was more to get Ivan off my back than anything else.

"Good morning. What can I do for you?" I was kind of put off that the doctor did not recognise me but soon realised that he sees so many patients there is no way he could remember everyone.

"Morning Doc. I came to see you three weeks ago about the lump in my breast." He began paging through the file and could not find any test results. So he decided to phone the lab direct.

I was listening to the conversation but not actually hearing anything until I heard him say "ductile carcinoma and you say it is oestrogen driven."

He put the phone down and wrote something on my file. Then he turned to me and said, "You have breast cancer. I am giving you a referral letter to Tygerberg Hospital and they will take it from there. I suggest you go tomorrow morning because it is advanced." He went back to writing in the file and then wrote a short note which he gave to me. That concluded the consultation and he dismissed me with a request to ask the next patient to come in.

I walked out of the clinic in a trans. Nothing and no one registered, it all seemed so surreal! From there I drove around for hours. I had no idea where I was going or who I wanted to talk to. So I drove to the beach and sat there for GOD knows how long. The ocean always calmed me and I somehow knew she would understand. Sitting there on the beach at Blaauwbergstrand, I breathed in the cold wind coming in from over the sea. I smelled it and just let the sound and the presence of this magnificent monument of GOD minister to me. Gradually I became aware of my surroundings and allowed the news to sink in. Sitting there on the bench I accepted the fact that I could die. Then I felt a peace indescribable. The Bible speaks of a peace that goes beyond all understanding. I experienced that peace that day

I knew Dietmar was finishing work round three so from there I drove to his store to fetch him. He was not expecting me to pick him up so I sent him a message to say I was on my way. He met me at the fridges on my way to the bakery. Looking at my face he knew something was very wrong. As he put his arms around me I burst into tears. We drove home in silence, each one wrapped up in his own thoughts.

The next few days were a rollercoaster ride of note, going from one appointment to the other. My first appointment was with the oncologist. She gave it to me straight.

"I am not going to beat about the bush here. We have a serious problem. The tumour you have is already in an advanced stage IIIB and I am not taking any chances. If left untreated you could have less than six months to live. I want you in hospital by Monday morning. That would be the 29th of August. We will have to do a radical mastectomy. With all your complications such as the pacemaker, the Wafarin and so on I want you in hospital at least three days before we operate to make sure you are stable. You will spend at least two weeks in intensive care and from there you will go back to the general ward. We will assess the situation from there."

"But Doctor I cannot go into hospital on Monday. My niece is getting married and we have to go to Johannesburg. Besides I need to go and see my Mom before I go into hospital."

"This is your decision but you need to know that you are playing with your life here. This tumour is huge and the cancer is advanced and the longer we take the bigger the chance that it will spread to the rest of your body. The bone scan done on 20 July 2005 shows clear and the brain scan is also clear. This is good news and I want to keep it that way. You have done the abdominal scan as well I assume?"

"Yes the results should be there as well." She paged through the papers in the file and looked at the results of the various scans again almost as if she wanted to make double sure.

"I see all the results are here and they look good but if we want to stay in the clear I need you in hospital no later than the 5th of September!"

"Okay. I will be there."

This meant that I will miss my niece's wedding but at least it gave me time to see Mom and Scheragné so I could explain what was going on. There would not be enough time to see Rudi so I trusted them to give him the news.

Dietmar's boss refused him leave which meant I had to go to Johannesburg by bus. My aunt was at the station to fetch me and being as close as we were she immediately sensed that something was not right. She waited until we were in the car when she asked me what was going on. I told her and we held each other as we cried. She asked me where I would like to go first and I said I needed to go and see Mom so I can tell her. Mom was living with her brother and his wife at the time and they were not keen on me telling her, somehow believing she was not strong enough to deal with the news. I believed she was.

I was rather surprised that she took the news as well as she did. She was not emotional and actually asked if I would be attending the wedding. I said no I would not because I had to be in hospital by Monday and it gave me only two days before I had to board the bus back to Cape Town.

After telling her Cooks, my aunt, and I left to go to the girls. Scheragné was shocked but kept saying I was going to be okay whilst reaching for the next glass of wine. She drank very heavily at the time and that sort of anesthetized the impact of it all. We spent the next day together and by Friday evening I was back on the bus going home.

The ride home gave me an opportunity to reflect on everything and I realised my family did not understand the seriousness of the situation! "Ignorance is bliss" as the saying goes and in this case it was very relevant. I think the same applied to Dietmar until he began accompanying me to the various appointments.

The bus arrived in Cape Town just after lunch and Dietmar was at the station waiting for me. I could see the relief in his face and the dark circles around his eyes told me he had not been sleeping.

"Hi my Babes, how you doing?" he asked holding me at arm's length to look into my eyes, the perplexed frown across his brow indicating his concern.

"I'm okay now that I am back."

"How did it go with the family?" Not waiting for my reply he moved toward the luggage queue, then looked back to me when he realised I hadn't answered.

"Nothing much! I don't think Mom grasps the enormity of it all."

"What about the rest of the family?"

"I think Cooks does. She was very supportive. As for Mom's brother and sister, they did not say much either. They were too focused on Mom and how she was taking the news. I did not spend much time with them because I wanted to go to Scheragné. She was a bit sad but kept saying I was going to be alright. That's all of it in a nutshell."

"Is that why you came home so soon?"

"I guess, but it was more that I wanted to be with you before going into hospital."

He collected my bag and we walked to the car, holding hands, without saying another word. The drive home was also very quiet. I was rather emotional and did not trust myself to speak without crying. I did not want to upset Dietmar. He was his usual self, the proverbial introvert. Once back home I unpacked my bags and did the bit of washing because I did not want to leave it all for Dietmar. Only then did I realised I did not have pyjamas for the hospital. Pyjamas were never a priority on my list and neither were slippers. We also did not have money to buy any. I decided to pack T-Shirts and shorts to take to hospital and thank goodness I had the slippers GJ bought years ago.

Then I sat Dietmar down and we spoke about the "what if's." I could see that it was upsetting him but these were things that needed to be discussed and dealt with. As traumatic as it was we finished a little while later and he made us some coffee. Neither of us was hungry. We did not own anything except for the car we were still paying off and that Dietmar would keep doing. My personal belongings would go to Scheragné as she was the only girl.

After the "what if" discussion we decided to lay down for a while. I was tired from the bus ride and the packing was done leaving nothing else to do. We were lying on the bed in silence with his arms around me when we heard the knock on the door. It was the three girls from the Victim Empowerment Group I lectured at the Goodwood Police department. These three girls had become family to me and I was very happy to see them. They were very upset when I called them the week before to give them the news and they wanted to see me before I went into hospital. I had told them I would be in intensive care which meant no one would be allowed to visit me except my husband.

"We could not let you go into hospital without praying for you," Moira said. She was the eldest of the three and we were extremely close. She was also a staunch child of GOD and did nothing in her life without submitting it to GOD in prayer.

Duby was my soft spot and had a terrible life at home. She had grown children who made her life and absolute misery. Yet with all her troubles she was still committed to her community and her church. She also was a big prayer warrior.

Antjie was the baby and we all loved her beyond words. She also had Lupus, which is an autoimmune disease, and like the other two she did not allow her illness or circumstances to get the better of her. She was as committed to her community as the other two friends in our group and another blessed child of GOD.

Dietmar got up to make coffee for everyone and I sat chatting with them. Their mere presence lifted my spirits and I enjoyed having them. Antjie passed me two huge shopping bags and said, "This if for you. We got to know you well enough to know you will need these."

I opened the bags and in it were three sets of pyjamas, a gown and panties. I did not have words. I just looked at them totally stunned. Then the tears came and we had a group hug with all of us crying. Moira started praying and each of them took turns. By the time we got a hold of our emotions the coffee was cold and Dietmar had to make others. They stayed with us until way after eleven. This in itself was a sacrifice as their safety was compromised. They would have to drop Moira first and then Duby leaving Antjie to go home on her own. Duby and Antjie both lived in a very active gangster area.

Their prayers were the beginning of many more.

Sunday we lay in for quite a while. I was beginning to feel sore and just could not stay in bed any longer. The fear and nagging thoughts would not give me a moments rest and laying there doing nothing gave the demonic torture the perfect breading ground.

Every thought, every waking moment revolved around this "thing" in my breast. I could almost see it growing daily. I would go to sleep at night thinking it was all just a terrible nightmare and I will wake up in a minute! It was a nightmare! A nightmare haunting every waking and sleeping moment of my life! I would wake up in the morning and feel the lump which confirmed that the nightmare was a reality. It did not disappear overnight! It wasn't going anywhere! On the contrary it jerked me back to reality every time I moved; sending stabbing pains through my breast akin to what I imagined a red hot poker would feel like when it would penetrate the body!

I convinced Dietmar that I wanted to go to the beach. He did not argue so off we went. I somehow found peace watching this massive creation, recognising the power behind it and reminding myself that the Creator of this very ocean and this universe was also my Creator. He was not going to let go of my hand!

We could not stay too long as the wind had come up again and because we did not want to take any chances Dietmar suggested we rather go home, reluctantly I agreed.

