Levitating

I have levitated at least three times in my long life, always under extreme stress. I have tried to levitate in normal conditions but it doesn’t work! I do have a witness for each of the times that I did rise up and forward.

The first time I levitated was many years ago in Africa. It was just before Christmas. We were looking for a particular prickly fern that grows in the bush. We used it as a Christmas decoration. The long tendrils draped nicely over pictures, doorways and window pelmets.  

A few of the farm dogs were with us as we walked down the gravel track leading from the main road into the farm. Among the dogs was my mother’s fox terrier, Kleintjie. Roughly translated, Kleintjie is ‘little one’. In fact, all my mother’s foxies were called Kleintjie. As one departed this life another Kleintjie took her place.

Walking back to the Big House, Kath – who had recently learned to walk – ran a little way ahead perhaps thirty metres. I noticed movement next to her on the gravel. Dear god, my heart leapt into my mouth. The movement was a banded cobra rising up to strike directly into my daughter’s face. So, I levitated from where I was standing to Kath. As I landed, Kleintjie ran between the striking cobra and Kath drawing its attention away from her. Even as I write this I can feel the hairs on my neck prickle. Death was so close. Kleintjie evaded the snake, which then slithered off the track into the bush.

The second time I levitated was at Mana Pools, on the Zambezi. Once again it was Kath’s life in the balance. We were staying in the Ranger’s house with our dear friends. This is when my daughter had only recently tried walking – so it must’ve been before the Christmas episode. What happened? Well she suddenly stood up and took off, running at speed, down the embankment to the Zambezi where an enormous crocodile was waiting. I could see its eye fixed on my baby. Somehow, I found myself next to her and scooped her up in my arms. I ran back up the bank and into the house with her held close to my heart. I was shaking, absolutely shaking from head to toe.

The third time I levitated was in Cape Town. I think it was in 1977. We were living in a flat in Camp’s Bay on the side of the mountain. Because of the angle of the ground, the block of flats was perched atop tall pillars and we were on the top (third) floor. We were more or less level with the ground at the back but had the most astonishing views over Camp’s Bay and the ocean from the front windows.

Anyway, early one morning I was standing in the kitchen looking up at The Twelve Apostles through the kitchen window. I heard an extraordinary sound, like a massive pantechnicon that seemed to come from the street behind us. I couldn’t see one and wondered to myself what was a pantechnicon doing up on the mountain at this hour? Then I realised that the stove was moving and rattling. Objects were falling off the shelves. The floor was shaking too. Shit, an earthquake! So, without further ado, I levitated from the kitchen to the bedroom and into the bed. I pulled the blankets over my head although, under the circumstances, that may not have been the wisest thing to do.

If you don’t believe me, ask Roland!

Step back in time

Allow me to take you back in time to the turn of the 20^th Century: 1908. My paternal grandparents, Rosa and Kiriaco (Konia) and baby George (my father), had to leave the dangerous situation in Bulgaria. I indicate where I have taken the liberty of  speaking for Rosa.

“The situation became very dangerous, and when we heard of the Englishman, Odlum, recruiting tobacco experts for a place in Africa, Southern Rhodesia, Kiriaco applied and was recruited, and soon embarked. He was to send the ticket for George and me to join him”.

Kiriaco was contracted to receive £5.8.0 a month, payable at the end of the first year. The contract was in English and he signed it, although at that time he could not speak, read, nor write English. The contract was for three years after which he would get a pre-paid return ticket to Turkey”

While I was in Zimbabwe in 1996/97 researching for this Dissertation, I was able to access documents in the National Archives in Harare. I kept a journal and here is an excerpt from the Bulawayo Chronicle:

            ‘The Chartered Company wanted experts on Turkish tobacco. They brought fourteen Hellenes from Turkey (Thrace and Anatolia) and apologized for so doing as they had been ‘unable to obtain responsible Europeans.’

Rosa and her infant son waited in Odessa for Kiriaco to send the ticket to embark. I can remember her telling me how she sat on the beach by the Black Sea with her baby (my dad) waiting.

“The day the ship was leaving George was very sick with diarrhoea. I didn’t know whether to embark or stay in Odessa. It would be a long time before another ship was bound for Beira. So I bought a bottle of cherry brandy to dose him and, with my basket of belongings, we boarded the ship”.

“As soon as we were under way, George was better.

We arrived in Beira and I remember being pulled in a trolley on rails over miles of sand, by black men. I had never seen black people before. I had no money and I had to approach the Greek hotelier and ask him to lend me enough money for the train fare to Salisbury. He spoke no Russian and I no Greek. I was about thirty five years old. He lent me the train fare.

