Janus in March

The month of January was named after Janus, I forget what he was the god of, Roman I think, but he was noted for having two faces, one looking back and one forward- back to the old year, and forward to the new. I've always liked the notion that in January I can pause and that it is alright to look back and think before facing into the new.

But this is March, sez you!

For one reason and another my girls are doing quite a bit of looking back and thinking at the moment, perhaps its a part of coming to terms with change- a combination of their parent's separation and Middlest getting married this summer with a lousy example of marriage to build on.

 

Whatever the reason, the girls have been looking back at the way they grew up, in East Africa and Ireland, two vastly different places with disparate mores and conventions, to say nothing of moral codes. I always tried to keep communications open and as a result have heard many admissions of hijinks, some of which I knew at the time but pretended ignorance as I felt lessons had been learned, and others I did not know! In East Africa we were lucky to live alongside several African families. I know that sometimes other adults kept my girls in check and also that they had far more freedom because they were with African children who were wise to local ways. We lived in some odd places, the Aberdare forest for a while, and on two coffee farms, one small and fairly urban and another a huge coffee farm surrounded by bush and Kikuyu cultivation. Eldest and Middlest had the sort of childhood freedom that children in western countries have lacked since maybe 1950s or before. They realise their good fortune and I believe it has made them stronger characters. (Youngest was six when we moved here so was still tied to my apron-strings.)

 

Their dangers were monkeys larger than themselves, hippos in the dam at the end of the garden, cuts that would go septic within hours, snakes, misusing machetes and losing a foot or finger, forgetting to bring a dog along (which was their early warning system for trouble), being within the compound by sunset no matter what fun they were having, getting off the grass airstrip when they heard Oscar Golf (the farm owner's plane!) coming in, finding their way home...a far cry from small West of Ireland when they were teenagers!

 

And that was with a careful mother!

 

My problem was always to figure what dangerous thing they would dream up next and forbid it without giving them ideas! Tough path to tread. But at the same time to give them freedom to explore their place and learn to be strong, independent and able to extract themselves from whatever trouble they get into- which was a lot! Among our friends were Settlers and ex-Pats and I know for a fact that some of the latter were horrified by the freedom and mischief the girls got into. The African mothers too believed that white girls should be brought up far more restricted. How can a person 'own' their time and place, as well as knowing their own strengths and weakness, if they have not been allowed the freedom to discover for themselves?

 

In Ireland they had other dangers to contend with, people rather than hippos, responsibility for others as opposed to independence, urban problems instead of bush survival. It came hardest to Eldest but they have adapted and despite the fact they would count themselves Irish I hope that the inner strength they developed in childhood stands them in good stead as they go on.

So, looking back in times of change in order to face the future with integrity, I think they are wise to take the time for this. Besides which, it is such fun listening to their stories of mischief and mayhem. Last week Middlest and I  spent a hilarious tea-time telling Car-Boy some of the awful things she had done as a child. Car-Boy's face was a picture and eventually he thumped his fist on his knee exclaiming: 'Our children will be very well-behaved!'

In one voice, Middlest and I shrieked; 'Good luck with that!'

I really don't think he grasps just how wild Middlest can be...


PS The post I began to write was nothing like this but I guess the old grey matter is entitled to occasionally dictate direction!

Wacky Wee Fillum!

IRISH FOLK FURNITURE.

Gail included the link to this in The Monday Bluesbuster from The Fennel Shed. Quite apart from the interesting subject matter, there's something truly hilarious with all the furniture whizzing around. This is joining my list of gigglers for sure!

21st Century Howarya...

Yesterday I learnt something new, and not good 'new' either.

It seems that even in 21st Century Ireland if a wife is in an unhappy marriage her options are very limited. If she stays for the good of her children until they 16 years or older, the husband is only duty bound to support the children until they have finished full-time education, and owes the wife nothing at all financially. If the husband refuses to vacate the family home she must take him to court if she wishes him to leave and she to stay, and that case would likely only be won if there is extreme violence involved and she is in fear of her life.

If she decides to leave the family home the husband cannot dispose of the home without her consent, and vise versa. If it is sold they each get half the proceeds, if, in the current economic climate it could be sold.

There are no state benefits for a woman who leaves, so she'd jolly well better be able to support herself. She may claim 'job seekers allowance' once she has a separate address to the husband, but not before. Catch 22 situation.

The children would remain with the parent with the greater income, usually the father.

So in the end a wife gives herself to bringing up her children and keeping the home, the husband takes all her salary (whenever she is earning) and the wife ends up penniless, and, if the marriage comes adrift, homeless. What's more, the husband retains the moral high ground by not leaving the family home and continuing to support his children.

