tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-45466605253290917132024-03-18T19:48:15.961+02:00Life, the universe and Nuffing...Thinking & Feeling.
“The world is a tragedy to those who feel, but a comedy to those who think.” Horace WalpoleJaneFhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05624529776216917022noreply@blogger.comBlogger1560125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4546660525329091713.post-53922048327615973712022-06-09T12:15:00.001+02:002022-06-09T12:15:55.543+02:00Ian Fraser – my dad - the man that shaped me (a short Eulogy)<p><span style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">My father... my person, tragically died, fairly fast and suddenly on 25 April 2025, after taking ill on the Thursday before Easter... a short 10 days later he was no longer with us.</span></span></p><p><span style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I will be forever grateful for having taken the time to phone him, that Monday evening before he took ill, to catch him up on new. We had good chat - as we always did. I told him about Rina (my ex mother-in-law) having died the week before. And also about our wonderful holiday to Rwanda.</span></span></p><p><span style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">He'd tuned 82 in February. He again mentioned the letter I wrote him for his 80th birthday and how much he appreciated it. I felt was way too soon, and that I should have waited until his 90th. And that I was looking forward to another wonderful family holiday to The Cavern when we would celebrate that. He told me he didn't think he's make it that long. I bushed him off and said of course he would... but I think he knew he was getting weaker already. </span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">By Thursday evening he was in hospital and on oxygen, and by Friday he was sedated and on a ventilator. In the next few days he'd get better and then worse in cycles, by the reports I got, and <span style="text-align: left;">finally we were told he suffered a large heart attack at some point and it seemed as if he'd had at least one stroke too. By Friday 22 April it seemed clear the prognosis did not look good. I booked a flight and went up for the week-end to see him. I got to see him on Saturday & Sunday afternoons, and it was REALLY tough to see him so weak, and suddenly old-looking, and so frail and debilitated. being on a ventilator he was not conscious or able to communicate at all, but he seemed to be able to hear us. So we spent time talking to him, comforting him and encouraging him to fight and get better. He seemed to be able to hear us and his eye would open, and widen, at times, and he'd move his right hand, lifting it to his face, or squeezing the hand that was holding his. We do think he was 'there' and hearing us. We realised he seemed to have irreversible damage and seemed to be deteriorating though and knew he'd hate to have his quality of life compromised. (He was an extremely proud, independent, head strong, active and capable person. He was still working full-time running his business!)</span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">By the Sunday evening he'd got even worse. And they'd had to sedate him more. At that visit I again told him how much he'd meant to me throughout my life. And I told him he didn't need to fight and stay strong. If he was tired and wanted to finally stop and rest he could. I told him we were strong, and we'd all manage without him, and would look after his beautiful wife Rose. I am not sure if he did hear any of this, or if it made any difference. But at lunch time on Monday 25 April he finally released and stopped and went...</span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I am so grateful I was able to go see and be with him, and to officially say goodbye, as hard as it was to do that.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">We all went back again as a family for this 'Celebration of Life' on 20 May. It was a beautiful afternoon at the Pretoria Country Club & Bowls Club - his home from home. There was a Scottish piper, photos and wonderful memories shared, and of course good whiskey.</span></p><p><span style="text-align: justify;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjsSmHdWoj5Lvg6DS96dzoHcy9avWrU7VpsRubdtvqW3Z0bgLGEwgFV993GhDzqn7TEYwmvPt8sce6USfQBUEQLg3R7kKVHbRiw8E2o0MsKVekpO628aaZpOmH39oxo0lHfkNLJJTb4XsLhD_hBHaqwdUXrwVATD5-cqwd6BIEziRaqkYfXo3wCzWge" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="830" data-original-width="765" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjsSmHdWoj5Lvg6DS96dzoHcy9avWrU7VpsRubdtvqW3Z0bgLGEwgFV993GhDzqn7TEYwmvPt8sce6USfQBUEQLg3R7kKVHbRiw8E2o0MsKVekpO628aaZpOmH39oxo0lHfkNLJJTb4XsLhD_hBHaqwdUXrwVATD5-cqwd6BIEziRaqkYfXo3wCzWge=w368-h400" width="368" /></a></div><p>It is so hard to accept that my dad has actually died, and is no longer here. I find myself wanting to tell him stuff every day. He was one on the first people I'd speak to when anything really good or bad happened in my life. He was my person. I'd thought he'd be there forever...</p><div>This is the short eulogy I gave at his memorial...<br /><p></p><p><span style="text-align: justify;"><br /></span><b style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Calibri Light", sans-serif;">Ian Fraser – my dad - the man that shaped me.</span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Calibri Light", sans-serif;">I feel
blessed to have had the father I had. He has always been the constant
unwavering thread throughout my life. There to cheer me on when I have had
successes, and there through life’s hardships and tragedies. That constant
presence and support has immeasurable value. He possessed that rare ability to
bear witness, without avoiding or amplifying the situation, but rather just
being there with you.</span><span style="font-family: "Calibri Light", sans-serif;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Calibri Light", sans-serif;">I fully
believed he would live to 90 and beyond, he seemed invincible. So, it is almost
incomprehensible to me that he is not here.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I feel like my very foundation has been shaken. What I really want to do
is to phone my dad for support. Because he’d know what to say and somehow, he’d
make it feel like everything would be ok.</span><span style="font-family: "Calibri Light", sans-serif;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Calibri Light", sans-serif;">But I am
blessed and thankful for the time we did have; and all that he taught me.</span><span style="font-family: "Calibri Light", sans-serif;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Calibri Light", sans-serif;">Many of my
fondest childhood memories are from spending time with my dad. There would be evening
visits to the shop to pick up something needed for dinner. I was always hopeful
that a treat would be thrown in, and it often would be, but not always.
Ensuring that I knew it was just that, an occasional treat, never to be
expected. (I note though that he became a lot more liberal and generous with
the concept of treats when it came to his grandchildren!)</span><span style="font-family: "Calibri Light", sans-serif;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Calibri Light", sans-serif;">I remember
sitting on, or near, his lap listening to him reading or playing guitar for us
as children. I would be thrilled when he’d make up lyrics to make the song
about me.</span><span style="font-family: "Calibri Light", sans-serif;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Calibri Light", sans-serif;">I'd help him to make dinner, listening to his selection of classical music, which became
the backing music to our lives.</span><span style="font-family: "Calibri Light", sans-serif;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Calibri Light, sans-serif;">I would often phone him at work, when I was bored during school holidays. He’d give me a
question or riddle to solve to keep me occupied. Once he asked me why I
wouldn’t be able to find a live unicorn. At first, I would find the question
annoying. Then I’d start pondering, and then would do some research in the set
of old encyclopedias we had. Suddenly I’d have a eureka moment, a spark of
realisation & understanding. I’d be equally excited & impressed with
myself, and also amused at him for what he had done. I even realised that he
was just trying to defer me, to leave him alone to work for a bit, but I
wouldn’t be able to help myself, I would have to call him immediately to
explain the answer. Feeling a sense of accomplishment! <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Calibri Light, sans-serif;">One afternoon,
when I was a teen, we had a lengthy debate about whether ‘ginormous’ was a real
word. We eventually decided that if it appeared in the dictionary, then it
would accepted as a real word. So off I marched righteously to find the family
dictionary… fully expecting to win the argument by not finding it. To my
surprise, there was a little handwritten asterisk on the page where it would
have fitted, and at the bottom of the page there was a corresponding asterisk and suspiciously, looking like my father’s fountain pen handwriting, a note
saying: ‘<i>Ginormous (adjective) very very big.’</i>. And so, I had to concede defeat,
because it technically WAS in the dictionary.</span><span style="font-family: "Calibri Light", sans-serif;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Calibri Light", sans-serif;">He dad taught
us how to think, how to research & figure stuff out, and indeed that a
little humour, creative thinking and rule breaking goes a long way - so not to
take life too seriously. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Calibri Light", sans-serif;">While he was
quite a stickler for being proper – being dressed appropriately, speaking well
and behaving with decorum - he also liked to model himself a little on slightly
less-proper characters like Winston Churchill, and he had much of the same
irreverence.</span><span style="font-family: "Calibri Light", sans-serif;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Calibri Light", sans-serif;">My dad taught
us to be true to ourselves and to work hard. That work ethic of his was legendary.
He worked full-time literally right up to the very end, and he’s one of the
rare few who would have no regrets about that. In fact, I probably got to see
him more in the past few years than I would have otherwise because he worked.
He was always off somewhere for a site-visit – and when that was in the Cape, we
got to see him too.</span><span style="font-family: "Calibri Light", sans-serif;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Calibri Light", sans-serif;">He never
shied away from a question, or an opportunity to discuss ANY topic. We all know
how he loved a good argument! He informed, enlightened and educated us on all
and everything and we’d often have epic debates around the dining room table. Most
importantly he taught me to think and form opinions for myself – including
eventually being bold and brave enough to be able to disagree with him and
stand my ground!</span><span style="font-family: "Calibri Light", sans-serif;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Calibri Light", sans-serif;">I loved afternoons
spent in the garage listening to the radio and tinkering about. I loved tagging
along with him, sometimes choosing to spend whole days of my holidays with my
dad, while he worked - having to wait in the car while he attended meetings. But
enjoying the conversations and experiences along the way.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Calibri Light", sans-serif;">From as far
back as I can remember my dad was always there, and I liked nothing better than
spending time with him. And that never changed, he was always jolly good
company and became a really good friend in my adult years. We had many a dinner
and long conversation over a bottle of wine or two.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Calibri Light", sans-serif;">I always felt
like my life choices, decisions and paths were fully mine to make. But that if
I wanted or needed to check in with him, he was always there to listen, guide,
suggest or support in a gentle and caring way. I was so grateful for how he
accepted and understood some of my probably crazy-seeming unconventional ideas
and plans.</span><span style="font-family: "Calibri Light", sans-serif;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Calibri Light", sans-serif;">His relationship
with Rose has been a true inspiration. Their bond, and the affection they shared,
was truly heart-warming. Rose was the great love of his life and he knew it. I
am so glad he found a safe and warm place for his heart. Thank-you Rose for
loving our father and teaching him to love so freely too.</span><span style="font-family: "Calibri Light", sans-serif;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Calibri Light, sans-serif;">He was a
wonderful father & marvelous grandpa. It's so hard to find the words to encapsulate
the most important and influential person in my life, the man who shaped me and
who was such an inspiration to me.</span><span style="font-family: "Calibri Light", sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Calibri Light, sans-serif;">I
think this short poem -- appropriately --by Robert Burns sums him up best:</span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "Calibri Light", sans-serif;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Calibri Light", sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">"<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Epitaph on my own Friend<o:p></o:p></b></span></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Calibri Light", sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">An
honest man here lies at rest,<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Calibri Light", sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">As
e’er God with His image blest:<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Calibri Light", sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The
friend of man, the friend of truth;<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Calibri Light", sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The
friend of age, and guide of youth:<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Calibri Light", sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Few
hearts like his, with virtue warm’d,<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Calibri Light", sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Few
heads with knowledge so inform’d:<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Calibri Light", sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">If
there’s another world, he lives in bliss;<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Calibri Light", sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">If
there is none, he made the best of this.”</span><span style="font-size: 15pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Calibri Light", sans-serif;"></span></i></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-size: 15pt; text-align: center;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEho5H8oeuEYcSHxs1PcOKc-yTk-84tIsMlvRfuNCrGlHEoHKjd9fMvzGJ3hxPiSIEY9cM2eAuC3kWPqW_ccNCiKzpNlQs15RNzndS51H8obfQ6coFf1Fpr0JRxarrBNiRVCiUQJ3in2jZnvIbpJmYIZReEHnVR8rYmXhveRC598GhNRFXuxSZzeKoTI" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="720" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEho5H8oeuEYcSHxs1PcOKc-yTk-84tIsMlvRfuNCrGlHEoHKjd9fMvzGJ3hxPiSIEY9cM2eAuC3kWPqW_ccNCiKzpNlQs15RNzndS51H8obfQ6coFf1Fpr0JRxarrBNiRVCiUQJ3in2jZnvIbpJmYIZReEHnVR8rYmXhveRC598GhNRFXuxSZzeKoTI=w320-h267" width="320" /></a></i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; 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text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgFymnIQbGBt8IIN1Bgttsa0LJJ5KUOwN3aztMOynDB6jasYUn8YMB77LzVspC_2yteIsxAYGNwTTMNmwGxLn5nbRHUcb_uVwIiTxXeT6D697G-HKX_OSB2AWY47beb2r5WXTTkaDW8nMY7CdKLSC9NwBkuh8b0cdG39yEwIrn2BQ_0QEbW1Drjob9Y" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="745" data-original-width="960" height="249" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgFymnIQbGBt8IIN1Bgttsa0LJJ5KUOwN3aztMOynDB6jasYUn8YMB77LzVspC_2yteIsxAYGNwTTMNmwGxLn5nbRHUcb_uVwIiTxXeT6D697G-HKX_OSB2AWY47beb2r5WXTTkaDW8nMY7CdKLSC9NwBkuh8b0cdG39yEwIrn2BQ_0QEbW1Drjob9Y=w320-h249" width="320" /></a></i></div></div></div></div></div></div><p></p></div>JaneFhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05624529776216917022noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4546660525329091713.post-81332826755897910082022-05-01T11:05:00.010+02:002023-08-17T14:20:20.015+02:00Roaming Around Rwanda <h2 style="text-align: left;"><b><span face=""Calibri Light",sans-serif" lang="EN-ZA" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Calibri Light"; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">Rwanda Trip - March 2022: Jane, Benjamin, Andrew</span></b></h2><h4 style="text-align: left;"><span face=""Calibri Light", sans-serif" lang="EN-ZA" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt; font-weight: normal;">by Andrew Canter, with edits by Jane Fraser</span></h4>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Calibri Light",sans-serif" lang="EN-ZA" style="font-family: inherit; mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Calibri Light"; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">When one envisions "deepest
darkest Africa" then the great lakes region of Africa (the famous
"rift valley") might be the area one envisions.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In the middle of that region -- straddling
the watershed of the Congo and Nile rivers and a metaphorical stone's throw
from Lake Victoria -- is the tiny, landlocked country of Rwanda.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Well, landlocked except for the giant Lake
Kivu*, which forms much of its border with the Democratic Republic of the Congo,
or DRC as it is known.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The north of
Rwanda is bounded by a string of volcanoes -- dormant -- which form the highlands,
the Volcanoes National Park, and the home of the famous mountain gorillas.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The country is nicknamed “The Land of a
Thousand Hills" since there is almost no flat land anywhere.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Much of the transport is taken by foot and
bicycle, and it appears that the people are very industrious and hard-working
and so are evidently fit. Rwanda thus has very competent and competitive
cyclists and runners. From the outside Rwanda is known principally for two
things: The Genocide (which, in April 1994 occurred at the same time as South
Africa's first democratic election), and the Gorillas (and Diane Fossey of
"Gorillas in the Mist" fame). <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiPbGVh2GxtFZMvGLQOcGJ5y4OYbdDqTF3ELDUA6z5YgVtR-Sc_zYuhdKY1tBB2uU3OoLGVnSlijBx993dnPidh3bPoj-Dg6J3x9j7JW8NzhATJNZLszah8aAMbyXzp97PBJLZup1qlOKvWNqp5UAP0qcsZQAtvpzjmi_ix3aGUuwWz6ppMk7vHu1rM" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img alt="" data-original-height="525" data-original-width="616" height="272" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiPbGVh2GxtFZMvGLQOcGJ5y4OYbdDqTF3ELDUA6z5YgVtR-Sc_zYuhdKY1tBB2uU3OoLGVnSlijBx993dnPidh3bPoj-Dg6J3x9j7JW8NzhATJNZLszah8aAMbyXzp97PBJLZup1qlOKvWNqp5UAP0qcsZQAtvpzjmi_ix3aGUuwWz6ppMk7vHu1rM=w320-h272" width="320" /></span></a></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span face=""Calibri Light",sans-serif" lang="EN-ZA" style="font-size: 9pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Calibri Light"; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;"><o:p> </o:p></span><b><span face=""Calibri Light",sans-serif" lang="EN-ZA" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Calibri Light"; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">The genocide</span></b><span face=""Calibri Light", sans-serif" lang="EN-ZA"> is as much of a "historical event" as
apartheid is: But that's a two-edged statement.
Since 1994 Rwanda has clearly worked hard to create a unified
"Rwandan" country, where tribes are not mentioned, and the genocide
is seen as a "dark historical spot".
In this telling, the genocide was birthed by the Catholic church and
colonisers… abetted by an uncaring world… and a stain on the people's
history. But such things are always
under surface… and probably not so deep: All it would take would be one
power-hungry, rabble-rousing politician to tear open old wounds, old hurts, and
old prejudices. As Paul Kagame has been
a strong-man in charge since 1994, and has imposed order on the country, the
genocide has subsided in the recesses: One can't help but wonder -- and fear --
for the future. That said, the country
does not hide from this part of history -- everyone experienced it, there are
genocide memorials in various places, as well as a large genocide memorial in
Kigali where the remains of over 250,000 victims (out of over 1,000,000!) are
buried under concrete in mass graves.
The museum is a pointed, somber and genuine (sufficiently such that
children are not allowed to visit) reminder of the horrific events that
unfolded. It’s all there to be
acknowledged. It is an uncomfortable, sad, and extremely distressing, but
important, part of a visit to Rwanda.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span face=""Calibri Light",sans-serif" lang="EN-ZA" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Calibri Light"; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;"> </span><b><span face=""Calibri Light",sans-serif" lang="EN-ZA" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Calibri Light"; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">The Gorillas:</span></b></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span face=""Calibri Light",sans-serif" lang="EN-ZA" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Calibri Light"; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">The main reason most
people are drawn to Rwanda is for an opportunity see the famous Mountain
Gorillas up-close-and-personal.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s
quite a trek to get there: Fly to Kigali, get a clear PCR test, drive about 2.5
hours north to Ruhengeri, get to the National Park office at 7am on trek day,
then trek uphill into fairly impenetrable jungle… to get your 60 minutes with
the gorillas.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s also costly: A
trekking permit for a day costs US$1500 -- but currently, due to Covid, African
residents pay "only" US$500.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>That said, the process is very well managed, as are the gorillas
themselves -- evidently left to their own devices in their safe-haven on the
border of Rwanda and Uganda, but also clearly tracked daily so that they can be
visited by the groups of tourists.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><span face=""Calibri Light", sans-serif"> </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Calibri Light", sans-serif" style="font-family: inherit;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiyN6z6aFjb6BONNzA49uEhD_0kWXTo25LHOZdpZT_fAI4YsKkCSwpoX4Gr1E_CVgk2GOXxqpKf-8IDyuFGqaMGMj6rvVQ1UpPQrNBdl7W7e0eb07BjgNQJQlxospN4KAkIaFbKFa--d_2kfFr4Mh4Fwg6hCX9yHGNzHlW_1nNpL4unp1fhjky4LikN" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img alt="" data-original-height="519" data-original-width="779" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiyN6z6aFjb6BONNzA49uEhD_0kWXTo25LHOZdpZT_fAI4YsKkCSwpoX4Gr1E_CVgk2GOXxqpKf-8IDyuFGqaMGMj6rvVQ1UpPQrNBdl7W7e0eb07BjgNQJQlxospN4KAkIaFbKFa--d_2kfFr4Mh4Fwg6hCX9yHGNzHlW_1nNpL4unp1fhjky4LikN" width="320" /></span></a></div><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span face=""Calibri Light",sans-serif" lang="EN-ZA" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Calibri Light"; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">The end result is a
great overall experience, with clear rules, good guides, and a real feeling for the
gorillas in their natural habitat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
obvious question is "did you see the gorillas?"<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Given the cost, and management, it seems that the Rwanda Parks more or less assures you that you will see gorillas,
and have a real up-close experience, even if you have to trek further than you