On the train to Salisbury, I woke in the night and looked out the window. In the moonlight I saw what I thought was a great city, and I said to myself that Konia had lied to me about the wildness of the place. As the sun rose, I saw the buildings were great granite boulders. Kopjes. There was no city at all”.

Salisbury, the capital of Southern Rhodesia. The grand station was a tin shed. “So this is the great capital city of Rhodesia?” I said to Konia.

“He took me to his friends, Professor and Mrs Shapiro. Professor Shapiro had been a teacher of history at St Petersburg. Now he had trading stores in Salisbury. The Shapiro’s were our only Russian-speaking friends for many years”.

After the first year with the British South Africa Company, Kiriaco broke the contract to go out on his own. We worked here and there in Southern Rhodesia, Nyabira, Lone Cow, Umvukwes, Lydiate. These places are small and isolated. Some do not appear on the map.

“I grew all our vegetables and we had to buy from the farmer any extras. Konia would sometimes ride a bicycle to the nearest trading store to purchase tea, sugar, salt and flour. Groceries were not cheap. During the 1914-18 war I paid 10/- for a pound of butter, a shilling for a (whisky) bottle of milk”.

“We lived in pole and daga rondavels like the African people who worked with Konia. What furniture we had was made from empty paraffin boxes. We had few clothes”.

“About this time I caught black water fever and had to stay in the hospital in Salisbury. Many people died from this disease. In the hospital, in the bed next to me was a Polish lady married to a Greek. Mrs Cambitzis. We could understand each other’s language. We became friends for the rest of our lives”.

Mama died in 1967.

At her funeral, George said in the eulogy,

“Our Mother’s life was not an easy one in the material sense, but she was not one to complain. She would face up to any adversity with courage and determination. During her early days in this country she and Papa lived and raised their family in what to her must have appeared impossible conditions. She was willing and prepared always to make sacrifices for the wellbeing of the family”.

The Big House

The Big House is where we were born and brought up. The Big House is  symbolic of this family, and to this family. It is a big house, built around a lawned courtyard, with bougainvillea and flowering vines. There are verandahs, arches, many big rooms. Once upon a time it was alive and strong. Now the white ants have eaten the parquet flooring in the sun lounge. The wild bees have swarmed in the chimneys and the roof. Honey drips through the ceilings. The billiard room has been turned into a flat, and my brother’s ex-wife stays there when she visits from Cape Town. The electric wiring is unreliable and she complains that the servants are raw and useless, “straight off the farm”. For the past twenty years the house has been not been permanently occupied. Because it is isolated, and usually empty, sometime ago the night watchman took the opportunity to remove most of the furniture. Somebody has built a modern swimming pool in the middle of the garden. It looks incongruous, stuck out there like a silly petticoat on a beautiful, gracious old lady. And, because The Big House is on The Farm, my oldest brother has jurisdiction over it.

The Farm

The Farm is not only a tobacco farm. It is situated a few kilometres south of Harare. Harare is getting closer all the time from the north, and Dvarasekwa from the south. I went round the farm with my brother for the first time in many years. Apart from nearly being written off by a sand truck (a “watch tower church” truck according to the men at the sand plant!) we had a look at the tobacco, the mealies, My other brother’s cattle, and the Stud. We saw a stray dog hunting near the Stud. How do I feel about The Farm? Ambivalent. When I knew it well it was a farm, now it is like a factory.

In Australia my dreams are of Africa.

In Africa there is no need to dream? Or, no need to remember dreams? Is Australia the place of dreaming? It feels like Australia ceases to exist when I’m in Africa.

Note: This is an excerpt from a paper I presented at The University of Woolongong in about 1999. I was in Zimbabwe in 1996/97 to research for my Honours Dissertation. I am not able to reproduce the paper in it’s entirety for personal reasons.

Levitating under stress

I think I’ll write about levitating.

I have levitated twice in my long life, both times under extreme stress. I have tried to levitate in normal conditions but it doesn’t work! I do have a witness for both times that I did rise up and forward.

The first time I levitated was many years ago in Africa. It was just before Christmas. We were looking for a particular prickly fern that grows wild in the bush. We used it as a Christmas decoration. The long tendrils draped nicely over pictures, doorways and window pelmets.

climbing asparagus fern – a weed in Australia

A few of the farm dogs were with us as we walked down the gravel track leading from the main road into the farm. Among the dogs was my mother’s fox terrier, Kleintjie. Roughly translated, Kleintjie is ‘little one’. In fact, all my mother’s foxies were called Kleintjie. As one departed this life another Kleintjie took her place.