Monday morning we were up early and set off to the hospital. My booking was done in no time at all and we were given directions to the ward. Expecting to be in the general ward Dietmar asked the sister if he could just help me unpack and he would leave again.

"Not to worry Mr Frerk. Your wife is in a private ward and your presence will not be disturbing anyone. It is only when the doctors do their rounds that we will ask you to leave," the sister in charge of the ward informed him.

I looked at Dietmar and he looked at me, both of us totally surprised.

"A private ward?" we asked almost simultaneous.

"All our wards are full and the private ward is all we have available" she said smiling.

Taking the file she asked us to follow her. In the ward she explained where everything was and said that we could take our time unpacking as the doctor would be round a little later.

This really took us by surprise as there was no way we could pay for a private ward. It was the first of many blessings. Dietmar couldn't stay as long as he wanted to because his boss was still not keen on giving him time off. So he left shortly after I had unpacked.

A few minutes later my doctors arrived. There were four of them. They also informed me that the cardiologist would be arriving soon and they would take it from there. They instructed me to stop taking Wafarin immediately and would schedule the operation as soon as the Wafarin was out of my system. They took a number of vials filled with blood needed for the various tests that needed to be done. Then came the waiting; waiting for the blood results; waiting for Dietmar to visit; waiting to see the doctors; waiting for the cardiologist to give the okay. The hours dragged by and by Tuesday evening the INR results were in and it was decided that I would be operated on by Wednesday.

Every night Dietmar would rush home to bake me mince pies so I would have something to eat. As good as the staff and doctors were at Tygerberg that's how bad the food was. I could not stomach it and was beyond thankful when my friends arrived with a huge fruit basket. Dietmar had also brought me some biscuits and sweets and I had more than enough to eat.

An even bigger blessing was that every time I turned around there was someone in my ward to pray for me. Most of the people I did not even know. Some were friends of friends that were made to promise they would come and pray for me. Some knew me from the gangster ministry. One lady worked at the hospital and promised her sister in law she would come and pray for me. I wasn't left alone for a minute. The people were in and out all the time. Visiting hours were just as busy with people turning up in groups to come and pray for me and minister to me. They would pray and sing and by the time they left my spirits were high even though I was exhausted.

Wednesday morning arrived and I was prepped for theatre. Dietmar's boss still refused him time off which meant I would only see him late the afternoon when he came from work. This made me very sad. But that is reality and so it was off to the theatre.

"Did you remind your husband you would be in ICU when you come out of theatre?" the sister asked.

"Yes he knows" I replied.

"We will see you in two weeks then?" she said smiling.

I was too nervous to answer so I simply smiled.

Once I was settled on the theatre table I closed my eyes and asked GOD to take over.

I woke up looking around me and realised I was back in my ward. The pain on the left side of my chest confirmed that the operation was done. I slipped my hand over my breast and the absence of my breast just confirmed what the pain was saying.

I looked around the room not ready to deal with the absence of my womanhood. Gradually it began to sink in that I was in my own ward. I was not in ICU! Why? What happened? I thought to myself. Just then the sister walked in.

"You're awake! How are you feeling?"

"Why am I in the ward? I am supposed to be in ICU!"

"I know! We were just as shocked when the theatre staff brought you back. Apparently the operation went so well you did not need to go to ICU. Your doctors were totally astounded!"

"That's my GOD!"I said. Unable to fight the pain medication any longer I gave in to the bliss of unconsciousness as I fell asleep.

I woke up much later the afternoon with Dietmar towering over me, tears in his eyes.

"Hi Beautiful, how you feeling?"

"Where am I?"

"You are in the ward."

"I want to go to the roof! Take me to the roof!"

"You can't get up my Angel. What do you want to go to the roof for?" he asked perplexed.

"I want to go and shout to the world how wonderful my GOD is!" I cried.

"I hear you and I agree with you but there is no way I can take you to the roof. Please just let me hold you."

I could not figure out why he was so emotional and it took him quite a while to calm me down enough to listen to him.

When he eventually got to the hospital after work, he went to ICU and they told him I was not there. Then he went to the next floor's ICU and the next and the next and each one of them said I was not there. Expecting the worst he kept walking up and down passage after passage crying and asking GOD why. Eventually a sister asked him why he was so upset and he told her that I went into theatre for a mastectomy and they said that I was going to be taken to ICU. He explained that he had been to every ICU in the hospital and could not find me now he feared the worst and does not know where to start or what to do.

The sister told him to follow her she would go and find out what happened. After numerous phone calls she managed to get hold of the theatre sister that was on duty when my operation was done and she informed them I went back to the ward. Dietmar cracked and collapsed into the chair sobbing his heart out. When she finally calmed him down she escorted him to the ward to ensure that I was there and that we were okay.

He stayed with me for a while but could not speak. I think he did not trust his own emotions and was afraid that he would upset me. So as quietly as he came in he slipped out after kissing me gently as if I was a porcelain doll.

I woke up a little while later in need of the toilet and found it very strange that I had no pain. I got back into bed and just rehashed everything that happened that day. I did not have words but knew that GOD understood how thankful I was. So I simply lay back on the pillows and allowed my thankfulness to manifest in tears of gratitude.

The following morning the doctors arrived rather early. They were as excited as I was and very impressed. But I could see the concern in the faces.

"Please talk to me. What happened?" I asked.

"It all went well," my oncologist replied. She was there as a consultant because the two doctors that did the actual operation were still studying.

"However, we are concerned that the cancer has spread to the nodes and that is not good. The cancer is also rather advanced as I mentioned to you in the beginning. We will have to follow up with chemo therapy as soon as the wound has healed."I heard her speak but it sounded like she was very far away. The other doctors all paid close attention but did not say a word.

"What are you not telling me?" I asked her in a more assertive tone.

"I think we should discuss it when your husband gets here."

"No! I want to know now!"

"Please do not upset yourself. We do not want to undo the excellent progress you are making."The concern in her voice made me even more apprehensive.

"I am sorry I did not mean to be rude but I would like to know now please. I am a big girl and I can handle it."

She looked at the other doctors around my bed and they decided I had a right to know.

"As I have already said the cancer is in a very advanced stage and I am sorry to tell you but it does not look good. We will do what we can but there are no guarantees. The chemo might help, it might not. We will have to wait for the pathologists to send us the results then we can take it from there. Your heart and the pacemaker are fine. They both behaved very well under the anaesthetic se we have no concerns there. We will not be putting you back onto Wafarin for at least a week but you will be injected twice a day to keep your blood thin. How is the pain?"

"I don't have any pain."

"Are you sure?"She asked again seeming rather puzzled by this.

"Yes I am. It was burning when I came out of theatre but that was it. Since then I have not had any pain."

"Alright then, I will describe pain killers, antibiotics and something to sleep if you need it, and then we will see you in the morning."

They left and once again I was left with my thoughts, trying to deal with the latest news. When Dietmar arrived that evening I told him what the doctor said.

"Stephanie, we are going home."

"What do you mean we are going home? We are home!"

"No my Angel, I mean going back to Johannesburg. I am taking you home to be with your family."

In my heart of hearts I did not want to go back to Johannesburg. I loved Cape Town and did not want to give up what we had. I did not say another word for the rest of the evening. Thank goodness the sisters asked the visitors to give me a break for a few days which meant Dietmar and I were all on our own. He realised that I was tired and I knew he was exhausted so we decided he needed to go and he would see me the next day.

The following day the physiotherapist invited me to join the group in the general ward for exercises. She explained that we could not relax the arms with the mastectomies as the muscles would go stiff preventing any further use of the arm. They also needed the arm flexible in case they decided on radiation therapy and the arm would then be in the way if we were not able to lift it above our heads.

We had a lot of fun. Some of the ladies collapsed in giggles. Some moaned with pain. Some simply refused to participate. Most were embarrassment because of the pain which made them cry out. I still had no pain and sailed through my therapy, much to the astonishment of the therapist and fellow patients. It gave me an opportunity to testify of GOD's greatness and what started off as a testimony soon evolved into a Bible study group every night after visiting. I ministered to my fellow patients and we prayed for and encouraged each other. We cried together at times and laughed most the others. We had fun in the presence of the LORD and grew stronger every day.

I was there a few days when they brought another patient in. She also had breast cancer and they were to do a biopsy the next morning. When we began our normal Bible session she got rather upset and said we were making a noise. So we kept the session short and I went to my ward. I prayed for her and asked GOD to be with her. Later the following morning after she came back from theatre I heard her crying out in pain. I went to the ward and tried to talk to het but they had drugged her rather heavily and she fell asleep. The day after they moved her to a private ward and the sister called me to come and pray for her. I did and soon after I left the room she passed away. We were all very sad and kind of shocked, so that night we also kept it short and back in my room I began to ask GOD why? There are often times that we do not get answers and it is at these times that we merely have our faith to rely on.

I woke up the next morning not asking why but thanking GOD for another day and that was the message I brought to my sisters in the general ward. The passing of that lady opened my eyes once again to how much we had to be thankful for. So we were back to worshipping and praising GOD for His goodness. This time backed by the thankfulness each of us was feeling for the gift of another day.

After almost a week in hospital Dietmar arrived glowing with excitement.