intended.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><span face=""Calibri Light", sans-serif"> </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Calibri Light", sans-serif" style="font-family: inherit;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgPyCaYNfURr9B-DOdm3bLsgbVp0focbhkG0CzWrfajT9eaewG8LNBL5Pfg96gaf5FLvNALPyAZu0DFuosl3GXbvsFyIIQPj4YjwbLzv4pcU5D5O5ytuIEl33pcmDQZJpC3-hH-vF7pQS6Zix3zQFN2zqZkJxybNoxfWyMefYWLryHVNrV6aAPMTbgX" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img alt="" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="450" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgPyCaYNfURr9B-DOdm3bLsgbVp0focbhkG0CzWrfajT9eaewG8LNBL5Pfg96gaf5FLvNALPyAZu0DFuosl3GXbvsFyIIQPj4YjwbLzv4pcU5D5O5ytuIEl33pcmDQZJpC3-hH-vF7pQS6Zix3zQFN2zqZkJxybNoxfWyMefYWLryHVNrV6aAPMTbgX=w300-h400" width="300" /></span></a></div></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Calibri Light", sans-serif" style="font-family: inherit;">On arrival at the Park Headquarters you will be asked "how far do you want trek?" There seem to be 3 options -- hard, medium and short: With no guarantees (since the gorilla groups do move all the time), that seems to imply between 30 minutes and several hours of upward trekking to find a gorilla group. We had organised a baby-sitter for Benjamin for the full day, so we chose the "hard" trekking option. Reckoning that; we enjoy exercise and adventure, would get an opportunity to climb the side of the volcano at the same time, and would also get to see a potentially less visited troop too. Assuming most others would select the easy/short option in the grasslands. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Calibri Light", sans-serif" style="font-family: inherit;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiUwPzQV50Kauorwb109PdGF-17w_0ZOcjqYrXO8jvb3G0OsQo25uXXE_pCKVS6cB3Fp0UivQTQs3VXiQCDcASz9G4PeqTMCKsDNA5WNnImPBGiwUA1CZovdUqeIyQ-gPtwUGcQtlXYRaMwp69nETBIHdEl1NhXbwNInl0KQMyWqCDRqkU8BwoBToHa" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img alt="" data-original-height="657" data-original-width="493" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiUwPzQV50Kauorwb109PdGF-17w_0ZOcjqYrXO8jvb3G0OsQo25uXXE_pCKVS6cB3Fp0UivQTQs3VXiQCDcASz9G4PeqTMCKsDNA5WNnImPBGiwUA1CZovdUqeIyQ-gPtwUGcQtlXYRaMwp69nETBIHdEl1NhXbwNInl0KQMyWqCDRqkU8BwoBToHa=w300-h400" width="300" /></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi4EWXi9vusMXboaHW3Xv0p8Qk7u5DdlXJgLqdX9jIEpaCrCEy0m7_rMsGhJGUdOE_2PN5WtQuT6mlAYYlA_XoDx9auEdhy9-14YeU7d20qUFju2YkRFvpfa7PUMeb1Yh62N1S7BTeCClOw_xrw5uqd6JopU4GCTs5fzt8XImF4FiS9PJVOZE_EreaT" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img alt="" data-original-height="657" data-original-width="493" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi4EWXi9vusMXboaHW3Xv0p8Qk7u5DdlXJgLqdX9jIEpaCrCEy0m7_rMsGhJGUdOE_2PN5WtQuT6mlAYYlA_XoDx9auEdhy9-14YeU7d20qUFju2YkRFvpfa7PUMeb1Yh62N1S7BTeCClOw_xrw5uqd6JopU4GCTs5fzt8XImF4FiS9PJVOZE_EreaT=w300-h400" width="300" /></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEizkODv2maVJCicT2ytHP0id3CAmFQZoUTJBtPGvKB2BKZDyq3lyK3_tqaDU8NPr8I9p15imGItP3CUclkRCX25WQYEB36ahjMGlC6jU_SWI3qRLwlKltTDT8nvoRuG_lWLV_6JuJpsvT6bcQLUjtOFFyvJwdXXJEQUv3ILtscg1p_smAnqe_Igpjtx" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img alt="" data-original-height="657" data-original-width="493" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEizkODv2maVJCicT2ytHP0id3CAmFQZoUTJBtPGvKB2BKZDyq3lyK3_tqaDU8NPr8I9p15imGItP3CUclkRCX25WQYEB36ahjMGlC6jU_SWI3qRLwlKltTDT8nvoRuG_lWLV_6JuJpsvT6bcQLUjtOFFyvJwdXXJEQUv3ILtscg1p_smAnqe_Igpjtx=w300-h400" width="300" /></span></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span face=""Calibri Light", sans-serif" lang="EN-ZA">As it turned out, again, due to Covid - and also March/April being "rainy season" -- our group was just the two of us and our 2 guides (a group can normally be up to 12 visitors plus guides). So, we got a ‘private trek’ which apparently can cost up to $15 000USD (as facilitated for celebs). After a 20-minute drive on truly disastrous roads to get to the start of our trek on the slopes of Mt Bisoke. We then embarked on a pretty treacherous hike; climbing steep, very muddy, tracks upward into the jungle (Note to self: Wear long pants and shirt and bring mud-gaiters both for the mud AND the stinging nettle/thorn!). Any plans of staying clean and dry were soon abandoned, as the focus shifted to not losing a shoe in the deep mud, and not grabbing onto or falling into the stinging nettle! Walking sticks are provided and they are a necessity to navigate the slippery and steep climb both up and down the mountain.</span><span face=""Calibri Light", sans-serif"> </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Calibri Light", sans-serif" style="font-family: inherit;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjDk2OPnJAc-mlkvMu5-PwNS_lrK-j0VqkTEZcHb-nW2iDK7KcXYTy4jZc9k5vkQbrGfBhjG8SvL8aSqCO5Rm7_Y5y4oS9d6KpwBDZ6ogFGfAPIX50ti58OEJLgDPJLikG4Utn4myWlulmEb__0_VqT8Xr2CqNJoh1sYi2bXmdViwMywJnhKxoiCNz0" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img alt="" data-original-height="461" data-original-width="311" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjDk2OPnJAc-mlkvMu5-PwNS_lrK-j0VqkTEZcHb-nW2iDK7KcXYTy4jZc9k5vkQbrGfBhjG8SvL8aSqCO5Rm7_Y5y4oS9d6KpwBDZ6ogFGfAPIX50ti58OEJLgDPJLikG4Utn4myWlulmEb__0_VqT8Xr2CqNJoh1sYi2bXmdViwMywJnhKxoiCNz0=w269-h400" width="269" /></span></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span face=""Calibri Light",sans-serif" lang="EN-ZA" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Calibri Light"; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">Being at around 3000m
altitude also adds to the physical exertion. While it is not actually a super-strenuous
climb, due to the altitude and conditions, it is rather treacherous, so you must
be up for the challenge to select the option we did. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We enjoyed this though as it added
authenticity to the ‘jungle trek’ experience and was not at all like simply
visiting a zoo. There are trackers on the mountain who find and follow the
troops each day, both to ensure their safety and also to relay their location
via radio to the trekking guides. So finding the gorillas wasn't unduly
confusing, but did have us going off the trail. We had been pursuing them up
the side of the volcano, but due to the cold and rain they had started
descending again, so we intercepted them coming down the far side of a volcanic
crater by looping around the bottom.</span><span face=""Calibri Light", sans-serif" style="text-align: center;"> </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Calibri Light",sans-serif" lang="EN-ZA" style="font-family: inherit; mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Calibri Light"; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">We trekked up the
mountain-side for about 90 minutes. While there are some trails, once you
approach the vicinity of ‘your’ troop, your guides then proceed to cut a path
through the jungle with machetes to allow you to get close to the troop. This
saw us stumbling and slipping our way through the very muddy very lush jungle thickets
in the gentle rain. Upon arrival near "our" gorillas, we had to leave
our backpacks and other ancillary items, put surgical masks on, and then
approach the group quietly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>From then,
you have a timed 60 minutes with the gorillas.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEji69EO71H1rZ9kZXQ8mrewDc43WVsBqhrXo18jffNLl1RMqrv1yYP-ba1KGwkCaM5XL0zlaIn4quhE-RVnvNn_mpUYDrzZq11IV9dhbXizZhMeQEdtDMQ2QQMxDh5e9Iv3JyZAdpwnEgZ815nm9gqvN6omyhujefaQDTHu9O7Q2Lferq6fqNDkVaQu" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="454" data-original-width="318" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEji69EO71H1rZ9kZXQ8mrewDc43WVsBqhrXo18jffNLl1RMqrv1yYP-ba1KGwkCaM5XL0zlaIn4quhE-RVnvNn_mpUYDrzZq11IV9dhbXizZhMeQEdtDMQ2QQMxDh5e9Iv3JyZAdpwnEgZ815nm9gqvN6omyhujefaQDTHu9O7Q2Lferq6fqNDkVaQu=w280-h400" width="280" /></a></span></div><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span face=""Calibri Light",sans-serif" lang="EN-ZA" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Calibri Light"; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">Frankly, no amount of
text is going to describe the experience of being with the gorillas.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The abiding sense is "peacefulness"
(Acceptance? Lack of stress/annoyance at our presence? Naturalness?) of the
gorilla group who simply went about their business of clambering in trees,
walking around the bush, sitting or lying down, playing, nursing, eating or
grooming.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They were not oblivious to
people in their space but have been so well "habituated" (as the
Rwandans say) as to make you a "part of the family".<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We'd been advised the younger male gorillas
will sometimes seek to touch (or possibly hit) you in curiosity, but when one
of them tried to approach us our guide shoo'ed him away, as they want to avoid
any direct human interactions to keep them as ‘wild’ as possible.</span><span face=""Calibri Light", sans-serif"> </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Calibri Light", sans-serif" style="font-family: inherit;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhIqsfQ3SYBfNIlrwZRmGJyeO2mQkkaLAStrpncrhFz5DLIXCAnW5aVCLE5kkmxJWvueqMTrM2fbTWiv_Q6MYC-6GFGjsTrmC4qs7NcuBYMU4RPCfSdnktLF3rDQrx1oHSeQyFHORapgVm1ituXZe5UPpi1sEHRhwGiW8BOB8muS848dBGnWrYj9sB3" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img alt="" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="450" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhIqsfQ3SYBfNIlrwZRmGJyeO2mQkkaLAStrpncrhFz5DLIXCAnW5aVCLE5kkmxJWvueqMTrM2fbTWiv_Q6MYC-6GFGjsTrmC4qs7NcuBYMU4RPCfSdnktLF3rDQrx1oHSeQyFHORapgVm1ituXZe5UPpi1sEHRhwGiW8BOB8muS848dBGnWrYj9sB3=w300-h400" width="300" /></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgVbB84hAOLEaYQ9AV6gN3r4RzIIgNRMT6-Uoj40xcnIY1m8t53Lfat42Ki9RloY_W0nDj0MdeFCfpTwTVNDfghBdxxR0EiqSv4nJwfgc1921OAvxErR7GDC1gv6PlMK9NCbiAYNPgkOT1dv9pqa4JldMwJ63XYfOGkw1IngM2S6OWfrfUfeFLAKr-1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img alt="" data-original-height="458" data-original-width="961" height="191" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgVbB84hAOLEaYQ9AV6gN3r4RzIIgNRMT6-Uoj40xcnIY1m8t53Lfat42Ki9RloY_W0nDj0MdeFCfpTwTVNDfghBdxxR0EiqSv4nJwfgc1921OAvxErR7GDC1gv6PlMK9NCbiAYNPgkOT1dv9pqa4JldMwJ63XYfOGkw1IngM2S6OWfrfUfeFLAKr-1=w400-h191" width="400" /></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEieF3i9MINTwKOFI7BdzGZG9Fz_MbV-MEz7sHpFSRYy6ezK98XD6UMCorole14hbCuz1vQ4UUnO1e7DgHLo7njfvKYbDpeMSI4Loie-reitZm1CFUB-N6HfUtWgFf7b6iXNn3O8uWhML6bdEWZUGhSO3qyBIf3h53MUib4CNG_P9AQLoIO_qtzve2TP" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img alt="" data-original-height="657" data-original-width="876" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEieF3i9MINTwKOFI7BdzGZG9Fz_MbV-MEz7sHpFSRYy6ezK98XD6UMCorole14hbCuz1vQ4UUnO1e7DgHLo7njfvKYbDpeMSI4Loie-reitZm1CFUB-N6HfUtWgFf7b6iXNn3O8uWhML6bdEWZUGhSO3qyBIf3h53MUib4CNG_P9AQLoIO_qtzve2TP" width="320" /></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiyhL_zhknCXHCoTYZdhvXXoOlBtrf6dHA08p-PNnQww27J-MzdzU3CYy9zTHTSLwprCc6Y9xq3ysfqfDpirzRoOPL52D8Ou11z9Fvx9HkpruXy8WfqQyUFfTJO_iJb9wNzFjxnP4iNpFjJwZbQ22vjVHUYG6o7AIVb0OdnAEmKsSTy9zIHkAqp3uRQ" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img alt="" data-original-height="657" data-original-width="493" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiyhL_zhknCXHCoTYZdhvXXoOlBtrf6dHA08p-PNnQww27J-MzdzU3CYy9zTHTSLwprCc6Y9xq3ysfqfDpirzRoOPL52D8Ou11z9Fvx9HkpruXy8WfqQyUFfTJO_iJb9wNzFjxnP4iNpFjJwZbQ22vjVHUYG6o7AIVb0OdnAEmKsSTy9zIHkAqp3uRQ=w300-h400" width="300" /></span></a></div></div></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span face=""Calibri Light",sans-serif" lang="EN-ZA" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Calibri Light"; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">Just as words can't
capture the experience, neither can photos or videos -- the combination of the
sounds, smells, rain, mist, breeze, texture, movement, and simply closeness is
not replicable. The time passes quickly as simply watching the gorillas is
fascinating and inclusive.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In the end, one comes away with a feeling of
having truly accomplished a "bucket list" item.</span><span face=""Calibri Light", sans-serif"> </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Calibri Light", sans-serif" style="font-family: inherit;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhew73BviUJai7CFOFTN_e6J7QoFMfm9L5n1HEXdbIzNhq-417r8huPbFhVvo35NipcgfCxh7rEU62PoBy4LfLHhFrplvs6c3cx-Zzr-LggsLMlVcsj_FAryc5nt9gMOgsjfTh-Af0MmJkS66wH_5kBnVHTjzBtlfY_qYh7P5o2SGNUMHAavW-5ejdm" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img alt="" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="450" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhew73BviUJai7CFOFTN_e6J7QoFMfm9L5n1HEXdbIzNhq-417r8huPbFhVvo35NipcgfCxh7rEU62PoBy4LfLHhFrplvs6c3cx-Zzr-LggsLMlVcsj_FAryc5nt9gMOgsjfTh-Af0MmJkS66wH_5kBnVHTjzBtlfY_qYh7P5o2SGNUMHAavW-5ejdm=w300-h400" width="300" /></span></a></div><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Calibri Light", sans-serif" style="font-family: inherit;">While it’s a well-managed tourist experience, it is clearly not a zoo, and while it could be more "wild", the fact is that the gorillas are able to live without fear, unmolested (un-poached for 20+ years now!), and happily because the system works for them, the people, and the country. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Calibri Light", sans-serif" style="font-family: inherit;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjPJ6riIu_-OwC4D7RNhtQYVKUI6oPfZJ0gxEANwWgLU3CrZ0mjZOV4CUyjpslTSbnT0tFwTRv8RKAIZ-CEnOedOMoyt3uK6yzd5hq_xAVYA2VF3GI1BYtDUeQDupbk5Bim-9Pj5A3OSraV_yguVZj-EN91z2xmLqwgxTeOJSnKfzWmh6Sway35wrjk" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img alt="" data-original-height="444" data-original-width="276" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjPJ6riIu_-OwC4D7RNhtQYVKUI6oPfZJ0gxEANwWgLU3CrZ0mjZOV4CUyjpslTSbnT0tFwTRv8RKAIZ-CEnOedOMoyt3uK6yzd5hq_xAVYA2VF3GI1BYtDUeQDupbk5Bim-9Pj5A3OSraV_yguVZj-EN91z2xmLqwgxTeOJSnKfzWmh6Sway35wrjk=w248-h400" width="248" /></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjIUUDLL8-Cw20S7RZDJanfAaX-gl351x6YowK3xyQXshw2hrTR0YE7yjbAFgiP5WSaIaVJFupPQmJeqXqm6oN_-vydUEYM1BNLZyj905K7bMKt4yBNPDgeumc7KTp-y9FimlqnCh1aFi3bgyaZRtJaDqPidGVXr3ZhTOET1vLBNvZykYRsV0MJ9OdC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img alt="" data-original-height="657" data-original-width="493" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjIUUDLL8-Cw20S7RZDJanfAaX-gl351x6YowK3xyQXshw2hrTR0YE7yjbAFgiP5WSaIaVJFupPQmJeqXqm6oN_-vydUEYM1BNLZyj905K7bMKt4yBNPDgeumc7KTp-y9FimlqnCh1aFi3bgyaZRtJaDqPidGVXr3ZhTOET1vLBNvZykYRsV0MJ9OdC=w300-h400" width="300" /></span></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><b><span face=""Calibri Light", sans-serif" lang="EN-ZA" style="font-family: inherit;">Rwanda in General:<o:p></o:p></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span face=""Calibri Light", sans-serif" lang="EN-ZA">For the present, Rwanda is an "African country that works": Make no mistake, it is poor, nearly entirely rural, and very agrarian -- but it has good trunk-roads, good communications infrastructure, and a service orientation. It presents itself as the Chile of Africa -- an island of coordination in a sea of disorganisation.</span><span face=""Calibri Light", sans-serif"> </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Calibri Light", sans-serif" style="font-family: inherit;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiLuoeeBHwJMv8JdlWe9tzRugesfoop72ytENojy0XQ2bQGZ5m541SqeAjhvnCyBS9jDl54e60u3Zbgjpfh8Vz15FFwlyMcSr8F68Cs-eQQmSKNOlpoOYjfn3DGrXgq3kW0qQN3bEBEQbHM-rFDz-0ViNyw1Vn1CFKIl3dGK5rZXB9v9gG2gQlixulT" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img alt="" data-original-height="657" data-original-width="876" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiLuoeeBHwJMv8JdlWe9tzRugesfoop72ytENojy0XQ2bQGZ5m541SqeAjhvnCyBS9jDl54e60u3Zbgjpfh8Vz15FFwlyMcSr8F68Cs-eQQmSKNOlpoOYjfn3DGrXgq3kW0qQN3bEBEQbHM-rFDz-0ViNyw1Vn1CFKIl3dGK5rZXB9v9gG2gQlixulT" width="320" /></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEibZb4QW7qn8r2DfpkqIBTYEgfLyqVJJYaxaDdoC_br-N91NHzPKi1UaZPUPkS7DBEOjwDd-eWMcu_eaihvK9dSMyOwZJgYocvRgXEyBliTVd0rkaD3-SD4_v4FCIVHn3zV4rFYJ1rjb_kLjEllbvRO2aT_NVTmbjlgym1OEkzwzV2mo1J4LCAr4ukK" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img alt="" data-original-height="550" data-original-width="902" height="195" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEibZb4QW7qn8r2DfpkqIBTYEgfLyqVJJYaxaDdoC_br-N91NHzPKi1UaZPUPkS7DBEOjwDd-eWMcu_eaihvK9dSMyOwZJgYocvRgXEyBliTVd0rkaD3-SD4_v4FCIVHn3zV4rFYJ1rjb_kLjEllbvRO2aT_NVTmbjlgym1OEkzwzV2mo1J4LCAr4ukK" width="320" /></span></a></div></div><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span face=""Calibri Light",sans-serif" lang="EN-ZA" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Calibri Light"; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">The people are, no
doubt, the highlight:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Again, while not
rich, people dress with pride, and dress well -- nearly everywhere, and nearly
all the time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The women in particular stand
out wearing brightly patterned cloth, sometimes simply wrapped and draped
around themselves in an almost sari-type manner for the poorer rural woman, and
otherwise in beautifully styled dresses. There is also a pride in the country,
expressed in the almost complete lack of litter, generally good maintenance
(even of mud-brick houses), and a sense of being law abiding (again like Chile,
one has the sense that if someone tried to bribe a policeman they would end up
in jail).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The last Saturday morning of
each month is dedicated for all citizens to do some sort of community service
-- fixing each other's houses… building small scale infrastructure… cleaning
up… working together.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But beyond that
citizen activity, there is a genuine and natural warmth, friendliness, desire
to engage.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Everywhere we went and
everyone we dealt with was polite, warm, engaging, and caring.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The voices were not lethargic and/or
uncaring, but always engaged and engaging.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><span face=""Calibri Light", sans-serif" style="text-align: center;"> </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Calibri Light", sans-serif" style="font-family: inherit; text-align: center;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEguRfNxb8S5Q1wAVddZK4up3xWUe-2kef1ngwNsuQFQSP7g5BRxmFXsEOHAmNrSEHWQ6WpRHuiA6WUj4IOcmWn3PaXXzTBtmKfhKjsxDQ5VOpsMeZ8xuyeblPVTf0hzQ0ptJfiQoz79ACxjbgEXMcdpzJjQ1C61fJmSoE1exPysIEwtmLNxFAJ-ema3" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img alt="" data-original-height="538" data-original-width="809" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEguRfNxb8S5Q1wAVddZK4up3xWUe-2kef1ngwNsuQFQSP7g5BRxmFXsEOHAmNrSEHWQ6WpRHuiA6WUj4IOcmWn3PaXXzTBtmKfhKjsxDQ5VOpsMeZ8xuyeblPVTf0hzQ0ptJfiQoz79ACxjbgEXMcdpzJjQ1C61fJmSoE1exPysIEwtmLNxFAJ-ema3" width="320" /></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi2joMFm7YujpKXKyHZQ1Ro4myKBBP18MlXf8GcC__4KDSbWDh_B5_Iif_9VcTyDnE8a_nhh2NWeDUGqRD8_fURcEYu43EQJ2eon9roxKnKDUD8UYdFF1uSKtyT2paluhOGqSKZSQFaxwVGjTiKD1IDiToaMxrxZZtIMgFCCu5chElD3KikEkfRTnJy" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img alt="" data-original-height="657" data-original-width="493" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi2joMFm7YujpKXKyHZQ1Ro4myKBBP18MlXf8GcC__4KDSbWDh_B5_Iif_9VcTyDnE8a_nhh2NWeDUGqRD8_fURcEYu43EQJ2eon9roxKnKDUD8UYdFF1uSKtyT2paluhOGqSKZSQFaxwVGjTiKD1IDiToaMxrxZZtIMgFCCu5chElD3KikEkfRTnJy=w300-h400" width="300" /></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiNMBJD7n8LPCeZ8BwEO8k6tNtUDIhjcbYOTvC-OfODgAznlPdc8d36cPp-Wlag9HZSaAR7V8ZuzY5kINyKKwFWjFCCfxhEnvc_-evNpyv9wgFYVcCkaxsaTm3jdTHpijnJrGSNRg9cpC4BdRaBVV-qCBZs2Xs_novRidA8OBxDIwjJiI2b0ONhaqP-" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img alt="" data-original-height="657" data-original-width="493" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiNMBJD7n8LPCeZ8BwEO8k6tNtUDIhjcbYOTvC-OfODgAznlPdc8d36cPp-Wlag9HZSaAR7V8ZuzY5kINyKKwFWjFCCfxhEnvc_-evNpyv9wgFYVcCkaxsaTm3jdTHpijnJrGSNRg9cpC4BdRaBVV-qCBZs2Xs_novRidA8OBxDIwjJiI2b0ONhaqP-=w300-h400" width="300" /></span></a></div><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span face=""Calibri Light",sans-serif" lang="EN-ZA" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Calibri Light"; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">Benjamin -- at this
point nearly 4 years old -- was welcomed, played with, and treated with love and
kindness everywhere: From walking in towns… to walking in villages… to playing
with children in various places… to playing with adults everywhere.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not a single person seemed ever exasperated,
impatient, annoyed, or in any way put-out by Benjamin's antics.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In fact, if anything people were far too indulgent
and didn't assist us to set any boundaries at all.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For his part, Benjamin seemed unfazed to be
followed and jostled by (literally) dozens of village children (and adults) at
a time… and to be the centre of attention everywhere. It was as if we were
walking around with a country full of play-mates and baby-sitters to give us a
break nearly every day.</span><span face=""Calibri Light", sans-serif"> </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Calibri Light", sans-serif" style="font-family: inherit;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjjq_9IWckibLWAGwZqpU4tkcEpmmTNhieRMGEOaIJ2ARGjMw93hqbCZYxcBGnrbzW_gMJReTkzBAxPHqkMs1I8EvGByW9wLxQdq_jTRY7lqKz43JYZyEzYJ9KSwL8Atn-d5DS7aSBpLF-zjYqySkb9yI1limPSQjLragJy41op-eLO8pTuZIA8ozTo" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img alt="" data-original-height="657" data-original-width="493" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjjq_9IWckibLWAGwZqpU4tkcEpmmTNhieRMGEOaIJ2ARGjMw93hqbCZYxcBGnrbzW_gMJReTkzBAxPHqkMs1I8EvGByW9wLxQdq_jTRY7lqKz43JYZyEzYJ9KSwL8Atn-d5DS7aSBpLF-zjYqySkb9yI1limPSQjLragJy41op-eLO8pTuZIA8ozTo=w300-h400" width="300" /></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiY42RxSCak-Y3z4BoQCzhTsz2Sxw8ik_n84cwgEWyH8ppBVTRWSTCRbn5ZNxdmMXcCTMATpxufL-0I7hAY-vxVpa-nPYNVMz8z79kQ2UkyxiHX9-lll7oPrXEQSMgt8ySdOjODRlh5kSC4Fn_5U4nhsDw_37psKkmzHixGqLm3YW59DuSagqfjUhQ9" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img alt="" data-original-height="657" data-original-width="493" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiY42RxSCak-Y3z4BoQCzhTsz2Sxw8ik_n84cwgEWyH8ppBVTRWSTCRbn5ZNxdmMXcCTMATpxufL-0I7hAY-vxVpa-nPYNVMz8z79kQ2UkyxiHX9-lll7oPrXEQSMgt8ySdOjODRlh5kSC4Fn_5U4nhsDw_37psKkmzHixGqLm3YW59DuSagqfjUhQ9=w300-h400" width="300" /></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhDutZ5Qw-DISktP-6B1mPPnXww7-qEeBBn72AM8tV0tdwQARWxGeTKw6Y2Yk-72n1Ypa6pzegTXvPMI8iEW277eXgH0FKXCQDkzt94ZZwII_dn4_0aBc8oOPCPMjunPBAuTZHf0zZ3aA4Tvexuc280LzAL2zyNjM9plc4izcWhY7p1CmY4kJaQNjKG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img alt="" data-original-height="657" data-original-width="493" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhDutZ5Qw-DISktP-6B1mPPnXww7-qEeBBn72AM8tV0tdwQARWxGeTKw6Y2Yk-72n1Ypa6pzegTXvPMI8iEW277eXgH0FKXCQDkzt94ZZwII_dn4_0aBc8oOPCPMjunPBAuTZHf0zZ3aA4Tvexuc280LzAL2zyNjM9plc4izcWhY7p1CmY4kJaQNjKG=w300-h400" width="300" /></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjb6Zs0GF_wa_fUvXqd-Z1ETQ8Kw9vaDanDapvwfC_2wvNY-KdVmpySCFcUDtG9jd_7AluUxBGZ0t1PEImOBEBijnRuDixDHrFawLOm7gDQVz1PtdpoMxakcdpNoUi0JOClwWJ6DiDDS3jczYfaznv_JHpvTuwT5fZDbMyvRnufPNQvdnC71urh1_yU" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img alt="" data-original-height="657" data-original-width="493" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjb6Zs0GF_wa_fUvXqd-Z1ETQ8Kw9vaDanDapvwfC_2wvNY-KdVmpySCFcUDtG9jd_7AluUxBGZ0t1PEImOBEBijnRuDixDHrFawLOm7gDQVz1PtdpoMxakcdpNoUi0JOClwWJ6DiDDS3jczYfaznv_JHpvTuwT5fZDbMyvRnufPNQvdnC71urh1_yU=w300-h400" width="300" /></span></a></div></div></div></div><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span face=""Calibri Light",sans-serif" lang="EN-ZA" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Calibri Light"; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">We never felt unsafe
or intimidated anywhere, at any time of day or night.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When running (which we both did) we'd pick up
friendly locals, either local children who couldn't resist running with a mzungu
(foreigner/white person), or local men just on their way home (or to work), who
would lope along beside you, sometimes making conversation, sometimes not.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And even children wear flip-flops seemed to
easy be able to hold a steady running pace. Andrew went for a run one evening
at lake Kivu and ended up running 5km with an escort of 5 guys, all who kept
pace… although none of them actually had running shoes… and all being friendly,
conversational, and encouraging.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><span face=""Calibri Light", sans-serif"> </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Calibri Light", sans-serif" style="font-family: inherit;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhyHHTdJN_XiwjzpxaRSzf_x_Ws4OPFkSn7iUIs3wjBvu9O4IlqFe-bxQGyx2RQmn_hG8FvOZkhVWzkiJ7tB4D6oFOBUahkMkQqz131bBOcIWd4dqQfI5mD5i5NtmbdqIDiWZsgeh67tqvl5KL7rQ-qTcm97KDigf1L5PnIw2wQuQzUKSS9P7C6B5YR" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img alt="" data-original-height="657" data-original-width="493" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhyHHTdJN_XiwjzpxaRSzf_x_Ws4OPFkSn7iUIs3wjBvu9O4IlqFe-bxQGyx2RQmn_hG8FvOZkhVWzkiJ7tB4D6oFOBUahkMkQqz131bBOcIWd4dqQfI5mD5i5NtmbdqIDiWZsgeh67tqvl5KL7rQ-qTcm97KDigf1L5PnIw2wQuQzUKSS9P7C6B5YR=w300-h400" width="300" /></span></a></div><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span face=""Calibri Light",sans-serif" lang="EN-ZA" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Calibri Light"; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">We felt entirely
comfortable letting Benjamin be some distance (e.g. 100m) from us in rural
villages, playing with kids or just running ahead.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Funny enough, while he has good
"car" sense (i.e. to get out of the road), when he was confronted
with 4 cattle coming down a dirt road at him, it took a little girl to drag him
by the arm out of their path.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
welcoming nature of the people made it very comfortable and possible to just
stop in villages or on the road side and go for a wander. At one point we were
driving past a tea plantation, so we pulled off the road to go for an ad-hoc stroll.
