Monsters with masks

2018-10-01 Monsters

So, who is to blame?


It is like the story about the chicken and the egg.  Which one came first?  The chicken of course?  She lay the egg which started the circle of life.  But the chicken came from an egg in the first place?


A six year old girl was raped last weekend. Not by a drunk stepfather or a hormonal teenage cousin.  She was not walking alone down a deserted road or sleeping silently in shack while her mom was at work. It happened at a family restaurant in suburban Pretoria, in the public bathroom.  A customer was apparantely watching her in the play area and followed her into the bathroom, locked them in and raped her.  Her mother and restaurant staff went looking for her when she was no longer seen playing in the designated play area.  She was found naked, bleeding, in the ladies bathrooms.  The man made a run for it to the mens bathrooms, where according to eye witnesses he desperately tried to flush some clothes down the toilet.   And there customers found him and attacked him.


So the big question on everyone’s lips – who is to blame?  Social media went ballistic, as to be expected, because as humans we always have an opinion about everything.  There was outrage, words of hate, a desperate call for the death penalty, the justification of mob justice, racism.  The comments?

  • The mother is to blame. She should have been keeping an eye on her daughter and not have allowed her to go the bathroom by herself.  Who allows their 6 year old go to a public toilet by themselves?
  • The so called eye-witness is to blame. He/she saw the young man watching the girl and following her to the bathroom. Why did he/she not react?  Or at least call a staff member to check it out.
  • The restaurant staff. They should have kept an eye on the girl and should not have allowed her to leave the play area without supervision. They should have more security in place in the play area.
  • The government, the system. Convicted criminals get off lightly and just go out into the world and commit the same crimes over and over again.  Committing a crime holds no fear.  They get off with a light sentence or a simple bribe.  Court cases go on for years.


702 listeners as well as a respected radio journalist, were infuriated by the fact that the rapist was referred to in the media, as “the alleged rapist.”, especially as it was quite clear who it was.  But legally, that is what journalists need to do, as the rapist had not been formally convicted.  It is the law.   But social media could not care about the law.  Pictures quickly started spreading and we now know what his name is and what he looks like.  And we know that a child rapist looks like an ordinary young man who was sitting at a restaurant bar having a few drinks.


Pointing fingers and trying to figure out who is to blame, will NEVER change or undo what happened.  An innocent young child’s life has been changed forever.  A girl who, most likely, does not even know yet about periods and how a girls’ body develops into that of a woman.  A child who was most likely just warned by her parents about not talking to strangers and  not allowing anyone to touch you in ways that make you feel uncomfortable.  A child who still plays with blonde Barbie dolls and moulds playdough into farm animals and who draws pictures of white unicorns and fairies with pink tutus.   This poor girl was doing what any normal child her age would do at a family restaurant. She was having fun in an assumed save environment.


So instead of deliberating who is to blame, move forward.  Let this be a huge lesson for us as parents, to protect our own children.  In fact, to overprotect our children. To know where they are, to teach them to stay in groups, to give them tools to protect themselves, to teach them that very few people are to be trusted. We need to talk to our young kids and unfortunately we have to be brutally honest with them.  Explain molestation and rape and to teach them it is never wrong to say “no”.  To anybody.


There are monsters with masks walking amongst us.


The “young and the restless”

2018-09-27 Young and restless

Did you also, when you were a child, wish you could be an adult?


Me? I couldn’t wait to become an adult. To do what I wanted to, when I wanted to.  To go where I wanted to, to stay out as late as I wanted to.  I was looking forward to earning my own salary and being able to just spend it on fashionable clothes from Edgars and red or blonde highlights for my hair.  To buy a new car in a colour of my choice and to drive with the windows down with a Bump CD blaring.  To have a little place of my own and decorate it with accessories from Mr Price Home, to fill my walls with rows of photos and brightly coloured paintings, to plant sweet peas and petunias and grow my own cherry tomatoes.