"I have been offered a position in Johannesburg as a bakery controller working from head office. But there is a down side. Because I asked for the transfer we have to carry the relocation costs. The good news is that I will not be working shifts anymore and that also means I won't be working weekends."

"Oh! That's nice."

"You don't seem very happy."

"Dietmar I love Cape Town. It has been the happiest time of my life. I don't want to go back to Johannesburg. But at the same time I understand. If this is good for your career then we must go."

"It's not just about my career my Babes. It is also to get you near the family."

"Whatever." I wanted to be alone and Dietmar sensed it so he left it at that and went home. I did not go to the general ward that night. I wanted to be left alone so I could feel sorry for myself.

It was ten days before the doctors agreed to remove the drains from the site of the operation. They first removed the one and a few days later the other. The pathologist report was still pending and there was no way they were going to discharge me before then.

"How does it look?" I asked the sister as she opened and cleaned the wound. It was the first time the dressing was taken off since the operation. She stood there frowning and asked if I had any pain.

"No I don't and have not had any pain since the first night out of theatre."

"Your wound has pulled open and created a scab of some sort and it appears to be festering."

"I don't understand. How can that be, I don't have any pain."

"I am going to clean it and we will ask the doctor to look at it when they do their rounds."

I was not too concerned and soon put it out of my mind. The visitors still popped in from time to time to pray with me so I did not have much time to think about anything.

When Dr Coetzee walked in the next morning I saw the concern on his face. He looked at the wound and explained to me that the cut had actually pulled open. Over the gaping wound was a type of a scab called "slaff." This is a natural process of the body to form a covering with the aim to seal the wound. This scab would eventually fall off and therein lay the danger as it would leave the wound open which would have to heal from the inside out. That could take months and meant that they would have to put the chemo and or radiation on hold till the wound closed up. The biggest danger looming was septicaemia and we had to keep the wound as clean as possible.

I felt his concern and then told him we would be relocating to Johannesburg and my husband was due to start working by the 3rd October.

"This is not good news, Stephanie."

"It was not my decision Dr Coetzee. It was my husband's choice."

"Okay then we will have to get you sorted and I will speak to the doctors in Johannesburg and prepare them."

"Thanks and thank you for your concern."

"You're welcome."

I was in hospital for almost three weeks before the final pathologist report was available.

"We have your results Stephanie."

"What does it say? Just tell me good or bad!"

"The parameter of the tumour was clean for about 1 millimetre but the cancer had infiltrated the nodes under the arm and we don't know if it has gone to the rest of your body. It also confirms our original diagnosis."

"Is this good or bad?"

"I am happy that the parameter is clear even though the tumour was as big as it was but more than that I cannot tell you until we do further test. We will have to follow up with chemo therapy as soon as possible."

"You do remember that we are going back to Johannesburg."

"Yes I do. I will write them a full report and then we can discharge you. I do want to see you once more before you leave though, so we can look at the wound."

I was discharged the following morning.

Back home Dietmar insisted I take it easy while he did most of the packing. We were due to leave the end of the week. I called Dr Coetzee to tell him and he asked me to see him on the Friday before we leave which I did.

I could see the concern on his face and heard it in his voice. He was not happy. However, he wrote a detailed report and handed it to me. Shaking my hand he wished me the best and off we went.

We left for Johannesburg immediately after my visit with Dr Coetzee. I could not help myself and try as I may I could not stop crying. I was angry and sad. I did not want to leave Cape Town. At the same time I realised that GOD must have a reason for it all.

We stayed with the children for a while when we got back and fortunately one of the apartments in the same block became vacant and we secured it. We moved in and a week later Mom moved in to live with us.

A couple of weeks later I reported to the breast clinic at Johannesburg hospital. They agreed with Dr Coetzee that the chemo would have to be put on hold but I had to start taking tablets and male hormones immediately. I had to take seventeen tablets a day. The wound had finally lost the scab and I was left with a gaping wound the size of my fist.

The worst for me was the fact that Dietmar had not come near me since the operation. I felt he had lied when he said that he did not marry my breasts. He promised it would not make a difference yet he avoided me at all cost. He was too afraid to touch me. I could not undress in front of him either. We began arguing and the tension between us was mounting. Having my mother under our feet did not help either. The apartment was small and we had no privacy whatsoever.

I kept irrigating the wound and kept it as clean as I could. Winter was beginning to set in and I was not feeling well at all. But we carried on and kept to the hospital appointments only to be sent home because the wound had not closed yet. I asked Dietmar to take me to the local clinic just to make sure everything was okay and to see if I could get some dressings from them. By the time he got home it was already late and we rushed off to the clinic. We arrived just in time to catch them before closing. The sister on duty complained but dressed the wound for me anyway and gave me some dressings.

Cooks had just broken up with her hubby and because she had not worked for so many years she simply could not find a job. So she started knitting for private boutiques and I offered to help her. We would get together at my apartment and spend the afternoon visiting while we knitted. A couple of days later, after the visit to the clinic, we were knitting away when I began to feel cold. It was the beginning of winter and the apartment block was facing away from the sun making it cold naturally but the cold I was feeling was more intense than just the normal winter cold.

My teeth were chattering and no matter how many blankets I wrapped around me I still felt cold. I took two Panado thinking it might be flu. A while later I felt a lot better. The following day I felt worse and later that evening it happened again and kept us awake till the morning after. Dietmar decided this was not on and took me to hospital. When we arrived there I began vomiting uncontrollably and passed out. They took me to the day ward and called the doctor. He admitted me immediately. I had advanced septicaemia! I had a rash from under the arm, covering my entire abdomen reaching my groin. My temperature went up and down all the time. I learnt later that it was touch and go there for a while and it took the intravenous antibiotics almost three day before they kicked in. The rash was caused by an allergy from the plasters I was using and they had to order special plasters for me. The infection created so much fluid it kept drenching my bed. So we were forced to try and keep the wound covered. I was in hospital for more than a week before I was fit enough to go home. I was given exact instruction on how to irrigate and dress the wound myself. Only after I proved to the doctor that I was able to do it did he discharge me. The conclusion was that the sister at the clinic had used unsterilized equipment and that was where the infection started.

It was good to be home and I made sure I stuck to the regimen treating the wound with surgical gloves and sterilising everything before bringing it anywhere near my body.

It took the best part of four months before it healed enough to start the chemo. By the time the Christmas holidays began I had received four chemo treatments. My hair began falling out after the first dosage and I decided to shave it short so we did not have to put up with hair all over the place.

A week before Christmas the children begged me to do shopping with them. I felt so weak I could barely walk. Knowing how important it was to them I agreed but soon discovered that I could not walk from one shop to the other. So I sat on the bench inside the shopping centre while they ran around. When we got home a few hours later I was exhausted, extremely nauseous and too weak to walk to the toilet. Dietmar had to half carry me and the toiled was no further than three meters from the lounge. He helped me to bed when I was finished and I lay down. It felt like I was dying. I could not lift my arms to drink from the glass of water in front of my bed.

I dragged myself to the bathroom the next morning to wash and make sure the wound was clean. I had to sit on the toilet I was so weak and did not have the strength to stay on my feet. That was when I decided enough! I looked at myself in the mirror and the woman looking back at me was a total stranger. I sat down on the toilet again and began praying...

"LORD, I cannot do this anymore. I have given it everything I had. It has been more than year and I am nowhere near feeling any better. This is where it stops. Your Word tells me in Isa 53:5 that JESUS was wounded for our transgressions, He was bruised for our iniquities: the chastisement of our peace was upon him; and with his stripes I am healed. That is Your Word my LORD and You are not a GOD that lies. If I am not healed then Your Word lied to me. So I will stand on Your Word from this moment on! You said it, I believe it! Let Your will be done in my life! Amen"

I asked Dietmar to phone the oncologist for an appointment and for once I did the talking.

"I have been adhering to and accepting every treatment you have prescribed. I am so weak I cannot walk from one room to the next... What guarantee can you give me that this treatment is going to cure the cancer?"

"I cannot give you any guarantees! I can only treat you." Dr Rolff replied.

"So you are telling me as sick as I am right now you are not sure that it is going to work?" I asked the disgust clearly audible.

"I cannot give you the answer you are looking for. I have no guarantees."

Without another word I got up and walked out of his office.

"I think you are stupid to want to stop chemo! I am convinced that you are playing with your life but it is your life," he called after me as I walked through the waiting room.

We went home and I flushed all the tablets down the toilet! At that stage I was taking seventeen tablets a day. Most of them also a form of chemo. I prayed again asking GOD for grace and healing. Then I went into the lounge to speak to the family.

"There is something all of you need to know. As of today I will no longer be taking any more medication. I am also not going back for chemo."

"That is the most selfish thing you have ever done!" Mom said, highly annoyed.

"We will support whatever you decide to do," was Scheragné's reaction.

Dietmar never said a word.

I understood their reaction but I also knew that I could not carry on feeling as sick as I was.

"You all have to hear me. I would rather live six months and have quality time with you than live a year feeling like this and then die anyway. I am at peace with GOD and I am ready to go if that is His will for my life. I am NOT prepared to live like this any longer. Besides, Dietmar will tell you that the doctor acknowledged that there were no guarantees. As far as I am concerned my life is in GOD's hands!" That concluded the argument for me and I refused to talk about it again.

