Three moms and their six lads retreated to the mountains outside Cape Town for some fresh air and rock pooling. They missed the Dads terribly. But no matter, it was an illuminating two days as a thing or two was learnt about the Dads, and about fires, and about men and fires.continue reading
It’s a conversation my farm boy and I have a lot. It came up in our cramped Beijing and Hong Kong quarters; again in our quaint London terrace, and now more than ever it seems, when we’re lucky enough to sneak away for a country getaway.
A night away at Old Mac Daddy in Elgin is enough to send anyone’s hankering-for-a-patch-of-land into overdrive. Country life as the antidote to the stresses and strains wrought by the city? A quixotic idea perhaps, but one I see lingering.
It was bitingly cold, the air was pristine and the light golden. One night in our funky airstream trailer felt like a week it was so restorative; still, it wasn’t enough and we’ll definitely be back, for longer next time.
My Dad smoked when we were kids and I remember one birthday conspiring with my mom and sisters to get him his dream present, a carton of Camel Filter cigarettes. We were properly chuffed with ourselves. Looking at photos of our parties around the same time, I can’t help but chuckle at the bottles of coke strewn across the table.
These days smokers are pariahs who’ve been banished outdoors and few of us willingly ply our kids with sugar. There’ve been shifts in thinking and we’ve learnt a few lessons.
I imagine our own kids, when they’re adults, are going to be mind-blown by our frivolous attitude towards water. They’ll scarcely believe we watered our gardens and flushed our loos with precious drinking water. Or grew tropical plants in a Mediterranean climate. Perhaps the image of us cavorting in our pools will trigger the same smug disapproval we have when we imagine our mums smoking while pregnant or chauffeuring us sans carseats.
Cape Town is up shit creek after reportedly the worst drought in a century. Stage 4 water restrictions come into effect on 1st June and social media is in overdrive – with sobering official warnings, photos of our depleted dams, and countless water saving tips, much of it quite useful.
If there’s one upside of the drought it’s the conversations we’ve been forced to have, and the solutions we’ve had to implement. A mere 8 months ago, as a family, we were quite oblivious, and as a result careless, irrigating with Council water and luxuriating in regular baths. Now, it seems, there’s a new normal as people retrofit their homes and adapt to the water shortages.
But will it stick?
I wonder where we’ll be in say three to five years time, or after a few soggy winters. Reverted to our old ways with our immaculate lawns and sparkling swimming pools? Or will we have wisened up.
South Africa is a water scarce country, the 30th driest in the world. Our exploding population and changing weather patterns are putting huge strain on all our resources, not just our water.
Fan out further still, and it’s hard to ignore the impact of humanity’s demands on our straining little planet. The Water Project estimates that nearly 1 billion people on the planet do not have access to safe, clean water, yet for most of us reading this, contemplating life without water has an end-of-days feeling; it’s a very unsettling thought.
Can we even conceive of what will happen if we open the taps one day and they’ve run dry?
I highly recommend having your birthday over an Easter break — you can gorge on chocolate, guilt-free, the entire weekend. We snuck off to Arniston for a few days of autumnal seaside living, and it was bliss.
We didn’t do that much beaching per se. The wind howled continually so we rugged up and hit the long stretches of coast to collect pebbles and peer into rock pools. But the highlight — especially for my boys — were the sand dunes.
The beauty and enormity of them totally surprised and thrilled them. Our weekend ritual became one of overindulging at the buffet breakfast then racing to the dunes, to trek up and down and get whipped by mountains of pure white sand.
With not a soul for miles, a blazing blue sky and the shrieking of kids creating sand avalanches — it was pretty special for the grownups too.
The first time I visited Babylonstoren, two years ago, I was blown away. Having just gone back, with a newfound passion for growing food — oh.my.word. My husband said he could hear my ovaries singing.
All those beautiful strong plants, that soil teeming with microlife, the nooks and crannies amongst the giant sunflowers, prickly pear forests and quince trees. And the blue and white tiled decor. Maybe that’s where its magic lies. It stirs both the grower and the aesthete in you.