The people doing civil works and tea harvesting were completely unfazed, and
welcoming.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For fun Jane ended up
carrying a 15+kg basket-load of stones on her head, alleviating the 10-11-year-old
local girl who good naturedly laughed at Jane.</span><span face=""Calibri Light", sans-serif"> </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Calibri Light", sans-serif" style="font-family: inherit;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEicTAuwnZsg8DARhOk-fFUre0CSiNVq9OxgBIhe7hPVKyNmgQuDl949ejouMIg-WhdjkdOhAakPeWgFvEoyINqi5IDeNtgnPk0RnBtND8_65nLhWuuZFP9vZvy2w5hiEjjUu41ccSmwc-yShwxxFceicRZ-qAma_SnJdJC-y0UwgCQWYrKbqf7A_h9L" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img alt="" data-original-height="579" data-original-width="414" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEicTAuwnZsg8DARhOk-fFUre0CSiNVq9OxgBIhe7hPVKyNmgQuDl949ejouMIg-WhdjkdOhAakPeWgFvEoyINqi5IDeNtgnPk0RnBtND8_65nLhWuuZFP9vZvy2w5hiEjjUu41ccSmwc-yShwxxFceicRZ-qAma_SnJdJC-y0UwgCQWYrKbqf7A_h9L=w288-h400" width="288" /></span></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span face=""Calibri Light",sans-serif" lang="EN-ZA" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Calibri Light"; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">The soil is rich,
volcanic, and dark brown -- so nutritious you want to scoop up a few
tablespoons to sprinkle on yoghurt (which the locals don't seem to eat) or ice cream (which
is very scarce also).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It seems
everything grows in Rwanda… usually in profusion, and often in a chaos of
species and types of plant.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The country
is ALL hills and does not lend itself to large-scale commercial agriculture --
(We're not even sure how they found a piece of land flat enough for Kigali's
airport).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But, remarkably, it seems ALL
the land is worked by someone… and you see thousands of people working the
fields, carrying bundles of sticks, vegetables, grass, etc. all over.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Equally, people are transporting their banana
beer, or logs, or livestock, or themselves on bicycles and by foot. Many
carrying hand-made tools such as hoes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>One gets the sense that nothing goes to waste… and everything (including
twigs, sticks and grass) is used for something.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Packaging seems rarely used, or not very visible -- and plastic shopping
bags are (literally) illegal to even possess.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It’s a poor but prideful and productive country.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We feel like we see more "desperate
poverty" on the streets of Cape Town in a single day than we saw in 9 days
in Rwanda.</span><span face=""Calibri Light", sans-serif" style="text-align: center;"> </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Calibri Light",sans-serif" lang="EN-ZA" style="font-family: inherit; mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Calibri Light"; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">There are few cars,
and not too many trucks: Mostly goods and people are transported on bikes,
foot, motorbike taxis, and a few trucks and buses.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The main roads are paved, and there are rigid
rules for speed -- with a network of wired-up speed detectors which -- when
they trap you -- will automatically issue the ticket within minutes and email
it to the owner of the car (we got 2 tickets, despite my genuine attempt to
stick to the speed limit diligently).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>There is a payment network run by the government (IREMBO) which allows
you to pay for any government service, fee, or fine in branches or at
banks.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This would apply also to paying
in advance for Covid PCR tests, and a similar system for national parks
bookings and payments.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It seems most people make extensive use of
cell-phone based mobile money apps to effect transfers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Again, the system works.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgxlhWLwkGUcFNijgU6rNlJ2GzBhZt0IqKjBa3IPKkXMT570jvFQxVVCTAJtBbbbONCO33blk6xo8mi2U0XAIcWVQ_wcXbC9_OeFlbwJqWwpfO2HoEYI6UqqYq6tYjVOEMvoRHqBRZM0K9wTW6vu3ShPMHivznloZvt4rEPJESmdxsab1KJxKG0RK0X" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img alt="" data-original-height="333" data-original-width="464" height="230" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgxlhWLwkGUcFNijgU6rNlJ2GzBhZt0IqKjBa3IPKkXMT570jvFQxVVCTAJtBbbbONCO33blk6xo8mi2U0XAIcWVQ_wcXbC9_OeFlbwJqWwpfO2HoEYI6UqqYq6tYjVOEMvoRHqBRZM0K9wTW6vu3ShPMHivznloZvt4rEPJESmdxsab1KJxKG0RK0X" width="320" /></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhtQAHH8HhaMovKTfRUZrgvYkF7Hydv6s2u8bIPfd1h09Su1xpFsNXgNZ-8ZLz5_MXJYtvbMBDVI_v0jr4DP4VOqAMtiVa_7bTkTRQbB0wssl3TIMlhgGeX87u6ssP6ziNtP8V7l1frY_y9YwKS2soOJ3N2sNSHiYBXlcT-ypsaVwQgQ96CzVte561t" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img alt="" data-original-height="335" data-original-width="504" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhtQAHH8HhaMovKTfRUZrgvYkF7Hydv6s2u8bIPfd1h09Su1xpFsNXgNZ-8ZLz5_MXJYtvbMBDVI_v0jr4DP4VOqAMtiVa_7bTkTRQbB0wssl3TIMlhgGeX87u6ssP6ziNtP8V7l1frY_y9YwKS2soOJ3N2sNSHiYBXlcT-ypsaVwQgQ96CzVte561t" width="320" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">However, venture off
the main (paved) roads, and you quickly find yourself in rural Africa on very
bumpy, often steep and pitted, roads… going through villages.</span><span style="font-family: inherit; mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">But again, one always feels welcome--
everywhere.</span><span style="font-family: inherit; mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">Because everyone is sharing
the roads, there is an easy, untroubled, ebb & flow of respectful sharing,
and safety.</span><span style="font-family: inherit; mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">Its Balinese in style
driving -- a little chaotic, but never intentionally rude or aggressive.</span><span style="font-family: inherit; mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">It takes much longer to get around than you'd
think based on the distances on maps.</span><span style="font-family: inherit; mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><span style="font-family: inherit;">There were times when we would have been happy to have paper maps -- as
once you are off the main routes Google maps enters a dated twilight zone of
about 2005 and can become unreliable.</span><span style="font-family: inherit; mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><span style="font-family: inherit;">Nevertheless, we were able to get along well enough.</span><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span face=""Calibri Light",sans-serif" lang="EN-ZA" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Calibri Light"; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;"> </span><span face=""Calibri Light", sans-serif">While poverty is not
clearly evident, in the tourist areas it seems one of the key English phrases many
kids (and some adults) have learned is "give me money" which some say
liberally.</span><span face=""Calibri Light", sans-serif"> </span><span face=""Calibri Light", sans-serif">Annoying… and an evident
result of too many well-intentioned tourists doshing cash around.</span><span face=""Calibri Light", sans-serif"> </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span face=""Calibri Light",sans-serif" style="font-family: inherit; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Calibri Light"; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">Covid<o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span face=""Calibri Light",sans-serif" lang="EN-ZA" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Calibri Light"; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">Travelling during
Covid is a two-edged sword:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>On the one
hand, people are really happy to have you, and prices are low, rooms available,
services available on tap, and -- essentially -- you have the undivided
attention of full staff complements.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In
two of our hotels we were either the only guests, or one of only 2-3 rooms
booked.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>On the other hand, it does feel
a little lonely… activities are under-booked… and there is a certain missing
"vibe".<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Worse are the constant
Covid PCR tests, always with the attendant risk of being put in quarantine
(and, keep in mind you must register with the government website, so if you
test positive, you will certainly be in enforced quarantine).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We had to have a PCR before leaving South
Africa, again upon arrival in Kigali, again before visiting the gorillas, and
once more before flying back to Cape Town: In a sense we did the public
hospital tour of Rwanda.</span><span face=""Calibri Light", sans-serif"> </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Calibri Light", sans-serif" style="font-family: inherit;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj5tJbxagsx2nRmApCt1dgcazZXihs0eOvGMl1hBEwN3D2d6R17G-XRhDrdG_qDMEeTjKpRZS84s3CwW7OL8yRnFzXTWtKZuue02RRS9XgTbWZ-wEKCkOGOT5lO_mD6lxr5q0boJWFcZlfYIZu5jIR_sfDK5f8sF_41DhO9C2-rhjeUiiFj5ARCrfAg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img alt="" data-original-height="657" data-original-width="493" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj5tJbxagsx2nRmApCt1dgcazZXihs0eOvGMl1hBEwN3D2d6R17G-XRhDrdG_qDMEeTjKpRZS84s3CwW7OL8yRnFzXTWtKZuue02RRS9XgTbWZ-wEKCkOGOT5lO_mD6lxr5q0boJWFcZlfYIZu5jIR_sfDK5f8sF_41DhO9C2-rhjeUiiFj5ARCrfAg=w300-h400" width="300" /></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjD0OsQCfHTbHOHQdE_f2UrzZs21wOpdmeV1xpyV3rPXKDszR9dxc26X278YeJ0T1QT01RQQW0Z5ACMoCw_mINHgc2r99zVpbLRos0Jwf9aYMCfpNi79FBicbpMustwsykuwhGp0mjTsZpBTBJswnGR9jap25jbsvQ6RfTEaF-1penuHoBaX0pgJUt2" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img alt="" data-original-height="457" data-original-width="330" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjD0OsQCfHTbHOHQdE_f2UrzZs21wOpdmeV1xpyV3rPXKDszR9dxc26X278YeJ0T1QT01RQQW0Z5ACMoCw_mINHgc2r99zVpbLRos0Jwf9aYMCfpNi79FBicbpMustwsykuwhGp0mjTsZpBTBJswnGR9jap25jbsvQ6RfTEaF-1penuHoBaX0pgJUt2=w288-h400" width="288" /></span></a></div></div><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span face=""Calibri Light",sans-serif" style="font-family: inherit; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Calibri Light"; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">Planning, pricing and activities:<o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span face=""Calibri Light",sans-serif" lang="EN-ZA" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Calibri Light"; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">Pricing was a little
erratic: When we first started planning we dealt with a range of agents who
packed on heavy margins -- so the trip could have been very expensive.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But we controlled costs by renting a car from
a small local operator ($35/day all inclusive) … to finding hotels ourselves (not
that many hotels were on sites like Booking.com, a Google accommodation search
was actually most useful)… to finding and booking our own excursions… and also eating
frugally (we found that ordering one "main course" was nearly always
enough food for all 3 of us).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Still, as
a tourist you always pay more… and Rwandans often price in US$ (which is easy,
because $1=RwF1000), and you often feel things are rounded-up to your disadvantage.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Overall though, I'd say Rwanda prices (for
food, drink, accommodation, activities, etc.) are more-or-less the same as Cape
Town.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><span face=""Calibri Light", sans-serif"> </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Calibri Light", sans-serif" style="font-family: inherit;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjYgCkaw5YZlR0Kg_IJxQe-13VIVDL1lzjy047KZMyfp7AGgC9Qh8gyP9B6TVWJRKQ_RgFIlVjUqPG75oiWmr37A-MA9vaiGnEzNfXoaiqEE2-mDMaWA5szfYKZzPO5loh0yyZYQHhBTTyycokrPmv8-3qAJQRFFjUseaeaz7uUWy90h8x0CVzXLzbU" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img alt="" data-original-height="657" data-original-width="493" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjYgCkaw5YZlR0Kg_IJxQe-13VIVDL1lzjy047KZMyfp7AGgC9Qh8gyP9B6TVWJRKQ_RgFIlVjUqPG75oiWmr37A-MA9vaiGnEzNfXoaiqEE2-mDMaWA5szfYKZzPO5loh0yyZYQHhBTTyycokrPmv8-3qAJQRFFjUseaeaz7uUWy90h8x0CVzXLzbU=w300-h400" width="300" /></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgeXW_IRW2gVL2CoBx8NBXQi7rSrPlgmAvJz2F_69T1sWInH6qHlYLiRq-I1c5ZFthMaVgUd7Q22cj6vvuxCxSUkta2-bGTF9NfYn4yi3woSor0taGDguKW1JijqyMldNY5D3ZzhlEKHxZleGa3vKw9U-9pGI-EgpSJkqGetKw1CtjF_d-b5rB3k48F" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img alt="" data-original-height="657" data-original-width="493" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgeXW_IRW2gVL2CoBx8NBXQi7rSrPlgmAvJz2F_69T1sWInH6qHlYLiRq-I1c5ZFthMaVgUd7Q22cj6vvuxCxSUkta2-bGTF9NfYn4yi3woSor0taGDguKW1JijqyMldNY5D3ZzhlEKHxZleGa3vKw9U-9pGI-EgpSJkqGetKw1CtjF_d-b5rB3k48F=w300-h400" width="300" /></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgsYdsaRfwB-g3uUguo1TVOF5nCJyRSW8_bXkFDH_92059o9_eujeypLvcJFKihGlUoJHd3LkB3OpvAP7dH70RxbjkYtROm_W8UvbtzWdZ0ViERmWgQ8Af3dgK2D3FGvb0dl2MzwVG94u-mUYhQISQr36oMJQV3yMVd2TcW3xZdOecWSCr5F4IG4lFV" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img alt="" data-original-height="657" data-original-width="493" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgsYdsaRfwB-g3uUguo1TVOF5nCJyRSW8_bXkFDH_92059o9_eujeypLvcJFKihGlUoJHd3LkB3OpvAP7dH70RxbjkYtROm_W8UvbtzWdZ0ViERmWgQ8Af3dgK2D3FGvb0dl2MzwVG94u-mUYhQISQr36oMJQV3yMVd2TcW3xZdOecWSCr5F4IG4lFV=w300-h400" width="300" /></span></a></div></div><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span face=""Calibri Light",sans-serif" lang="EN-ZA" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Calibri Light"; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">Funny enough, finding
activities was a little more difficult than expected for such a
"wired" country.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Still, with
some effort we found some interesting activities:</span><span face=""Calibri Light", sans-serif"> </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Calibri Light",sans-serif" lang="EN-ZA" style="font-family: inherit; mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Calibri Light"; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">We had a very well
equipped and organised bike trip from Musanze to the Twin Lakes -- a scenic and
fairly challenging 20km -- through rural towns and farmlands. We had a boat ride and local beer at the lake.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Calibri Light",sans-serif" lang="EN-ZA" style="font-family: inherit; mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Calibri Light"; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg2tTnNH-PE2-IWis7Q6U8Czj8QmcpVpVDqaHm2Q5pKhofhKqKyyrFfEkIWOKFw-OuT5v1Y4PTOVkEDOBfadJk6nu1pATRwh5RQrut6_46l2_0jKgSZmUTUYnEG4QvpdhK2R6vtxiR18hwTi_ECHTzKM7nL8RcxKOTr22OWd_ccmZnhrsu5qeoMYDyY" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img alt="" data-original-height="657" data-original-width="493" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg2tTnNH-PE2-IWis7Q6U8Czj8QmcpVpVDqaHm2Q5pKhofhKqKyyrFfEkIWOKFw-OuT5v1Y4PTOVkEDOBfadJk6nu1pATRwh5RQrut6_46l2_0jKgSZmUTUYnEG4QvpdhK2R6vtxiR18hwTi_ECHTzKM7nL8RcxKOTr22OWd_ccmZnhrsu5qeoMYDyY=w300-h400" width="300" /></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgiPxnh8sX_C9gUlzG7p3GXvANEe1ShjGG7phYjegE5YEy3FI57f55hRpMdnMXg2x4SnixzPteDf3rMWbfG-bYPFkv3KJrUtqS19DcjvDUux5cRN_AFFq0XygHQBSRo8yCJhCrSu0L3HTHql9Wp9oHsKz40guY8PM9V7pjP375hntwur2vgs2PjZXIi" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img alt="" data-original-height="657" data-original-width="493" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgiPxnh8sX_C9gUlzG7p3GXvANEe1ShjGG7phYjegE5YEy3FI57f55hRpMdnMXg2x4SnixzPteDf3rMWbfG-bYPFkv3KJrUtqS19DcjvDUux5cRN_AFFq0XygHQBSRo8yCJhCrSu0L3HTHql9Wp9oHsKz40guY8PM9V7pjP375hntwur2vgs2PjZXIi=w300-h400" width="300" /></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh2-R-ryH5BYtLZ2xDK_sGD4j-ZgO8JA2GoXLzahOl3Mb-VZOOfNk3rko3-IzCesNoyTaH7GMGL6lZMFPNsceqNyTDQYrpQ7PmDHePEK-6dC3gM3iquRlwAgBV_nOevsmV1MDcMkh5IyZ_AtC6MHvXMpAzeglLnOqRPMGuX1zAz0vVj5wBOAt4SaXzy" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img alt="" data-original-height="657" data-original-width="370" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh2-R-ryH5BYtLZ2xDK_sGD4j-ZgO8JA2GoXLzahOl3Mb-VZOOfNk3rko3-IzCesNoyTaH7GMGL6lZMFPNsceqNyTDQYrpQ7PmDHePEK-6dC3gM3iquRlwAgBV_nOevsmV1MDcMkh5IyZ_AtC6MHvXMpAzeglLnOqRPMGuX1zAz0vVj5wBOAt4SaXzy=w225-h400" width="225" /></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjl2T5eZZv1H6cnIcPnvXQVYKAx4y9aon5cNF-i1_U_X6QvVnQP6EosUbOyB9Nexft-wdO7Amkdv971zAV8fJd3BdwwpGgq5_0VV2YGVp_yJs8NDzo6pQJQNIYEUGduAvEWawY8SAVt5k3kwleMgLveeQL8NAQfHH54qzjoo3lHrYZtVYptG3OaYJq0" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img alt="" data-original-height="657" data-original-width="493" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjl2T5eZZv1H6cnIcPnvXQVYKAx4y9aon5cNF-i1_U_X6QvVnQP6EosUbOyB9Nexft-wdO7Amkdv971zAV8fJd3BdwwpGgq5_0VV2YGVp_yJs8NDzo6pQJQNIYEUGduAvEWawY8SAVt5k3kwleMgLveeQL8NAQfHH54qzjoo3lHrYZtVYptG3OaYJq0=w300-h400" width="300" /></span></a></div></div></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span face=""Calibri Light",sans-serif" lang="EN-ZA" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Calibri Light"; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">A coffee tour (replete
with planting trees, harvesting, washing, husking, roasting, grinding, brewing
and drinking)</span><span face=""Calibri Light", sans-serif"> </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Calibri Light", sans-serif" style="font-family: inherit;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjCMmVsxeIMAn558dFBkAGt8sCN7OQGylXTB2YVeFQtN_b1a4GDJMR8qSbao3uyob5Wemw3Av-xMtI7v2xXK6GZknVTi6fyxmMYW0qsd8Ip7ljeZWX52TZUjMWaIFnkT7PAwTewS2qqQYKSFZM_7XTGeHyljTDN4hNv46xiZkEPoJ6Ia28V9-ttvK-O" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img alt="" data-original-height="657" data-original-width="493" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjCMmVsxeIMAn558dFBkAGt8sCN7OQGylXTB2YVeFQtN_b1a4GDJMR8qSbao3uyob5Wemw3Av-xMtI7v2xXK6GZknVTi6fyxmMYW0qsd8Ip7ljeZWX52TZUjMWaIFnkT7PAwTewS2qqQYKSFZM_7XTGeHyljTDN4hNv46xiZkEPoJ6Ia28V9-ttvK-O=w300-h400" width="300" /></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgSWWccNGgmeFCc2fCnx8N5We8--PENP8mgcrTFNbNgnHtJmwQ_l3CPj6CW_b0bQV7I3kKJqTV2XmY7wlqH8dEvS7FOWOJv_8HexyWm62DUf-XVdL3JfN6hSB4nDqnY2vthhJxgFfxBCHdpkCZOf-v9JX44jdS1X_x1dkTtclxXU5h6EaSgPy3v4Vy_" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img alt="" data-original-height="657" data-original-width="493" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgSWWccNGgmeFCc2fCnx8N5We8--PENP8mgcrTFNbNgnHtJmwQ_l3CPj6CW_b0bQV7I3kKJqTV2XmY7wlqH8dEvS7FOWOJv_8HexyWm62DUf-XVdL3JfN6hSB4nDqnY2vthhJxgFfxBCHdpkCZOf-v9JX44jdS1X_x1dkTtclxXU5h6EaSgPy3v4Vy_=w300-h400" width="300" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img alt="" data-original-height="657" data-original-width="493" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhZaKQ1vgueK-xWtXmziqx44hwEhxZI8ulp9vuylfwDvHYvhR5RleTfjkr60VvQU7OWNZIPcciHYtsGBNHmJXFiPCUFvyeiNyLOf_ljijyzvcTOnIYu5ULtTpoi4Y8y9dd4kUMqz_-TvyUenyAOardBWZlQ59HthPoPc25LWXpGAMKUvZarcTU9SaMY=w300-h400" width="300" /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi5rEakrTw_BjYp6LYYpQz2JmAM1tal0_Y5hkvci-RbvYlIlup_A7cILupgVVptpVs6Ut3Wmoy9iwv-eIXCYPPqvs9NLfL65xYxpR_TEOSu_qMCbAafvX8mA8iGjbxczKUpzbVW-8oO3eNnOaCCfEQjznsLXKXjSGlt68W5FzU5TaLOCCCMf4Xq_uxh" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img alt="" data-original-height="657" data-original-width="493" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi5rEakrTw_BjYp6LYYpQz2JmAM1tal0_Y5hkvci-RbvYlIlup_A7cILupgVVptpVs6Ut3Wmoy9iwv-eIXCYPPqvs9NLfL65xYxpR_TEOSu_qMCbAafvX8mA8iGjbxczKUpzbVW-8oO3eNnOaCCfEQjznsLXKXjSGlt68W5FzU5TaLOCCCMf4Xq_uxh=w300-h400" width="300" /></span></a></div><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Calibri Light",sans-serif" lang="EN-ZA" style="font-family: inherit; mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Calibri Light"; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">Visiting local hot
springs with the locals (where Jane got an unexpectedly <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>aggressive exfoliation massage from an ancient
mute woman, using too-gritty lake sand – this was quite the experience!)</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Calibri Light",sans-serif" lang="EN-ZA" style="font-family: inherit; mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Calibri Light"; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjAZmBNe09seWhJnr6f2enZGmadE_VneL4djbmI5HJJgk2NjjCgecaAR9KupBYu2j2Z9_93SVKumRmw2-Zha0hZPOjw0TcgZpYROMQm00M872rvvg8VxSgRPqdoS6uxru69jK58cBzlgzYH30Tl06wspKM8CTndcBCR8gupvRoscnsETq9_-NnCEvS8" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img alt="" data-original-height="657" data-original-width="493" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjAZmBNe09seWhJnr6f2enZGmadE_VneL4djbmI5HJJgk2NjjCgecaAR9KupBYu2j2Z9_93SVKumRmw2-Zha0hZPOjw0TcgZpYROMQm00M872rvvg8VxSgRPqdoS6uxru69jK58cBzlgzYH30Tl06wspKM8CTndcBCR8gupvRoscnsETq9_-NnCEvS8=w300-h400" width="300" /></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgOOabnTxImjZyS5Cr6VJLyCupo6FHNfPeDLzDK-v9I-YAH7bEOPJKEyv-DjGy4xZixudLVnIV2Oxuf4QLPz56_fkJvNZL5LcgUNZzcvqpUakyDpY1hIdhA8PDMN3tU9gHvSpOYra4Qz45wQlfqCo3vv8IPIFPE7QhQWcN3WDZGTQIDJDTy4nMBKOq4" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="657" data-original-width="493" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgOOabnTxImjZyS5Cr6VJLyCupo6FHNfPeDLzDK-v9I-YAH7bEOPJKEyv-DjGy4xZixudLVnIV2Oxuf4QLPz56_fkJvNZL5LcgUNZzcvqpUakyDpY1hIdhA8PDMN3tU9gHvSpOYra4Qz45wQlfqCo3vv8IPIFPE7QhQWcN3WDZGTQIDJDTy4nMBKOq4=w300-h400" width="300" /></a><span lang="EN-ZA" style="text-align: left;"> </span> </span></div><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span face=""Calibri Light",sans-serif" lang="EN-ZA" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Calibri Light"; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">We also spent a lovely
afternoon at red Rocks Rwanda in Musanze, where we tasted the famous local
banana beer (potent stuff!), and also had a traditional cooking experience
where we helped to cook a few simple vegetarian dishes over an open fire, and then
shared these with the local women we’d cooked with.</span><span face=""Calibri Light", sans-serif"> Benjamin declared it the 'best food ever!'</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Calibri Light", sans-serif" style="font-family: inherit;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjIG9RLsW2btKxxclJCet5niGw8OVsDQRQ-o3pRxaNkcBPupWzQF_k74PJjn71E8YqERykatNiAvgaiLKoOznRfbF6VRy3sq888Zep5W7HeUVgKNSib8KZxmNMF5OevGuip5Woh6UMveRD_6Y0-usN9-mIWZ80Gdptz5Hq-MSW6ZXBCN62nTc9nG7Nc" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img alt="" data-original-height="657" data-original-width="493" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjIG9RLsW2btKxxclJCet5niGw8OVsDQRQ-o3pRxaNkcBPupWzQF_k74PJjn71E8YqERykatNiAvgaiLKoOznRfbF6VRy3sq888Zep5W7HeUVgKNSib8KZxmNMF5OevGuip5Woh6UMveRD_6Y0-usN9-mIWZ80Gdptz5Hq-MSW6ZXBCN62nTc9nG7Nc=w300-h400" width="300" /></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi-xkE5B2glyqBzC82eOatp4ZFXO9TdDLBJRx5l1D2nH8wR6q3ER3wY5FQgU5N2KNtRb2OskC3UfFaJsXJu1M1Nd26ovGm82ITl4q-mmU2Et6QQdfRMb70uZ6IRmqdQsDV9_wPz-saro-q6CLeYTKHjOj8A4oiWSAgl1_wzWeI_Xjwjl1OlEc2jNWty" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img alt="" data-original-height="657" data-original-width="493" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi-xkE5B2glyqBzC82eOatp4ZFXO9TdDLBJRx5l1D2nH8wR6q3ER3wY5FQgU5N2KNtRb2OskC3UfFaJsXJu1M1Nd26ovGm82ITl4q-mmU2Et6QQdfRMb70uZ6IRmqdQsDV9_wPz-saro-q6CLeYTKHjOj8A4oiWSAgl1_wzWeI_Xjwjl1OlEc2jNWty=w300-h400" width="300" /></span></a></div></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgTRJ2VvC14g6SOk37heo-3BzEI5KOcJFFmyorZnm1heM_3Boj3CI18ZERw5E9Rigmqzp1xcnnSoi7lF_iFn1SPjAdJK8fhkMohiwUOxNN5Vqj8uUdgqmlbS3AaHEoPQqOCyDbrxt8A38qOQQ0EJYtv92jl8F3Vf0dXgH_aZWgGIxm6NQYLezpqDbaj" style="margin-left: 1em; 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text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhLdQyeBrntLx4BogDQwWj-lHipH4VUpHn0goAf1sAONp37zTMrcfO6pZn_nGUEqnKw46qdNJ78h2R7kI1t_2ayhSlnSdaOZkpL5awT2j-HuvJy0bwMKRzX7vt-F5WsOjW82louFzgIXfhQSb6CasbKZDfcPcKFC1rRnzsYpX8avB_mNZmZGR3W_ZiI" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img alt="" data-original-height="657" data-original-width="493" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhLdQyeBrntLx4BogDQwWj-lHipH4VUpHn0goAf1sAONp37zTMrcfO6pZn_nGUEqnKw46qdNJ78h2R7kI1t_2ayhSlnSdaOZkpL5awT2j-HuvJy0bwMKRzX7vt-F5WsOjW82louFzgIXfhQSb6CasbKZDfcPcKFC1rRnzsYpX8avB_mNZmZGR3W_ZiI=w300-h400" width="300" /></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhlf07BG9pH1Zq6vjnJDrLUJIZHtyINGeQLs4OtZV7eR6S5NMKh-X8ElwcKsLAwrYVeGIb6u46ExFuyaS02lyavq4Ip7cZZQawaPuIGSsXGj8BEyqy2LzuP90nC5ZEpZOkAP3namST8K1sfxcR20kpicMHAe14yd9YuSN-h_TPem6XC8M4ZUXtcY5DY" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img alt="" data-original-height="657" data-original-width="493" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhlf07BG9pH1Zq6vjnJDrLUJIZHtyINGeQLs4OtZV7eR6S5NMKh-X8ElwcKsLAwrYVeGIb6u46ExFuyaS02lyavq4Ip7cZZQawaPuIGSsXGj8BEyqy2LzuP90nC5ZEpZOkAP3namST8K1sfxcR20kpicMHAe14yd9YuSN-h_TPem6XC8M4ZUXtcY5DY=w300-h400" width="300" /></span></a></div></div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /><span face=""Calibri Light", sans-serif" lang="EN-ZA">We also enjoy
exploring local markets, so spent time in these looking at fabrics etc.</span><span face=""Calibri Light", sans-serif"> </span><span face=""Calibri Light", sans-serif"> </span></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Calibri Light",sans-serif" style="font-family: inherit; mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Calibri Light"; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgcsYlJDUU9QfYsJsTzwA71O2cnCooXmrAk-sDlVVtS0OqMG3V44ZwPup5PjOzLW4_ODItdJUOoVa2T1ftmSEN7cwXCgW5yGi1kVpG2jRiLM6ruFIi_a9GuowcDeYwkUPtem68u4hAKkdDpPYBAIMW8oYxu7P1eiOJfLfPFrCzTQTaezhzszGM_UyWK" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img alt="" data-original-height="346" data-original-width="519" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgcsYlJDUU9QfYsJsTzwA71O2cnCooXmrAk-sDlVVtS0OqMG3V44ZwPup5PjOzLW4_ODItdJUOoVa2T1ftmSEN7cwXCgW5yGi1kVpG2jRiLM6ruFIi_a9GuowcDeYwkUPtem68u4hAKkdDpPYBAIMW8oYxu7P1eiOJfLfPFrCzTQTaezhzszGM_UyWK" width="320" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /><span face=""Calibri Light",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Calibri Light"; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEipJ7mU39Xsy_rI2CQplOXT0seyXZCIHGEjtVkjuE8jVMc11-4fHoqBbgzoeCU_XgdpRHYJIV2WANbI3HwmY_0Enxfa7z5MsSjHYLFlVmz5Y0BtexiCPJLNH5F2uf52PhkQmb3tHitWscvC-YXOaUZxAhx4avav3SJ-Y9l8qopi_rLtKpZqGM0Ok7Wi" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="347" data-original-width="447" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEipJ7mU39Xsy_rI2CQplOXT0seyXZCIHGEjtVkjuE8jVMc11-4fHoqBbgzoeCU_XgdpRHYJIV2WANbI3HwmY_0Enxfa7z5MsSjHYLFlVmz5Y0BtexiCPJLNH5F2uf52PhkQmb3tHitWscvC-YXOaUZxAhx4avav3SJ-Y9l8qopi_rLtKpZqGM0Ok7Wi" width="309" /></a></div></div></div></span></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span face=""Calibri Light", sans-serif">We sense is there is
much more to find, but it didn't jump out at us.</span><span face=""Calibri Light", sans-serif"> </span><span face=""Calibri Light", sans-serif">The people know how to use the Internet, but
don't seem to know how to market their services there.</span><span face=""Calibri Light", sans-serif"> </span><span face=""Calibri Light", sans-serif">Without doing research work, Rwanda could be
seen as "boring" or lacking in activities… or you could do a
drop-in-fly-out or a basic "tourist route" trip (e.g. 4 days).</span><span face=""Calibri Light", sans-serif"> </span><span face=""Calibri Light", sans-serif">We had about 8 days on-the-ground, and there
are activities I'd plan on for another trip, such as:</span></span></p>
<ul style="margin-top: 0in;" type="disc">
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: list .5in; vertical-align: middle;"><span face=""Calibri Light",sans-serif" lang="EN-ZA" style="font-family: inherit; mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Calibri Light"; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">Hiking/biking (all or part) of the Congo-Nile
trail -- which is an established route on the western bank of Lake Kivu
that runs between the watershed of the two great rivers;<o:p></o:p></span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: list .5in; vertical-align: middle;"><span face=""Calibri Light",sans-serif" lang="EN-ZA" style="font-family: inherit; mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Calibri Light"; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">Going on a bee-keeping tour (in season) to see
how the home-made bee hives are formed, placed, and later harvested;<o:p></o:p></span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: list .5in; vertical-align: middle;"><span face=""Calibri Light",sans-serif" lang="EN-ZA" style="font-family: inherit; mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Calibri Light"; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">Going into the Southern Congo to do the overnight
trip to the active volcano where you can look into the lava filled crater
at night;<o:p></o:p></span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: list .5in; vertical-align: middle;"><span face=""Calibri Light",sans-serif" lang="EN-ZA" style="font-family: inherit; mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Calibri Light"; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">Spending time in Nyungwe Forest National Park --
home of primates -- as well some other areas in the South West of the
country.<o:p></o:p></span></li>
</ul>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span face=""Calibri Light",sans-serif" lang="EN-ZA" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Calibri Light"; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;"> </span><span face=""Calibri Light", sans-serif">In any case, if you
really just want to soak up Africa -- walk with the people, drive across the
country, see the scenery, engage with the locals -- then Rwanda is a very
accessible, safe, affordable trip.</span><span face=""Calibri Light", sans-serif"> </span><span face=""Calibri Light", sans-serif">And,
to repeat, we would comfortably recommend it to any parents as a very
kid-friendly destination.</span><span face=""Calibri Light", sans-serif" lang="EN-ZA"> </span><span face=""Calibri Light", sans-serif"> </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Calibri Light", sans-serif" style="font-family: inherit;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhaXEgNNSnZtRq1B7uWRNwk0L0W20I-U40Mou3dSAelIpM-vMEZQXLyFtg3soP86lRx4_vFfg1a0XwW-qghoRcL6HSEDAuIRo-tWLEFHuZoma1tD6MCJAz29qnvofcTmZU369PnU2_Da7v1NcStFSlsMD0pnYaqLTXV-16ev7eVdULTKNdqAXqDOCjG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img alt="" data-original-height="657" data-original-width="493" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhaXEgNNSnZtRq1B7uWRNwk0L0W20I-U40Mou3dSAelIpM-vMEZQXLyFtg3soP86lRx4_vFfg1a0XwW-qghoRcL6HSEDAuIRo-tWLEFHuZoma1tD6MCJAz29qnvofcTmZU369PnU2_Da7v1NcStFSlsMD0pnYaqLTXV-16ev7eVdULTKNdqAXqDOCjG=w300-h400" width="300" /></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjuUAhX7mRKwviHX2BuIxV9We2T_rwwSLoZ-5mLh_2Vj5-fU-3pGpj24iABINWRs_zG11DUNwaaPCKsk4gM_jxYCO0v6BdaLrZR1-614gtXz4v-o50xHR4aewq1YP80Y3tY977HLgXTjbfYSQOtk8HMqd_KOV3L4goZg74e1PA9dDBaB6q7RID6QeHb" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img alt="" data-original-height="657" data-original-width="493" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjuUAhX7mRKwviHX2BuIxV9We2T_rwwSLoZ-5mLh_2Vj5-fU-3pGpj24iABINWRs_zG11DUNwaaPCKsk4gM_jxYCO0v6BdaLrZR1-614gtXz4v-o50xHR4aewq1YP80Y3tY977HLgXTjbfYSQOtk8HMqd_KOV3L4goZg74e1PA9dDBaB6q7RID6QeHb=w300-h400" width="300" /></span></a></div><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span face=""Calibri Light",sans-serif" lang="EN-ZA" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Calibri Light"; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">*Lake Kivu </span><span face=""Calibri Light",sans-serif" style="mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Calibri Light"; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">is very deep
and holds trapped carbon dioxide and methane under pressure in its depths… that
makes it dangerous if the CO2 or methane bubbles out, but this is also now
being tapped as a source of gas for a 500mw power plant.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span><span face=""Calibri Light",sans-serif" style="mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Calibri Light"; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>JaneFhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05624529776216917022noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4546660525329091713.post-59238193399990272462020-08-25T11:12:00.005+02:002021-05-25T20:21:36.002+02:00A major watershed day.... <p style="text-align: left;">Today is a weird, uncertain and bitter-sweet kind of day. It is also a huge watershed moment for us. Today marks the day that Benjamin is the exact age that Natey was on his last day with us. And it is also just 4 days before what would have been Natey's 6th birthday.</p><p style="text-align: center;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRob5jFjNwD2tV2UHmpe_7EmCkaog6JyDMIF981-k6Qr3sHSeZvXl4CPfuEcVB7Jj8BlDF4DqGpibW5y8p25IjFs1ADhbcgev4RU0mtDzrREGXToh7jsHsURuLd222R5wPwQOxwG-3PC8/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="939" data-original-width="661" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRob5jFjNwD2tV2UHmpe_7EmCkaog6JyDMIF981-k6Qr3sHSeZvXl4CPfuEcVB7Jj8BlDF4DqGpibW5y8p25IjFs1ADhbcgev4RU0mtDzrREGXToh7jsHsURuLd222R5wPwQOxwG-3PC8/" width="169" /></a></div><p></p><div style="text-align: center;"><b>Nathaniel</b></div><p style="text-align: center;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipcExJJWuTqA265FXwJeyvnqZTzO59EhzVf4ZcT_OKTs_tG4UBULgGuN-HLOF45gw_aC-Khr-B5T-q-KfiSZMFho3OKARKGI9sdePBTF0J21wEt8emxzC5d0vxxO5buNBBflRoXx2NtEA/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="939" data-original-width="704" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipcExJJWuTqA265FXwJeyvnqZTzO59EhzVf4ZcT_OKTs_tG4UBULgGuN-HLOF45gw_aC-Khr-B5T-q-KfiSZMFho3OKARKGI9sdePBTF0J21wEt8emxzC5d0vxxO5buNBBflRoXx2NtEA/" width="180" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><b>Benjamin</b></div><p></p><p>After today Andrew embarks into unknown parenting territory. Up to now it's been a kind of familiar 'do over' for him, which at first felt daunting and even initially a bit of a tedious prospect to him given how invested he had been in Natey (and to be clear he has also been with Benjamin), but from now on each day is entirely new. And something he'll have not experienced before. That's both scary and exciting. For me, I feel every day we get from here on feels like it will be a bonus. </p><p>I think though that both Andrew and I are, and have been, more than a little afraid of today. We have been acutely aware of risks, and just how 'dangerous' toddlers are at this age. Both seeming so aware, rational and obedient - understanding, able to listen to rules and what you say - whilst still being impulsive and frankly still little babies! You can't expect them to be responsible and careful, no matter how mature they seem.</p><p>I have been fearful that there's some kind of jinx or wall of fate which can't be crossed, and I know I will not relax today at all. I have felt the weight of fear and uncertainty mounting for the past month or so, as this day has come closer day-by-day. The fear that it might be a progression to the end again... it's hard not to feel that. </p><p>Living in fear is no way to live though. I know that. So what I have tried to do instead is to live in mindful gratitude, making sure to savour Benjamin and moments with him. Knowing that in the end memories, moments and love are all that is left. So make a point of living them and savouring them as you go. And thanks to Natey I am tuned into the concept of #LongDays too. So we have been going to the park, baking cookies, reading stories, having dinner picnics in the bedroom watching animated movies, walking on the mountain, and revealing in toddler hugs and kisses. One of the blessings of Corona lock-down has been all the extra bonus family time, for which I am very grateful and am loving.</p><p>Today though, I am thinking back on that last, beautiful, loving, connected and present <a href="https://janefraser.blogspot.com/2017/01/so-what-actually-happened-or-how-best.html">day with Natey</a>. Where I was being so deliberately <b>with</b> him... I still don't understand how or why it happened. I doubt I ever will. But all I can do now is to move on, and to be and do better. And I can only hope I am a better and good-enough mother to Benjamin (and Quinn & Griffin) through having lost Natey (and Angelique).</p><p>By now Benjamin has seen, is aware of, and has asked about the photos of Natey which are displayed all over the house. He started with 'Who is that boy?' and now often says 'That's Natey'. He of course doesn't really fathom who Natey is/was yet, and those deeper conversations are still to come. We haven't really discussed what we'll say and how we'll handle it, but I expect we'll wait for him to ask, and then be open and honest with him.</p><p>Benjamin is a delightful child. He is self-assured, independent, confident, smart, sassy, strong-willed, loving, cuddly, easy-going. playful, and funny.</p><p>Natey is still in my thoughts every day. I think of him often and the crows are still ever-present and they provide, for me, a comforting memory prompt. Every time I see one I smile and think of Natey and the lively, fun-loving, bright firecracker of a little boy he was.</p><p>Benjamin has by no means replaced Natey. They are each distinct, beautiful and special children in their own right. Their essences and energies are quite different, but each on fills our hearts and home and makes is equally full.</p><p>I am grateful to have got to experience the magic of Natey and I am so grateful to have the healing gentle and soulful energy that Benjamin has brought.</p><p><i>Natey: “I'm sorry, Please forgive me, Thank you, I love you.”</i></p><p><i>Benjamin: "You are loved and cherished to the moon. And back."</i></p><p style="text-align: center;"><img alt="Ho'oponopono Healing Technique – Earth Angel Intuition" height="291" src="https://earthangelintuition.files.wordpress.com/2018/09/hooponopono-cleansing-prayer-ashe-aria-leighland712691273.jpg?w=640" width="320" /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTpqwyozMXslb0ZoPGH84-FtoT0aA1ufa0Bqow6yHFaJ5eG5f2oqTzQTmRaDsWq8wxPV3jCCppnERcjuATpl3GvpAOLSl4PNOUZ8y12JpeP_OcZ-fBIlJC0uNFE4l2pWeJplziFIxVY7U/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="939" data-original-width="528" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTpqwyozMXslb0ZoPGH84-FtoT0aA1ufa0Bqow6yHFaJ5eG5f2oqTzQTmRaDsWq8wxPV3jCCppnERcjuATpl3GvpAOLSl4PNOUZ8y12JpeP_OcZ-fBIlJC0uNFE4l2pWeJplziFIxVY7U/w225-h400/image.png" width="225" /></a></p><p style="text-align: center;"><b>Natey</b></p><div style="text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhcrR0IW3hog41oZR69TSuzP6WXYENwKmrKmSt8iwcIZLTgVnrRQN8NXkDGa1GVY2TsG98rYy-r2Xt3OqgjN3BxoAAZjyYMA86oJyJ1BKlm7AdcyvQFtCe_kXc3M7RSY6_KHnaswzZ0pw/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="939" data-original-width="704" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhcrR0IW3hog41oZR69TSuzP6WXYENwKmrKmSt8iwcIZLTgVnrRQN8NXkDGa1GVY2TsG98rYy-r2Xt3OqgjN3BxoAAZjyYMA86oJyJ1BKlm7AdcyvQFtCe_kXc3M7RSY6_KHnaswzZ0pw/" width="180" /></a></div><br /><b>Benji</b></div>JaneFhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05624529776216917022noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4546660525329091713.post-11303644887638582032019-08-27T13:13:00.001+02:002021-03-29T11:48:15.875+02:00The healing power of telling your story....I was recently asked to talk at a friend's women's group gathering. I was surprised to be asked, and didn't know why I was chosen or what I was meant to speak about. When I was told 'just talk about yourself'. I couldn't imagine why. I mean what do I have to say that matters to anyone else??<br />