My best friend Noekie was furious and simply said "I will not sit by and watch you die." She avoided me after that.

That conversation took place at the end of 2006.

The good news is that Dietmar overcame his fear and one night we both decided we need to come to terms with everything that happened. So when Mom went to visit the children we sat down and talked. When it was time for bed I stood in front of him and took my T-shirt off. He went white!

"Dietmar you cannot avoid me forever."

"But you know I cannot deal with blood and even less to see you hurting," he explained.

"I know but and I understand but it is now or never."

I took his hand and let it slide over the plaster where the wound was. Then I brought his hand forward over the rest of the scar where my breast used to be. When I looked up the tears were running down his face and together we just held each other and cried. We never spoke about it again but Dietmar would from time to time hold me allowing his hand to pass over the scar indicating that he was ok with it. Today neither of us have any hang up about it and have accepted my body only to thankful that GOD had healed me.

It was a long and hard road to the point where I did not have to irrigate the wound and dress it anymore. The emotional strain also took its toll but I thank GOD that as I am sitting here to tell the story; it is more than seven years later.

NB! Please do not give up on your treatment! This was a decision I made based on my faith in GOD. Please do not make the same decision unless you are prepared to give up your life should things go wrong! I will not and cannot stress enough how important it is to co-operate with your medical team. Your survival depends on it.

***

The author of this book will not accept any responsibility for anyone stopping their medical treatment in anyway whatsoever! As a matter of fact Stephanie encourages all to adhere to the advice and treatment of their medical team and trust their expertise.

## Chapter 32: GOD ENCOUNTERS

# ANNA

If I had to document every one of the significant encounters I had with GOD I would have a list as long as my arm. There were a few that really made quite an impact on my life though, and I would like to tell you about them.

The story of Anna haunted me for years. I was only twenty years old at the time and to this day I remember every vivid detail of the incident. The violence of this act left me horrified! She was the domestic worker of a friend. Her husband suspected that she was having an affair. So he wrapped her in a blanket, poured paraffin over her and set her alight. They managed to put the fire out but she was very badly burnt. The paramedics did not even attempt to administer treatment; they just put her in the ambulance and rushed her to hospital.

The next day my friend asked if I would go to the hospital with her. It was in the black township and she was afraid of going alone. We found Anna in the general ward and her Mom was standing next to her bed. Today I realise that she should have been in intensive care, but I did not have the knowledge then, and this was another one of those incidences that made me realise the price people pay and how much they suffer as a result of ignorance.

The picture of this young woman has stayed with me to this day! Her face was blown up! Her lips lay across her mouth like external miniature tire tubes. They were as transparent as her breasts which were standing up like overblown balloons. You could see every muscle and vein. Her skin was in patches of transparency, pink and black. Pieces of fabric from her dress, and parts of the blanket had melted into her body and become a part of her skin making it look like a distorted Picasso.

They had placed a dome over her and pulled blankets over it to keep her warm. There was no way that they could put the blankets directly on her or even touch her for that matter, the pain was just too intense.

Anna indicated she wanted some water. Her Mom placed the bent straw in her mouth but she could not bring her lips together to suck on it. So Sophie, Anna's Mom, tried to drip some water into Anna's mouth, this made her choke and she cried out in agony! After calming her down her Mom indicated to us to move to the bottom of the bed. It was obvious she wanted to tell us something. She explained that the doctors spoke to her and told her there was nothing they could do for Anna. The internal damage was even worse than the outside. All she could do now, she explained, was, "Pray to GOD that He will please take my Anna home, because then she will at least not have the pain. Please, please, help me pray?"

Anna's Mom dropped to her knees and putting her hands together she prayed. Not knowing what to say or do for that matter we simply closed our eyes right there where we were standing. We listened as this remarkable woman began to cry out to GOD asking Him please to have mercy on her child and that He must please come and fetch her because her suffering was just too much. She was sobbing her heart out!

I opened my eyes and saw a mother on her knees, tears streaming down her face. All the people in the ward were looking at her and nodding their heads in agreement. She was on her knees, we were standing! I felt totally out of my depth!

Anna passed away a few moments later.

# OGIES & HIS SISTER

Just before Daddy was killed we moved to a plot out on the Old Vereeniging Road, quite a distance south of Johannesburg. At the time Mom had started a hawker's business, selling artificial flowers and bouquets. She had a number of young black boys working for her.

Ogies was one of them. One morning, around 2am, he came to call me because his sister was ill and it looked like she was dying. We walked through a field with dense bushes and eventually we came to a little shack the size of two standard rooms. His whole family was living in this shack, except for his dad who was killed in a car accident a number of years earlier. This left Ogies as the breadwinner and provider at the age of thirteen, maybe fourteen.

He took me to the only bed standing in one corner of the smallest room. The little girl on the bed was about eight years old. She looked very frail, was burning up with fever and seemed only semi-conscious. I was on foreign ground here and very tense with all those eyes on me. Hospitals were not an option for these people because they did not believe in white doctors, so I really began praying!

Out of the blue, a calm confidence came over me and I told them to bring me a basin of slightly warmed water. There was no electricity in the shack and this meant they had to build a fire and boil water. Waiting for this water did not do my nerves any good and I prayed even harder. Not audibly but in my heart I made sure GOD was aware of the danger I was in and actually wondered if this was His idea of a joke. Eventually Ogies turned up with a half rusted enamel basin filled with the warm water I had asked for. I bathed the child and kept sponging her down, all the while praying. It must have been three hours later before her fever broke and I left to go home. A couple days later she was running around with not a care in the world.

I was about eighteen years old at the time and had no relationship with GOD other than reciting the "Our Father" every night before going to bed. What I did know in my heart of hearts was that it was GOD's hand that touched this little girl.

It was shortly after this that daddy was killed and a few months later we were evicted because we could not pay the rent. So Gordon and I decided to move to Senekal and live with Mom who had moved there with Pappa. Yes! Mom and Pappa had decided to give their relationship another try.

Big mistake!

# THE MOST UNSELFISH DEED!

My stepson, Jay, and his best friend had a motor bike accident. They were on their way somewhere with the bike when a police vehicle made a u-turn in front of them. There was nothing Jay could do to avoid hitting the vehicle. On impact both of them became airborne. His friend was not wearing a helmet and went flying straight into a lamp post, head first. Both of them were severely injured and were rushed off to hospital. Jay's body was so badly torn apart that it took the doctors hours and hours to stabilize him and then begin the arduous task of trying to put everything back together again. His friend was not so fortunate and was put onto life support. What happened next was one of the most humbling experiences I have had in my life!

At the time I got the phone call about the accident we were visiting my Mom in Kroonstad over 200 kilometres away. We left immediately after the call and arrived at the hospital a couple of hours later. As we got to the ICU we were told that, Jolene, Jay's friend's Mom had just left. She had been at the hospital since the night before when the boys were brought in. The doctors told me that as soon as she heard how badly injured Jay was, she told them to switch the machines off in case Jay needed any of her son's organs.

I did not have words! To me it was the most unselfish act ever! Indirectly my son was responsible for her son's death but not once did she blame him or carry any grudges. All that mattered to her was his survival.

I spent the next three months at the hospital, in high care, taking care of Jay. Nursing and praying him back to life. There were quite a few times that we did not think he was going to make it. I simply refused to leave him unattended, and knowing the staff had their hands full, I just knew they could not give him the attention he needed. So at night when the other family came to visit him I would go home to bath, eat and return to the hospital again.

Jolene phoned regularly to find out how Jay was doing. As soon as he was out of the woods, and I felt comfortable enough to leave him alone, we went to visit her. I needed to thank her for her unconditional support and to tell her how I appreciated her unselfish offer. She lived in one of the poorest suburbs of Johannesburg. It was an area I would never even drive through let alone visit. Here was a woman we would normally have looked down on. Someone below our standard of living and she taught me one of _the_ most valuable lesson of my life. Not only did it bring me down to earth but she also taught me what "love thy neighbour" truly meant!

Unfortunately our paths parted and we never saw her again after that visit but to this day I have never forgotten her and what she taught me. I would tell everyone and anyone who would listen at any and every opportunity I got, about this remarkable woman who gave so much without expecting anything in return.

It turned out that Jay could not use any of his friend's organs, but they were donated to someone else.

Jay spent many months in hospital and there were many gruesome moments that made me public enemy no 1 with the staff. But I loved this boy and did whatever it took to pull him through.

I somehow thought this would put him off of motorbikes but it didn't. The accident left him with a serious limp but did not stop him from getting back on a motorbike the minute he was able to. Eventually I gave up fighting with him and simply kept praying.

He had another two accidents after this but Moir and I were divorced by then and I very seldom saw or heard from them after the divorce. So the news came to me via the grapevine and by then he was up and running again.

# MIRACLE BABY

Another awesome encounter I had with our Creator was when Dietmar and I agreed to live with GJ in Cape Town so we could take care of him. His health had deteriorated and he needed someone to keep an eye on him. We found a two roomed apartment on the second floor of a building that had just been built.