But then I realised that life was not quite that simple and luxurious.  At the age of 21, I did buy a new car in the colour of my choice.  A bright, grass green 1300 Volkswagen Chico I loved with all my heart.  Which gobbled up half my salary every month.  There was no way I could afford my own place, or even a house share.  Box dye from Clicks was still at the order of the day, and I shopped at Mr Price for my fashionable clothing.  Thank goodness that at that stage I wore a uniform to work, and that navy and olive green matched my complexion.  I washed my own car and watched videos at home with a huge bag of cheese curls on my lap.  I remember working twelve hour shifts so I could build up time to study for my final Public Relations exams. But these were not bad times at all.  I regularly treated myself to a R20 burger, chips and Coke from Mochachos and I was able to buy myself a hi-fi with a three CD changer. Which was cooler than cool in the mid 90’s!  With the luxury of living at home, my brand new Chico was parked safely behind a locked gate and under a carport.  On double shift days I saved petrol and drove to work with my dad and at home I got breakfast every morning, and a home cooked meal every night.


When I got married at quite a young age, again, life was not quite as rosy as I envisaged.  Oh it was such an adventure living together of course.  And moving to the UK not long after getting married, we naturally had big dreams of many overseas trips and saving lots of pounds, white Christmases and bustling careers.  Our little salaries however,  went towards flat rental, buying a second hand Polo and paying for expensive train tickets into London.  We had to save for many months for those European weekend trips and for a deposit on our first matchbox sixed flat, and of course for all the DIY renovations that went with it.  Often, the highlight of our weekend, was the Friday night grocery shopping trip to London Colney Sainsbury’s, where we would treat ourselves to Starbucks after buying our food for the following week.  Saturday mornings we would hit the gym, the motivation for Andries often being able to watch an international rugby match while walking on the treadmill for about two hours!  But wow, there were awesome times too.  With our holiday savings we saw places like Barcelona and Paris and Monaca and travelled on the Eurostar.  We made the best friends any couple could ask for and just living in a different country to the one we grew up in, was a privilege and priceless life experience.



When one of the girls are crying about a friend not wanting to play with them, or when there is a total meltdown about a box office movie they are not allowed to watch, my reaction is –

“I wish my problems were so simple,”

And my husband often mentions how lucky our girls are.

“They have been on more holidays in the last year, than I had been on in my entire childhood.”


Our children have their own fantasies about adulthood.  Jessica wants to drive a mini cooper, a white one, and she reckons she is gong to live with us forever.  She also dreams of becoming a Miss South Africa, and she is looking forward to having a baby girl.  Cailin wants a puppy, and she wants to live in England at some point. Oh, and with her own salary, she reckons that she can shop at Typo to her heart’s content, and she would be able to have her nails done too.


Yes, life is tough and life is real and sometimes we have to alter our fairy fantasies and put dreams on hold.


But let them dream for now…

Life is not fair


How often do you say or mumble or scribble or cry out these four words?


If you have children, you most likely hear this phrase way too often!  In their lives, very little is fair.


I struggle to “let go” of certain things, and delve into the past way too often.   And then that sentence will pop into my head. I then wonder if “life was fair”, what that other fork in the road would have been like.  Because that other fork was often quite different from that path you ended up taking, or might have been forced to take.


In primary school, my left ring finger, was smashed in a closing classroom door.  It was only a few weeks away from the Vaal Triangle provincial gymnastic trials.  I was on top form that year, super fit and super confident.  I knew I would qualify for provincial colours, but my dreams of getting to the South African championships were shattered, I had to wait for the following year.

Not having that chance to get provincial colours – life is not fair.

In high school we moved around often, and I was in three different high schools.  If I had stayed at one school, would my academic results have been better? Would I have been a prefect? I would have been able to wear that honourary badge I got for gymnastics twice in a row…..

Moving schools I never got to wear that badge on any of my school blazers – Life is not fair

If I took the plunge and studied journalism at Pretoria Technikon, would I have been a great journalist I hoped I would have been?  Would I have written articles about celebs or would I have been more of an investigative journalist?

I didn’t know what my financial options were and never did study Journalism – life is not fair.

If we didn’t move to the UK in 2001, but stayed in South Africa, would my career have gone from strength?  Would I have had the guts to start my own PR/Events company?

The London career doors kept shutting in my face and I took admin jobs, abandoning my dreams of working for a Public relations agency  – life is not fair.


A good friend recommended I read this book.

The five things we cannot change and the happiness we find by embracing them”.