<br />
But because the person who asked is simple lovely and I wanted to help her, I said yes. And I have to say that in the end it was the most enriching and fulfilling thing to do. I still feel the warm fuzziness of being able to share my precious children's stories. And for their stories to matter and for them and their names to be remembered through the retelling...<br />
<br />
It was such a healing and heart warming experience. I am so glad I decided to do it!<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
This is what I said (and yes it's a consolidation of several of my other previous writings).<br />
And it was accompanied by a large collection of photo memories in a slide show.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<img alt="Image result for quote your story" height="308" src="https://aspiringwriter22.files.wordpress.com/2013/06/quote-about-writing3.jpg" width="400" /></div>
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Hello everybody. Some of you here sort of know me. Or know at least part of my story already. And you mostly know <a href="https://janefraser.blogspot.com/2017/01/so-what-actually-happened-or-how-best.html">the story of one of the biggest tragedies and regrets of my life</a>. It's not an easy story to tell, nor to hear. My intention is not to focus just on the tragedy though, but rather to tell the bigger story. The story of how Nathaniel’s story came to be, and what has happened since. It's quite a long story.<br />
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I have long-said that given a choice between stuff and an experience I will always choose the experience. I have come to learn that your life-memories and learnings are usually formed around connections & experiences. And they usually happen when you did something different. When you said yes, and tried something unusual, rather than just following your regular routine.<br />
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I mean, who remembers all the times you brushed your teeth, made your bed, went to the gym or did the laundry last year? Right? But I bet you remember the time you decided 'screw the laundry' and went to the beach instead. Not to say that you should always do that. The normal day-to-day stuff does need to be done, but sometimes you should mix it up! That’s where the LIVING happens.<br />
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This is why shortly after my divorce, rather than fix up my house (which actually really did need a makeover), I chose to take my 2 boys Griffin and Quinn, who were 6 and 8 years old at the time, on a trip to Thailand. On my own. As a 'start of our new family of 3’ adventure. And we had a wonderful & very memorable time there which they still fondly recollect often.<br />
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It is also why during that same divorce period I decided to do an egg donation. Which weirdly paralleled my divorce journey. Shortly after I got separated. My lovely friend Tertia started up an egg donation business. I was intrigued. So when I saw her branded vehicle one day, I took it as a literal sign that I should register. Which I did.<br />
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A couple of months later I had started the divorce proceedings. My lawyer called me after receiving an email to get some more information. As I put the phone down at the end of the call. My phone rang again almost immediately. I assumed it was her calling again... But no, it was the egg donation service saying I'd been selected as a donor! What!? Initially I thought the timing was bad, and that I’d be mad to do it… But almost immediately I thought, what the heck and said yes!<br />
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The egg donation process followed my divorce process so closely that I did the egg donation the day before I appeared in court to get divorced. This was not an easy or amicable divorce. There was a LOT of drama involved for everyone. And truth be told complicating that with the super-doses of hormones that egg donation involves might not have been the best idea I have ever had. But here's the thing. When I realised the timelines were coinciding that actually cemented my decision to do the donation. You see that's how I work.<br />
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My reasoning was that if I was going to be experiencing something bad, traumatic and an ending, then I liked the idea of also having something good, positive and worthy to focus on too. A new start... To take the bad and turn it into something good. To do something that mattered.<br />
That's important to me and something I come back to often in my life, and which seems to drive me. Including now tonight. I am NOT a natural public speaker. I am not particularly good at it. I am really not very comfortable doing it. But when Cathy invited me, it felt like something different, challenging and something that might end up being meaningful to me. And so, much as I don't really want to be the one up here speaking, I said yes anyway. I chose to go with the experience. That's just me.<br />
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And I have had some incredible experiences in my life. Some phenomenally wonderful and inspirational, and others have brought me to the depths of despair with heart-breaking suffering. All have brought me to where and who I am today though.<br />
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A huge theme in the past 2 decades of my life has been pregnancy and birth. I was drawn to it from early childhood. Knowing it was something I was destined for. My first pregnancy was when I was 23 years old, in 1997. After seeing photos of a midwife-assisted home water-birth, I decided THAT was what I wanted. Everything about it just seemed right to me.<br />
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I had hired a lovely midwife and I was all set to replicate that birth scenario, but sadly that pregnancy did not go according to plan. At 6 months pregnant while travelling on the train from JHB back to Cape Town, I went into premature labour. At the time we thought I had a stomach bug… I was young and naïve and didn’t want to bother anyone, so while my instincts told me something was wrong, I just desperately, stoically tried to cope and hang-on.<br />
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Eventually, about 12 hours in, it was obvious I was not ok. I was taken off the train and to hospital in an ambulance in small Karoo town. After being examined I was told I was in full labour and was already 6-7cm dilated, and that there was nothing they could do.<br />
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When given the option to transfer to Kimberley, which has neonatal facilities I jumped at it. I was given medication to stop my contractions, and bundled back into an ambulance which sped off across the Karoo in pouring rain for over 3 hours in the middle of the night.<br />
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We finally arrived in Kimberley at about 5am, where we were greeted with extreme reluctance. The nurses wouldn't admit me and wanted us to go back! They were not in the mood for dealing with another case close to the end of their shift. When we explained that we were there for the neonatal ICU, they rolled their eyes and told us that 25 weeks was too young, and that the incubators are expensive. The whole attitude was that we were an unwanted nuisance and irritation to them. Finally, a doctor was called. I thought that, being a trained professional, he would know the right thing to do and would take charge of the situation and help us. I was wrong.<br />
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All this time my baby had been fine with a strong healthy heartbeat, my waters were intact and the contractions had been stopped. After that things happened VERY quickly. I wasn't consulted about anything, and the nurses were very abrupt. The doctor ruptured my membranes; I remember feeling so very sad then, knowing that was a point of no return. The doctor then proceeded to insert a Pitocin IV. WHAT?? He was INDUCING me! At the time this seemed strange and wrong, but I thought he knew what he was doing, so I didn’t question him. Then he walked out. I never saw that doctor again...<br />
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The Pitocin caused a massive contraction. It felt as if it was going to rip my legs off, I didn't know what to do with myself. I started to panic, I didn't want this to be happening, I didn't want the baby to come out. I was frightened and in a lot of pain, a nurse simply told me to push and walked away. After just three pushes I gave birth to my baby. A small perfect little doll of a baby girl was born. A perfect little angel. Delicate, pink and alive. I felt desperately anxious that nothing was done to help her - but I knew that it was already too late...<br />
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There’s more to this story, and rest is just as bad. At the time I didn't know any better, but I now know that the reason for losing our little girl Angelique was incorrect medical intervention. I was treated like a problem, which needed to be eliminated before the inspection in the morning. It was simply awful. Profoundly traumatically tragic and it changed me forever.<br />
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<a href="https://janefraser.blogspot.com/2017/01/so-what-actually-happened-or-how-best.html">I have shared this story often</a>, it reaffirmed my belief that interference in birth can do much more harm than good. After that experience I had a conviction that I wanted a birth with NO interference, and I secretly actually wanted to have an unassisted birth – which is when you give birth on your own with no medical professional present.<br />
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I went on to have two successful mid-wife assisted natural births several years later – in hospital - with my boys <a href="https://janefraser.blogspot.com/2015/08/quinns-birth-story.html">Quinn</a> & <a href="https://janefraser.blogspot.com/2015/08/griffins-birthday.html">Griffin</a> who are now 19 and 17. They were very healing and empowering experiences for me. I was so inspired by my wonderful gentle, kind and caring midwife Kate that I actually wanted to become a midwife after that. I ended up training and certifying as doula, and helping with about 20 births. And still wherever possible I try to help to empower other people to have positive; births without fear. I always felt like I wanted one last ‘perfect’ birth experience though. I wanted to have that gentle and calm home water-birth experience I had visualised.<br />
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Then in 2011 Tertia contacted me again, she had expanded her egg donation business into surrogacy. She asked me if I wanted to be a surrogate? By this time, I had been a single self-supporting mom for several years. I was intrigued by the idea, but as the bread-winner with no support it did not seem like a feasible idea. It didn't feel like something I could just say yes to. I juggled it around in my mind though...<br />
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Some months later she contacted me and told me about this guy she was communicating with, who was interested in having a child. She said he was potentially interested in contracting a surrogate, but was unsure about whether he wanted to commission a child on his own. He was exploring options to have a baby but hadn't yet visualised the option where he would be a single-parent. He also was apparently struggling to understand WHY anybody would go through a pregnancy and birth without the 'prize' of a baby at the end. In short, he knew nothing about parenting, pregnancy or birth... (Ok that's not true, as always with Andrew he had read fairly extensively. But he had no practical or first-hand knowledge.)<br />
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Eventually she did something 'unorthodox' and connected Andrew and I via email. With the view that I could pay a consultative role, in essence a bit of a doula-role really, to help him understand his options and to get perspectives on parenting on your own, as well as around what pregnancy and birth is like, and why anyone would want to be a surrogate.<br />
We emailed back and forth for a month or so and then in July 2011 we met for dinner.<br />
We got along well and chatted easily. And over the next few months we continued communicating intermittently via email and had the odd dinner or cup of coffee in between.<br />
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Andrew was warming to the idea of commissioning a child for himself and started skirting the topic of whether I would be prepared to surrogate for him. I remained non-committal explaining my situation; that I was intrigued and interested, but wasn't sure it was the right decision for me and my lifestyle set-up. But I felt a strange compulsion, there was part of me that REALLY wanted to just throw caution to the wind, say yes and do it. But this was a big decision, with potentially very high stakes. I had to consider the risks to myself and my boys etc. Also Andrew is a very methodical, deliberate and thorough decision maker. It was not something he was going to pursue on a whim and without serious due process.<br />
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So instead he read and researched extensively. He consulted with all and everyone for advice, warnings, and experiences. He started inviting me to dinners and introducing me to selected friends - I knew I was being not so subtly screened. For sanity? Suitability? Genetic qualities?? I wasn't sure, but took it at face value. An invite to a lovely social dinner! (I think I met Cathy & Paul in this time too) <br />
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A few months down the line our relationship shifted and we both realised, or admitted, we had grown fond of each other. And well as humans have been doing since the dawn of time, we let nature take its course. Though in true Andrew style this was not before he had deliberately and explicitly paused the baby/surrogacy discussion with me. Knowing that would be clouded by a romantic relationship.<br />
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So we started 'dating', went on a few holidays and basically had a good time getting to know each other during 2012. Eventually the topic of a baby was raised formally again. It was something Andrew really wanted to do. He asked whether I would be willing to participate, or if he should look for another surrogate? I was still slightly unsure. But didn't really want him to look for someone else.<br />
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By this time, I had thoroughly screened HIM too, and I honestly felt that he more than deserved to become a dad. Moreover, I knew he would be a wonderful, dedicated, mindful and committed father. I felt compelled to ensure that he got a baby conceived, grown and birthed with mindfulness, dedication and intent. In the end my decision was based on doing something that mattered. What was the one thing I could do which would to make a meaningful, and significant difference to someone else? And that was it; decision made. I signed up...<br />
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2013 became about conceiving Natey. Surrogacy is a long, complex, expensive legal and medical process. Our agreement was that the pregnancy and birth would be 'mine' while the baby would be Andrew’s. And that meant that I got to make all decisions for the pregnancy and how the baby would be born. And for that I was planning a home-birth as this was a big part of my motivation and drive for being involved in the first place. I was striving for my 'fantasy birth'.<br />
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Since we were already having a physical relationship, it seemed crazy, unnecessary and even unappealing to me to medicalise the conception part just for the sake of the formality of a surrogacy.<br />
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And so, making a long story short after consulting with a host of people from doctors, lawyers, mediators, psychologists etc. We decided to go 'off script'. Instead of the full formal surrogacy, we proceeded with a civil agreement in 2 parts. A Pre-Pregnancy Agreement to cover the period of conception, pregnancy and birth; covering rights, responsibilities and consequences for us each for an extensive array of situations. And then a Parenting Plan for once the baby was born - in effect what is usually done as part of a divorce agreement.<br />
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After conceiving; the pregnancy went very smoothly. I stayed active, fit & healthy throughout. A week before my due date we moved temporarily to Andrew's house to prepare for the birth. The idea was that I would birth the baby there at his house, help to get him settled in with Andrew, and then my boys and I would go back to our house. I hadn't thought too deeply about when or how, I just trusted that it would all work out somehow...<br />
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Eventually at 41.5 weeks I became aware of contractions a few hours after going to bed. I got up and laboured on my own for a couple of hours until Andrew heard me low-moaning through contractions and got up. The midwives were called.<br />
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Soon contractions picked up, I decided I wanted to be in the bath. After about 20mins in the water, the contractions started to get really strong and the pressure was intense. I said ‘I think I need to push soon,…’and next thing I was pushing!<br />
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The baby's head was moving down with each push and within just 2 or 3 he was crowning. I remember realising then that this was Andrew's very first birth experience and we were on our own, there was no one there to support or reassure him! In the next push the baby's head slowly eased out into my hands. I remember saying to Andrew ‘The head is out! - But don't worry it’s ok…’. I felt pretty calm and in control, but wanted to make sure he wasn’t panicking or worrying.<br />
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In the next contraction after a hearty push; one shoulder eased out, then the next and out slipped the baby into my hands. Still in his sac. I peeled it off him and brought him to the surface of the water. I felt his neck and the cord was wrapped around it, so I slipped it off over his head. I then patted and rubbed him. It took a minute for him to really respond. I still felt like I knew what I was doing, but I was holding my breath waiting for him to visibly breathe and ‘wake up’. I think we were both very relieved when he did splutter, open his eyes and start breathing! And there he was little Nathaniel Leonidas Thor Canter.<br />
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The birth team only arrived about 10 mins later. And helped us to finish up and clean up. The whole experience was very calm and peaceful just felt right. So I had had a spontaneous unassisted home water birth!!! Andrew was calm and quietly and gently supportive, watching but giving me space to do my thing uninterrupted and with no fear or panic. It was really amazing. Beyond even what I had imagined. I felt like my circle of healing from Angelique's tragic birth to Nathaniel’s triumphant birth was completed.<br />
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We basked in the glow of birth. Andrew and Nathaniel bonded immediately, fully and deeply. We all somehow seemed to have slipped into a new natural family unit. Soon the days rolled into weeks, then months. Despite the fact that I was breastfeeding the plan was still that I was there in a temporary capacity. Andrew being the official 'primary parent' as planned, had taken 4 months off work, and I went back to work 8 weeks after Natey was born.<br />
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The more time went by, the harder it felt to consider leaving, and the less likely it seemed. After our unusual start and strange plans, we'd created a pretty standard practical arrangement. One that felt whole, right and comfortable for us all. And we lived life knowing how blessed we were with this beautiful angelic and wild free-spirited little boy who became our literal son as we all revolved around him.<br />
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When Natey (as he grew to call himself) was 10 months old a minor heart-defect was found, needing open-heart surgery to fix. It was a scary and traumatic time. I moved into hospital and spent a week with him in the hospital, where any personal doubt or pretence that I was anything but his fully invested mama-bear was thoroughly quashed.<br />
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We lived charmed lives. And we knew it. Life was good. And then it all came crashing down...<br />
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That fateful day on 30 December 2016, when after a gorgeous fun-filled loving day together Natey inexplicably went to the swimming pool during the minute or 2 I had turned my back on him to communicate with Andrew. I’ll probably never understand what actually happened, or how it happened so fast.<br />
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I wrote a blog post recalling every small and painful detail of that worst day of my life. I think most of you have read it, so I won’t go into detail here…<br />
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People tend say you are brave or inspirational when you survive something. The truth is you aren't, or at least I don't think I am.<br />
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I think bravery is choosing to do something really difficult or scary. When you are thrust into that position, it doesn't feel like bravery at all. But when tragedy strikes you, I guess then you only have 2 choices; you either survive - or you don't…<br />
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The fact is that time marches forward whether you want it to or not, and so you have no option but to move forward too.<br />
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When Natey died at home at 2 years 4 months old, it was also in water, and again with no one else there just me - alone this time. That circle of healing and completion shattered open again. It shook the very core and foundation of who I was and made me doubt everything I knew. How could that have happened? How could the most beautiful, perfect and cherub-like little boy be gone so quickly and so incomprehensibly? It just made no sense.<br />
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So there I was, having lost not just one but two of my dear, longed for and much loved children... How does one carry on from that??<br />
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Honestly, I don’t think I have any profound truths or insights, and the fact is it is hard and it hurts a LOT. But in both of these great loses of my life, I have been almost immediately very aware that they can either break you or strengthen you. And somehow being broken and to give up, doesn't seem like a good way to honour my children. I almost feel obligated to live on, to do well, and more-so to do GOOD, because they can't.<br />
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And I do think it's a choice. But it's not an easy choice & to some extent anyone who suffers such a loss is ‘broken’. However, for me, I felt I had to live on and live well FOR them.<br />
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In dealing with Angelique's death, birthing became my passion. I learned everything I could about pregnancy and birth and for a better way to bring a child into the world. I studied to be a doula and started volunteering at Mowbray Maternity so I could to assist and empower the helpless and scared moms there to have better, less scary and traumatic births. I did this as a way to make Angelique's life matter and to try to ensure that no one else had to endure a traumatic and incompassionate birthing experience.<br />
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After Natey died we also wanted to somehow do good. I adopted the hashtag #DoingItForNatey and also #LongDays - which came out of the customary Jewish greeting to mourners of 'I wish you long life'. The sentiment also seemed to inspire my broader circle of friends to do something that scared them or that pushed the boundaries of their capabilities, or to just get out there and LIVE. To make the most of each day!<br />
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It was used for a number of initiatives to raise money for charity. As an example. A wheelchair-bound friend of mine decided she had no excuse for being unfit and out of shape and so she started exercising and bought a recumbent bicycle. She has to-date lost about 30kg and training to ride the Argus. Another friend ran her first marathon and then also completed a Half Iron-Man. Others simply said yes when their children wanted to play with them, or went for that picnic on the beach, or had ice-cream for dinner... All #DoingItForNatey<br />
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As for Andrew and I we also challenged ourselves. We ran races, signed up for the Argus Cycle Tour, competed in the Platteklip Charity Challenge, all #DoingItForNatey.<br />
We also asked people not to spend money on flowers and gifts for us, but rather to donate the money so it could do some good. In this way we helped raise about R75 000 for the Red Cross Children’s Hospital and about R15 000 for other charities.<br />
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Andrew also almost immediately knew that part of his healing and journey forward in life had to include another child. I didn’t hesitate to agree to trying again. This time I was nearly 44 though, and risks were that much higher… We worked with my gynae to track and regulate my cycles. I realised I might need some more medical and scientific help than before. We tried a few things, none of which were working…. Then we went on a watershed trip to Iceland, on an epic hike to Thorsmork (Thor’s forest) in memory of dear Natey. We hiked the 90 odd kilometres with photos of him and some of his ashes – which we scattered on the top of the volcano on the new vents ‘Magdi & Modi’ named after Thor’s children. We placed photos and love locks on the bridge between the 2 continents.<br />
We came home from that trip mentally and emotionally exhausted, but realising that we had to move forward with our lives.<br />
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For me that meant committing to the Post-Grad degree I had signed up for, but had deferred in the wake of the tragedy. We agreed we’d pause the baby-making to allow me to embark and concentrate on my studies. Only to find 3 days into the first module that I was pregnant! Somehow at the end of that Iceland trip, where we metaphorically said goodbye to Natey and released him, we conceived with no monitoring or tracking at all.<br />
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And true to style I did my post-grad degree while pregnant and with a new-born! Benjamin Bodhi Achilles Canter was born via another beautiful and peaceful home water birth last April. And as chance would have it, I graduate tomorrow!<br />
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I guess I have learned that message is that life is short, you have no idea how much time you have here… And so you should live your life fully and appreciate what you have, and who you have, while you are here. Take the chances, grab the opportunities. Do things that matter!<br />
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Again, I don't think we are special, remarkable, or inspirational (ok well maybe Andrew is, as his generosity of spirit, and capacity to forgive IS remarkable and very inspirational to me), but I think we just decided that we had to try, somehow to take the good, and to try to release the bad.<br />
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While losing a child is truly the most awful thing that can happen to you - and it is not something you get over or get better from - we have learned that no matter what, there always is a lot to be grateful for and:<br />
- I am grateful for the immense, and continued love and care of our colleagues, friends and family - and our community who really helped to carry us through those first dark and difficult early weeks.<br />
- I am grateful for the precious time we had with Natey and the lessons he taught us. To take delight in every day. To marvel and wonder at the smallest of things. To enjoy life's small pleasures. To love freely and with abandon.<br />
- I am grateful for Benjamin. Who has certainly not replaced Natey, or filled the big Natey-shaped hole in our lives. He couldn't do that and shouldn’t. But he has created new hope, new purpose. New love and new inspiration. We are very aware that Benjamin wouldn't be here if Nathaniel hadn't died. It's hard not to feel grateful for that somehow.<br />
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In the end, I think it comes down to that while you don't get to choose what will happen to you in your life, you do get to choose how you'll respond, and how you move forward from what does happen. So I try to choose the positive. Not because it is the brave or easy thing to do, but because for me it just feels better that way.<br />
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I have no idea now if my life journey is a circle, square or spiral, but I just try to live #LongDays #DoingItForNatey now.<br />
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Thank-you.JaneFhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05624529776216917022noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4546660525329091713.post-61937137223462632222019-05-04T19:37:00.002+02:002019-05-08T17:35:48.511+02:00This is 45...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I turned 45 this week. The same week Benjamin turned 1.<br />
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To celebrate we shared a lovely small cake party in the park with family and a few close friends...<br />
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So this body of mine has served me for 45 years now. And I must admit it has served me well. But I have not always treated it well, or even appreciated it.<br />
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I believe I was bought up with reasonably healthy attitudes and practices in terms of diet and eating habits. Sport was never encouraged though. So I never really learned how to move, or harness my body physically. I never knew how to push my limits, how to make it work for me, or how to channel it to get results, either personally or as part of a team.<br />
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I was just in my body, and it was a mere vessel for my existence.<br />
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I have been through, what I believe are fairly normal and common, phases and progressions with my body. Alternately starving and indulging myself and feeling dissatisfied with myself. Bum too big, boobs too small, thighs have too much cellulite, belly too flabby, double chin etc. I remember in my early 20s going through my body mentally, like a guided meditation and thinking of something I didn't like about each and every part of my body.... I was not comfortable in my skin. I know I am not alone in this.<br />
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In my early 20s I was undiagnosed anorexic (I got down to 42Kgs (93lbs) at 20 years old. At 1.66cm/5'5"). Thereafter I found comfort eating, and like Po (from Kung-Fu Panda) would eat when I felt sad, or lonely, or depressed, or... I went up to about 70kgs a year or 2 later.<br />
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When I moved to Cape Town I started to find myself and my groove. I started to treat myself and my body better. I was nowhere near self love, but I started some self-respect, some self-nourishment and a degree of self-kindness (when I could).<br />
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And then I got pregnant with Angelique. I was 23 years old. The shift in me on finding out I was pregnant was both immediate and dramatic. It was no longer about me. I could no longer deal with mental anguish via abusing my body. I became very aware that what I ate, thought and felt could directly affect my baby. The shift in focus and purpose was very positive and helpful.<br />
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I found a yoga class and for the first time in my life started consciously tuning IN to my body, rather than looking away, being and feeling ashamed of it, or just simply avoiding the work, and self-love, required to look after it.<br />
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It took a while but eventually I loved it. I started understanding the 'good pain' of physical growth and gaining strength and control over your body. I started getting the balance strength and flexibility that comes with yoga practice, and which applies to your body and mind.<br />
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About 6 years later, after Quinn and Griffin were born, and after joining a gym and adding some further work-outs at the gym into my life. I started running. And have been running since. Although, I now run a lot less than I used to, I still run at least twice a week for an hour a time.<br />