It was a hot summer's day and I had the sliding door open, working on my PC. The next thing I heard a sound like a bag of flour being dropped and I got up to look. Just then I heard a woman scream. Looking out of the window, I saw the lifeless body of our next door neighbour's two and a half year old little girl laying on the ground. She had fallen from the balcony...

"Don't pick her up or move her!" I screamed at the crowd who had begun to gather round her. I grabbed my cell phone and ran downstairs as fast as I could. When I got there a woman had already picked the child up and was holding her in her arms. I was furious but realised that time was of the essence and now was not the time to get into an argument, so I called the emergency services on my cell. I explained to them all the details while the spectators told me what they saw. They promised to send an ambulance immediately.

I turned back to the lady holding the child and saw blood coming from her ears and nose and she was not making a sound. Knowing the dangers of working with blood I took the baby from the woman and began walking up and down, praying all the while. I prayed out loud this time oblivious to the people around me. Still the baby had not made a move or sound.

When the paramedics came we laid her on the grass so they could assess the situation. They asked me to keep talking to her. After several failed attempts to put up a drip they decided they were wasting too much time; they had to get her to hospital!

While we were working with her I overheard the caretaker say there was another child in the apartment and it appeared that the two children were alone at home. Once the paramedics had left I turned to the caretaker and demanded he open the apartment for me. He refused claiming some or the other legal consequence should we enter the apartment.

By now my emotions were hanging on a thread and I just let him have it!

"You have no choice! Open the door or I'll break it down!" which was easier said than done, but I had a crowd standing behind me and they were ready to back me.

He opened the door and I found a four year old little boy sitting in a corner, terrified! After a lot of coaxing he agreed to go home with me. I spent the afternoon playing with him and trying to get him to talk to me about what happened. His English was very broken but somehow we managed to communicate.

He was left to take care of his little cousin because her Mom had gone to work and her dad had to go somewhere. They were playing and the little girl climbed up the chair or something, lost her balance and fell through the sliding door which served as a window. All he kept saying was that it was his fault. We talked some more and I explained that it was not his fault.

Four hours later the father turned up. I told him what happened and suggested that he leave the little boy with me. I explained that he needed to get hold of the mother and both of them should get to the hospital in case they were needed. He agreed and left.

They came from the hospital very late that evening and fetched the little boy. The news was not very promising and they said the baby was in Intensive Care. The doctors were going to do a brain scan the following morning. I offered to take care of the little boy when they went to hospital. The following morning early, they came to ask if I would stay with the little boy because the hospital called and they had to leave immediately. So I went over to their apartment and waited for our little man to wake up. I was glad they asked for me to come there as GJ was not happy having the child in our apartment, and threatened to throw both of us out but more about that later.

Shortly after I got there, my little friend woke up and came to sit with me. He was rather uncomfortable so I switched the TV on and in no time at all the cartoons had him giggling. The next thing I heard the key turn in the lock and I turned ice cold expecting the worst. The father opened the door and right behind him the mother came in both of them smiling from ear to ear.

"What is going on? What did the hospital say? What are you guys smiling about?" I kept firing the questions.

"Why don't you see for yourself?" the father said and pulled the little girl past his wife toward me.

She ran and grabbed me round my neck and kissed me on the cheek. I was stunned!

"When we got to the hospital she was sitting up in bed eating her porridge. When she saw us she talked about a lady all the time. When we got to the door she heard you speak with the little boy and she recognised your voice and said that you were the lady," her Mom explained.

"So she's ok? There's nothing wrong with her?" I asked, still not convinced.

"They could not find anything wrong and discharged her with instructions for us to watch her closely. How can we ever thank you?" the father asked.

"You cannot thank me. The one you need to thank is GOD. He is responsible for this miracle."

I held the little girl close for a moment and thanked GOD for what He had done!

I knew that they were being charged with child neglect, so I left it up to the authorities to counsel them. Long after that I was told that they still left their children alone from time to time and I wondered what it was going to take to bring these people to their senses.

***

The whole scenario caused a violent argument between GJ and me. He was furious because I brought the little boy home with me and told me if I did not take the child home he was going to throw both of us out. He kept on and on, so I took the child and we went and waited for his parents in their apartment. The following day GJ took an overdose. Because I called the paramedics and the police to open his door so we could help him, he physically attacked me and one of the policeman.

I always felt I owed GJ. He was good to me through the years and we had become very good friends but he was becoming very abusive and I had taken months of verbal and psychological abuse from him. This, however, was the first time he became physically abusive and that was the final straw!

It was almost as if he was angry at me for his disability even though I had nothing to do with it. GJ was born with a number of problems which resulted in him having a colostomy and being sterile and mostly impotent. He had suffered a lot of cruelty at school as a result of this. It left him with no confidence, and turned him into a very bitter and ugly man as he grew older. Our failed marriage exacerbated the situation and he was adamant that I was to blame.

That same night we moved out. I was tired of fighting to keep a man alive that had no interest in living! I never saw or heard from GJ again after that incident and a number of years later I was told by a friend of his that he had passed away.

# DIVINE APPOINTMENT

We are normally so focused on our own problems and when something bad happens, we stay even more focused on our own surroundings and very often miss out on the fact that just maybe GOD has a plan and a purpose and wants to do something in the situation.

That is exactly what happened with Thandi and me. I was studying for the exams and was rather stressed out. So I ended up in the emergency room with pains in my chest and all kinds of weird and wonderful symptoms. Being pacemaker dependant these are symptoms you never ignore. The doctors were not happy and decided that I needed to be admitted for tests. All I was concerned about was that I had to write exams in two days and I had not studied. They would not listen to reason and I was sent up to the ward.

There were four other beds in the ward and the very next day they pushed a young woman into the ward. She was very ill and I began to get impatient with the way they were treating this girl. They called her by her surname and were forever moaning and shouting at her. Just after supper I noticed that her drip had run out so I called the sister. By 10pm that night they still had not done anything about it and the blood had started going up the tube. When I looked again Thandi had ripped the drip out of her arm and she was bleeding all over the floor. This time I kicked up a fuss and the sister came running.

At this stage I had not made friends with Thandi and did not even know what her name was. They cleaned up the mess and once again shouted at her. The next morning I overheard the doctor also shouting at her and threatening not to treat her if she pulled the drip out again.... That was when I decided enough was enough. So I walked over, apologised to the doctor for interfering, and explained what had happened with the drip the night before. I also told him that I believe she pulled the drip out of her arm because she was afraid of the blood running into the tube.

He thanked me and I heard him apologise to her. Then they attempted to put up another drip which was a nightmare. Her veins had collapsed and they were hurting her terribly. So I walked over and took her other hand in mine. I talked to her gently, trying as best I could to explain to her what they had to do and she began to relax. This helped a little and they managed to get the drip in. The doctor explained that he also had to do a lumbar puncture and asked if I would stay with her. I did, and when they left I helped her lay down and kept talking to her.

When the doctor has finished what he needed to do he left. I stayed with her and slowly she began to open up to me and told me her name was Thandi. Her English was very poor and she was dreadfully weak so I had to listen very carefully to what she was saying. She had a little boy of six and the two of them were living with her mother. She is too sick to work, so her seventy three year old mother is supporting them. Gradually she began to doze off and as eager as I was to hear the rest of her story I had to wait.

When lunch time came they left her food next to her bed. No one made any attempt whatsoever to feed her, and she was simply too weak to reach for it. I noticed she was awake so I walked over and asked if I could help her eat. She looked at me and indicated that she wanted food. So, I held the plate for her and she took huge handfuls of food and stuffed her mouth. She was starving! The chunks of food got stuck in her throat and she choked. I gave her some water to wash the food down which helped but she did not want to eat anymore after that.

Then she asked if I would help her to sit up as she wanted to look out the window. She weighed no more than a child, so I picked her up, turned her round and propped her up with pillows so that she faced the window. She sat like that for a long time and then asked me,

"Why you touch me?"

"What do you mean why do I touch you? Did I hurt you?"I asked, concerned that I might hurt her when I picked her up.

"No, no. I'm sick!"

"I know you are sick my angel, but you will get better."

"No! I'm sick! Nobody touch me. I got AIDS!" I had suspected it all along but hearing Thandi say it and the way she said it was still a shock!

I realised that this was the reason why the nursing staff were avoiding physical contact. They would not even feed her and treated her like she was something the cat dragged in. It made me even more furious. So I took her in my arms and just held her. It felt like she was having convulsions but I realised she was trying to cry. There were no tears, just her body jerking with emotions so intense that it felt as if it were my body having spasms! After a while she calmed down and told me her story.

She told me she had two children. Her little boy, Boytjie, is healthy and he is six years old. Then she went out with her little girl's father and she was born with HIV and lived till she was four months old. Thandi's condition deteriorated very quickly after that and she had to stop working. She told me about her work. How afraid she was of the people and how the people had rejected her. Now she is no longer afraid and has become used to the fact that people did not want to be near her. She kept asking me why I was touching her and why I was not afraid. I explained that I have confidence in JESUS and His protection and I began to tell her about JESUS and that He loved her.