Embarrassingly I have to admit, that I came as far as the Introduction page.  Non-fiction-selfhelp-jippee-hi-jo books, are not really my cup of tea. The reality of these types of books is of course, that you don’t have to read them from cover to cover to get something from them.  One chapter, even one paragraph could “speak” to you and change the way you feel or think about a situation.  The saying goes, a child who reads becomes an adult who thinks.  In my opinion, an adult who reads never stops thinking.


So why am I getting all philosophical, dusting off this book which I frantically bought from Takealot, and then hardly touched?  Because a teacher at the girls’ school, husband, unexpectedly passed away.  At the age of 42, with two talented and amazing kids in high school, she is now a single parent and alone.

And I want to scream into the atmosphere,

“Why is life so UNFAIR?!”

Her being the same age as me, with two young children, I try and put myself in her shoes. It is a situation where, you will never know how you will react or cope or survive, until you yourself is in that situation.  And it is one which I would not wish onto anybody. My thoughts were something like –

Will I fall apart and go into a total catatonic state?

Would I want to be alone or have people around me?

How would I console my children while my own life is so closely affected?

How do I carry on living without my partner who knows me better than I even know myself?

Why does a young and healthy, early 40’s, husband and dad and friend and colleague just…. go……? 

How dare the Universe do this to her?


Will this book have any answers and give me peace?  Who knows? On chapter reads “Pain is part of life”.  Sections which jumped out at me were:

  • We suffer physically and spiritually and we grow in those same ways
  • Not to be able to accept pain in losses, is a disability
  • There is meaning in a divine plan
  • It is said of pain that we will never be given more than we can bear

For now, these are empty words. They don’t console and they don’t show me that proverbial light at the end of the tunnel.  There is certainly now silver lining around this cloud either. Maybe it will eventually make sense to me.  Hopefully it will make sense to her too.


But for now, I will stick to this one thought – LIFE IS NOT FAIR



The five things we cannot change… and the Happiness we find by embracing them.  Author David Richo

Changing and twittering and liking careers

2018-05-15 Careers

Do you have to study to become Miss South Africa?


This question came from my 9 year old, listening to a discussion on early morning 94.7, while snaking through Weltevreden Park’s backroads to school.  #MyRunnerupCareer.  Listeners phoned in about their career changes and the careers they would not mind having.  One lady was an engineer who realised her passion was actually in teaching.  A friend of mine has, after twenty years, given up her career in tourism to become a swimming instructor, aiming also to spend more time with her young children.  My 12 year old’s future career path has gone from actress and waitress (cause actors don’t make money), to novelist.  This morning she announced she no longer wants to be a doctor, it is grose to “cut people open”.  She now wants to work in an office.

“Mommy, did you go and study?”,

the next question came.  And I proceeded telling them about my enticing career as a Public Relations officer.  Organising events, dealing with the media, writing articles for newsletters, going on conferences, all the glamorous things I use to get such a rush from doing.


In my opinion, in the 80’s and 90’s, we were very much boxed in by society.  Young men joined the army after school, and two years later they studied to become lawyers, doctors, engineers.  Girls went to university to study nursing or teaching, those were the main career choices. And that is what my cousin studied – teaching – she lost interest very quickly.  Being the creative person she is, she should have become a graphic designer, a make-up artist or a chef.  But those careers were not “out there”, they were part of the unknown.  They didn’t fit into the “norm” boxes.


Many psychometric tests later, my career guidelines were “to work with people” and “good with languages”. Great, neither my parents or I, were any wiser.  One day, in a public bathroom, I said “merci” (thank you) to a french lady I was making small talk with, instead of “au revoir” (goodbye). Ten days in Portugal I managed three Portuguese words, “Ola”, “obrigado” and “tchau”.  Wow…. Languages, you said?  Apart from English and Afrikaans, which I grew up with, my language skills are shockingly limited. My domestic commented this morning that I looked like a jockey, with my jeans and long, brown boots.  That career never crossed my mind?!