The moral of this story, dear ladies, is to either live in sin or not to put up with a lousy marriage for the sake of the children, get out early.

I totally agree that it should not be easy to walk away from one's Marriage vows, they were taken in all seriousness and in good faith.  And who on earth ever thinks at the start of a marriage that they'll end up separated or as a negative statistic? But heck- should a woman be punished for having done the right thing by her family but finally refusing to take any more **** ?

Basically, ladies, not only have we no rights, we're scuppered.

Of Saucers

So you know the way Ireland is saucer shaped, geologically speaking, mountains around the edges and all them bogs and flat farmland in the middle?

D'you know why it’s so?

I’ve a theory...it’s to keep all the water in and to make sure we float.

Put a saucer in a bucket of water and you'll see.

But here's the thing now; if you get too much water into the middle of the saucer what happens?

It sinks.

So I’m just thinking here, that if anyone has immediate access to the climatic tap that's doing the unending dripping on Ireland, they might want to take a wrench to the valve and shut it off for a bit, before we either drown or sink???

And no, I wouldn't fancy living in the Sahara, and yes, I kinda like the emeraldishness of this island, but c'mon haven't we enough water to be going on with for now?

Memories

Mist and Drizzle today, look here if you've forgotten what rain looks like!!

Last Sunday it was ten years to the day that we arrived to live in Ireland. Its odd how the mind seems to fracture into sections of time. The others have been talking about the last ten years and the changes it has brought for them, but my mind seems to have turned back to East Africa and I've been wandering through memories of that time.

There are many things about living there which I don't miss- drought, food shortages, the poor roads and worse driving, lack of phones, electricity and water rationing, lousy security, the uncertainty of day to day living, two hours driving and more to get to a supermarket or School or friends or Church, riots, living in fear...and being homesick.

But although those are some of the reasons we decided to leave, there were many many delights to living there:
Once you get to know them the people are lovely; resilient, amusing, easily amused, forthright, chancers, generous and kind. Like the Widow at Zarephath many people would share their last meal and smile while they did it.
Of those who are Christians their faith in God's provision and goodness is absolute.
I miss being around African people.

The countryside is incredible; everyone who visits will tell you so, and its true. The variety from tropical greenery and endless coconut palms along the Coast, to the red dust and rocks further up-country, to smooth green tea and coffee plantations, the little cultivated plots of vegetables and bananas dotted everywhere and the huge swathes of blueish pineapple plantations.
For a while I worked in a Del Monte Plantation school and besides money, my salary included two pineapples a week and a tee-shirt at the end of the year!

Having grown up by the sea in the West of Ireland, whenever we had the opportunity we headed either to the Coast (eight hours driving to Mombasa, another couple to Malindi or Diani), Lake Baringo (five hours driving, very arid) or Lake Naivasha (three hours, highly populated, very lush). With those distances we didn't get too many safaris but still over fifteen years of living there I reckon I saw parts of just about the whole country.

I was lucky though because when I arrived the country was only beginning to change and it was still very safe for a single girl in a beat up car to belt about on her own- the only risk really was getting stuck somewhere and not being able to dig myself out by myself! That was the only problem I ever had and it happened just the once when I was trying to get away rather fast from some annoyed elephant, came round a corner too fast and misjudged the ruts. I bottomed the Datsun and was on my hands and knees under the car digging when a taxi load of Russian tourists came along and their driver stopped to give the Datsun a push. It then took off so suddenly I had to tear after it to grab the handbrake before it hit the taxi- still full of Russians sitting watching out their rear window!! It was terribly funny- the driver and I stood and roared laughing, we couldn't help ourselves!

At the Coast it was a humid heat but once you are up 1000ft or so it is drier and very pleasant, in the Highlands and around the Aberdares and Mt Kenya it gets frosty at night. Since the only heating is by a fire, and usually the only hot water too, in many places to sit around a fire every night is quite normal, having had to stay in from the heat through the middle of the day.

I've heard it said that East Africa is a place of contrasts, and I suppose that is true in many ways, but when you are there you don't notice, its just the way it is. It is still a rather slower and more old-fashioned way of living, certainly in the rural areas, and you soon learn to be very self-sufficient but inter-dependant too. You would never pass someone who needed help, you'd offer lifts to people until your car could hold no more (thereby turning many journeys into a party!), you talk to everyone language barrier or not because that might be the only person you see all day, and as I said above, you learn to be generous with everything you have because you never know when you'll be on the receiving end.

This isn't meant to be a summary of fifteen years, its rather a collage of present thoughts. I love living back here, and will stay as long as the Hub can get work, but East Africa had its moments too!