Her eyes were two huge black pools. Her face was so thin that her eyes filled almost the entire skeleton of her face. And the emphasis is on skeleton here! She was a skeleton dressed in layers of skin. She listened to me while I was talking but it looked like she was in another world. Thinking she was tired, I asked if she wanted to lay down and she said she wanted to see the trees. So I just stood there. Not trusting my own emotions, I waited for her to say something. After quite a while she looked into my eyes and said;

"You look my boy."

"Where is your boy? Are they coming to visit?"

"No! You look my boy!" she was becoming emotional and I did not want to upset her.

"Ok? Give me the phone number and I will phone them to bring Boytjie."

"No! You give me your phone and address! You look Boytjie!"

So I wrote down my contact details on a piece of paper and explained that I was putting it in her drawer and if they needed me to organise a lift or anything she must give them my details. I also wrote a little note on the piece of paper to say if they needed anything they must phone me. By then she was very tired and I helped her to lay down.

The doctors came round a little while later and explained that my tests were all ok and I could go home. By then Dietmar had arrived and brought me sweets and biscuits. I took them over to Thandi and told her to give it to Boytjie. I explained that I was going home and I gave her a hug. The words got stuck in my throat so I squeezed her hand and walked out.

At the nurse's station I called the sister in charge and gave her a mouthful. "The lady in the bed opposite to where I was, is very ill! Your staff has to help her eat as she cannot eat on her own! Oh! And her name is Thandi!"

Dietmar knew me well enough to know that he had to get me out of there. So he put his arm around me and pulled me away before the sister could even answer me.

When I got home I tried to study but it was no use. I could not concentrate and eventually gave up. I just could not get this girl's face out of my head. Later that evening I was still very emotional and vowed that I had to do something about helping these women. So I prayed and tried going to sleep.

The next morning my Aunt picked me up and took me to the venue where we had to write our exams. I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that those results belong to GOD because I had a hard time concentrating and the lack of sleep did not help at all. Afterwards we went home and I carried on with my knitting. We were knitting jerseys for the children at one of the government hospitals. My aunt joined me and we got chatting about the exams which helped me to put the thoughts of Thandi aside for a while.

Friday came and nothing much happened. Later in the evening my cell phone rang.

"Hi, is that Stephanie?"

"Yes it is. Who am I speaking to?"

"Did you leave your details with my sister in hospital?"

"Who is your sister?"

"Thandi. I am her sister, Sissie."

"Hi Sissie, yes I did. How is Thandi?

"She has passed away."

"What? What happened?"

"We did not go to visit on Thursday because we did not have transport. So this afternoon I went and when I got to the hospital she was not in her bed. I asked the sister where she was and they told me she died. They gave me her belongings and I found your note and the sweets. That's why I am phoning. Did Thandi say anything to you about Boytjie?"

"Yes she did. She kept saying I must look Boytjie. What did she mean by that?"

"I think she wanted you to have her son because his father is dead and he has no relatives. It is only my Mom and me. I am divorced and have children of my own. But we will see."

My GOD, I thought, this woman's dying wish was for me to take her son. What an honour!

"Sissie I am going to contact Social Services; they must give you guys some help. In the meantime I will see what I can do. Do you want me to fetch Boytjie?"

"No. My mother asked please you must not take him away. He lost his father and now his mother. She said he must stay with her."

So I called Social Services and after a long drawn out scenario it was decided that Sissie and her children would move in with Boytjie and his grandmother because it would be best for him to live with his people. I would assist in other ways and help them to raise him.

Sadly I lost contact with them a few years later. I could not reach them on their cell phones and no one was able to tell me where they had moved to. I think they might have sent the children back to the homelands, which is the African custom. I also think this happened as the grandmother might have passed on. I know she was in her seventies when I met Thandi.

I pray that GOD will bring him across my path again someday as I grew to love this little boy who was such an ardent supporter of Keizer Chiefs.

# UNCLE MARTIN"S SON

The story of Uncle Martin's son I have already told you about. It was an experience that left me more adamant than ever to make a difference with the time I have left on this earth. I was left feeling convicted to no end! We, as whites in South Africa had a lot of privileges that I took for granted and today I regret it. However, I have always believed it is not how many times you fail that matters! It is about how many times you pick up the pieces. Remember and use the good, forget and chuck out the bad and start again!

So the regrets went out the window and I began studying Social Work through UNISA. This was made possible by a man that has become one of my mentors, Rolf, who lives in Norway. He and his family have sacrificed a lot to sponsor my studies and I am forever grateful to them. Unfortunately I have not been able to complete the studies due to the breast cancer and the lack of funds, but we still have a long road ahead of us...

## 

## Chapter 33:

## THE SIGNIFICANT PEOPLE IN MY LIFE

Of all the women in my life my mother was my biggest role-model. She was beautiful and kind and strong. Sometimes I hated her, other times I loved her more than life. Today I understand where she came from and what made her the person she is. I can remember hating her for abandoning me! I resented her for never hugging me or holding me until I listened to her story. All seven of them, Mom and her brothers and her sister were put into orphanages. They had enough emotional baggage between them to fill a freight train. Today she lives with me and fills a very special place in my life.

After Mom there was Betty. She was our domestic servant, and my second mother. Betty was Zulu and had very high standards and morals. She was such a regal and proud woman! Her heart was as big as she was. She took care of us and loved us as if we were her own. I called her Magogo which means grandmother, in her language, because I respected her and loved her very much.

She would allow my friends to visit and when it was time for my parents to come from work she would tell them to leave so she could clean up before the folks arrived so I would not get into trouble. She also knew how much trouble I got into because my school socks and shoes were never clean, so she would always make sure she did it for me without Mom noticing. Every afternoon when I came from school Betty would have my favourite food, "putu pap" (maize porridge) ready for me. It was Betty who saved my life when I tried to commit suicide.

The whole family loved Betty but to me she was very special! It broke my heart when she got too ill to work and had to go back to her homeland. The fact that it happened the same time as the scenario where Pappa did what he did, made it even worse. If there was one person I would've been able to turn to it would've been her. But her health was very bad and she had no choice. I would spend nights crying for Betty and when we got the news that she had passed away, it felt like I had lost my mother. I mourned Betty for years but because apartheid was very much a part of my life her departure was never discussed.

At the time I was still too young to do or say anything and just accepted everything. It was only when I read the life story of Steve Biko years later that I began to realise the damage done by apartheid and I thank GOD for the foundation that Betty laid, enabling me to look at people and not their colour. She taught me we all had feelings and needs that knows no boundaries. Betty made me realise we all cry tears and bled the same colour blood. I loved her with my whole heart and she will always hold that special place till the day I die.

Pappa – what can I say about Pappa or Daddy for that matter? They saw me as a sexual object and if they only took the time to find out who I really was, things could have been so different. But they did not, and the sad part is that they lost more than I did in the long run. Daddy died prematurely at the age of 35 and Pappa died one of the cruellest deaths one could wish for.

I have no unforgiveness toward them or any of the other men that abused me in whatever form. GOD has healed the wounds and today all those experiences have equipped me to counsel people from experience and not what I have been taught. So when I say "I understand how you feel," it is true. I lived it, so I am able to empathise far better than the person that received information from some or other text book.

My children have grown up and they have their own baggage to deal with. We have talked and sorted things out between us and they have forgiven me. There are many days that I wish I could turn back the clock. I find that I am inclined to overcompensate from time to time but I have realised that I cannot undo the past. I can only be me and be as much a part of their lives as they allow me to be. My son absolutely adores me and my daughter and I have progressed to a very close and special friendship as she still sees Mom as the mother figure. I love them both dearly and they are very special to me.

GOD has blessed me with beautiful grandchildren and my eldest granddaughter is married to an Evangelist. She managed to break the family curse of falling pregnant outside of marriage and has a full life supporting her husband in his ministry. They have a little boy and yes, I am now a great-grandmother. Again to GOD ALL the glory!

As the story unfolded, you have met the people that played a part in my life and also had different levels of influence as I grew up. Some good and some bad, either way they were part and parcel of who and what I am today. There are one or two that stand out like Elise Botha that made me realise that I was being noticed and my spiritual mentors, Paul, Judith, Rolf, Pappa Frank, John Neilson, and my dear friend Deon Veldsman. Then there was the family, colleagues and all the people that gave guidance and input when I needed it. Even though some of these people did not like me very much, they still gave me the time of day and had a major impact in my development.

Lastly, but perhaps the most important person of all, is Dietmar, the husband GOD blessed me with. He loved me with all my baggage. It did not make a difference to him what people thought or said about me. He accepted me for who and what I am, and never tried to change me in any way. He was there when I cried; when I laughed and even when I lost it all together. He helped me through the restoration period. He cooks and cleans while I have my nose in the books. He kept the house going while I studied. Never once did he make me feel like I was inferior in any way. As a matter of fact he taught me self-worth. He put up with my tantrums and accepted my mood swings. He stood with me no matter what. This dear man has put up with more than any human being should endure. He has cleaned up after me, fetched and carried and accompanied me to every appointment, whether it was to the doctor, for chemo or checkups. He has not left my side for one minute. Above all he has loved, cherished and accepted my mutilated body as if it were made of porcelain and treated it as such ever since.