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When Natey was conceived I was an avid, regular runner. Competing socially in a good few races a year and usually placing in the top 5% of finishers. Having turned 40 I had reached a place of knowing and accepting myself enough that I felt pretty comfortable and capable in my skin. Friends and family worried that the pregnancy would derail my running and so derail the ME I had created. I'll admit I feared it a little too. But I knew I wanted to pursue the Natey journey. It felt right and important and I wanted to do something that MATTERED in my life. I didn't want to just have worked at shaving off 1 min from my 10km running time, when I could do something literally life-changing for someone. (Although we all know how that fairytale ended... 😢)<br />
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Anyway, Natey's pregnancy was happy and healthy, and my body impressed and surprised me by bouncing back really quickly afterwards. I started running again when he was just 3 weeks old!<br />
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After Natey died though, I lost focus, direction, drive, purpose, and any real reason to wake up in the morning. I tried to push through and carry on. I embarked on PGDip. I worked. I ran when I could, but even then mostly I just walked. Lacking the enthusiasm, energy or motivation to really push myself. I took little pleasure in it. I lost tone and fitness, naturally.<br />
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Then I got pregnant with Benjamin. And oh my word struggled. I was sick sick sick. It was all I could do to hold it together at work, I would literally drive myself home at the end of the day and climb straight into bed. Some week-ends I would pretty much stay in bed all day. There was pretty much no exercise happening at all. ANY spare time of energy went to PGDip. I started to develop aches and pains in my hips and pelvis. I joked that 'my body was never going to forgive me' for the pregnancy. I thought I had pushed it too far. Expecting too much. I had already grown and birthed 4 babies. 3 of them over 4kgs. How could I have expected it to just grow another!? I reckoned it had served me well and I should be grateful, and would need to just accept the consequences.<br />
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Benjamin was born a year ago. Another beautiful, natural birth that was almost a spiritual experience for me. And although this time I felt more vulnerable and soft and floppy afterwards. I did not feel 'broken'.<br />
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I decided to be kind to myself. Not to punish or berate myself or my body. Not to whip it, starve it, or force it. But to love and honour it. As and when I have felt ready, stronger and have been able to I have slowly got active and physical again. Realising my core strength (and bladder) was a problem I decided not to just focus on running but rather to focus on core and strength training. I started doing shape classes at the gym. These are a good mix of cardio and weight training. I also do 'Rumble' boxing classes. I have been gyming 2-4 times a week.<br />
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It's been a year since Benjamin was born, and I feel strong and good. This is me. I am 45, and I finally think I love and accept myself, and my body.<br />
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<span style="text-align: left;">Thank-you body for serving me so well!</span></div>
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JaneFhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05624529776216917022noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4546660525329091713.post-49220768868261431692019-05-04T16:59:00.003+02:002019-05-04T16:59:33.248+02:00Happy First Birthday Benjamin!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Darling little Benjamin (#BBAC) turned 1 year old on 24 April 2019.<br />
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<img height="400" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/GXyg0a4E1zXpYOeT8WJF3DkbdaT_F0pPLZqWNiaotEiILwBdQHSR2qSSsxN_b0NPMd8tNchp_MpeRmuokdBtdd8Qf50RNl0jxXLyw-_27w9AaGa2MQc90-I4n2J7K6Tr3zeCZ-UbGQlC_F8SPnTWXq8jZpHyay1jVFN7kzHlvAUvWrIAHOrBfYjsybUrE5jmlxtoeGeLLWZNF5S5hUpsd8nkDdf8RXCtYOjOghaJFpqSPam2Djm42EPRMtUac26_0g0R7aacMb7WMSxyvvDWMywXX709_-yXbP7RxsXMUlJpsuVRUJg9O30iLjnwMckj0T0_o8r8wWg50__HySysfCJM6fCB3dsFKJdN83QWNKifFb3PJV0xWjPnnotOhtMOU2eb2W5L1l1x0OinZu8NmEFoXcK8Z6z4NtRxiGU3zAEPogMM7dGYcArKW3JV0eFwNVbLJzu7cpJeP7iUChspmAS2FZgbn-VJLajZnax80w981d_0U_f705FbQ0W6XG_QHlR9W2-E9jtCGLpedbq8dDJUgXRSx64K9WjB6KDXBJ9SG2qpdPd1OMHxBtA6W9tdDNTE3psu2qLxDMS5XLEW4KFPHOxcJjGdeXZ5tqfAGWUPOBKyJ-nPWIvdR7tFEJwFdRcHW6oUS44mopr-6Zl-JSzqbNjMHK2L=w501-h625-no" width="320" /></div>
Benjamin is a simply delightful child. He is a chilled, easy-going and petty relaxed child. He is able to amuse himself often. He interacts with free flowing ease and confidence with people.<br />
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<img height="400" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/csMNJbsh2Prj7KVybIMoE6SjSYticVn36G2ksnIiV0TUvzKcbH62Q3FdwCdOFP23MboSec8aqvnfe0MCt9heW4zrMcia6JMgSaWUxnFqPy3BUKg8KbTdB5MPdhlZJDUXAlkq10OnHKPVq6Yf4iodcI0b6neNEa7_aMeH0nY9qJsmN2hb3jqj4OavuaR2u2RMmwDYylnGaj2dxqIlr6euNCcOhJaulyUCf5rHx2nICANn_DaVOH47uVYWxkZ_KTEjc1AHyHUhcdzDqF1YCOg9QCqYSnUkVDdwpLxfB5hmxHR7kVqL3St_pCJWCtfx3-lMJDwaR8SEp_0RR27syXwd9FubSvoLFf8eBrwtC2mLgPR9UkK1G7AQtlyhM3Rlu5V_TW314GaQCgle7vH_tgT3PVJcBQQw2LULQR3_3CraVtfQQB2BWTazvxO1xYPZKyXNmN2TpbvTajp6Mbmu0hyQzaAfDpNxXxB6cYgVt51B99rbedPbvQoPie16UrL5nX23grLE-7XOaM204XAQJcOQzRmureTZMBtgMekDgLbGw4b5BrVpu0jNoLedx-Ij8mNpfPLGJqoSTmAkjWvE0ielgqAKyS6AgrHiIcqWP3FyuLqduAr3Np7PZHT5s3ytjD8y2KneUCfc-1dp76UEwnz6ISHEvDILGicu=w501-h625-no" width="320" /></div>
He appears to be deep thinking, sometimes quite seriously so, and since birth has seemed quite mindful and centred.<br />
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Interestingly since the very day he was born he has been drawn to lights. He loves looking at them and his gaze has followed lights from day one. And now apart from the usual dada and mama words, his first real word, including pointing to and looking at the object is 'Light'. Andrew pointed out that this links right into the roots of his name (Bohdi - enlightened or awakened) and also the Jewish name Mier meaning 'bringer of light'. So I guess it's pretty fitting.<br />
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<img height="400" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/Y8ww7fAlYmebgH_svjSMeCLnwgxPFTXaeGtUwZTRoSP7U0sV_k7PMazHUnCKEm3MelUQGCZSKe4TW57dKsPUyVwPzJs4R__y1aeB-FYP055bFZjl6MamIYXZyRbpecJkjgbx0N2HCpgITwr8ZtNcQ47_Od6GF6sCmDy-4iiLYnpvVdVtxq2bBYyHMlpOAJ0-yfhnNV0wSqs5_hKRHCKda8LT7Yh_RCrjUDYkvq-8-k85jw3eU_DaxfjghCRDrLTdW3NBOjzEgbKlb7ZGx9r1CrGl0eaKkwWKwa-ssoeeABaEdwE2zolU8h2Q8YNmVywqNfroaIgh80y6CsExsoGrc4K8v6KRgyS_df7O_2IHcg7J0AH49CH4bI7_qCqNa18sSqE2jkJocgPKap7LUExXkKfl95GsW20ycrBJLSMr3WgVmr9cmN64YTxE5S0-X0dK4kBzMVOfUe_smbJAB1vtwb7rnoZad9-KHteHuFGrGjveKLbyWISaSDwynJMJNx2f4YIc9zNje3ZlJytC4SKKq2u2QQHyMCLDO87ZQB2YQrMIgeEx5Pl4iUPIdsAWmmC715FgS198L9qYV-TD1nikO32LL_O6z3qzcmbo5at4--77sNLHCJhPPioNGr_L_CkojIWRsSEjtN2bgG9DUjdD4ifVlX1DQGl1=s625-no" width="400" /></div>
Benjamin has real brough 'light' and lightness back into our lives. He has brought to me a sense of peace and contentment that I had lost before.*<br />
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HAPPY BIRTHDAY PRECIOUS BOY. You are very very loved and adored.<br />
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With love from<br />
MOMMY<br />
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(* Of course the missing and longing for Natey is very much still there, but Benjamin has helped to bring purpose, direction and hope back to everyday life again).</div>
JaneFhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05624529776216917022noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4546660525329091713.post-64395518464333640602018-08-29T08:08:00.000+02:002018-08-29T21:18:01.297+02:00To Natey on your 4th birthdayToday would have been your fourth birthday dearest boy. I wonder how you would have looked now?<br />
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Is still imagine you with your beautiful golden curls. I wonder if they would have stayed, as you grew and got haircuts? I am sure your big beautiful brown eyes would still be bright and sparkling with delight and energy.</div>
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I imagine you being excited about your birthday, especially the cake. You loved the idea of birthday cake. You and Minda would enjoy the cake the most! (I loved the way when you ate something really yummy you would close your eyes and really savour the taste.) I am sure you would still be totally in love with Minda. She is still so kind and caring, and fun and beautiful as you remember her (but a bit sadder, like all of us).</div>
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I imagine that you would be the center of attention at school today on your special day, with cupcakes for the class. You'd probably be a little shy, but would actually love it. </div>
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I imagine what and who you would be now. How big you'd be at 4 years old. Not a little baby any more. You'd still be so talkative, active and excited by things. I think you'd still take such delight in life.</div>
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I imagine you'd still be the complete love of our lives and our sun - which we'd still all revolve around. </div>
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I wonder what you would like now? Still bikes and trucks? What sort of party would you have wanted..?</div>
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Daddy and I, and Quinn and Griffin too, are sad that we can't have a fun day celebrating with you today. But know that we will be thinking of you all day. We will have a small celebration of your life as a family later and will be sure to have some cake or ice-cream for you.</div>
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We miss you every day sweet boy. Happy 4th birthday.</div>
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Love Mommy.<br />
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This is how I remember you my sweet charming characterful beautiful boy. ❤️<br />
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JaneFhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05624529776216917022noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4546660525329091713.post-39385501667501095672018-08-28T08:21:00.001+02:002018-08-28T08:50:03.564+02:00A Time of Darkness: Surviving The Death of My Son (by Andrew)As I mentioned in my last post, Andrew and I gave a talk at Nathaniel's old school (and what will no doubt be Benjamin's school when he grows up).
We were invited to talk at their fundraising event dinner titled 'An evening of Inspiration'.<br />
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Benjamin came along with us, and was the only baby (only child actually) at the event and he was on his very best behaviour and was delightful.
It was lovely to get a chance to see our old 'Natey community' again, including our dear Melinda (Natey's au-pair 'Minda'), all of whom have been so very supportive of us through the past year and a half, and well before that even.<br />
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The evening and the talks were held in the school hall which is where we held Nathaniel's memorial service, so it was very poignant and emotional to introduce Benjamin into the community in this way, and in the same place.....
This is the talk Andrew gave:<br />
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #404041;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">A Time of Darkness: <o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #404041;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: large;">Surviving The Death of My Son… My Life’s
Greatest Disaster</span><o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #404041;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Delivered at Alon Ashel pre-primary school
(Seapoint, Cape Town), “An Evening of Inspiration” dinner<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #404041;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Andrew Canter, August 23, 2018<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #404041;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Preamble<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #404041;">Jane and my little son --
our sparkling, intelligent, beautiful, fun Nathaniel -- died at the age of 28
months on December 30, 2016.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He had been
a student</span><span style="color: #404041;">*</span><span style="color: #404041;">
here during that year, and thus Alon Ashel touched our lives and his life
touched the school community. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #404041;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Many people here tonight
have been friends and supporters during our happy times with Nathaniel, the
dark time of his death, and now again the happy time of Benjamin’s new life
(now 4 months).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #404041;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I want to thank you all –
thank the Herzlia community – for all you’ve given us, and also for the
opportunity tonight to tell part of our story.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #404041;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">We can all celebrate the new
life of little Benjamin, but it would be false to avoid how we got to this point.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What
looks like a short trip from the despair of our Natey’s death to the joy of
Benjamin is really a long and continuing journey for us. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As much as many of our friends and family want
to believe that having another baby is a sign that we are ‘healed’, that would
be a misconception.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For example, because
my brain is juggling past & present, regret & joy I’ll probably muddle
Nathaniel’s and Benjamin’s names during this talk -- as I have many times in
the past few months.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #404041;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">What I want to share are
some elements of our journey thus far -- and where we hope it’s going.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #404041;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Navigating the Darkness<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></div>
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<span style="color: #404041;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">As a starting point, there
will never be ‘closure’ on Nathaniel’s death.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Some say it’s like losing a limb: You can never regrow an arm, but you
can get used to functioning without it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>For me it’s like being stabbed in the heart: At first there is blood, damage
and sharp pain… it’s dramatic and acute… but over time, if you survive, it
becomes a permanent dull-ache… scar tissue: Never fully healed, but a chronic
impairment that you live with.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #404041;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The night Nathaniel died,
I remember lying in bed with Jane and feeling my heart literally breaking. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I know there is scar tissue there, and I can
feel it holds me back from complete immersion in love.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My goal is to fight that impairment, and
throw myself into loving Benjamin the way he deserves.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #404041;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">More broadly, we are on a
journey from “anger” & “regret” to “acceptance” & “appreciation for
what we had”… we are hoping to be able to think about Nathaniel with some
happiness and not with sorrow.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We don’t
pretend we are there yet – we are still on the road.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Our walk so far from “acute pain” to “chronic
ache” has had several steps and survival strategies.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #404041;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Nathaniel died on
December 30, 2016, and for the first few months of 2017 we lived in a
swirl.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #404041;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">You spend a lot of time
recounting all the tiny moments that led to disaster – knowing that the
slightest change could have completely altered the outcome.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Along with that we faced guilt and shame: A parent’s
first job is to keep your child alive, and we failed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Generously, no one has imposed blame or guilt
on us – but we both carry it in equal measure.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #404041;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Perhaps the first step –
the most vital step -- to our survival was that between Jane and I -- in the
moment of Natey’s death, in the intervening months, and now – there has been no
blame, anger or recrimination for each other. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We know that what happened could have happened
on either of our watches, that we were jointly responsible, and shared joint
blame.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The gears meshed, the
one-in-a-million event happened, and our little boy died. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If we’d had any sense of blaming each other,
the entire rest of the story would have been radically different.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We were partners before, during, after… and
now.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #404041;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">In addition to that, we
found out we both dealt with the disaster in similar ways.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #404041;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">For a start, neither one of
us hid from what happened: We watched the ambulance crew that night… we held
his body at the hospital, escorted it to the morgue... and said a final goodbye
at the morgue the next day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We took
pictures to cement the images, and as a final reminder of his beautiful face
and hair.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Together, we looked death in
the face – literally – and that made it real and undeniable.</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #404041; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #404041; font-family: inherit;">The grieving books advise you to confront and accept your loss –
because the shock is going to get you sooner or later.</span><span style="color: #404041; font-family: inherit;"> </span><span style="color: #404041; font-family: inherit;">That rings true as, in some ways I find it no
easier to think about Nathaniel now than it was a year ago -- sometimes a photo
just shakes me. </span><span style="color: #404041; font-family: inherit;"> </span><span style="color: #404041; font-family: inherit;">If we hadn’t continually
confronted the pain when it was expected, then it would be harder to deal with
months later when one would think the pain had faded.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #404041;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Also, neither Jane nor I wanted
to push Nathaniel out of sight: We have wilfully kept him close-by in our lives
through, for example, our screen savers running his photo montage… our Facebook
pages… his toys, art and pictures in the house... we made a “Natey place” in
our bedroom… we light a memorial candle at family dinners… and we keep the
little wooden box of his ashes in the dining room. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Poignantly, we also made “Natey Bear” – a
stuffed bear that wears one of Nathaniel’s sleepy-suits -- that slept with us
for many months.</span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #404041; font-family: inherit;">For me, the most terrible thing has been that Nathaniel is drifting
away – floating backward in time.</span><span style="color: #404041; font-family: inherit;"> </span><span style="color: #404041; font-family: inherit;">Jane
and I can’t stop that drift – but we certainly don’t want to hasten that
inexorable and sad fading of his life-force.</span><span style="color: #404041; font-family: inherit;">
</span><span style="color: #404041; font-family: inherit;">By now I can no longer conjure his touch, feel or smell… sometimes it
feels like I’m grasping at smoke to hold onto him: The memories are all we have
left.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #404041;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Jane and I also coped
similarly by sharing our stories: Jane wrote a moving blog about all the
details of that last day of Nathaniel’s life – with all its happiness and fun… followed
by his death.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I wrote and rewrote his
eulogy and life story – jotting down every single memory I could muster –
hoping, I guess, that it will help me re-capture Nathaniel in the years to
come.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Jane and I both put all of these
writings online for those who wanted to share our loss.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #404041;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">We also both spent time curating
Nathaniel’s photos, videos, memories, documents… until, eventually, we realised
we’d been through it all, and there were no more memories coming.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #404041;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">We followed the advice to
“do what you can, when you can”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We both
went back to work within a couple weeks, but it’s fair to say our colleagues
cut us quite a lot of slack: We were more “at work” than actually “working”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At meetings I’d bring along my adult
colouring books to help me stay both distracted and focussed (and, by adult, I
mean ADULT!).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #404041;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">As it turned out neither
Jane nor I are “hide under the covers” kind of people: <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>While there were months where we had no
interest in socialising, we remained engaged.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>We tried to keep life moving forward professionally, personally, and we both
continued to exercise and take on some challenges.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We had asked that mourners make donations to
the Red Cross Children’s Hospital, where eventually enough money was raised to
buy two new blood-oxygen machines – and a lovely plaque was placed in their
garden of remembrance.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #404041;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">At some point, unconsciously,
I guess we decided we couldn’t define our lives by our loss, but rather by the
lives we continued to lead.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As Jane has
observed, “you don't get to choose what will happen to you in your life, but
you do get to choose how you'll respond.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #404041;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">All along we have both
remained open to our feelings, and honest about them:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When we had bad moments or bad-days we’d
verbalise it… we’d send a Whatsapp saying “I’m having a bad Natey day” – and we
both understood what that meant.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We made
no effort – in private or public -- to pretend “everything is alright”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #404041; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #404041; font-family: inherit;">As months passed we might have some time when we’d forget we
were supposed to be sad: But often people would ask, meaningfully, “How </span><i style="color: #404041; font-family: inherit;">ARE</i><span style="color: #404041; font-family: inherit;"> you?”</span><span style="color: #404041; font-family: inherit;"> </span><span style="color: #404041; font-family: inherit;">One can’t say “I’m fine”, as the answer is
always more nuanced.</span><span style="color: #404041; font-family: inherit;"> </span><span style="color: #404041; font-family: inherit;">Part of the journey
is being pulled into the ‘role’ of the grieving parent… being reminded you are
mourning.</span><span style="color: #404041; font-family: inherit;"> </span></div>
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<span style="color: #404041;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">We came to realise we’d joined<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">”the Club no one wants to belong to”</i> -- parents
who have lost children.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We heard many
terrible stories… and we realised there are far more members of that club than
one would expect. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We met other parents
with equally sad (or worse) stories.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As
we heard of others’ childrens’ deaths we felt it deeply and tearfully. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #404041;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I learned to live with “<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Shark</i>”:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was always there, circling underneath me… sometimes
coming up to take a bite out of me… to pull me down… without any warning.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sometimes he still comes up for a bite… always
a surprise, usually triggered by a photo, memory or thought.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But you find out you can struggle back to the
surface and keep swimming.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #404041;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Making New Memories<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></div>
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<span style="color: #404041;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">With Natey’s death my
life’s plan was in tatters.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had come to
parenthood late in life… a new journey that was completely rewarding, exciting,
and energizing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That came to a crashing
halt -- my parenting duties reduced to paying tribute, mourning and packing
away my son’s life in a cardboard box and a hard drive. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #404041;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Within days of
Nathaniel’s death I knew that I wanted to have another child: Frankly –
honestly -- without that direction, I would truly have been lost, aimless and
demotivated.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I started that discussion
with Jane far too soon… and it carried on for a while as we discussed our
motives, aspirations and fears.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But in
the end Jane and I agreed to re-embark on the journey… or, perhaps, to continue
our journey together.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #404041;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">That said, neither of us
felt ready to quickly have another baby – it was too soon, it felt too raw and
unsettled: <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You never really can rush a
pregnancy, and we didn’t want to try to force the issue when we were both –
particularly Jane – stressed and unhappy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #404041; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #404041; font-family: inherit;">I remembered the scene from the book </span><i style="color: #404041; font-family: inherit;">“Like Water for Chocolate”</i><span style="color: #404041; font-family: inherit;"> where Tita, the main character, sheds
tears of sorrow into the batter of a wedding cake she is baking… with the
result that all the guests at the wedding end up crying uncontrollably. </span><span style="color: #404041; font-family: inherit;"> </span><span style="color: #404041; font-family: inherit;">I didn’t want to imbue “Baby #2” with sadness…
to mix our tears into his batter.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #404041;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Benjamin was born a mere
16 months after Natey’s death.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That unduly
short time was driven very much by our respective ages (43 and 55) and by a
doctor’s forceful advice: “If you are going to do it, don’t waste time!”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #404041;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #404041;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">In any case, knowing the
path we were on gave me a timeline and the much-needed ability to make a plan. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We entered what I called “The Interregnum” -- that
is defined as the period of time between the death of one monarch and
installation of the next: In this case the Interregnum was the period between
the death of the Prince (Nathaniel) and the birth of another Prince (Benjamin).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #404041;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">We knew there was a
danger of getting stuck in the past and stuck in sadness -- but we needed to
find a path forward.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One of our better
coping mechanisms -- which I take full credit for (you won’t find it in the grief
guide-books) – was to try to “make new memories”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #404041;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">So, in April 2017 – four
months after Nathaniel’s death – Jane, Griffin, Quinn and I – went on a trip to
Egypt: Chosen intentionally as a challenging destination.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In Egypt you are either contemplating 5000
years of human history and civilisation, or you are dealing with the chaos of
Egypt itself.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It ain’t a beach -- it’s
hard work!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Being outside of our comfort
zones, it helped bring us all together.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Of
course Natey was in our minds… and I recall sitting on a stone in a 3500-year-old
temple crying for him. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #404041;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Continuing the idea of
making new memories, in July 2017 Jane and I went to Iceland.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That turned out to be life-altering and I
want to tell you a bit about it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #404041;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">In 2010 I’d planned a
trek in Iceland that was cancelled by the eruption of the volcano
Eyafjetlajokull (you remember, the one the grounded all flights in
Europe).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The trek was on my bucket list,
and the Interregnum was a good opportunity to fulfil the goal.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Also, one of Nathaniel’s middle names was
“Thor”, named after the Norse god of thunder (in Hebrew<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>-- Ra’am – Thunder), and it seemed fitting to
visit his “ancestral homeland”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #404041;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The highlight of the trip
was a 5 day, 90 kilometre trek across the wild and beautiful terrain.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Before going we had finally opened
Nathaniel’s box of ashes and taken a tiny vial -- with the intent to spread
them on the hike.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Thus, Natey was very
much in our minds as we did the long trek across barren open spaces, volcanic
ridges, glacial terrain and raging rivers: We were carrying Nathaniel emotionally
and physically… toward the end of the group trek in a beautiful forested place
called “Thorsmork” – Thor’s Forest.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #404041;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">From there Jane and I
left our group, and hiked alone up the slopes of the Eyafjetlajokull volcano.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As we climbed up and up we went above the
snow line, into wind, rain, snow and fog… and there at the top of the pass, beside
the two new volcanic vents – Magdi and Modi (named after Thor’s sons)… standing
in the barren volcanic rock, ash and dirt we paused to spread the tiny bit of Nathaniel’s
ashes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I remember taking off my glove,
pouring a bit of the ashes onto my palm and holding it out to the wind – hoping
it would simply blow away without my having to do it: But making it harder,
eventually I was forced to throw Nathaniel’s the ashes into the wind.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #404041;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">As if that weren’t enough
– we then had to continue to hike the final 30 km down to the coast… mostly in
driving wind and rain – such that despite having fully waterproofed gear we
were soaked through, frozen, muddy and sore.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The experience was nearly biblical in its enactment, and cathartic for
us: It was a moment of being with Nathaniel as best we could, acceptance of his
death, and a degree of letting go.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As we
were leaving Iceland we stopped to put our first “Love Lock” for Nathaniel on a
steel bridge… and then Jane threw away the key to that lock into the cold North
Atlantic Ocean.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #404041;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">We knew this trip was
emotional and an important moment, but we only realised later that the
experience was a critical step in our journey.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #404041;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Less than a week later
Benjamin was conceived.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #404041;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Compassion<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></div>
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<span style="color: #404041;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Compassion is one of
those highfalutin words I hadn’t really thought too deeply about… it’s used by
the likes of the Dalia Lama or Desmond Tutu.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>But the past 20 months has taught us a lot about compassion: How the
sharing of sorrow alleviates the burden… how the recognition and understanding
of each other’s sorrow connects us and helps us carry the load.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Compassion is the sense of knowing “you are
not alone”… and realising there is always someone suffering equally with, or
more than, you… and that they are also not alone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Everyone has grief in their life – whether in
the acute or chronic stages – and we are part of the community of humans who
will all suffer in our lives. </span></span><span style="color: #404041; font-family: inherit;">Maybe to really understand
compassion one has to suffer.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #404041;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">In the wake of Natey’s
death we were flooded with compassionate love and support – much of from this
community: And that was a great help during this tumultuous period.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #404041;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">But importantly, that
compassion went both ways: We tried to comfort others who also suffered Natey’s
death – family, friends, his teachers, his loving nanny Xolisa, his loving au
pair Melinda.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Also, we could see the
sadness and uncertainty in visitors and supporters: “What do I say to someone
who’s child has drowned? What shouldn’t I say?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>We really tried to make everyone comfortable expressing and sharing with