My love for writing was always the one constant in my life though. Apart from History, break and PE (no jokes), creative writing was my favourite activity at school.  I loved playing around with words and letting my imagination take flight. Making up stories of how certain scenarios in my life, could turn out differently.  One of my best friends in high school actually typed up my first novel for me.  And an art student class friend, drew the front cover. The fantasies of a teenage girl actually being liked by the boy she was crazy about.  In my book I could be anything and everything I wanted to be.  It was kind of magical. When I read it now, it is so lame, but it is one of my biggest treasures.  Hanli actually spent months typing up chapter after chapter as I completed each one.


I was not able to study Journalism, and in the 90’s GAP years were unheard of.  I studied Public Relations instead and I must admit, I did have an exciting career and experienced many interesting things.  Sometimes I just wish I could write that naïve 20 year old “me”, a letter.

“You are very junior, shut up and cut out invites and make those RSVP phonecalls with a smile in your voice.

Don’t date anyone from the office in at least the first year

It is probably not the best idea to wear a Wonderbra and low cut shirt to work

Stay away from office gossip, it never ends well

Don’t stay in a job where you are desperately unhappy

Chip sandwiches will make you fat”


Technology has changed our world drastically and it an ongoing process.  We have to change the way we think and do constantly.  Handing out pamplets at the side of the road advertising your handmade jewellery? Not good enough – you need to use instagram and facebook and create a website and have followers on Twitter.  You want to get your singing career off the ground?  Youtube is your friend and you need hits and likes and shares to get your name up there in neon lights.


Our lives are filled with many dreams.  Some are fantasies and as unrealistic as flying unicorns through marshmellow skies.  And other dreams are closer than we even realise.  I think most of us have the same challenge though.


How do we actually get there?  And often life happens while we are making other plans

Oh Cellphone, Cellphone, wherefore art thou Cellphone?


Have you ever tried being without your cellphone for a certain period of time?


I have. Twice in one week.


Well, it wasn’t really a conscious decision. It was more like an “Alice-in- Wonderland-White-rabbit” moment. Calling down the passage,

“Hurry up, we are going to be late!!!!”,

while pouring Woolies filter coffee into my on-the-go coffee mug and packing sandwiches into lunch boxes.  Simultaneously.   So the honest answer is that I forgot my phone at home trying to get the girls to school on time. Yes, twice. In one week. And I was in a slight panic when I realised it was lying on the kitchen counter, next to the kettle.  My concern was not around it lying next to the kettle, but because it wasn’t in my handbag.  Who wouldn’t be?

“What if one of the girls fall and need stitches and school cannot get hold of me?”

“What if I am in a car accident, unable to speak, and they can’t alert my family?”

“What if there is something important in my diary that my 40+ memory had not filed?”

I of course urged myself to stop making a mountain out of a molehill. School will phone our emergency contacts if it is serious. I will drive carefully wherever I go (especially as I would not have any distractions from a beeping phone) and I have not forgotten about any life-altering meetings or commitments.  The #JacaBandit will not phone me with his secret location either.  (Although I live in hope)  And, on both occasions, it did not make sense braving the road works and slow traffic through Fairlands, just to fetch my phone.



The initial panic put aside, there was the other reason for a slight “without-my-lifeline-panic”. Pure #FOMO (fear of missing out).

What do I do when I am waiting for the kids to finish swimming?

I catch-up on Facebook

What do I do when I am stuck in traffic?

I read whatsapp messages (only when I am standing still, I promise)

Bored standing in the Dischem queue?

Twitter is my go-to

Because that is what we do. We have forgotten how to cope with “doing nothing”.   We don’t have patience, and we are certainly less tolerant than we use to be.  Just watch people around you in situations of “waiting”. 9 out of 10 people will be fiddling on their phones.  Because these little devices have so much to keep us busy with!  News apps, exercise apps, nutrition apps, story writing apps, pintrest, and many many games.  We don’t have to make small talk with the strangers around us while waiting to renew our drivers’ licence.  Because we have our phones. And with a flick or two we can disappear into another world until we are at the front of the queue.


The grade7’s did an exercise at school, answering questions related to whether they are addicted to their phones or not. Cailin said her results showed that she wasn’t. (I didn’t want to burst her bubble by reminding her that if one’s phone is taken away one can’t check it every 5 minutes)

“You are definitely addicted to your phone,”

she confidently informed me.

