Back in South Africa

Friday, December 8, 2006

Eleven degrees that morning at six o’clock.

The Women’s Christmas Dinner was – weird. There really wasn’t another way to describe such a function. It wasn’t necessarily uncomfortable, it was just an unusual experience. Chatter and Christmas sweaters and coffee, none of which Collette tried very often, or ever.

She had a table with Ivy and Rosemary and her guest, also joined by Liepaja, Julie-Ann, a new lady to the church, and Hazzelelponi (or Hazel). Grandma Combs and Mom were located at another table in the back, and Molly and Rose were stationed at yet another table due to the novelty of assigned seating.

As the chit-chatting commenced, Collette helped herself to a cup of wassail. And, surprisingly, before she couldn’t decide what to do with herself, they were all seated and the salads were distributed, some of to which Collette actually helped herself. Then followed the usual buffet at events such as those and Collette even added green beans to her plate. She was feeling rather proud of her efforts until the chocolate truffles were unwrapped, and she had to eat all three of them as the ladies discussed the flavors of each and which they preferred over the next ten minutes.

After a few Christmas hymns were sung, the speaker took her place – a woman who was not very old, but old enough to have twin 24 year-old sons and a second grandchild on the way.

Before getting very far into her talk, she spoke about how she was at least a fifth generation African, (very white, very South African). Her grandfather, around the era of World War II had run a cattle ranch of no less than one million acres. Then her father had begun his own cattle ranch after purchasing 24,000 acres of land from the British who had annexed Rhodesia, present day Zimbabwe. It was nothing fancy there; her father had even borrowed one of her high school science textbooks to learn how to wire electricity to the farmhouse.

She remembered as a child, at night, sometimes lying outside to watch the stars (uninterrupted by city lights), listening to the drums of the indigenous peoples not so very far off, who would build themselves up into trances and attempt communication with the spirits.

“It was very eerie for us children,” she said, in her distinctly South-African accent, “but quite fascinating as well.”

And she told about the fruits that grew there: the oranges, grapefruits, lemons, avocados, and mangoes. And they would pick their own fruits in the morning to make fresh juice.

Then the indigenous peoples had risen up against the farmers who had purchased annexed land from the British. Every day, they lived in fear for their lives. A great high-wire fence was built around their farmhouse. Her parents kept large guns with them at all times. One of their neighbors was brutally murdered. Her brother once escaped being killed himself by getting into his car, lying flat on his back, and driving blind to escape his attackers. And there was always the possibility of mines in the road.

The lady went on from there to talk about the authority of the Bible and other things tied into her life back in South Africa.

Different times, different places.

Meanwhile, Collette found out on Friday that Carrie-Bri, Eve, Elizabeth, and Lucia were all planning their grand bash to Australia and New Zealand. Carrie enthusiastically reported that in preparation for the hiking and exertion, they were going to attempt to camp out every other weekend until their departure. Collette wondered if that included freeze-outs in the dead of winter as well.

Rose came in later to the office that day wearing her new Crown Candy Kitchen cap and stuffed her bunny fur coat and giraffe shirt in the supply closet to use later in the day.

During lunch, Rose worked her way through a can of pineapples and a Coke, after she purchased a poinsettia to put in church in memory of Great Grandma Jewels. She also attached about a hundred candy canes to brochures for the carolers from Grace to pass out in Cottleville the following afternoon.

After working hours, Rose scrubbed out the sink and sat back and read The Case for a Creator until it was six o’clock and time to start the John Piper tapes again.