us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #404041;">Sometimes people said
things we didn’t feel: “It’s God’s will”; “It was meant to be”; <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“He’s in a better place”; or other thoughts
that didn’t really work for us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But we understood
it all came from a place of love, and accepted the sentiments of support
graciously.</span><span style="color: #404041;">**</span><span style="color: #404041;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Any well-intentioned support or condolence
was, and is, welcomed – particularly happy memories.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #404041;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #404041;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">As a grieving parent one grants
oneself some self-indulgence, but one of my regrets is that I didn’t realise
the impact of Nathaniel’s death on my wider family. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We recently took Benjamin on his “baby tour”
to the USA and in conversations came to realise how shattering his loss was.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For example, one of his cousins was so shaken
as to have nearly dropped out of university for a semester.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Being self-absorbed in my grieving, this was
a failure of compassion on my part.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Likewise, I’d been told that Natey’s death impacted on the entire
Herzlia community, and I have come to a better understanding of that now.</span></span></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #404041;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The Interregnum<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></div>
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<span style="color: #404041;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">While I ambled through the
Interregnum, Jane was hard at work being pregnant – she had a really difficult
pregnancy with persistent nausea, fatigue and -- later -- pain and discomfort:
There really was no easy time for her during that 9 months.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And while I eased back into work, Jane
tackled her PGDip program at the UCT Graduate School of Business – quite an
intense process to take-on during months 0-6 of her pregnancy (and her peak
nausea)! <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She suspended those studies during
Benjamin’s final trimester… but has now gone back to finish the 2<sup>nd</sup>
half of the program with Benjamin only 3 months old! <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #404041;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">During Nathaniel’s life I
had been writing him a letter about his story and my relationship with him. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I continued Nathaniel’s letter after his death
-- but also started a letter to “Baby #2”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #404041;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">At first we wanted a
clean break for a fresh-start -- and we hoped for a little girl.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But at the 11 week scan we found ourselves in
the same clinic getting substantively the same news we’d had 3 years before: It
was a healthy little boy with all signs and measurements being positive.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #404041;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">As Baby #2 continued growing…
got through his 20-week scan… and he began moving inside Jane…<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I realised that pretty soon the “baby-to-be”
had to overtake the “baby-that-had-been”: My Focus was going to be drawn forward.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I felt (and feel) guilt about that shift… as
my writings to Nathaniel have had to peter-out into apologies, regrets and
goodbyes.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #404041;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Jane and I went to
Thailand for a relaxed “baby moon” in December 2017 (5 months pregnant)… we lit
a candle and shed some tears for Natey in a Buddhist temple, and we
contemplated compassion and the Buddhist ideal of letting-go.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That learning experience was part of the
inspiration for one of Benjamin’s middle names – “Bodhi”:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A Sanskrit name which means “enlightenment”…
and you may recall that the historical Buddha achieved enlightenment while
meditating under a Bodhi tree.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In Hebrew
this became “Meir” – “one who enlightens” or “bringer of light”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We hope it imbues Benjamin Bodhi with
compassion and enlightenment – and so far that seems to be the case, as he’s a very
chilled baby.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His other middle name is
“Achilles”, but we haven’t seen much of that part of his personality yet!<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #404041;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">And now?<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #404041;">I commented earlier that
we couldn’t “make new memories” with Nathaniel: But that’s apparently not true…
we carried him our hearts to Egypt, Iceland, Thailand, and America.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We bought him a silver cartouche and a little
white alabaster pyramid in Egypt (both now in his Natey-space).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We thought of him – and cried for him -- while
we raced up Table Mountain</span><span style="color: #404041;">***</span><span style="color: #404041;">.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We spread some of his
ashes on the volcano in Iceland and in a park in Chicago alongside some of my
mother’s ashes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We placed love-locks for
him in Iceland and Paris.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We lit a
memorial candle with him in Thailand.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>And, strangely, unseen photos of Nathaniel continue to pop out of old
cell phones, cloud storage, and friends’ archives.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #404041;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">While Nathaniel is always
with us I find that more and more I have to make specific time to “be with
Natey” – to listen to some of his music, quietly think about him, remember his
laugh, and cry for his loss. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s not
too hard really, if I just pause in my intentionally-over-busy life – to walk
on the mountain or have a stretch – Nathaniel comes to mind.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #404041;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">As strangers see me with Benjamin
there’s that awkward question: “Is this your only child?” <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A simple “yes” would avoid the uncomfortable answers
of “He’s my only surviving child” or “I had another boy, but he died”. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But to take the easy route would be to deny
Nathaniel’s life, push him further away, and would feel like a betrayal. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #404041;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Jane and I continue to
seek that elusive state of “appreciating what we had while we had it” rather
than “regretting the loss of what might have been”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We still have a long walk to get there.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #404041;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">With Nathaniel we started
out to build something permanent, but it got swept away and we had to
restart.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>While the standard rule of
parenting is ‘don’t compare children’, one almost can’t help it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Rationally I know Benjamin does not (cannot)
replace Nathaniel – but I have occasional confusion: For example, I’ll think
“It would be nice if he had Nathaniel’s beautiful red hair, but I’m really glad
he doesn’t.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In that sense, it’s a
relief that Benjamin’s (mellow) personality is already visibly different than
Nathaniel’s (energetic).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Perhaps we’ll
be a little stuck in this comparison period until Benjamin has surpassed
Nathaniel’s life span of 2½ years.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #404041;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">As we set out on
Benjamin’s journey I had fears of such comparisons: “Nathaniel was so perfect”
I’d said “we’ll never get that lucky again”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>But a good friend and advisor said: “Don’t worry Andrew, every child is
perfect in their own way.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #404041;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">We will not imbue Benjamin
with our prior hopes or expectations for Nathaniel. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Benjamin will have his own full life, he will
be his own person.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But Jane and I cannot
deny being changed -- we have innate fear and uncertainty now, and that fear is
on several levels:<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #404041;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> - </span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span style="color: #404041;">First – obviously -- we see and think about more risks:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Life was always full of uncertainty, and we
were – we thought – very aware and cautious.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Yet even though someone was within a few metres of Nathaniel for just
about every minute of his 28 months (including the night he died) tragedy managed
to find us.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #404041;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> - </span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span style="color: #404041;">Nathaniel was so
wonderful that I felt we’d “won the baby lottery”, and I expressed that
feeling.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now I hold back my positive
judgement and enthusiasm about Benjamin as I’m afraid that I might ‘jinx’ his life.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #404041;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> - </span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span style="color: #404041;">In some sense I struggle
to see an unimpeded rosy, long-term future… somehow it seems shrouded in
uncertainty… I have fears for what might happen.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #404041;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> - </span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span style="color: #404041;">And, frankly, I also fear for self-esteem: Losing one child is a
tragedy… losing two would be a clear sign of irresponsibility. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #404041;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">At Nathaniel’s memorial
service – here, in this room – Cheryl Lazarus, speaking directly to the
school’s parents, wisely urged them not to live in fear nor impair their
childrens’ freedom and activities because of Nathaniel’s tragedy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I thought it was a wise and bold leader’s
statement, and something Jane and I now keep in mind as we move forward.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #404041;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Without regard to
whatever fears we have or healing we have to do, our goal will be raise Benjamin
with all the security, love, and opportunity as we can – to make his life fun,
free, and full of adventure and learning.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #404041;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Another step in this long
emotional journey will be enrolling Benjamin at Alon Ashel in January 2020: <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We will see Natey’s track… and Natey’s plant…
and Natey’s classroom… and Natey’s teachers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It will be a little scary and difficult for us and all who knew him: But
I have little doubt that Cheryl will have done her homework, and will be ready
to prepare us all for that step with the same steady, sensible guidance with
which she’s helped us cope with Nathaniel’s death.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #404041;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Jane and I don’t feel
inspirational – in part we feel like failed-parents trying to cope with a
life-disaster as best we can.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But I am
inspired by Jane – who has shown resilience, perseverance, and a remarkable
willingness to help me through the darkness… and who has jumped back-in with
love and commitment to bring light into my life. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #404041;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Thank you all again for giving
us the opportunity to share our story… for all the love, compassion, support
and generosity over the past couple years… and for joining us in the
celebration of the continuation of life -- particularly for little Benjamin.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #404041;"><o:p> </o:p></span><span style="color: #404041;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #404041;"><o:p><span style="font-family: inherit;"> ---------</span></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #404041;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">*The magic, of course, is
that Nathaniel didn’t know he was a ‘student’ -- he just thought it he was
playing and having fun.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #404041;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">**Sometimes people would
share their own grieving stories, and we tried to be as compassionate with them
as they were being with us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Others would
offer unsolicited advice on grieving, mourning or coping and we’d generally
take such advice in much the same way as one takes unsolicited parenting
advice, graciously and with thanks.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Of
course solicited advice (or advice from experience or knowledge) was always
welcomed openly.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #404041;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">***Jane and I entered the
Table Mountain Challenge in 2017 – a race which entails climbing up the
mountain (and taking the cable car down) as many times as you can between
sunrise and sunset. We did 6 laps each.</span><span style="font-family: "tahoma" , sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />JaneFhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05624529776216917022noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4546660525329091713.post-65272029418315958492018-08-24T08:52:00.002+02:002018-08-28T20:56:06.271+02:00You either survive - or you don't…<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Andrew and I were asked to do a talk at Natey's school last night as part of a fund raising dinner they hosted. The theme was 'An evening of Inspiration'.<br />
<br />
Andrew spoke at length and in detail about our journey and the practical steps we have taken and learnings we have had on the way. We also had a slide show of about 120 photos of moments in our journey over the past 3-4 years.<br />
<br />
I spoke first, this is the talk I gave:<br />
<br />
----------<br />
<br />
<i>People tend say you are brave or inspirational when you survive something. </i><i>The truth is you aren't, or at least I don't think I am.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>I think bravery is choosing to do something really difficult or scary. When you are thrust into that position, it doesn't feel like bravery at all. But when tragedy strikes you, I guess then you only have 2 choices; you either survive - or you don't…</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>The fact is that time marches forward whether you want it to or not, and so you have no option but to move forward too.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>I lost my first child - a tiny very premature little girl Angelique - born too early 20 years ago, in a bungle of bad practise in a state hospital.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Nathaniel’s birth many years later healed me and brought the trauma of Angelique's birth to a momentous circular close with an amazing calm home water-birth. There was no one else there, just myself (and Andrew) as he was born into my arms.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>When he then died at home at 2 just years old, it was also in water, and again with no one else there just me - alone this time. That circle of healing and completion shattered open again. It shook the very core and foundation of who I was and made me doubt everything I knew. How could that have happened? How could the most beautiful, perfect and cherub-like little boy be gone so quickly and so incomprehensibly? It just made no sense.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>So there I was, having lost not just one but two of my dear, longed for and much loved children... How does one carry on from that??</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Honestly, I don’t think I have any profound truths or insights, and the fact is it is hard and it hurts a LOT. But in both of these great loses of my life, I have been almost immediately very aware that they can either break you or strengthen you. And somehow being broken and to give up, doesn't seem like a good way to honour my children. I almost feel obligated to live on, to do well, and more-so to do GOOD, because they can't.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>And I do think it's a choice. But it's not an easy choice & to some extent anyone who suffers such a loss is ‘broken’. However for me, I felt I had to live on and live well FOR them.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>In dealing with Angelique's death, birthing became my passion. I learned everything I could about pregnancy and birth and for a better way to bring a child into the world. I studied to be a doula and started volunteering at Mowbray Maternity so I could to assist and empower the helpless and scared moms there to have better, less scary and traumatic births. I did this as a way to make Angelique's life matter and to try to ensure that no one else had to endure a traumatic and uncompassionate birthing experience.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>After Natey died we also wanted to somehow do good. I adopted the hashtag #DoingItForNatey and also #LongDays - which came out of the customary Jewish greeting to mourners of 'I wish you long life'. </i><i>The sentiment also seemed to inspire my broader circle of friends to do something that scared them or that pushed the boundaries of their capabilities, or to just get out there and LIVE. To make the most of each day!</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>It was used for a number of initiatives to raise money for charity. </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>As an example. A wheelchair-bound friend of mine decided she had no excuse for being unfit and out of shape and so she started exercising and bought a recumbent bicycle and has been training to ride in the Argus next year. Another friend ran her first marathon and another completed a Half Iron-Man. Others simply said yes when their children wanted to play with them, or went for that picnic on the beach, or had ice-cream for dinner... all </i><i>#DoingItForNatey.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>As for Andrew and I; we also challenged ourselves. We ran races, signed up for the Argus Cycle Tour, competed in the Platteklip Charity Challenge, always #DoingItForNatey.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>We also asked people not to spend money on flowers and gifts for us, but rather to donate the money so it could do some good. In this way we all raised about R75 000 for the Red Cross Children’s Hospital and about R15 000 for other charities. </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>The message is that life is short, you have no idea how much time you have here… And so you should live your life fully and appreciate what you have, and who you have, while you are here.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Again, I don't think we are special, remarkable, or inspirational (ok well maybe Andrew is, as his generosity of spirit, and capacity to forgive IS remarkable and very inspirational to me), but I think we just decided that we had to try, somehow to take the good, and to try to release the bad.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>While losing a child is truly the most awful thing that can happen to you - and it is not something you get over or get better from - we have learned that no matter what, there always is a lot to be grateful for and:</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>- I am grateful for the immense, and continued love and care of our colleagues, friends and family - and notably this school community who really helped to carry us through those first dark and difficult early weeks.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i> - I am grateful for the precious time we had with Natey and the lessons he taught us. To take delight in every day. To marvel and wonder at the smallest of things. To enjoy life's small pleasures. To love freely and with abandon.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>- I am grateful for Benjamin. Who has certainly not replaced Natey, or filled the big Natey-shaped hole in our lives. He couldn't do that and shouldn’t. But he has created new hope, new purpose. New love and new inspiration. We are very aware that Benjamin wouldn't be here if Nathaniel hadn't died. It's hard not to feel grateful for that somehow.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>In the end, I think it comes down to that while you don't get to choose what will happen to you in your life, you do get to choose how you'll respond, and how you move forward from what does happen. So I try to choose the positive. Not because it is the brave or easy thing to do, but because for me it just feels better that way.</i><br />
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JaneFhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05624529776216917022noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4546660525329091713.post-58121455677135665652018-07-13T23:09:00.004+02:002018-07-13T23:51:29.885+02:00I had a dream...I have wanted to dream of Natey since he left us. Really wanted to. In fact I was pretty desperate to dream of him. I think I felt like it was a way to still be with him and feel like he was alive. But much as I wanted to, and actually tried to, it never really happened. Eventually I just stopped trying...<br />
<br />
We are in the states right now, on a show-and-tell trip along the East Coast, to show off Benjamin to Andrew's family and friends. The big boys are with us too, for their first trip to the States also.<br />
<br />
We started in Washington D.C, then drove to the Jersey Shore (Long Beach Island) via Philadelphia, and then we went to New York City. We are now in Westborough (outside of Boston). Then we go on to Florida (near West Palm Beach) and then Chicago.<br />
<br />
While in NYC on the last night, I was in those few hours in the summertime between daylight and wake-up time, when you wake-up and realise with relish that you still have time to sleep despite the lightness outside and snuggle down to sleep again. <br />
<br />
Anyway, so I drifted off into dream-sleep and in my dream I was trying to go out for a run. I seemed to be on a farm or somewhere like that. It was very dry and dusty, especially further away from what must have been the homesteads. There were paths, and fenced enclosures with dusty ground and short dry grasses or hay. I knew I was trying to head out for a run, but I was missing something and didn't feel ready, I was walking around the paths trying to get organised...<br />
<br />
Then I looked into the enclosure alongside where I was and it was filled with little farm animals (little goats maybe) and 'tribal'* children. They were all playing and scampering around. It was equally sweet and sad, because of how dry and desolate it all was. But they seemed happy. Then I noticed the one little boy had curly hair and seemed different to the other children. His skin was lighter and his hair was dusty brown and in big loose curls. And then I saw his hair was actually golden.<br />
<br />
It was Natey!!! He was giggling and running and playing, as he would. He was about the same age and size as when he left...<br />
<br />
I was so excited to see him, and to know he was ALIVE! And then almost immediately I felt sad and conflicted. My first thought was to grab him and 'rescue' him and smother him in hugs and kisses. But then I thought about how happy and carefree he seemed. Would he even know who I was? If I grabbed him would I scare him? Would it be better to leave him undisturbed? I didn't know what to do. It was such a happy-sad, joyous-conflicted feeling.<br />
<br />
And then I woke up. I felt really weird and anxious when I woke up. But just overall 'seeing' him alive, playing carefree and happy with animals and children was somehow heartwarming.<br />
<br />
Thank-you for visiting my dreams sweet boy with the unmistakable unruly curls.<br />
<br />
* Think little dusty, mostly naked, skinny bushmen children in loin-cloths.JaneFhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05624529776216917022noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4546660525329091713.post-56760608672392346742018-06-14T20:00:00.004+02:002021-05-25T20:26:14.525+02:00The Crows<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">From when Natey left us, I started noticing crows, constantly. </span></span><br />
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<a href="http://karoospace.co.za/wp-content/uploads/2016/02/Pied-Crow1-620x393.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="393" data-original-width="620" height="202" src="http://karoospace.co.za/wp-content/uploads/2016/02/Pied-Crow1-620x393.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">They reminded me of him and brought me comfort. Making me smile each time I saw one. They became my 'thing'. </span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: inherit; white-space: pre-wrap;">Natey's memorial tattoo included 2 crows and I have been gifted 2 beautiful crow necklaces. </span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQVzwAut69tbhQ3_3erufurx3yUdREOcV9JfnOpnPjtKKVClbydTlXrU29rVyKxftBRTSSlU44tnmJq2jxWkeA2uhRaT0NnzmpYLUgJ7u4apiIFnF678wQian3F2KYYbt5lT-E4Qt9B8M/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1378" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQVzwAut69tbhQ3_3erufurx3yUdREOcV9JfnOpnPjtKKVClbydTlXrU29rVyKxftBRTSSlU44tnmJq2jxWkeA2uhRaT0NnzmpYLUgJ7u4apiIFnF678wQian3F2KYYbt5lT-E4Qt9B8M/" width="276" /></a></div></div>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: inherit; white-space: pre-wrap;">The crows seemed to be my constant companions in my journey of trying to navigate life without Natey... But the during the second half of my pregnancy with Benjamin they seemed to be leaving me. I was seeing fewer and fewer. It felt like they were gone. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: inherit; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: inherit; white-space: pre-wrap;">But now that Benjamin has been born (and I find myself pleasantly distracted and no longer searching the sky for my crow friends) they seem to be back, and quite persistent. I will now frequently have a crow fly right over me as I walk or drive around, and they usually caw loudly as they pass over me... </span><br />
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<a href="https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/f/f0/Pied_crow.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="533" data-original-width="800" height="213" src="https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/f/f0/Pied_crow.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: inherit; white-space: pre-wrap;">I can't help but smile and feel like Natey is saying hello to us. Hello my beautiful boy. We love you as much as ever, and still miss you dearly. But we feel less desperately sad and alone now. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: inherit; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: inherit; white-space: pre-wrap;">xxx </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: inherit; white-space: pre-wrap;">Love Mommy.</span><br />
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JaneFhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05624529776216917022noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4546660525329091713.post-49661432715617844702018-06-12T20:06:00.001+02:002018-06-13T18:22:12.713+02:00Benjamin's Bris as a Photo Video<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Benjamin had his bris/brit milah on Sunday 6 May 2018.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">"The </span><b style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif;">brit milah</b><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"> (Hebrew: בְּרִית מִילָה, pronounced [bʁit miˈla]; Ashkenazi pronunciation: [bʁis ˈmilə], "covenant of circumcision"; Yiddish pronunciation: </span><b style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif;">bris</b><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"> [bʀɪs]) is a Jewish religious male circumcision ceremony performed by a mohel ("circumciser") on the eighth day of the infant's life."</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white;">Benjamin's bris was actually held on the 12th day, since the chosen doctor was not available before that.*</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">Andrew is Jewish, I am not. I am also not really in favour of circumcisions, and this is one of the very few things Andrew and I really disagree on. However, since this was important to Andrew, and he has been so very very supportive, gracious to, and forgiving of me through thick and thin, </span><span style="color: #222222;">conceding</span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;"> to his request that Benjamin also have a Jewish bris was really the least I could do.</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">The bris comprises of 2 main parts, the circumcision (performed by the mohel) and the naming ceremony where the child is presented to the community formally and his name revealed for the first time. We had of course already shared both him and his name (in detail) all over social media*, but his Hebrew names** had not yet been revealed.</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">The following roles were performed by the listed special people:</span></span><br />
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li>Rabbi: <b>Rabbi Greg Alexander</b></li>
<li>Kvatter (person who carries the baby from the parent to the sandek): <b>Paul Rackstraw</b></li>
<li>Sandek (person who receives the baby from the Kvatter): <b>Ian Fraser</b> (my father)</li>
<li>Mohel (performs the circumcision surgery):<b> Dr Gideon Mareski</b> (plastic surgeon)</li>
<li>Kiddish (prayer over wine): <b>Gary Palmer</b></li>
<li>Ha-Motzi (prayer over bread): <b>Mike Cohen</b></li>
</ul>
The bris was attended by an array of very special (nearby) friends and family who have been supportive and caring to us over the past few years. We were very grateful for their support on this special, meaningful and very emotional occasion.<br />
<br />
I have to say that having witnessed 2 bris ceremonies now, that if you are going to do a circumcision, that this is a very special and meaningful way to do it. I was particularly emotional during this one as we stood watching the same way we'd watched <a href="http://janefraser.blogspot.com/2014/09/baby-ns-bris.html">Nathaniel's Bris</a>, with memories of him all around us. I was quite overwhelmed with emotion.<br />
<br />
I hope you enjoy the video.<br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="225" src="https://spark.adobe.com/video/BJdB7BkJkKRwe/embed" width="400"></iframe>
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<br />
(Photography in the video by Samantha Squire-Howe of Twinkle Star Photography and Leigh Page.)<br />
---------<br />
<br />
* <span style="background-color: white;">We tend to break traditions a lot!</span><br />
* I wrote about his <a href="http://janefraser.blogspot.com/2018/05/benjamins-hebrew-names.html">Hebrew names here</a>.<br />
<br /></div>
JaneFhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05624529776216917022noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4546660525329091713.post-66944296153581036432018-06-01T19:39:00.001+02:002018-06-01T21:05:45.482+02:00Benjamin's First Hours as a photo video<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
This is a photo video of Benjamin's first couple of hours after birth - the 'golden hours' of bonding - where we welcomed him into our lives and had a first chance to explore each other.<br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="225" src="https://spark.adobe.com/video/WPZjILKMcabaM/embed" width="400"></iframe><br />
<br />
I feel so blessed to have this little boy in our lives now and to have the opportunity to love and cherish him. If I have learned nothing else in the past 18 months it is to savour every moment, and appreciate what you have, while you have it. As you never know what tomorrow will bring.<br />
<br />
Thank-you for renewing my purpose Benjamin and giving me a new good reason to get out of bed in the morning.<br />
<br />
#LiveLongDays<br />
#BabyBenjaminBodhiAchilles<br />
#RememberingNatey<br />
#DoingItForNatey</div>
JaneFhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05624529776216917022noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4546660525329091713.post-69942477849406299072018-05-31T12:20:00.000+02:002018-05-31T22:47:40.514+02:00Benjamin's Birth Story as a photo video<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<i style="color: #3f3f3f; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.61px;"><b>TMI Notice</b>. This is a birth story, with images of birth. View at your own discretion and only if you are comfortable with images of birth.</i><br />
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I created this photo video of Benjamin's birth.<br />
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My wish is to normalise and demystify birth. To show that while birth is indeed intense and pretty hard work - which you do need to prepare well for - it does not need to be scary, traumatic, or overly medically managed*. I hope you enjoy it.<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="225" src="https://spark.adobe.com/video/BYCtsQJ1c77Oj/embed" width="400"></iframe>
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I feel so lucky to have been able to experience the wonderful births I have. They have each been special, powerful and empowering to me.<br />
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And in my own words:<br />
"<b><i>Giving birth should be your greatest achievement, not your greatest fear</i></b>"**<br />
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* If there is no need for it to be, and/or you don't want it to be. There are of course cases where this kind of birth is not possible and some people just wouldn't want to do this anyway! I 100% support all informed birth choices. All birth choices and outcomes are valid and special! Even if it didn't go as you originally planned or thought.<br />
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**I had no idea at the time that I wrote those words as the tag-line for <a href="https://birthbuddy.wordpress.com/">my own doula site</a>, that they would<a href="https://www.google.co.za/search?biw=1366&bih=588&tbm=isch&sa=1&ei=FMkPW874A8HcUebCrNAD&q=Giving+birth+should+be+your+greatest+achievement+not+your+greatest+fear&oq=Giving+birth+should+be+your+greatest+achievement+not+your+greatest+fear&gs_l=img.3..0.42830.48434.0.49734.7.7.0.0.0.0.359.861.2-2j1.3.0....0...1c.1.64.img..4.2.612....0.4HmirY6urig"> resonate so strongly with others too</a>! </div>
JaneFhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05624529776216917022noreply@blogger.com18tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4546660525329091713.post-1319236182743231672018-05-08T12:52:00.003+02:002018-05-08T12:52:41.725+02:00Benjamin's Hebrew Names<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="color: #404041;">Benjamin had his <b><a href="https://www.myjewishlearning.com/article/the-brit-milah-bris-ceremony/">Bris, or Brit Milah</a> </b>on </span><span style="color: #222222;"><span style="color: #404041;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Sunday May 6, 2018. </span></span></span><span style="color: #404041; font-family: inherit;">I will make a separate post about that once I have the photographs.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #404041; font-family: inherit;">In the mean time I wanted to share the welcome message and Hebrew names given to Benjamin by his daddy, Andrew, at his bris.</span></div>
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<u><span style="color: #404041;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><b>Welcome & Pre-Amble:</b><u></u><u></u></span></span></u></div>
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<span style="color: #404041;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Jane and I would like to thank you for coming to welcome Benjamin into the world, give him his Hebrew name, and undertake an ancient tradition of Brit Millah (Bris) which connects Benjamin to nearly 6000 years of the cultural continuity of Judaism. Children, it’s said, need to be part of something larger than themselves -- to have roots and be connected to them… to have an anchor: And this ceremony is part of that belonging.<u></u><u></u></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #404041;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">It’s a physical act, something fathers do to their sons – in fact, part of the ceremony is my abdicating the role and appointing Dr. Maresky as my agent to peform the actual surgery. But it’s not easy for parents – which is probably why it’s traditional for the father to have a whiskey!<u></u><u></u></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><i><span style="color: #404041;">How we got here?</span></i><span style="color: #404041;"> We are here to celebrate Benjamin’s new life, but it would be false to deny or avoid how we got here – and as we stand here in our house, you see reminders of our Nathaniel everywhere: His pictures, drawings of him by friends, some of his toys, his ashes, and more. We have not sought to hide Natey away or remove his memory. Everyone here today has been a friend and supporter during our happy times with Nathaniel, the dark time of his death, and now – again -- the happy time of Benjamin’s new journey. All of your (and many others’) compassion and patience have been great supports to our family during this tumultuous period: Maybe to understand compassion one has to suffer – and the past 16 months has taught us a lot about compassion: How the sharing of sorrow, the recognition and understanding of each others’ sorrow, connects us and helps us carry the load. Compassion is the sense of knowing “you are not alone”. That learning experience was part of the inspiration for the name Bodhi.<u></u><u></u></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #404041;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">In dealing with Natey’s death there have been a range of survival strategies – but amongst those has been embarking on the journey of parenthood again (for me, having a vision of my own future life). It may be mere rationalization – or a form of acceptance – but we have also sought the elusive state of “appreciating what we had while we had it”… to remember Natey with the less pain and sorrow and with more happiness. And, possibly another coping strategy – but very tangible -- Jane wisely observed last week in her birth story that if Natey had not died then Benjamin would not be here.<u></u><u></u></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #404041;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">We should not – cannot - imbue Benjamin with our prior hopes or expectations for Nathaniel: Benjamin will have his own full life, he will be his own person. But Jane and I cannot deny the experiences that led us here haven’t changed us: Without regard to whatever fears we have, healing we have to do, our goal will be raise him with all the security, love, and opportunity as we can – to make his life fun, free, full of adventure and learning.<u></u><u></u></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #404041;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Thank you again for joining us for this particular occasion, but also for joining us in the celebration of the continuation of life – for all of us, and particularly for little Benjamin.<u></u><u></u></span></span></div>
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<i><span lang="EN-ZA" style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><u></u> </span></span></i><i><span lang="EN-ZA" style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">The father recites the blessing,</span></span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><i><span lang="EN-ZA" style="color: black;">"</span></i><b><i><span lang="EN-ZA" style="color: black;">Baruch atah A-donay, Elo-heinu Melech Ha’Olam, asherkideshanu bemitzvotav vetzivanu le-hach-ni-soh bivrito shel Avraham Avinu", “</span></i></b><i><span lang="EN-ZA" style="color: black;">Blessed are You, L‑rd our G‑d, King of the universe, Who has sanctified us with His commandments and commanded us to enter him into<a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="m_-7983022345802216896_footnoteRef5a144464" style="color: #222222;"></a><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" style="color: #222222;"><sup>5</sup></a> the Covenant of Abraham our father.”<a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="m_-7983022345802216896_footnoteRef6a144464" style="color: #222222;"></a><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" style="color: #222222;"><sup>6</sup></a><u></u><u></u></span></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><u><span style="color: #404041;"><b>The Naming:</b></span></u><u><span style="color: #404041;"><u></u><u></u></span></u></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><i><u><span lang="EN-GB">English name: </span></u></i><i><span lang="EN-GB">Benjamin Bodhi Achilles Canter<u><u></u><u></u></u></span></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><i><u><span lang="EN-GB">Hebrew name: </span></u></i><i><span lang="EN-GB">Binyamin Meir Mordecai ben Avraham Chayim<u></u><u></u></span></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><b><span style="color: #404041;">Binyamin</span></b><span style="color: #404041;"> was the youngest son of Jacob, and the progenitor of 12<sup>th</sup> tribe of Israel. The name translates as “Son of the my right hand”, “Son of the south” (an allusion to his birth in Cape Town) or “Son of my old age” (an allusion to… well you figure it out).<u></u><u></u></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><b><span style="color: #404041;">Meir</span></b><span style="color: #404041;"> translates as “Bringer of Light” or one who “shines” or “enlightens”. The historical 1<sup>st</sup>c Rabbi Meir was a teacher and scholar. The name is not a perfect match for “Bodhi” – which might have been Uri (“enlightened”) or Rachamim (“compassionate”) – but Meir is my father’s middle name and he has given his permission for Binyamin to use it. Thus, it captures the idea of bringing light to others, and also connects generations of my family.<u></u><u></u></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #404041;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">His third Hebrew name is <b>Mordecai</b> which literally translates as “warrior”. As with “Achilles” we wanted to capture the warrior spirit, and while there were some famous Jewish warriors, we quite liked the name Mordecai. Notably, the historical Mordecai was not a warrior, but a bureaucrat in the Persian court and one of the heroes of the Purim story in the book of Esther. For Binyamin’s purpose – the name implies the power of a warrior, and the wisdom and stature of a leader. <u></u><u></u></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #404041;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Like his English name, Binyamin’s Hebrew name connects him to his tribal roots, history and culture… and hints at the struggle in life to constantly find the right balance between enlightenment and power. There are times in life to “let go” and be compassionate, but there are also times to undertake heedless battle. As has been said “It’s hard to be a Buddhist when the barbarians are at the gate.”<u></u><u></u></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #404041;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">And finally, in Jewish tradition the Hebrew name finishes with the father’s name: “ben” – son of – “Avraham” (Abraham) “Chayim” (Life).<u></u><u></u></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><i><b>Binyamin Meir Mordecai ben Avraham Chayim</b></i><span style="color: #404041;"><u></u><u></u></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #404041;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Anglicized it reads as: <b>Benjamin Bodhi Achilles son of Andrew Charles.</b></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #404041;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Welcome to the world and your tribe</span><b style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small;"> #Baby BenjaminBodhiAchilles</b></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgscE9mMFISq4AGU66tQWN1TBFjTeJ6q3MNSWKE0sLvIfxmj113IhoznA-nA7_R-uO390SW7fSZahZfZPXp-xm8x8GXTH__9eehihSC92ttXVcLrzo7EDsgCJ_HQh20OFv7PWEWa1W9r3c/s1600/Baby+Benjamin+in+sling.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1088" data-original-width="718" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgscE9mMFISq4AGU66tQWN1TBFjTeJ6q3MNSWKE0sLvIfxmj113IhoznA-nA7_R-uO390SW7fSZahZfZPXp-xm8x8GXTH__9eehihSC92ttXVcLrzo7EDsgCJ_HQh20OFv7PWEWa1W9r3c/s400/Baby+Benjamin+in+sling.jpg" width="263" /></a></div>
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JaneFhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05624529776216917022noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4546660525329091713.post-24756135928331749762018-04-28T13:33:00.000+02:002018-04-28T18:10:55.325+02:00Benjamin's Birth Story - by Andrew<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<i>This is the story of Benjamin's birth as told to him by his daddy.</i><br />
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<b style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">April 25, 2018</b><br />
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">Welcome to earth, Benjamin Bodhi Achilles Canter. You were born at
home, in our bath tub, at 12:49pm on Tuesday, April 24, 2018. You were
4.25 kilograms (9 lb 6oz), 54cm long, and your head circumference was 34
cm. Jane went into labour very early in the morning (about 4am?), and
gradually built up to having you. I woke up about 8am, and was
immediately conscious that Jane’s mood had shifted… she’d visibly started
going “into herself”, and was peaceful and </span><span style="color: #222222;">focused</span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">. She was finding my
presence distracting, so I left the room to allow her to find her peace and
vibe. Things got more intense later in the morning, and she had me alert
Ruth at about 10:20, and also Samantha (your photographer). So you can
see the timeline, here are the whatsapp messages…</span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 9.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><i><span style="color: #500050;">Andrew & Ruth:</span></i><span style="color: #500050;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><i><span style="color: #500050;">[10:21, 4/24/2018] Andrew:
Hi Ruth. It’s Andrew. Are you there?</span></i><span style="color: #500050;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><i><span style="color: #500050;">[10:21, 4/24/2018] Ruth:
Hi Andrew. Yes</span></i><span style="color: #500050;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><i><span style="color: #500050;">[10:22, 4/24/2018] Andrew:
It’s baby time. Come when u can.</span></i><span style="color: #500050;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><i><span style="color: #500050;">[10:23, 4/24/2018] Andrew:
She says “more intense” and she’s running the tub....</span></i><span style="color: #500050;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><i><span style="color: #500050;">[10:23, 4/24/2018] Ruth:
Cool. Will get my things together and head through. About half an hour away</span></i><span style="color: #500050;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><i><span style="color: #500050;">[10:24, 4/24/2018] Andrew:
Good. Thanks.</span></i><span style="color: #500050;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><i><span style="color: #500050;">[10:56, 4/24/2018] Andrew:
All quiet. No stress.</span></i><span style="color: #500050;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><i><span style="color: #500050;">[11:19, 4/24/2018] Ruth:
I'm outside</span></i><span style="color: #500050;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><i><span style="color: #500050;">[11:19, 4/24/2018] Andrew:
Coming</span></i><span style="color: #500050;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><i><span style="color: #500050;">[12:15, 4/24/2018] Andrew:
Please come in [to the room]</span></i><span style="color: #500050;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><i><span style="color: #500050;">Andrew & Samantha:</span></i><span style="color: #500050;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><i><span style="color: #500050;">[10:22, 4/24/2018] Andrew:
Hi Sam. It’s Andrew. Are u there.</span></i><span style="color: #500050;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><i><span style="color: #500050;">[10:22, 4/24/2018] Samantha:
Yes </span></i><span style="color: #500050;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><i><span style="color: #500050;">[10:23, 4/24/2018] Andrew:
It’s baby time.</span></i><span style="color: #500050;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><i><span style="color: #500050;">[10:23, 4/24/2018] Andrew:
I can’t estimate but contractions are more intense and she’s started running
the bath.</span></i><span style="color: #500050;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><i><span style="color: #500050;">[10:24, 4/24/2018] Samantha:
Wow that’s great!</span></i><span style="color: #500050;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><i><span style="color: #500050;">[10:24, 4/24/2018] Andrew:
Come when u can.</span></i><span style="color: #500050;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><i><span style="color: #500050;">[10:24, 4/24/2018] Andrew:
This isn’t going to be a long drawn out labor.</span></i><span style="color: #500050;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><i><span style="color: #500050;">[10:25, 4/24/2018] Samantha:
Let me make a few phone calls quick and I’ll be in touch ASAP </span></i><i><span style="color: #500050;">🏼</span></i><span style="color: #500050;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><i><span style="color: #500050;">[10:42, 4/24/2018] Samantha:
Babysitter on their way. </span></i><i><span style="color: #500050;">🏼</span></i><i><span style="color: #500050;"> About 30 minutes away from me.
Once she’s here. I can come straight away. I will let you know I’m leaving From
Tokai. </span></i></span></div>
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<i><span style="color: #500050;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">[11:16, 4/24/2018] Samantha:
Ok, leaving Tokai now. </span></span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><i><span style="color: #500050;">[11:19, 4/24/2018] Andrew:
All calm. Thanks</span></i><span style="color: #500050;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><i><span style="color: #500050;">[11:47, 4/24/2018] Andrew:
Hi. When u arrive just message me and I’ll come down. Doorbell is too buzzy</span></i><span style="color: #500050;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<i><span style="color: #500050;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">[12:03, 4/24/2018] Samantha:
Hi. I’m here x<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">When Ruth arrived she had all her medical kit – in case of some needed
intervention – but she was firm that it not be in the bedroom, and rather she
laid out all her equipment in the hall (presumably since merely seeing all that
stuff can create fear – e.g. “what’s all THAT for!?”). <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Ruth settled herself in the guest bedroom, expecting that if she was
needed that she would hear: I told her that there were two concrete walls
between us, and she wouldn’t hear anything! It was pretty clear to me
that Jane wanted Ruth in attendance for the birth, so as Jane’s contractions
got more intense – about ½ hour before your birth – I messaged Ruth to come
into the bedroom.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 115%;">For Jane’s last 30 minutes
of labor we all – me, Ruth, Samantha -- just peacefully attended to Jane as she
had increasingly intense contractions – and increasingly vocal, allowing
herself to express herself (not verbally, but with moaning)… she ran some
more hot water… and she moved around the tub to find comfortable
positions. Ruth was quiet, attentive and meditative … which helped us all
stay calm… while I sat by the side of the tub – also trying to be meditative –
and Samantha was “catlike” in taking </span><span style="background-color: white;">photos. Perhaps as Jane approached the final contractions we all
became much more alert/attentive and that might have disrupted the flow – but
Jane was deep enough into her process that she was oblivious to us. In
the course of a contraction I realised Jane had your head in her hand.. you
were being born!... and within moments you slipped out of her into the
water. She did it herself, easing you out… and lifting you up out
of the water. You were born “en caul” meaning your amniotic sac never
broke (i.e. Jane’s waters didn’t break): When your head was out of the
water, Jane pulled the sac away from your head, and lifted you out. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white;">While
you came out very grey and squashed, within moments you came to life and
shortly after started squawking: I had no moment of fear or uncertainty, as you
were almost immediately alert and visibly alive. Jane has told me
before that giving birth is intensely painful, but that no damage is being
done… as nearly immediately after giving birth the pain ceases: That was
evident yesterday as well. You sat on Jane for about 30 minutes, still
attached by the umbilical cord. Ruth observed everything, and later
reported your APGAR scores as 8 and 9 – out of 10 – indicating you were alert,
responsive, strong, and healthy. You even opened your eyes and chirped.
Clearly, you were ready to be born! After a while, and when Jane was
ready, Ruth clamped and tied the cord, and I cut it with her scissors.
Then, while Jane birthed (the large, heart-shaped, placenta) you and I lay in
bed—you on my chest – and got connected. We all lolled around in bed for
a couple of hours… with Ruth checking in occasionally, Samantha coming and
going for some photos… but mostly they all left us alone with you to get
acquainted. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white;">Caitlyn, another midwife who works with Ruth, arrived shortly
after you were born – but never came upstairs -- and was doing a thorough
inspection of the placenta (to ensure its completeness, and do blood tests on
the cord blood) in the kitchen: I came down to make tea, and took the
opportunity to photograph it: Quite an organ!! Now it’s in an ice cream
tub, in the freezer, neatly labelled (“Benjamin’s Placenta” so as to avoid
confusion with the other chocolate ice cream). </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white;">The whole team had
left by about 15:30, leaving us alone with you to get acquainted. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span></span>
<br />
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<span style="background: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">In short, you were born perfectly… and you are
perfect.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="background: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Love,<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Dad</span><span style="color: #500050; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
</div>
JaneFhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05624529776216917022noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4546660525329091713.post-83170537593265833892018-04-26T15:24:00.002+02:002018-04-27T12:12:20.760+02:00The birth of Benjamin Bodhi Achilles<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #3f3f3f; font-family: inherit;"><i><b>TMI Notice</b>. This is a birth story, with images of birth. Read at your own discretion and only if you are comfortable with descriptions and images of birth.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #3f3f3f;"><i><br /></i></span>
</span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #3f3f3f;"><i>All photos, after the first 2 & 4th (which were taken by Andrew), by Sam of <a href="https://www.twinklestar.co.za/">Twinkle Star Photography</a></i></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #3f3f3f;"><i><br /></i></span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #3f3f3f;">This pregnancy was much harder on me than the previous ones. In all aspects. Physically, mentally, emotionally... I felt sick and tired for most of it. There was more fear and uncertainty. I wasn't sure I could trust myself to know what to do. Natey's death shook the very core of my confidence and feeling of competence. I also had a failure of faith. I usually feel complete trust and faith that all will be well and that I, and my body knows what it is doing. This time nothing was certain. Added to that were the extra fears, risks and unknowns related to being so much older (43 turning 44 next week!). </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #3f3f3f;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #3f3f3f;">There were just no guarantees. And so I was more cautious, more quiet, more internalised, and less active physically and socially. </span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #3f3f3f; font-family: inherit;">We didn't share the news of my pregnancy openly outside of our immediate circle until the 3rd trimester. I stayed focused on work and my studies for the most part and didn't have energy for much else. Most days I'd return from work too tired and feeling too ill to do much more than eat and go to bed. </span><br />
<span style="color: #3f3f3f;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #3f3f3f;">So it wasn't the most enjoyable pregnancy at all. But thankfully as it progressed all indications were that all the important things (like the baby's health and development) were well and there were no issues.</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #3f3f3f;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #3f3f3f;">As I allowed myself to think about and visualise the birth I realised I wanted a similar experience to <a href="http://janefraser.blogspot.co.za/2014/08/baby-ns-birth-story.html">Natey's birth</a>. I didn't want fear and lack of self confidence to undermine what I knew could and should be another wonderful and natural experience. The thought of a standard hospital and medically managed birth just holds no appeal to me at all. I have come to know, and believe, that it can (and should) be so much better and so much more than that. I knew I wanted to set-up for a similar birth. But at the same time I wanted to be a bit more cautious. And that meant making sure I wasn't alone this time.</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #3f3f3f;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #3f3f3f;">Natey was born unexpectedly as an unassisted birth. Meaning I birthed him myself - because the midwife did not arrive on time. It was an incredible experience which is forever etched into my heart and memories. But he came out unresponsive at first and there was a tense moment before he 'woke up' while I was stimulating him and on the verge of wondering if he needed resuscitation. He soon did respond and all was well. But I was not so lucky when I ended up alone with him at the end of his life, and the job and responsibility of resuscitation fell on me, and I failed. I was sure I didn't want to be in the situation of being solely responsible should any resuscitation be needed... So I found a midwife (the wonderful <a href="http://truemidwifery.com/">Ruth Ehrhardt</a> of True Midwifery) to support us, and also a back-up gynae and hospital in case that would be needed.</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #3f3f3f;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #3f3f3f;">Anyway, the pregnancy progressed as they do. I worked up to 38.5 weeks and then went off on maternity leave on 6 April.</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #3f3f3f;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #3f3f3f;">I spent the first week 'off' taking care of a dozen admin tasks, and basically getting life in order. The second week was spent at the gym each morning walking on the treadmill, and resting in the afternoons. It was a nice change of pace to be both more physically active again and also more relaxed, and less busy and in my head.</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #3f3f3f;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #3f3f3f;">I had my 40-week check up and all was looking good. But there was no sign of labour any time soon. </span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #3f3f3f; font-family: inherit;">So both my midwife, Ruth, and I thought she'd see me at my 41-week appointment and beyond... </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br style="background-color: white; color: #3f3f3f; word-wrap: break-word;" /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #3f3f3f;">I'd tried feeling my cervix a couple of times in the previous 10-days or so and couldn't even find it. So I thought it was probably still high and closed. I wasn't expecting any action till closer to the week-end at least. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #3f3f3f;">But I woke up at 3:40 on Tues early morning (40w6d), to pee as usual, and had some bloody mucous. I went back to bed with a towel. Noticing mild contractions coming every 10 mins, but I was comfortable and able to doze so I dozed between them until 06:30.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br style="background-color: white; color: #3f3f3f; word-wrap: break-word;" /></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #3f3f3f; font-family: inherit;">I then got up and got the boys an Uber to school instead of taking them, telling them I thought it was possibly labour day. Being up and active the contractions were coming every 3-4 mins, but still pretty mild. I could still move around through them. I had a few cups of red raspberry leaf and nettle tea. And I let Ruth know that things seemed to be slowly starting, while wandering around downstairs and checking emails etc.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br style="background-color: white; color: #3f3f3f; word-wrap: break-word;" /></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #3f3f3f; font-family: inherit;">After 8am I went up to the bedroom to take Andrew coffee. I did some organising and bounced on yoga ball a bit. Contractions spaced out a bit again and felt less intense with Andrew walking and talking around me. I definitely like to be by myself in labour. He realised this and went downstairs for a while. And after a while contractions came on more regularly again. I put on some Cafe Del Mar music and just hung out in the bedroom area drinking tea. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #3f3f3f; font-family: inherit;">At about 10am we called Ruth to come. As I could feel things getting more intense, I was feeling nauseous at times, and she was a good hour's travel away.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br style="background-color: white; color: #3f3f3f; word-wrap: break-word;" /></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #3f3f3f; font-family: inherit;">At close to 11am I decided to get in the bath. At that point I had no idea if it was going to be 30 mins, 3 hours or 3 days still. It's so hard to know! But I'd been anticipating being able to sit in a bath of water - this is no longer something we can do in Cape Town's dire drought, and I'd literally spent months washing in about 2l of water to 'save my rations' for being able to birth in water. I added some essential oils to the water (Lavender, Clary Sage, Neroli & Ylang Ylang). Once in the bath I tried an internal and could feel his head, but thought I was feeling it through my vaginal wall. I thought my cervix was still only 3-4cm at that point, but I wasn't sure, as it was not clear what exactly I was feeling. It was all still quite bearable though. Although I was starting to 'go inside' to cope during contractions.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #3f3f3f; font-family: inherit;">Around 11:30 my midwife arrived. She did one Doppler heart-rate check and then left the room to give me privacy to do my thing again. Andrew mostly stayed with me, quietly, after that.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #3f3f3f; font-family: inherit;">Our photographer friend <a href="https://www.twinklestar.co.za/">Sam</a> arrived. She was meant to just be there post-birth to do some fresh newborn shots. Andrew asked if she could come in. I didn't really care at that point. I opened my eyes as she came in, but after that it was like she wasn't there. She melted into the background and I was right within myself anyway... I mostly kept my eyes closed and was doing my own thing. Deep breathing and blowing through each contraction.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMuDMpMyVvmSq40dQg_Jt6RNu9SXzPDEvg4xb6HjlwobRaJDyh6lcYmzYsIT2gEbaAKR15OPvGoPVbmcGSDZH3I-99WP7wm8uqVudTPuCGFvkgAhnpC76TR-4m1gGc1oMgeKqbtVbvh7s/s1600/_W1A7761.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" data-original-height="605" data-original-width="960" height="201" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMuDMpMyVvmSq40dQg_Jt6RNu9SXzPDEvg4xb6HjlwobRaJDyh6lcYmzYsIT2gEbaAKR15OPvGoPVbmcGSDZH3I-99WP7wm8uqVudTPuCGFvkgAhnpC76TR-4m1gGc1oMgeKqbtVbvh7s/s320/_W1A7761.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #3f3f3f; font-family: inherit;">Andrew called Ruth to come back in at about 12:15. As I was clearly dealing with much more intense labour then. I started feeling pressure too. Ruth sat quitely crouched down near the bath and didn't say a word or even look directly at me. She believes that labour should be undisturbed and most unobserved. She is quite incredible. She is very empowering in a very humble and non-ego way.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #3f3f3f; font-family: inherit;">It must have been around 12:30 when I started grunting and pushing a bit. It was pretty intense with a lot of pressure. I wasn't all that sure what was going on. There wasn't a clear change from normal contractions to definite pushing at first. I actually thought I just needed to pee... I was doing my own internals every few contractions and noticed his head moving down with each contraction. So yep, pushing it was then so I focused more deliberately on bearing down.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #3f3f3f; font-family: inherit;">When it was clear birth was imminent the Ruth came closer but still just watched silently as I did my thing. I was moving around in the bath as felt right at the time. She never commented.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br style="background-color: white; color: #3f3f3f; word-wrap: break-word;" /></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #3f3f3f; font-family: inherit;">Then the head started crowning around my hands which I used as counter-pressure support - holy heck the membranes were still in tact so his head had a whole 'water balloon' around it. I was panting, blowing and pushing trying to control his exit so as not to tear. It's hard to hold back, but I knew if I didn't I'd tear. I think I was quite vocal then.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br style="background-color: white; color: #3f3f3f; word-wrap: break-word;" /></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #3f3f3f; font-family: inherit;">Once his head had eased out. I waited while I felt him twist ready for his shoulders to come. I could feel his whole head and ears etc inside the 'balloon'. Once he had moved to free his shoulder I pushed hard and watched his whole body slide out. All still inside his sac! </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #3f3f3f;">As I lifted him up the sac opened and stripped off and stayed with the placenta while I pulled him free and up onto me at 12:49.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #3f3f3f; font-family: inherit;">After 20 mins or so of chilling in the bath rubbing him and watching him wake up, breathe and get pink. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #3f3f3f; font-family: inherit;">I asked the Ruth to cut the cord, which Andrew did. Andrew and baby went to do skin on skin on the bed, while I stayed in the bath. Ruth said to do the placenta as and when I wanted. I ended up tugging the cord a bit and felt it moving down, so she said it was fine to pull cord if I wanted to. So I did while bearing down and pushed that giant sucker out. It felt like another baby it was pretty big! </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #3f3f3f; font-family: inherit;">After that I got out the bath and went to the bed. Ruth left the room for a good hour to give us space while she wrote up notes and checked the placenta </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #3f3f3f;">(which was heart shaped!). </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #3f3f3f; font-family: inherit;">etc.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #3f3f3f; font-family: inherit; text-align: left;">After she came back we measured and weighed him. 4.25kgs/9lbs6. 54 cm long and 34cm head circumference, and did the newborn health and reflex checks. All very respectfully and calmingly. Baby had no squashed head or face at all - the benefit of the sac and waters I think...</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #3f3f3f; font-family: inherit;">Apart from it being intense at the end (which is part of the deal after all) and feeling a bit stingy (no tears but a very slight skid mark) now. It was a pretty perfect birth!</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #3f3f3f; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #3f3f3f; font-family: inherit;">Welcome home little Benjamin.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio-LfWUf2weayUrD7fJyWz19vbuIuZBmfY0Y1MBzZWtw7fJRLAu25vcGzPHSTT4Z968kQtMUpwh9UZYlMyGKo9P0HwxqknjqlqkWsMYqhA-CYeRoR9fSpmTuUE7f3xm7jixCvFmqbGDcg/s1600/_W1A8204.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" data-original-height="764" data-original-width="960" height="254" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio-LfWUf2weayUrD7fJyWz19vbuIuZBmfY0Y1MBzZWtw7fJRLAu25vcGzPHSTT4Z968kQtMUpwh9UZYlMyGKo9P0HwxqknjqlqkWsMYqhA-CYeRoR9fSpmTuUE7f3xm7jixCvFmqbGDcg/s320/_W1A8204.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Thanks to:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">- <b>Andrew</b> for his constant love and support. And for again being calm and quiet and trusting me with this very important and significant job.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">- <b>Ruth</b> for being the perfect midwife. She is quiet, respectful, </span>reverent<span style="font-family: inherit;">, and </span>completely<span style="font-family: inherit;"> trusting and supportive of physiological birth. She feels no need or reason to direct or </span>cheer-lead<span style="font-family: inherit;"> at all. But just quietly be present, in case she is needed. It is so empowering being 'allowed' to fully trust your instincts and do birth the way nature intended.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">- <b>Sam</b> for being so quiet, respectful and unobtrusive and yet being able to so beautifully and poignantly catch all these very precious moments. They are so fleeting and with the enormity and sometimes overwhelmingness of the actual moment it's hard to remember the details afterwards. Having the memories captured is invaluable.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">- Our on stand-by Ob/Gyn <b>Dr Catherine Elliot</b>. For being supportive, practical, and </span>trusting<span style="font-family: inherit;"> us. That we knew what we were doing, to be sensible, and so being willing to be an emergency back-up in the event that we needed to transfer to hospital. Not many doctors are prepared to support a home birth.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">- For <b>all our friends and family</b> who have stood by us and carried us through the past 16 months through </span>devastating<span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span>tragedy, grief, mourning, and through to new hope. We couldn't have done it without all of the love and support from you all.</div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">- And finally to dear darling <b>Natey</b>. Who is ever present in our minds and hearts and will never be </span>forgotten<span style="font-family: inherit;">. We still don't know or understand why his time with us was so short, but because of that Benjamin is here now. For that we are thankful. Thanks for all you were and all you taught us Natey. We love and miss you eternally.</span></div>
