Saturday 14 October 2017

MY AFRICAN STORY HAS A TOUCH OF LA FRANCE

The story of Huberta is a genuine African story, sometimes we forget about all the exciting stories about South Africa.  I know we caught up in all the negative happenings and I am not trying to make them sound as if they are not important, but let's focus on some good news.  I love the story of A year in Provence by Peter Mayle, there is a lovely video about this story and it really is just one of those pick me up and make me feel good stories.  I love France, and for two years I travelled back and forth working in Normandy, it was a great time and I loved every minute of it.  I was wondering should I not just include some of those stories in my blog?  The countryside, the food, the people oh so much but then maybe not, those were good times but here we also have a beautiful country, fantastic food and wonderful people of diversity. Here are a few photos of my time in St Nicolas de Pierrepont.

The little house I lived in my bedroom was upstairs and I had a lovely view.


St Nicolas de Pierrepont the little village where I lived, well at least St Nicolas reminds me of Huberta and my grandfather!!



Phillip feeding the chickens and the goats, Bonny is always seeking attention.
I enjoyed walking in the forest, sitting quietly and just reflecting on the peace and tranquilty.  You may ask was it safe?  Yes except on Wednesday you had to keep your eyes open as the men were hunting, there were notices warning faire attention!

Tuesday 7 February 2017

A VISIT TO PLUMBAGO


Plumbago in 2006 

My journey to Plumbago the last home of my grandparents fills me with emotion.  Strong emotions.  I have to find the truth about Huberta.

The house is empty, a musty smell from closed doors and age is strong as I walk across the "voorkamer" sitting room.  For a brief moment I look up and remember as a child visiting Plumbago.  I was fascinated by an old picture of the broad and the narrow way in life.that hung above the door of my grandparents bedroom.  That narrow way seemed so difficult and as a child I pondered about which road would I choose?







I cough, quickly my thoughts return to where I am.  Then I hear "Go home, forget about Huberta, she is dead."  What tricks is my mind playing?  What thoughts am I thinking?  This visit is far too emotional I need to get a grip on myself, I am not going home!

An eerie cold feeling comes over me, I shiver, goose bumps creep over my skin I have got to get out of here as I move towards the front door and the stoep.  A gust of wind suddenly comes up and the tall Cyprus trees on the side of the stoep sway from the sudden wind.  Then the wind stops. 

Monday 6 February 2017

I HAVE A STRANGE LINK WITH HUBERTA


My paternal grandparents Johanna and Nicolaas Marx, lived on a small holding outside of King Williams Town called Plumbago. What I am about to tell you is descriptive of Plumbago, and is not fiction.  Did I really find a box with valuable information?  Yes I did and inside I found the evidence of the untold story of Huberta.