“Yes mommy, you are on your phone all the time,”

Jessica chirped from the backseat. I couldn’t even deny it, because, yes, I am on my phone a lot. I am inquisitive and need to know things.  And when there is Wi-Fi – all the more exciting! We, as parents, have to lead by example. Right? Right….


Baby steps, I decided. I am not one of those dieters who can go cold turkey and cut out starch, sugar, chicken without skin, watermelon, spaghetti bolognaise,  gin and tonic, all at once. So, I started by ignoring my beeps and tweets and rings while helping the girls with homework.  (Well done me) And I sometimes remember to put my phone away after 19:00. (Remember, baby steps). And I ignore Facebook first thing in the morning. I don’t have to be the first one to see, and forward, Jennifer Lawrence’s dress she wore to the Oscar’s…


So who is with me on this baby steps adventure?

Purpose and life lessons


“Mommy, what is your purpose?”


Wow, I thought, a very deep question for a 9 year old to ask completely out of the blue. The two of us had just left the packed movie house early on Saturday evening. We saw “The Greatest Showman”, which Jessica absolutely loved. And I loved Hugh Jackman *snigger*


Where do you start when your 9 year old asks you this question? Because it was such a serious question and I realized it was one of those “teach a life lesson moment”. Stuff this up, and you could send her on the wrong path forever!

“Well, I have many purposes. One of them is to teach you girls right from wrong. To teach you good manners and to teach you to be respectful. And to teach you life skills so you can stand up for yourself when I am not around.” Although that answer was most likely way too long, she was satisfied with the answer. I proceeded to tell her that there was also a life lesson in the movie we had just seen. Barnum had to work very hard to be successful, but he then thought he was better than his “different” friends, and it was when he lost everything that he realised who his true friends really were. He realised that he treated his friends the same way him and his dad was treated by other rich people. His friends forgave him for his behaviour towards them, because they liked him for the person he was, and not because he was rich and famous at one point.


Only on our way home did I ask Jessica why she asked me what my purpose was. And she recalled the movie “A dog’s purpose”. The story of a dog who lives with different families and when he dies, he is reincarnated into a different dog and then lives with a new family again. And in every new home you see the difference the dog makes in that family’s life.


A few days later, I am still pondering that question. “Mommy, what is your purpose?”. And it makes me a little anxious because I have actually not been able to come up with a simple answer. It is like I am looking for a clever phrase or lightbulb quote. Something like “I will never give up”, “You were born to make an impact”, “Happiness is the purpose of life”, “Decide what you want in life and work to get it.” But google or pintrest was not going to give me the answer, because we all have different goals, and we also have different purposes for different phases of our lives. Study to get your degree, work hard so you don’t stay the marketing assistant forever, save money to go on a trip to London, do a writing course to write that novel, actively listen to learn from people around you.


Have you thought about your purpose? And is your purpose making you truly happy? Is your purpose making you loose sight of things or people that are important to you? Is your purpose enriching or is our purpose making you selfish? Is it OK if your purpose is focused on other people and not yourself?


I am still thinking of what my purpose is for this phase….

The First Lady, the model and the cord

8 the plu

What would you do? Proceed with a case, which could possibly carry on for years? Or complete a blank cheque and move on?


This could easily be the title of a crime novel, or a badly written comedy. It just sounds, well, bizarre. If you don’t know what I am referring to, it is probably because you have been lucky enough to be on holiday somewhere where there is very little media coverage or cellphone signal. Not only has this story been dominating the *news and social media locally, but it is all over the international newspapers too. Even as far as **Australia – I kid you not.


There are many questions around the incident. Why was Grace Mugabe concerned over whom her sons socialise with? How did Grace Mugabe get access to a hotel room with restricted access? Where were the sons at that stage? Were both girls being attacked or just one of them? Etc., etc.….. Afriform, in the form of Gerrie Nel, have offered their services to Gabriella Engels, the 20-year-old model, who was attacked. Kallie Kriel from Afriform was quoted saying;

“Through my discussions she had just met them. This is the kind of thing I think we should fight. It falls in the same category as when people say a woman was raped because of the clothes she wore.”

Afriform is expecting the trial to start within the next three months.