Walking back to the Big House, Kath – who had recently learned to walk – ran a little way ahead perhaps thirty metres. I noticed movement next to her on the gravel. Dear God, my heart leapt into my mouth. The movement was a banded cobra rising up to strike directly into my daughter’s face. So, I levitated from where I was standing to Kath. As I landed, Kleintjie ran between the striking cobra and Kath drawing its attention away from her. Even as I write this I can feel the hairs on my neck prickle. Death was so close. Kleintjie evaded the snake, which then slithered off the track and into the bush.

photo by Peter Wright

The second time I levitated was in Cape Town. I think it was in 1977. We were living in a flat in Camp’s Bay on the side of the mountain. Because of the angle of the ground, the block of flats was perched atop tall pillars and we were on the top (third) floor. We were more or less level with the ground at the back but had the most astonishing views over Camp’s Bay and the ocean from the front windows.

Twelve Apostles. Camps Bay. Photo by FromJoanne on Flickr

Anyway, early one morning I was standing in the kitchen looking up at The Twelve Apostles through the kitchen window. I heard an extraordinary sound, like a massive pantechnicon that seemed to come from the street behind us. I couldn’t see one and wondered to myself what was a pantechnicon doing up on the mountain at this hour? Then I realised that the stove was moving and rattling. Objects were falling off the shelves. The floor was shaking too. Shit, an earthquake! So, without further ado, I levitated from the kitchen to the bedroom and into the bed. I pulled the blankets over my head although, under the circumstances, that may not have been the wisest thing to do.

If you don’t believe me, ask Roland!

Back to civilisation and being responsible parents again

Now that we were back on the mainland we stayed a couple of days in the fishing town of Vilanculos. One memory that has stuck were the delicious, juicy crab claws that were supplied as ‘bar food’. So, we’d sit at the bar in the evening and eat our way through bowl after bowl. I don’t even like crab but these were different. Fresh mussels were also available.

Somewhere, I think in Inhambane, we watched the African women collecting mussels off the rocks. When the tide was out, the women would walk out in stately single file. Picking their way across the rocks, with heavy metal buckets balanced on their heads, as a wave came in the women would throw their skirts up so as not to get them wet. As they did not wear underclothes, this was cause for much merriment for Wendy and me. I rather think Roland and Cliff either didn’t notice or were too embarrassed to laugh. Anyway, we bought a bucket of these mussels and I can remember how mouth-wateringly yummy they were.

Another treat in Mozambique were the cashew nuts. You could buy a great big square tin for next to nothing. I remember we were going to take a couple of tins back home but ended up eating the whole lot.

So, from Vilanculos we headed toward Lourenco Marques, now called Maputo, the capital of Mozambique. Slowly but surely we were moving back toward civilisation.

Not long after we arrived in LM, I noticed that a wound on Kath’s heel was looking very red, swollen and lots of pus. Soon a red vein appeared running up her leg. I panicked. I knew this was a sign of blood poisoning. With no knowledge of the Portuguese language, we weren’t confident we could manage the hospital and doctor in LM. Roland and I decided to leave and head for my sister’s place in Rhodesia, near the Limpopo River. We bid a tearful farewell to Cliff and Wendy and off we went.

We went through the border between Mozambique and South Africa at Komatipoort. I remember very little of the trip, just wishing the Land Rover could go faster. We crossed from South Africa into Rhodesia at Beit Bridge – border crossings were not a problem in those days. Soon, we were on the ranch where my sister, Win, lived. Win and I decided to take Kath back over the border to the mining town of Messina (now Musina) to see the mine doctor.

In the event, Kath was given an anaesthetic – chloroform – administered in the old fashioned way, on a cloth. The nurse was the anaesthetist and assistant. Once she was anaethetised, the doctor started probing into her foot. It seemed to take hours and hours. He eventually found a small grain of coral deep in the flesh and plucked it out with tweezers. Coral poisoning is dreadful. Win and I stayed in the room all the time. Before Kath had even come round from the anaesthetic, we were on our way back to the ranch. We had to make the border at Beit Bridge before it closed. We scraped through but only because the officers knew Win.

I don’t know if I ever told my sister how grateful Roland and I were for her help that day. She is truly the hero of the story.

On the way back to the ranch, driving through the bush, we saw an aardvark.