I came upon a provocative headline today on News 24. One of those that made me sit and think. I was unable to read the article, as I am not a subscriber, but the heading was enough to get my cogs turning. It simply said: Our collective resilience will get us up tomorrow, but today I am overwhelmed. The journalist was speaking about Eskom. No surprises there

There is a reason why this resonated with me. You see, we are just having so many issues with Eskom. I am astounded at how a business can effectively hold a hand up and ask their customer to choose a finger. But I do not want to dwell on this topic again. I have said enough from my soap box already. On the contrary, what I want to say is that sometimes when you find yourself in a situation, you become the situation. I did some reflecting these past few days and realized that my anger and frustration at Eskom had actually turned me toxic. I allowed myself to be so blinded by toxicity, that I became a person that was not good to have around. As I so often say: I currently live in a very small but caring community. It was only when my community rallied around me, that I realized how far I had spiraled. At some point, a concerned neighbour (who in my toxic frame of mind I made off as being a nuisance) asked what was troubling me? My standard response when I don’t want to talk about something is always: nothing that chocolate can’t fix. Next day, who pitches up at my door? Chocolate in hand. Another arrived with not only chocolate, but also a bunch of roses. And later the same evening? Another neighbour, clutching a few Ferrero Rocher. As I have said before, one day when I tell my story, Botrivier will feature as part of it, together with this tiny, caring community. They are the ones that became my safety net at a time when I was stomping around, blowing out toxic fumes. They cared enough to catch me.

So, with more load shedding and an unresolved power cable running through our mountain entry, we decided that our time would be better spent doing something fun. Another extension of our small community is our closest town: Kleinmond. Once again, this little town is so good to me (it has the closest shop to buy groceries), it has a small Bistro that serves the BEST Milo in the country (Bistro 14, if ever you are in the area), and a Ceramic Studio (The Potter’s Gallery) with the most beautiful pottery that I wish I could afford. Yet, despite this, I have never really cared to discover the town, beyond the obvious. The gauntlet one day produced a kind neighbour who lent me some books written on Kleinmond’s history. Armed with my new knowledge and my trail map, Colin and I decided the best way to get beyond sitting in the dark on a Saturday, is a Kleinmond walk. We have walked the beach before with bare feet in the waves and a sunhat on the head. This time however, it was done with a beanie on the head. It is winter, remember.

I must admit, the barefoot brigade in the grocery store, had allowed me to develop some feelings about the Kleinmond community. It is not a snobbish observation, but rather a social diversity one. South Africans often walk barefooted, it is quite acceptable in our climate, but there is a time and place for everything. You see, that is the thing about social graces. It is the acquired skill for dealing with people and situations, it is the ability to fit into polite society and knowing how to behave properly and with etiquette. Not all of Kleinmond attended this school. I am now on the verge of being too toxic here, so let me rather tell you about the other side of Kleinmond. The side that runs along the coast.

Kleinmond has the most dramatic stretches of rocky ridges. They are huge, rugged, and dramatic. When the tide is in, big waves crash against these stone giants, and watching this is exhilarating. It gives one quite a “rush”. Part of you wants to get as close to the action as possible, and the more responsible part of you warns you that if a wave smacks you off a rock here, calling for help won’t work. Between these rock formations are some of the most colourful rock pools. The rocks beneath the water are shades of green, yellow, and rusty red. Sea anemones contribute to the palette. The water that washes into these pools is crystal clear. No fish, from what we could tell, but just so much colour. Not that I saw it firsthand for myself, because you see, Colin was in there with his camera. I was perched safely on a coastal path at a distance, shouting deaf warnings to him about huge crashing waves and swimming abilities. But I did see it all on his photos.

Another bit of unexpected beauty in Kleinmond, is the herd of wild horses that roam free in the marshlands at the Bot Rivier lagoon (as in the river, and not the town). They are believed to be South Africa’s only herd of wild horses in a wetland habitat. Before my local education, I did wonder who was so irresponsible to have their horses walking about unchecked. Silly me. On the lawns beside the beach, you will find the “Preek Boom” – an au-natural pulpit which has been in use since 1902 as a meeting point for church services. Again, uneducated me looked at this large tree and thought it a good spot for an extended family picnic, why isn’t anyone doing so? The town also has a Scottish connection. What was originally Lamloch farm ultimately became part of the town of Kleinmond. Fast forward a few years to the 2nd World War, South Africa was seen as a suitable place, far from the front, with ample space to detain Italian POWs (there were some 90 000 of them in the country at some point) These resilient men left us the legacy of their road building skills. They built the old road that linked the towns of Rooi Els, Pringle Bay, Betty’s Bay and Kleinmond. This road has since grown into Clarence Drive, where our mountain house will be. Some other roads they left us are Chapmans Peak and Bainskloof Pass, in the Western Cape. At the end of the war, many of these resilient men chose to make our beautiful country their home, rather than returning to their own. I believe our country is so much richer because of this. Those that remained became part of the economy and even today, you will recognize the names of the businesses they started.

So, there you have it. If wild horses can survive on a wetland, if POWs can flourish building roads that will never take them home, if Colin can photograph rock pools and not fall into the water, then surely, I can get beyond my feelings of despair, and as the journalist said: Our collective resilience will get us up tomorrow, but today I am overwhelmed.

For a time, I was overwhelmed. But I am also a South African. Some of my forefathers crossed the Drakensberg on foot, searching for a better life. We are resilient. And so, as the power went out for another 4-hour stretch this afternoon, Colin and I headed into Kleinmond. This time, for a barefoot walk on the beach, occasionally dipping my toes into the winter water. It affirmed that I need to grow my trust in the Devine plan. I just need to accept what I can and can’t control.