And then another interesting thing happened. Gabriella Engels was offered a blank cheque…. For everything to just go away. How tempting must that have been? Because let’s face it, no one knows what the outcome of a possible court case is going to be. Will our president really allow his friends’ wife to go to jail? Or somewhere someone is going to find a loophole, a reason, why Grace Mugabe cannot be prosecuted. This is risky business. This opened a very interesting discussion on 702 this morning and I always find people’s opinions fascinating. The public court always has many views.

“She needs to settle”

“Lawyers are expensive and this is going to be very traumatic for her.”

“People in power should not get away with crime.”

“Gabriella is damned if she does and damned if she doesn’t.”

“She should ask for a huge amount and insist on a public apology from Grace Mugabe.”

“Accepting money will not make her forget what has happened to her.”

“Her mother is putting pressure on her to pursue the case. She should be given time to decide what she wants to do.”


It made me wonder what I would do if I was in her shoes. A 20-year old girl who has her whole life ahead of her. Who works in an industry where today you could be the most sought after, and tomorrow your portfolio is at the bottom of the pile. Whose life is going to be dissected by top lawyers who will be out to prove that you are not the victim? Paparazzi cameras constantly shoved in your face, and for months, you belong to the public. There could even be death threats, little accidents happening to your family members, friends and family turning against you. Or siding with you because they want their pound of flesh.


At the age of 20 I would seriously consider taking that cheque, writing down a ridiculous amount in dollars and go on a long vacation until the dust has settled. How awesome could her life be! She could fix her face by a top plastic surgeon, get a personal trainer, start her own modeling agency, pay magazines to use her in their photo shoots, take acting lessons, buy a house and a cute cabriolet. Write a book about her ordeal, start a charity for abused women, host her own talkshow. The possibilities are quite endless.


But this has become a high profile case now. This is not just some girl, who was attacked by a mommy’s boys’ crazy mother, in a 3* hotel in Bloemfontein. This is a full scale battle. The victim and her lawyers want to prove that a highly connected person is not above the law. They want to make a point of showing the world that even a first lady will not get away with a crime, and that no amount of money or contacts, is going to get her out of this mess.


Because of the international coverage of this incident, Gabriella Engels now has to do “the right thing” and fight this tooth and nail. She will be crucified by the press and social media if she does otherwise. And she has to fight this not only for herself, but for all woman out there how suffer under the hands of violence.


So my question to you remains – what would you do?




The Elusive Bandit

7 - The bandit

Are you the time square bandit at Jacaranda FM?


Jip, I was one of those hopefuls who went to that morning’s location. And whilst driving there, I rehearsed those very importing lines.   Because if you don’t say it right, you simply cannot win. And you could actually be standing right in front of that bandit not evening knowing it!  One word wrong or in the wrong order, and he/she would simply just deny it was him/her…..


When I got to Delta Park I first rushed to the bird sanctuary car park. And stood and watched. There were a few people scattered around, some with earphones in their ears listening out for the clues. But something didn’t feel right. Twitter then convinced that me that I was indeed in the wrong spot, as the next photo was taken at the entrance of the Environmental Centre. Which is on the opposite side of the park. Where I then rushed. What was the chance that he would actually still be there, was my first thought. With a bounty of R45,000 on his head, he would certainly not make it easy for anyone to find him? As I got out of my car, walking to the entrance I realised my next dilemma – I simply had no flipping clue what the bandit looks like! Is he young or old, Chinese, White or Indian? Is he alone or hanging around with a dog or a friend? Will he be wearing a tracksuit, to blend in with the rest of the walkers and runners or will he stand out like a sore thumb wearing a Charlie Chaplin suit? Was he hiding in between the tall shrubs at the bottom of the entrance or was he simply out in the open fidgeting on his cellphone?


And then came the third dilemma – I had to now go up to strangers, tap them on the shoulder (I think?) and recite the rhyme.

“Are you the time square bandit with Jacaranda FM?”

Oh my soul, this was truly testing the limits of my shyness. I eventually did do it a few times; after all, you’ve got to be in it to win it. At one stage a little car drove past me and stopped a few meters away. In passing, I saw a big computer bag in the back seat of the car.  One is not allowed to approach someone in a vehicle, so I couldn’t go and ask. He was waiting for someone. Within seconds a girl got in and off they went. And I am still wondering if there is any chance of one of them being the bandit. It frustrates me that I would just never know!