Does my husband still look at me with those gentle eyes? Yes. Does my body offend him? No. Our conversation about the mastectomy began and ended in one sentence; "your boobies do not define who you are, I married you, not them." End of discussion and he closed up again. Since the mastectomy I have developed a major problem with weight control and am battling morbid obesity as we speak. Again hubby made it clear that he is not put off by it in a single sentence and refused to discuss it any further.

He is an introvert of note! I am the extrovert of note! Does this cause a problem in our relationship? Yes from time to time we have hefty disagreements, but for the most part I have accepted him as he has accepted me and we have found peace in each other's differences. We have settled into a partnership which is more about giving than receiving. It takes work to keep it together supported by respect and understanding. We fight, we disagree, we get impatient with each other and I get more irritated with him than he does with me. His tall muscular frame has made space to accommodate the middle age spread which is beginning to show. Still all of this fades into the back ground when he comes to me with his sheepish grin and school boy charm and surprises me with some or the other present. These vary from a chocolate to a teddy bear he had saved for. His gifts are mostly unexpected and it thrills him just to give me something. His ultimate favourite pass time is cooking for me, which undoubtedly contributes to the obesity.

He and I _hardly ever_ talk. In the beginning it created problems but not anymore. We don't have to talk that much because we trust and love one another; unconditionally. We know who we are as people and in our marriage. If however we do pick up an issue we put it on the table, talk about it and deal with it there and then! End of issue end of problem! But trust is the foundation of our marriage and should be for any other relationship for that matter. If you do not trust there cannot be a relationship!

I can only thank GOD for this man for he truly is a gift from GOD!

## Chapter 34: THE ROAD TO RECOVERY

I hated myself and my body. I would eat and drink and deliberately push my body and mind to breaking point. To this day I am fighting obesity and even though it is partly genetic and most of my female cousins suffer the same fate, I have to acknowledge that I did everything possible to destroy the beautiful, athletic body I had as a young girl. After all it was that body that caused me the pain and suffering I had to endure. This revelation came years after I had been on I cannot remember how many diets that did not work. It was the "AHA" moment of my life when I realised I was on a self destruct path.

Self-worth, self-respect, self-image were all words and concepts that did not exist in my world. The rollercoaster ride of self-destruction was single minded and focused on the annihilation of that self pitying cry baby that was so vulnerable. For some unknown reason I was extremely susceptible to the abuse and benefit of everyone that believed they were entitled to whatever it was that they thought I had to offer. I was not worth being loved. I served a purpose, yes sir that I did! Because everyone was doing it to me; fear was replaced with acceptance. Physically and mentally I became the punch bag of every Tom, Dick and Harry that came along until I decided it was time to reverse the roles. Unfortunately this alternative was even more destructive than the gullibility.

If there is one thing I was guilty of, it was the need to be loved and accepted. The damage done, as a result of this "violation", had an eternal effect on every relationship I had ever since, whether it was personal, intimate or business. I spent my life seeking the approval of bosses, friends, family and colleagues.

I was even ostracised by the ever famous "religious", family and friends. Between the family, parents and grandparents, brothers and sisters in church, we dare not even mention, the pastors, deacons and elders, I had been tried and convicted before I even put my foot into their space. I had committed the ultimate sin of falling pregnant before I got married, remember.

The trust thing elevated to a level of paranoia. I was always watching my back. If I went into a restaurant I would insist on sitting with my back to the wall. If you walked behind my back and surprised me you were bound to suffer physical harm. I had a split personality alternating between an emotional drama queen to an anger filled, raging lunatic.

I think the worst fate I ever suffered was the damage done to my relationship with my heavenly Father. I could not relate to Him. I had both my fathers to thank for that. As a matter of fact I could relate to no one; not my mother, my children, my friends, my family or my GOD, because I could not have sex with them!

It became my language of communication. If you loved someone you had sex with them. If you were angry you seduced them and made them squirm then left them high and dry. If you hated them, you would take them along a path and then leave them begging at your feet. If you wanted something you flirted and manipulated using your body, mind and every attribute you were blessed with. My body became my ultimate weapon until my mind had reached a level that took me into territories that would send chills up your spine.

I began to study astrology and possessed every book Linda Goodman ever wrote. I could tell by looking at you what zodiac sign you were. I participated in séances and tried speaking to the dead.

I became totally addicted to pornography and spent more money on this rubbish than I did on my wardrobe. And that I must tell you is quite a statement. I wore the best clothes in town. It was nothing for me to spend R1000.00 on an outfit for a rugby match entertaining clients for my company. I am talking late 1980"s, early 1990"s; amazingly the funds never ran out.

Going to swinging parties was a favourite. I had a body to die for and I loved teasing and watching them grovel when I refused, until the night I escorted a neighbour to a strip show. She was due to perform at a private club near "Uncle Charlie's". Uncle Charlie's was a well known, one stop fuel station, come land mark, which many would use as a central meeting point. From there we were taken into a forest like area, deep into the bushes, where the clubhouse was situated. This clubhouse belonged to the mines and most of the audience were mine executives. Believe it or not, it was the first show I ever attended and the very last. I'm not talking about the entertainment shows like the Chippendales; I'm talking about a proper down to the core strip show. Once the setup got hot and the boys began to demand their money's worth, we had to run for our lives! Ironically these were white men and my friend was coloured.... Keep in mind that it was at the height of the "apartheid" era!

I literally "walked where angels feared to tread" as Mom always told me. Little did she know that she was prophesying over me and in the end GOD would turn that very prophecy into something powerful and effective for His Kingdom.

I would focus on other people's problems so that mine were irrelevant and it gave me an excuse to keep them in the closet. What I believed to be a generous and kind nature was another oblivious ploy to gain recognition and appraisal and served the purpose of canceling out the ugly things I was guilty of. I would go out of my way to do things for people to gain their acceptance and in the end I subconsciously set myself up to be taken advantage of, making it easier to hate and blame everyone around me for my failures and inability to achieve that which I set out to do. It was not that I was incapable; it was that I needed to punish myself. How dare I be successful? I did not deserve good things to happen to me. I had to be punished! Good things happened to good people, bad things came to bad people and I was bad! I was "a whore, a slut born to bring men to ruin." Little did I realise that I gave those around me permission to look at me through the same looking glass .They began to see me as the person I believed myself to be.

I lived by my motto of "your value is determined by the purpose you serve". I did not have enough self confidence to believe that people would care about me just for me being me, and even though I have received a number of compliments and encouragements from a number of people I still questioned their sincerity. I believed that people are only nice to you if they can get something out of you.

I was forever feeling guilty. Whether at school or the office; if anyone with authority called me to a meeting or an audience, I would get a feeling of anticipation believing that I had done something wrong even before the purpose of the get together was mentioned. If I was enjoying something and my family was not there to share it, I felt guilty. If something good did come my way, I felt guilty. If I was praised I felt guilty. Guilt became my conscience. It took years for me to realise that I do not have to buy the love of those close to me or anyone else for that matter. I had to learn to say no and to this very day find it very hard to do.

I became aggressive and inherited a reputation of "someone you do not cross paths with." Someone you dared not make an enemy off. As long as you partied with me all was fine, GOD help you if you did not carry on until I decided I had had enough. I accumulated more enemies than friends as a result of it, and ended up being a very lonely person. Friends belonged to the world of good people, not mine.

"Control Freak!" was the title I was given!

The relationships I did get into were relationships that were merely crutches and I expected these people to complete me. It was up to them to make me happy. The emotional security I was looking for and constant need for approval was supplemented with sexual demands. Friends, lovers and family; if they did not act the way I expected them to, I felt rejected and immediately affirmed my worthlessness, leading to many, unhealthy and worthless relationships filled with jealousy and possessiveness.

Sadly my mother has always misconstrued and contradicted, criticized or negated everything I have ever done! Therein lay all the resentment. Her motivation for always going against me, I believed, was as a result of her resentment because Scheragné was my biological child and not hers. She resented me for the person I am and what I did or did not do in my life.

My daughter one day suggested that Mom and I set time aside to communicate? This we are doing now and it goes well for a while and then we are back to square one again. I think it is as a result of too much water under the bridge and too little too late. But again I do not hold this against her. It simply is what it is! And with that I have laid the whole thing to rest. What she did or wants to do with it is her choice.

Have I forgiven my mother? I would like to believe that I did. Sometimes the past comes to mind bringing with it the resentment, but I immediately ask GOD to help me forgive and then I put it behind me, again and again.

Do I love my mother? Yes I do! The dynamics of my love has changed though. It is no longer the crippling obsession, needing her acceptance and approval. It's more a relationship of knowing my mother and accepting her for who she is and caring about her well being. I would've liked it to be more and I do at times envy some mother/daughter relationships I have seen but we are not them and they are not us. I have learned that one should never compare or covet! That could be very detrimental to the existing relationship; especially if it is a fragile or compromised one already.

I still make the mistake expecting people to KNOW that whatever I do comes from my heart and is not motivated by selfish gain or a hidden agenda. On the contrary _everything_ I ever do now days is because I care and love. From my mother right down to my great grandson!

