Reminiscing and Reflecting: Into The Cape
This is an attempt to capture some of those precious and principle moments that I have played the protagonist to in my life thus far. I have been meaning for some time to record my journey along the way as I explore, express and find enlightenment.
So darlin' save the last dance for me
In the early '60s, my dad came down to South Africa with his parents. They arrived at the Cape Town harbour, on a ship. With them, a couple large wooden suitcases, everything they owned and needed. He had only a few years worth of England in him; a young chap whose future, as he might not yet have realized upon that port, was to be decidedly African.
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| Circa 1960 - For All I Know That Could Be My Dad ( Ha Ha ) |
The scene described in the above picture would be almost identical to the one my grandparents and father might have occupied. How interesting and obscure that, only several kilometres up from that dock where my dad anchored, several decades later his son would be born. He must have stared out at that towering plateau of a mountain top, dazzled and drawn in by the unknown, without the slightest thought that that very slope would be where I would come into this new world.
They, together with two other families, shared a place in Observatory, just outside Cape Town. It was a "grey" suburb, meaning it was home to a mixture of races all living together during Apartheid.
Several years later, my father and his parents settled in Bothasig. It was a new "township" on the outskirts of the city. Back then it had just been developed from agricultural land into low-cost housing to support "poor white people" during the heavily Afrikaans Apartheid rule. During that time there was still an air of angst and contention between English Europeans and the South African Afrikaaners.
"It was the first and only township in South Africa where approval was granted for the erection of wooden houses with pre-fabricated wooden panels and walls under an asbestos roof." The first of these houses were built during 1965 and a year later the area was named "Bothasig", meaning Botha's Vision, after Mr PW Botha.
My grandfather worked as a waiter during the first years of their residence in South Africa. He had very little qualifications or experience elsewhere. During his life in England, prior to settling down and moving here, he had been part of the navy. (Ironically, he never ever learnt to swim. Ha Ha.)
My grandmother; the kindest and most selfless of ladies, was unfortunately disabled at a young age, and lost the ability to walk after hurting her leg on a swing. The medical facilities and expertise available in South Africa during her childhood [ around 1930 in a lower class suburb of South Africa ] were unable to effectively remedy or repair the injury. And thus she never got to walk again. Although - she says when I was born, she stood up and ran over to hold me.
Until their last days, they lived in gaiety and glee in that little suburb of Bothasig. They are in many ways my Romeo and Juliet of a Capetownian tragedy.
But their story remains unwritten, as i'm no Shakespeare, and there are no words to describe that sort of romance.
Images: Flickr
They, together with two other families, shared a place in Observatory, just outside Cape Town. It was a "grey" suburb, meaning it was home to a mixture of races all living together during Apartheid.
Several years later, my father and his parents settled in Bothasig. It was a new "township" on the outskirts of the city. Back then it had just been developed from agricultural land into low-cost housing to support "poor white people" during the heavily Afrikaans Apartheid rule. During that time there was still an air of angst and contention between English Europeans and the South African Afrikaaners.
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| A bench is a bench in a kid's eye. [Apartheid circa 1960] |
"It was the first and only township in South Africa where approval was granted for the erection of wooden houses with pre-fabricated wooden panels and walls under an asbestos roof." The first of these houses were built during 1965 and a year later the area was named "Bothasig", meaning Botha's Vision, after Mr PW Botha.
My grandfather worked as a waiter during the first years of their residence in South Africa. He had very little qualifications or experience elsewhere. During his life in England, prior to settling down and moving here, he had been part of the navy. (Ironically, he never ever learnt to swim. Ha Ha.)
My grandmother; the kindest and most selfless of ladies, was unfortunately disabled at a young age, and lost the ability to walk after hurting her leg on a swing. The medical facilities and expertise available in South Africa during her childhood [ around 1930 in a lower class suburb of South Africa ] were unable to effectively remedy or repair the injury. And thus she never got to walk again. Although - she says when I was born, she stood up and ran over to hold me.
Until their last days, they lived in gaiety and glee in that little suburb of Bothasig. They are in many ways my Romeo and Juliet of a Capetownian tragedy.
But their story remains unwritten, as i'm no Shakespeare, and there are no words to describe that sort of romance.
Images: Flickr
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