I still lingered for about fifteen minutes, walking and watching. R45,000 is certainly not to be sneezed at; it was 50% of a Mauritius holiday paid for!   It was quite entertaining too to watch fellow hopefuls walking up and down, some even running towards certain areas, clearly convinced they cracked the clue. There was a woman in stilettos jogging up and down the road in front of the Environmental Centre, cellphone in her hand, frantically looking left and right. Another guy with a beard and longish brown hair, with a camera bag over his one shoulder, kept being harassed by strangers. Eventually he asked me what was going on cause people kept asking him something about a bandit! I overheard two girls discussing the next clue, which was the sighting of a birds’ nest and I figured the bandit had probably relocated to another side of the park. In the car park two elderly walkers were sharing what they thought were clues of what the bandit looked like, with anyone willing to listen.


Once the trimming of the grass started giving me the sneezes and reminded me of the sinus headache I had had on and off since Saturday, I decided to give up. No family bush weekend at Kwa Maritane, no new Adidas trainers, no Holiday on Ice tickets, no laminate floors for the spare room. Just me and the physiotherapist and her bill afterwards. Sigh…..


The bandit was found that morning, by the way. At Emmerentia Park.

If you read this….

6 - Crime novels

Science fiction? Romance? Crime? Action and Adventure? Autobiographies? Which one do you prefer?


After struggling through the first few pages of a Jojo Moyes novel, it wasn’t long before it was covered in a thin layer of white dust on my bedside table. I realised that I am just not a romance novel person. Maybe twice a year? Cause let’s face it, sometimes one does need a break from one’s usual genre..  And Jojo Moyes would then be my first choice for that “scenery change”.  But the time was obviously not right yet!  In my twenties I was obviously more of a romantic. I loved Danielle Steel, Nora Roberts, Lesley Pearse, Ena Murray, Maretha Maartens. Jackie Collins for glamour and glitz and Jodi Picoult was for something a bit more controversial and serious.  These were the novels where young girls’ dreams started.  And yes, of course I could see my 20-something year old self running off into the sunset with a hunky doctor or a wealthy entrepreneur.  Driving a red Ferrari, owning a holiday home on the French Riviera, summer months living in a Hyde Park apartment, dinners with celeb chefs and famous photographers, going to exclusive night clubs with famous popstars and, at the same time, being a magazine columnist wearing designer jeans with brightly coloured Manolo Blahnik heels.   Ahhhh, how I got transported from my bedroom in my parents’ house to the streets of New York, Paris and London.


So which authors’ books fill my bookcase these days? James Patterson and the Women’s Murder Club series. Four friends regularly meet up to talk about a murder or two being investigated. They share clues and discuss theories while dining and drinking Marguerita’s at their favourite Mexican restaurant. The stories about their personal lives and challenges, makes it feel like you could easily be the fifth friend sitting at their table at Susie’s in San Francisco.

Peter James’ series featuring main character DS Roy Grace, takes place in the seaside town of Brighton. His life is certainly not boring and while solving murders, he continuously ponders the disappearance of his wife Sandy. As the series progresses, you find out that she ran away when she found out that she was pregnant. But Roy does not know this….


I find that my favourite female crime novelists are a lot more explanatory and surprisingly graphic than their male counterparts. Karin Slaughter pulls no punches. Her website states “stories that get under your skin.” And that is not an understatement. The murders are brutal, chilling, disturbing. To such a point that I sometimes have to catch a breather after a hectic chapter, just to slow down my heart rate! Martina Cole writes about the gangs that rule the East End of London. She lets many “f-bombs” drop, writes about child molestation, affairs, betrayal, paedophiles and prostitution. Ruth Rendell, Chris Carter, Michael Connelly, Jo Nesbo, Tony Park, Chris Karsten, Wilbur Smith, Michael Robotham. The list can go on forever.


My latest read is a true life story, which shockingly (and sad) reads like a novel.

“If you are reading this, then I am dead.”