The change began the day I accepted JESUS as my LORD and SAVIOUR. Even though I still fell off the bus and often went back to the mire I was drowning in, He never let go of me. I know today beyond a shadow of a doubt that GOD was with me, all the time. Day by day I began to change and the best day of my life was the day someone said to me that my face was glowing. It was! It was the day I realised that "I might not be where I want to be but by GOD, I am no longer where I used to be." (One of Joyce Meyer's favourite sayings)

Today, I praise GOD; I have grown into an individual that is totally at peace with myself. My past is as much a part of me as the very air that I breathe, but it no longer defines who and what I am. _I AM A CREATION OF GOD_! Not what man or life made me!

GOD gave me freedom of choice so I make my own decisions and therefore I need to be accountable and accept responsibility for that. Having GOD in control of my life gives me the necessary back-up and confidence in knowing that no matter what comes across my path GOD will take me through it. And in the process I have grown and become stronger; preparing me for the purpose GOD has called me for.

This belief and revelation did not come easy though. It was a process, and it took time. It is a journey and it is a never ending one. I do not profess that I have forgiven and forgotten and all lived happily ever after. As a matter of fact I am reminded daily of the things that have happened to me. Every time I hear of someone that was raped or sexually abused the memories come flooding back. The difference is that I can now feel empathy without bitterness.

Today when I look at my daughter I no longer see her as the fruit of incest. I see her as the beautiful, kind and generous person that she is. We often talk about Daddy and that he is her father and once again we can do so without resentment. I am so very proud of her and will not change her for the world. She has given me two beautiful granddaughters of whom I am extremely proud.

My son has turned into a very confident young man and I look at him with pride knowing that the road he has walked could've turned him into another statistic and almost did. However, like me he has picked up the pieces and moved on. He also has a beautiful daughter and like her dad she is a strong young lady and a force to be reckoned with.

## Chapter 35: DISCOVERING LIFE SECRETS

## Why does GOD allow bad things to happen?

##

This revelation came to me many years after I began my walk with GOD. There were many days that I cried and resented GOD for the things that happened in my life. I could not accept that He allowed it. Then as I began studying the BIBLE it dawned on me.

GOD cannot and will not go back on HIS Word by overriding the will of man. He created us in HIS image giving us freedom of choice. We choose to sin. Those who do us wrong choose to do what they do as do we when we harm others or carry grudges and unforgiveness in our hearts.

It was not GOD's will for these things to happen! It was the decision of the people who chose to do what they did. GOD however, was there keeping me together and helped me get through it all.

The upside to this is that GOD promises never to leave us or forsake us and HE will _never, ever_ abandon us! So even while wrong things are being done to us HE will take us through it. He will bring healing and restoration if we allow Him. What we do with the experience once again becomes our choice.

We can sit and feel sorry for ourselves. We can allow unforgiveness and bitterness to destroy us and eat away at us bites at a time. Or... We can let go and let GOD! We can choose to forgive and then the experience will become a blessing and comfort to others.

I chose the latter!

I challenge you to do the same!

I had a revelation! I know one should not keep going back to the past BUT the past is unquestioningly what made us who we are today. One thing the past taught me is that words mean absolutely _nothing_ to me. Maybe as a result of the sexual abuse that was always done "because I love you." Words are exactly that; "words. So, to me it is about action. I hug you and hold you because I am affirming that I love you. I take care of my mother because I love her. My feelings are put into action.

I wish I could tell you that my life was one of those "Once upon a time fairy tales that ended up in a happily ever after" but that is not reality.

So much has happened and there were so many miracles I lived through and witnessed. Many of which I have not even told you about for they may seem too farfetched and some would seem too insignificant.

What I can tell you is that my story is about a journey discovering new and real revelations about life as I go along. My questions have become revelations gained through experience, which have given my insights into the psyche of the most awesome being in GOD's creation; man!

I have more answers than questions now days as I stay on this path my CREATOR is guiding me on, knowing that HE will never let go of my hand. Being confident in the fact that HE will teach me everything I need to know to complete that which HE has called me to do. Has it been easy? No! Most certainly not!

This is where it is so important to understand that many people give their testimonies of glorious deliverances and divine abilities and yes they do happen. But it was not like that for me. My deliverance has been a life time of mistakes. The hardest and most difficult thing was that I had to forgive myself and forgive those who trespassed against me so that I could be forgiven. It has been a hard and lonely road of discovery which I still learn and explore on a daily basis, trusting that the work my GOD has begun in me HE will complete.

Am I a Christian? I am not sure what that entails judging by the different interpretations of Christianity. What I do know for certain is that I most certainly am a forgiven child of my FATHER GOD, bought and paid for by the blood of HIS SON YAHUSHUA MESSIAH who guides and teaches me by His HOLY SPIRIT, who leads me in the ways of our LORD GOD ALMIGHTY.

When I became a child of GOD is another unexplainable scenario. Oh yes I did give my heart to GOD round 1984 but it took many years to get to this level where I have an intimate relationship with Him.

Exactly when did it happen? I can't tell you. It was not a single incident; it is an ongoing process.

How did it happen? I have no idea except that I can say without a doubt that it was the work of the HOLY SPIRIT.

We see the wind move the leaves in the trees. We see the devastation of a hurricane. I have witnessed the storms of our beautiful Cape of Storms. Did I see the wind? Have you? That is how the HOLY SPIRIT operated in my life. I never saw HIM or how HE did it but I can tell you for sure that I am no longer the person I was yesterday or the day before or the day before that...

Do I still sin? Absolutely! The harder I try to be a good person the more I mess it up but in the process I have learned what GOD's grace is all about.

Through it all I have discovered that the secret to the mystery of life is the simplest revelation of all.

"Live life one day at a time taking the yoke of CHRIST upon yourself, with HIM pulling on the one side and you on the other, trusting HIM to provide your needs and living a simple life of giving more than you receive!" Expecting more than this will keep you on the road of discontent looking for something that does not exist.

There will be good days and bad days. Happy and sad days! Days of milk and honey and end of the month salty crax days! Sunshine and laughter, rainy days and Mondays a plenty... Days filled with abundance and days you will merely get by. Whichever day you find yourself in always remember, "this too will pass." Good or bad never lasts forever. Nothing in this entire world is forever! Except for the love of GOD which lasts for eternity!

This however, does not mean that you should not dream and not have ambition. On the contrary, never ever stop dreaming but do not covet! Never stop striving for better; that gives you purpose! Always build it all, including your goals, on the foundation of CHRIST! For without Him it will all be futile and chasing the wind!

There is still so much to learn and so much to experience. My prayer is that GOD will grant me enough time to live it all.

***

There is one more experience I would like to share with you. Remember I told you about my most amazing experience when I baptised my granddaughter? Well, I believed that nothing in this entire world could top that until the day I stood in the door of the church she and her husband planted, holding their son in my arms.

I cannot, no matter how hard I try, put into words what I felt at that moment. Scharné was singing, leading the praise and worship and Abie, her husband was behind the pulpit ready to minister to the people. I walked to the back of the church with Adriaan so he would not disturb the congregation. I stood in the door looking at them, with my great-grandson in my arms, and all I could say was "thank you LORD." Knowing that HE looked at my heart!

The "curse" was broken! Our next generation will lay the foundation for those to come, based on a relationship with GOD and not gambling with the devil.

## THE SERENITY PRAYER

GOD grant me the serenity

To accept the things I cannot change

Courage to change the things I can

And wisdom to know the difference

Living one Moment at a time

Accepting hardships as a pathway to peace

Taking as JESUS did

This sinful world as it is

Not as I would have it

Trusting that you will make all things right

If I surrender to your will

So that I may be reasonably happy in this life

And supremely happy with you

Forever in the next.

By Reinhold Niebuhr

# Ephesians 3:16-21 (NIV)

**"I pray that out of his glorious riches he may strengthen you with power through his Spirit in your inner being, so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith. And I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, may have power, together with all the Lord's holy people, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God. Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us, to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, forever and ever! Amen.**

**ABOUT THE AUTHOR**

Don.barry@unitrans.co.za – DON BARRY - (Ex Boss)

Stephanie's character is quite easy to describe: She is a warm dedicated individual who has a very responsible attitude to life & work. She is a hard worker & will be an asset to whoever employs her. However she is not a "Yes" person, she will stand her corner for what she believes is the right thing to do

lionel@centillion.co.za – LIONEL STARKOWITZ - (Ex Boss)

Stephanie is a person who is straight, honest and extremely honourable. Her work ethic is excellent and she takes initiative when empowered to do so. She adds value to ideas and works hard, but smart.

CHERYL CATO - (Friend)

Stephanie is an extremely loyal person. She has worked hard all her life and is diligent to fault. She has a tendency to let her work become her life. She has compassion for others. She is strong and certainly does not lack initiative. She has a way of inspiring people around her to greater things. When Stephanie endeavours to do something, she does it with conviction and compassion and will see it through right to completion. I have never known of her to stop something mid-way. She is one of the most trusting and sensitive people I have ever met. Stephanie has true character; an exceptional human being and a blessing to everyone that has the privilege of knowing her.

Stephanie Frerk

P.O. BOX 2712

PRIMROSE

1416

GAUTENG

SOUTH AFRICA

Email: stephaniefrerk@gmail.com

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