A confession to a murder in the form of a letter, found under a carpet in a house in Kenilworth, Johannesburg. A cold case re-opened after 12 years – lies, abduction, excavations, secret recordings, private investigators, handwriting experts, missing files. The biggest challenge however was that this was to become a murder trial without a body. The author takes the reader on a journey into the real world. Where getting hold of DNA is not as simple as it seems on CSI.  Where people continue to lie or conveniently forget the names of roads or forget that they were actually friends with certain characters significant to the trial. Where investigators work tirelessly at the risk of their personal relationships. Where vital evidence like paper hospital records were destroyed years ago and possible eye witnesses just cannot remember what happened over a decade ago on a busy road where white men tried to bundle a black woman into a car. Where there are no tearful confessions or revelations. Where family members eventually get closure, but never find out why an ordinary woman, called Betty Ketani,  a cook at a popular Rosebank restaurant, was murdered. The book is called Cold Case confession, by journalist Alex Eliseev. In my opinion, a must read on any “crime reader’s” wishlist.


What is it that attracts us to certain genres? And what does this say about us? What does my fancy for crime novels say about me? I did some research because I was really hoping that my love for crime novels doesn’t mean I am some undercover crazy psychopath. One article summed it up quite nicely and at least confirmed that I was still, well, normal. Not many of us have the inclination to be a policeman, serial killer, drug lord or gangster, but we are intrigued by these people and novels take us to the core of these people’s lives. Due to the accessibility of social media, we are exposed to stories of kidnappings, murders and terrorism on a constant basis. But we rarely know the intricate details of these stories and crime writers fill the gaps for us.  And fortunately, in most of these novels, the bad guy is caught by Karma eventually.  Whether he/she dies at the hands of a policeman’s gun, being strangled by a rival, buried alive or just goes to jail, the satisfactory ending leaves us with a feeling of hope and that justice has been served.


Because let’s face it – “…the danger and thrill of the chase is undeniably ‘cool’.” (quote)



Happy Mother’s Day

5 Mothers day

Is there anything specific you would like for Mother’s Day?


It is one of those days that many people immediately complain about –

Just a money making scheme

You should spoil your mom whenever you feel like it and not only on Mother’s Day

The whole thing is so commercialised

Of course there is truth in this. Walk into Woolies and there they are; the big curly-swirly signs announcing that Mother’s Day is on the 14th May. And that you could spoil that special mom of yours with pink slippers, a fluffy (and very expensive) gown, or buy-2-and-save-25%-Minnie-Mouse-fleece pajamas. Red Square has 25% off on all their fragrances and has huge discounts on coffee filters, food steamers and fitness goodies. And yes, I then jumped on the bandwagon too by advertising my tissue boxes, trinket boxes and discounted, personalised shopping bags. Because let’s face it, us moms have more than enough bubblebath and body creams and as much as we love chocolates we could do without!


The idea of Mother’s Day didn’t just fall out of the sky –

“The modern holiday of Mother’s Day was first celebrated in 1908, when Anna Jarvis held a memorial for her mother at St Andrew’s Methodist Church in Grafton, West Virginia. St Andrew’s Methodist Church now holds the International Mother’s Day Shrine.[6] Her campaign to make “Mother’s Day” a recognized holiday in the United States began in 1905, the year her mother, Ann Reeves Jarvis, died. Ann Jarvis had been a peace activist who cared for wounded soldiers on both sides of the American Civil War, and created Mother’s Day Work Clubs to address public health issues. Anna Jarvis wanted to honor her mother by continuing the work she started and to set aside a day to honor all mothers because she believed that they were “the person who has done more for you than anyone in the world”. Thank you, Wikipedia x


I must admit, I love these “commercialised” days.  It gives us an ideal opportunity to spoil and thank our moms, who, at the best of times, we take for granted. We expect them to just always be there for us, because that is what mothers do, right? And there is nothing quite as special as giving a gift that is carefully thought through and chosen, and to then see the happiness on that person’s face when they receive it.


So what do I want for Mother’s Day? I suggested to Andries that he take the girls to Clicks, and let them pick a handful of items they think I would like. I am really looking forward to seeing what the three of them came up with!


To all the mothers out there – whether you are single, divorced, happily married, young or old – happy mother’s day. And treasure those handmade cards and hugs and kisses you will be receiving.


And pretend to absolutely LOVE that cold mug of tea that is brought to you in bed.