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JaneFhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05624529776216917022noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4546660525329091713.post-58698622758201648862018-04-26T13:39:00.004+02:002018-04-27T15:39:32.029+02:00Benjamin's Maternity Shoot<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
We did an informal maternity photo-shoot with one of Andrew's friends at around 34-35 weeks.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAqYawIj9qeOlvT8AzsVXg2GDunO6wGxAdws2gWRQn2KjGMfLO_IXeY0ZWyWqatgg0XiBdFZlL5vSZKAQjkwhUteyLWo8auAWMptl-3jTNBA9dldE05Hi4DIb01ysVnTk7fx0WAH-uv-Q/s1600/Canter-24-sm-rebalanced.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="987" height="291" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAqYawIj9qeOlvT8AzsVXg2GDunO6wGxAdws2gWRQn2KjGMfLO_IXeY0ZWyWqatgg0XiBdFZlL5vSZKAQjkwhUteyLWo8auAWMptl-3jTNBA9dldE05Hi4DIb01ysVnTk7fx0WAH-uv-Q/s320/Canter-24-sm-rebalanced.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglb4xwpXLaKfyaZO4rUROGxd3kTH2_wNFyO4T5SqiQHfsnNnIG242XsvA16YN3ASDSKmzcND7gZkGEjTAo7btZ3gEg68XuVYWHkblqEK2jB9ynvLdb2ACwVYLcOdltboPZI2tZWZSHmkE/s1600/Canter-22-sm-cropped.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="1600" height="160" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglb4xwpXLaKfyaZO4rUROGxd3kTH2_wNFyO4T5SqiQHfsnNnIG242XsvA16YN3ASDSKmzcND7gZkGEjTAo7btZ3gEg68XuVYWHkblqEK2jB9ynvLdb2ACwVYLcOdltboPZI2tZWZSHmkE/s320/Canter-22-sm-cropped.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNFguwpQdU96MyBVb07J7d2tJbRjqGbQ26XlPcXE9xpUuBEcTHWGo7HS_ahtqXJN2unMVtkK9A9IuHWTwiMn0zwsVPAGziYciJ6iL6zjLGaxlGAcfI-pn1lqeL6N3_ldYH5e0k5tPAzpo/s1600/Canter-24-sm.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="533" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNFguwpQdU96MyBVb07J7d2tJbRjqGbQ26XlPcXE9xpUuBEcTHWGo7HS_ahtqXJN2unMVtkK9A9IuHWTwiMn0zwsVPAGziYciJ6iL6zjLGaxlGAcfI-pn1lqeL6N3_ldYH5e0k5tPAzpo/s320/Canter-24-sm.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNUj6JQxjb98zUIClBvFyEDe93EkWNpK02sypw4Se328aqyfJ3bhTYW7peEziCkID0MgNevtmGwvgfuKt7QeiqQ43z1y8GPgSrRnawzgsq3jrJ9Q_LDnnxShYYQb4K2LDaXEZmmYYFee0/s1600/Canter-56-sm.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="1280" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNUj6JQxjb98zUIClBvFyEDe93EkWNpK02sypw4Se328aqyfJ3bhTYW7peEziCkID0MgNevtmGwvgfuKt7QeiqQ43z1y8GPgSrRnawzgsq3jrJ9Q_LDnnxShYYQb4K2LDaXEZmmYYFee0/s320/Canter-56-sm.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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JaneFhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05624529776216917022noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4546660525329091713.post-32533413215868600522018-04-26T13:30:00.000+02:002018-04-27T15:38:12.918+02:00Pregnancy Progression Photos - Benjamin<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
These are the photos I took during Benjamin's pregnancy to document the journey...<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXmwV0_-5ZEqdL7E7a2gg0s_yCC8yAkFezPtHNRA8-YA2jkkCuoDrkg09QkFwlokvtMKY8mci1iiHlwzlEXEyUQorlCtkjQ0kCUTVJg9V9QcQm2jiuHZ788XUEQx9-vrKgedzVqPMEScQ/s1600/PicsArt_11-17-07.37.59.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXmwV0_-5ZEqdL7E7a2gg0s_yCC8yAkFezPtHNRA8-YA2jkkCuoDrkg09QkFwlokvtMKY8mci1iiHlwzlEXEyUQorlCtkjQ0kCUTVJg9V9QcQm2jiuHZ788XUEQx9-vrKgedzVqPMEScQ/s320/PicsArt_11-17-07.37.59.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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JaneFhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05624529776216917022noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4546660525329091713.post-48963786246962311802018-04-26T13:11:00.000+02:002018-04-26T13:11:05.686+02:00Introducing Benjamin Bodhi Achilles Canter<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Birth Announcement scribed by <a class="profileLink" data-hovercard-prefer-more-content-show="1" data-hovercard="/ajax/hovercard/user.php?id=705878732&extragetparams=%7B%22fref%22%3A%22mentions%22%7D" href="https://www.facebook.com/acanter1?fref=mentions" style="color: #365899; cursor: pointer; text-decoration-line: none;">Andrew Canter</a><br />Photos by <a class="profileLink" data-hovercard-prefer-more-content-show="1" data-hovercard="/ajax/hovercard/user.php?id=100004939907896&extragetparams=%7B%22fref%22%3A%22mentions%22%7D" href="https://www.facebook.com/samantha.squirehowe?fref=mentions" style="color: #365899; cursor: pointer; text-decoration-line: none;">Samantha Squire-Howe</a> of <a class="profileLink" data-hovercard-prefer-more-content-show="1" data-hovercard="/ajax/hovercard/page.php?id=209469562495195&extragetparams=%7B%22fref%22%3A%22mentions%22%7D" href="https://www.facebook.com/TwinkleStarPhotography/?fref=mentions" style="color: #365899; cursor: pointer; text-decoration-line: none;">Twinkle Star Photography</a><br />--------<br />Dear Family and Friends</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Jane and I are excited to announce the arrival of Benjamin Bodhi Achilles Canter, born at 12:49pm on Tuesday, April 24, 2018.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Jane has built this lucky boy conscientiously and carefully, and brought him into the world via a perfect, peaceful, water birth at home.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">She has, again, given me a son – and I will be forever grateful and appreciative.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Love<br />Andrew</span></div>
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<u><span style="font-family: inherit;">Etymology of his name:</span></u></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Benjamin</b> was the youngest son of Jacob, and the progenitor of 12th tribe of Israel. The name translates as “Son of the my right hand”, “Son of the south” (an allusion to his birth in Cape Town) or “Son of my old age” (an allusion to… well you figure it out).</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">With this name, we link our son to nearly 6000 years of lineage to the heritage and cultural values of Judaism: Community, family, ethics, perseverance, debate, learning & education, and food.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Bodhi</b> is a Sanskrit name translated as "enlightenment" or "awakening". It is synonymous with the state of nirvana -- being freed from hate, greed and ego. The historical Buddha achieved his enlightenment as he meditated under a bodhi tree (ficus religiosa). Compassion is foundational to happiness, and we hope the name Bodhi inspires our son to be compassionate: During the past 16 months Jane and I have found compassion – whether given to us, or given by us – to be a great source of coping and healing.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">With this name, we connect our son to the quest for personal peace, enlightenment, wisdom, and teaching -- and we bequeath him much of eastern philosophy, great places to experience, as well as his own tree species.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Achilles </b>was, of course, the great Greek warrior and hero of the Trojan War. Strong, able, righteous, and decisive: A leader, but hot-headed and possibly heedless of risk. Nearly invulnerable, Achilles’ (like all heroes) had a notable weakness -- his heel. Whatever authority our son achieves in life we hope he will be reminded that no one is beyond reproach or failure – and that knowledge of one’s own flaws is critical to sustained success and happiness.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">With this name, we connect our son to the strength, competence, and leadership of a great warrior – and we bequeath him all of Greek history and philosophy, the precursor of western civilisation.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Taken together, the name has balance: The Tribe of Benjamin was warlike – ultimately unwisely fomenting a civil war (with the other Israelite tribes) that largely led to its own dissolution. Likewise, Achilles in his arrogance was killed by his own vulnerability. Bodhi is the antithesis of Achilles – but both attributes (ego and absence-of-ego) are necessary to function in the world.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">There are times in life for decisive, righteous battle… and times for inner reflection and the release of worldly concerns: But much of life seems occupied by the balance of the wise use of authority, the consciousness of one’s own motives and flaws, and in the judging of which attributes to apply, in what measure, and in which circumstances.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">In sum, we hope his name serves our son as a reminder to be conscious of the need for wise balance in all aspects of his life.</span></div>
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JaneFhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05624529776216917022noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4546660525329091713.post-57749448539141973362018-02-12T10:47:00.001+02:002018-02-12T10:47:52.482+02:00A poem for Natey<b>A poem for Natey</b><br />
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<i>Written by my special friend Cecile, who sees and feels things differently, and more deeply, than most others. Thank-you Cecile...</i><br />
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something woke me</div>
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in the early hours</div>
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<br /></div>
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just before sunrise</div>
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<br /></div>
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and I fell asleep again</div>
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fell into a dream</div>
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<br /></div>
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I saw a small boy running</div>
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<br /></div>
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running and laughing</div>
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<br /></div>
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on the beach</div>
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<br /></div>
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his red curls shone</div>
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<br /></div>
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and I called his name</div>
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I called him</div>
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I called "Natey!"</div>
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<br /></div>
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but the only sound was his laughter</div>
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<br /></div>
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he ran</div>
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he skipped and laughed</div>
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and I felt myself melting</div>
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<br /></div>
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melting away into a sadder world</div>
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where memories burn as bright</div>
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<br /></div>
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as red shiny curls</div>
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<br />JaneFhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05624529776216917022noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4546660525329091713.post-70066344768021103012018-02-09T11:46:00.001+02:002020-08-25T11:20:43.882+02:00What no one tells you when your child dies...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I am writing this because it has been weighing on my mind, and I feel like writing about it may help me to process it, and also I think more importantly I hope it may help someone else in some small way...<br />
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There's no doubt that dealing with the death of a child is the very hardest thing a person can ever experience. Nothing compares to the loss and pain you feel. It doesn't matter whether it was an early miscarriage, late miscarriage, still birth, congenital defect or anything else. No matter what the reason, the result is the same - immeasurable and constant deep deep loss and devastation. You never 'get over it'. You just, in time, learn to live with it.<br />
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I lost my first born, a beautiful and perfect little girl, <a href="http://janefraser.blogspot.co.za/2015/03/losing-anqelique.html">Angelique</a>, nearly 20 years ago now on 23 March 1998. I still think of her all the time even though, born far too early, at only 25 weeks pregnant, she was with us only for the briefest amount of time. You never forget, you never 'heal'. You are forever altered and changed. You, your being and your life take a new course after a child loss. It's a loss of innocence, loss of blind-faith, loss of who you were before....<br />
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But then there are the other losses, the ones that happen beyond birth and health issues. The ones where a child dies due to an 'accident'. These, in my mind, carry an additional layer of grief and complex emotions, as these are officially classed as 'preventable deaths'. Nothing quite captures the feeling when you first see that word as part of the classification for your child's death. Preventable. It could have (SHOULD HAVE) been prevented. It was PREVENTABLE!<br />
<br />
And when your child (or anyone) dies of a preventable death, that death automatically gets investigated. If you think about it logically of course that makes sense. Any accidental death absolutely should be checked out to understand the circumstances and to ensure there was no negligence, or worse malicious intent, involved. It completely does make sense. I really understand that.<br />
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The worst scenario is where not only did your child die of an accidental death, but you were present (and in my case the ONLY person present) and so you are the focus of the investigation...<br />
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Even if you know, have accepted, and taken on the mantle of responsibility, guilt and shame for being the one who failed in the primary responsibility of a parent - to keep the child alive. Being investigated by law enforcement for this and having to contract a lawyer to 'defend' you is possibly the very worst possible situation to be in.<br />
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And the problem is NO ONE tells you this is going to happen. No one warns you to be prepared that you are going to be investigated, and that there will be police, detectives, lawyers, inspectors, directors of public prosecutions, magistrates/judges involved. No one tells you just how scary, terrifying, nerve wracking and simply devastating it will all be. That you will be scared you will be found 'guilty' and have to face the 'consequences'... And if so, what exactly are those? Jail?? And then to feel like you <i>deserve</i> to be in jail anyway for failing your child so thoroughly and fundamentally.<br />
<br />
I thought dealing with and having to LIVE through and beyond losing our precious perfect and beautiful Natey was the pinnacle of hurt, pain, loss and grief. We set about the impossible, but necessary, task of figuring out how to carry on after his loss and memorial in January last year. Trying to be as open, authentic, intentional and real as we could be through it all. I was compelled to go INTO the experience fully and <a href="http://janefraser.blogspot.com/2017/01/so-what-actually-happened-or-how-best.html">write down every detail</a> and thought as I relived it, in the hope of being able to process and make sense of what had happened and HOW it could have happened!? (This detailed information and time-line later proved to be crucial. I had no idea how necessary it would be, or that by sharing it publicly I could have inadvertently been exposing myself to liability (either way I am always entirely honest and have never had anything to hide)).<br />
<br />
As I result of all that I have been through this year. When I heard of another family tragically losing their dear baby boy to a drowning in December, I felt like I had to reach out to them and warn them to be prepared that it was not over, there would be more to come. And that it may not happen immediately either, it may wait until you think you are finally 'coping' and then blind-side you....<br />
<br />
I wish someone had told me. Warned me. I hope this helps someone in a small way some day.<br />
<br />
----<br />
<br />
So this is what happened to me/us.<br />
<br />
Around 6 months after losing the centre of our solar-system, our son/sun. Andrew planned a trip to Iceland. He had apparently already in his mind planned that he and Natey would go to Iceland when Natey was around 16 or so to do the trek through Thorsmork, in the area of the now infamous volcano Eyjafjallajokull. Andrew had been intending to do this trek in 2010. When literally 2 weeks or less before their planned trip the volcano erupted. So those plans were thwarted, and their trip to Iceland was curtailed to day activities in and around Reykjavik. One of Natey's names and his long-time nick-name in-utero, and as a baby, was 'Thor'. The volcanic eruption of 2010 caused 2 new craters on the side of Eyjafjallajokull called Magni & Modi (the name of Thor's sons). And so this hike became the teenage bonding voyage they were going to do as father and son once Natey was old enough. I hadn't know this until Andrew said he wanted to take this trip now with me, as a cathartic memorial journey. And so we planned the trip and t<a href="https://www.facebook.com/i.am.jane.fraser/media_set?set=a.10154536646541923.1073741933.652081922&type=3">ook some of Natey's ashes</a> with us as well as a <a href="https://www.facebook.com/i.am.jane.fraser/media_set?set=a.10154549041661923.1073741937.652081922&type=3">'love lock' and photo of him to place in Iceland.</a><br />
<br />
What most people also don't know was that Andrew had also asked me to consider having another baby with/for him. And we were in the midst of that process. Just before the trip I had an IUI/AIH procedure and so when we embarked on the trip we thought I was newly pregnant. The trip was to be a big watershed trip of remembrance, acceptance, loss, grief and allowing ourselves to look forward with new hope to a new start.<br />
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As it turned out, on the very morning the hike started, literally 10 minutes before we set off on our 90km multi-day trek, I popped into the loo to the discovery that I was not pregnant at all. My period had come a full 4 days early, and I was entirely unprepared for it. I had nothing with me. I had to 'McGyver' my way through with home-made 'tampons' and 'pads' made from tissues and paper towels for the next few days. I was emotionally devastated. The trek, while truly wonderful, was so emotionally charged with a deep sense of loss and emptiness. In retrospect maybe that was right because it meant our full focus and attention was on Natey, but at the time all I felt was loss and emptiness... while in the most wondrous and beautiful place I had ever been.<br />
<br />
Anyway the point is we came back from that trip having processed many deep emotions and after a final few bonding days in Paris. We breathed deeply, looked forward and went back to work.<br />
<br />
Day 1 back at work on Monday 24 July 2017 at approximately 14:30. I was in a meeting with my boss when my phone rang. I didn't know the number so took the call quickly. It was Detective XX from Seapoint Police Station. She said I needed to come in to make a statement. I was genuinely confused and had no idea what about. I asked... and she said 'About the death of your son'... I felt a stake go through my heart.<br />
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I was confused, but printed off my <a href="http://janefraser.blogspot.com/2017/01/so-what-actually-happened-or-how-best.html">blog post</a> and went there immediately after work, just 2-3 hours later. I arrived and made myself known and I was told to sit and wait for a more senior detective. When he arrived he started asking questions and telling me I had to make a statement. I told him I was fully willing to do that. I handed him the print-out and told him that was exactly step-for-step what had happened. He started reading it and then handed it back. He mentioned a lawyer. I told him I was happy to make a statement, I had nothing to hide. He told me that the case would go to a prosecutor and depending on who got the case they 'might not like my story' and there 'could be consequences'.<br />
<br />
By this stage I was becoming overwhelmed by emotion and I told him 'I was there, I was the only one there. I AM responsible. It happened exactly how I said, and if there are consequences I am taking them. I deserve it.' and I started crying. I started having visions of being locked in jail and letting my other boys down too... It was NOT a good moment. He again started talking about a lawyer. He said he COULD take my statement then and there if that's what I wanted, but it would be legally binding....I stopped and looked at him and said, 'Are you advising me that I need an attorney?'. He said 'Yes'. And then he said I should go for counselling too. I think he was trying to be kind and helpful but by that point I just wanted to get the hell away from him. They told me they'd need to send a team to take photos. Of what!? 'The pool and area'. What!? All the nets, gates and security measures were long gone, it was nearly 7 months later!??<br />
<br />
I left and walked into the now dark winter evening. Crying. Not knowing what to do, feeling like a criminal. I phoned Andrew, telling him I was sorry but I had no idea what to do or who to turn to. I don't have a lawyer. He has contacts and said he'd reach out to the the legal firm he deals with for work matters.<br />
<br />
I was uncomfortable using an attorney, feeling like that made me look like I was trying to spin my story and defend myself, when that was not the case. The truth is the truth and I was fully willing to tell it.<br />
<br />
We met with the attorney. A nice, kind and clearly experienced guy (who charges R5000 per hour!!). He explained how these things work and how it's a structured process and that the benefit of using legal representation is that they know how to navigate the process as smoothly and quickly a possible. They know what kind of information and evidence the prosecutors, magistrates and judges are looking for to be able to make a call and appropriate ruling on the case.<br />
<br />
He helped to guide us in terms of what we needed to include in our statements, what 'evidence' was useful. We had photos of all the baby-proofing and pool security measures, floor plans of the house, time and date stamped Whatssapps, SMSs, phone call logs etc. Also the blog post which had the exact sequence of events and timings (which I would NEVER have remembered in such detail at that point had I not taken the time to write it all out so soon). We had character references for us both from our au-pair, and the school principal. There was the post-mortem from the forensic pathology services (the morgue). I think the police constable that was present on the night, and who had stayed in touch with us, gave a statement too.<br />
<br />
We submitted everything we had. And then we waited and waited and waited. With this axe hanging over my head, wondering whether I was going to be found 'guilty' and if so what that would mean..?<br />
<br />
We finally got word recently on 26 January (so nearly 13 months after the event) that the magistrate had ruled on the case and deemed it to be 'an accident' and that no one was to be held responsible or 'culpable' and that there was no finding of any 'negligence'.<br />
<br />
Of course it is a relief that in the eyes of the law I am not 'guilty'. But I can't say it makes me feel any better about anything. In a sense it is good that it is finally 'over', but it doesn't change anything, and it's not over. It will never be over, As I said, you never 'get over' the loss of a child.<br />
<br />
But as least now we can go back to our grief and mourning and memories of Natey himself and not have the legal axe hanging over us.<br />
<br />
----<br />
<br />
No one warns you in an 'unnatural death' that your grief will be complicated, compounded and extended by the legalities of it, and that you'll have to literally 'pay the price'. I wish I had been warned. I hope this helps to forearm someone else. (Although I wish more that no one else has to endure the heartache of losing a child, and especially to drowning. It is such a senseless waste of precious little lives.)<br />
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JaneFhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05624529776216917022noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4546660525329091713.post-18196769083232815132017-12-19T10:04:00.000+02:002018-03-02T10:45:14.917+02:00Natey's Yahrzeit Memorial<i>Firstly a disclaimer: </i>I am not Jewish, so I am by no means an expert on anything relating to Judaism. But Andrew and his family are, and Natey was too...<br />
<br />
Well technically Natey hadn't had his official conversion yet, which was required due to the fact that I am not Jewish - and yes very strictly in Judaism if the mother is not Jewish the child cannot be - which would have required a sort of water-baptism etc. But he did have a <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Brit_milah">Bris</a> on the 8th day, he attended a Jewish school, we sat Shiva with a Rabbi and observed the basic Jewish customs when he died (although again, he was cremated, which is not traditionally allowed in Judaism). So let's say, like Andrew, he was going to be 'culturally Jewish' if not fully compliant.<br />
<br />
Anyway, the point is having been exposed to Judaism through Andrew and Natey now, I have seen and learned a fair amount about it and I have found that the customs and strong sense of community of it are pretty special and meaningful.<br />
<br />
One of the traditions of Judaism is the <a href="https://www.shiva.com/learning-center/commemorate/yahrzeit/">Yahrzeit</a>.<br />
<br />
<b><i>What is the Yahrzeit?*</i></b><br />
<i>The word ‘Yahrzeit’ is Yiddish and is translated to mean “time of year" and taken to mean the anniversary of a death. In Judaism, there is a focus on carrying on the memory of those before us from generation to generation. Based on Jewish law, the Yahrzeit is the day one year following the death of a loved one as calculated in accordance with the Hebrew calendar. This remembrance is performed annually by reciting the <a href="http://www.jewfaq.org/kaddishref.htm">Mourner’s Kaddish</a> and burning a Yahrzeit candle for 24 hours. Traditionally, the observance begins on the anniversary of the Hebrew date of death and the candle is lit at sunset. </i><br />
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<a href="https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/0/01/Yahrtzeit_candle.JPG/220px-Yahrtzeit_candle.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="165" data-original-width="220" height="240" src="https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/0/01/Yahrtzeit_candle.JPG/220px-Yahrtzeit_candle.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>The Yahrzeit candle reminds people of the fragility of life and encourages them to embrace their life and that of their loved ones. A candle is often believed to be a symbol of the soul. This is one of the core reasons that candles are such an integral part of the Jewish religion.</i><br />
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<i>Traditionally, mourners keep the candle lit for the entire 25 hours from sundown on the eve of the yahrzeit to sunset on the day of the yahrzeit and allow it to burn itself out. </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>When the Yahrzeit candle is lit, the intent and focus for individuals is to take time out of the day to remember, honour and celebrate the life of the loved one. Traditionally, you will find that the Mourner’s Kaddish is recited on the Yahrzeit. It is customary and suggested that family and friends use this time to share stories and reflect upon the person who has passed and the legacy he or she has left behind.</i><br />
<br />
As mentioned the official Yahrzeit is calculated according to the Hebrew calendar, which differs from the Gregorian calendar we use in daily life.<br />
<br />
We will be using Natey's normal calendar date (30 December) as a day of memory for him, but will also be mindful and light a Yahrzeit candle for him on his Hebrew anniversary, which for those of you in the know is on Tevet 1.<br />
<br />
<b>This means that today, 19 December 2017 is Natey's Yahrzeit.</b><br />
And coincidentally Natey died pretty much spot on at Sunset so the time of lighting the candle - which is at sunset - coincides almost perfectly.<br />
<b><br /></b>
<b>Sunset today is at 19:56.</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
<b>Sunset on 30 December is at 20:00.</b><br />
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#DoingItForNatey #LiveLongDays<br />
---------<br />
<br />
Natey's official Yahrzeit dates:<br />
YAHRZEIT<br />
NATANIEL CANTER<br />
PASSED AWAY 30 DECEMBER 2016<br />
01 TEVET 5777<br />
Tevet 1, 5777,"Friday, 30 December 2016"<br />
Tevet 1, 5778,"Tuesday, 19 December 2017"<br />
Tevet 1, 5779,"Sunday, 9 December 2018"<br />
Tevet 1, 5780,"Sunday, 29 December 2019"<br />
Tevet 1, 5781,"Wednesday, 16 December 2020"<br />
Tevet 1, 5782,"Sunday, 5 December 2021"<br />
Tevet 1, 5783,"Sunday, 25 December 2022"<br />
Tevet 1, 5784,"Wednesday, 13 December 2023"<br />
Tevet 1, 5785,"Wednesday, 1 January 2025"<br />
Tevet 1, 5786,"Sunday, 21 December 2025"<br />
Tevet 1, 5787,"Friday, 11 December 2026"<br />
Tevet 1, 5788,"Friday, 31 December 2027"<br />
Tevet 1, 5789,"Tuesday, 19 December 2028"<br />
Tevet 1, 5790,"Friday, 7 December 2029"<br />
Tevet 1, 5791,"Friday, 27 December 2030"<br />
Tevet 1, 5792,"Tuesday, 16 December 2031"<br />
Tevet 1, 5793,"Friday, 3 December 2032"<br />
Tevet 1, 5794,"Friday, 23 December 2033"<br />
Tevet 1, 5795,"Wednesday, 13 December 2034"<br />
Tevet 1, 5796,"Tuesday, 1 January 2036"<br />
Tevet 1, 5797,"Friday, 19 December 2036"<br />
Tevet 1, 5798,"Wednesday, 9 December 2037"<br />
Tevet 1, 5799,"Tuesday, 28 December 2038"<br />
Tevet 1, 5800,"Sunday, 18 December 2039"<br />
Tevet 1, 5801,"Wednesday, 5 December 2040"<br />
Tevet 1, 5802,"Tuesday, 24 December 2041"<br />
Tevet 1, 5803,"Sunday, 14 December 2042"<br />
Tevet 1, 5804,"Friday, 1 January 2044"<br />
Tevet 1, 5805,"Wednesday, 21 December 2044"<br />
Tevet 1, 5806,"Sunday, 10 December 2045"<br />
Tevet 1, 5807,"Sunday, 30 December 2046"<br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>* Info from: https://www.shiva.com/learning-center/commemorate/yahrzeit/</i>JaneFhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05624529776216917022noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4546660525329091713.post-75722107553610071242017-11-24T14:30:00.004+02:002021-05-25T20:30:33.666+02:00Thanksgiving 2017<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">At first I didn’t
want to celebrate thanksgiving this year. It felt like I have nothing to be
thankful for… but then the more I thought about it, the more I realised I do
indeed have a LOT to be thankful for.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-ZA" style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 150%;">Despite the worst
possible start this year, which has by far been the very hardest of my life, I
am thankful for:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-ZA" style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-ZA" style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 150%;"><b>Cynthia</b> continuing to fly the Cape Town Thanksgiving banner high. And organising the whole thing on her own, and doing a superb job of it too. This year all I had to do was rock up. Rather than the large extended (40-60 people) Thanksgiving dinner we'd been hosting, this year was a smaller more intimate group of about 16 of us. It was perfect.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-ZA" style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><span lang="EN-ZA" style="line-height: 150%;">Andrew.</span></b><span lang="EN-ZA" style="line-height: 150%;"> Whose
love care and commitment to me has remained constant, despite no obligation to do so. He proves himself to be a consistently good and really decent person in all and everything he does. His continued acceptance of and
care for me has been truly humbling. He is the true embodiment of a mensch as
they’d say in Yiddish.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-ZA" style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><span lang="EN-ZA" style="line-height: 150%;">My boys Quinn & Griffin:</span></b><span lang="EN-ZA" style="line-height: 150%;"> Who despite many hardships,
curve-balls and tragedies in their lives, and especially this year, remain positive, enthusiastic and strong, and so
supportive of and gentle with me. Looking after me when I can't (but should be) the one looking after them.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><span lang="EN-ZA" style="line-height: 150%;">To all the amazing people who have surrounded us with love, care, support,
generosity and connection throughout this year</span></b><span lang="EN-ZA" style="line-height: 150%;">. I don’t think we could have done it
without you all, holding us up, when it felt like we couldn’t.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-ZA" style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><span lang="EN-ZA" style="line-height: 150%;">And this new life growing inside me:</span></b><span lang="EN-ZA" style="line-height: 150%;"> Who I hope will grow and thrive and
that we will be adequate parents to.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><span lang="EN-ZA" style="line-height: 150%;">And for Natey</span></b><span lang="EN-ZA" style="line-height: 150%;">. Who was here for far too short a time and left us far too soon, but who lit up all of our lives
and brought so much joy, love and happiness to us all.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-ZA" style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 150%;">#DoingItForNatey </span><br />
<span lang="EN-ZA" style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 150%;">#LiveLongDays </span><br />
<span lang="EN-ZA" style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 150%;">#ThereIsAlwaysSomethingToBeThankfulFor</span><br />
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JaneFhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05624529776216917022noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4546660525329091713.post-563690900132792752017-10-19T15:16:00.001+02:002018-06-24T16:24:52.615+02:00Thank you, again for your generous donations<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Dear friends & family</span></div>
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<div class="m_-4049514180844812049gmail-m_-382297220881374786WordSection1">
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #404041; font-family: Tahoma,sans-serif;">The Red Cross Children's Hospital in Cape Town has advised us that all of your contributions in the name of Nathaniel L T Canter have allowed them to purchase two "Saturating Machines" (to quickly & easily measure the blood oxygen levels of children) for their Cardiac Unit. </span><span style="color: #404041; font-family: Tahoma,sans-serif;">In our engagements with the hospital they suggested that these machines were what was desperately needed.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #404041; font-family: inherit;">Thank you all for your generous gifts that have provided this legacy for Natey.<u></u><u></u></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="color: #404041; font-family: inherit;">It's been almost 10 months since the death of our little Nathaniel, we've marked each passing month with sadness… and notably August 29<sup>th</sup> – what would have been his 3<sup>rd</sup> birthday. We've ridden the "waves" during the year… we've stayed close to each other… we've sought to make "new memories" with various travels… and we've re-engaged with our lives, mostly successfully (although perhaps lacking some spark at times). We keep Natey in sight (through photos, screen savers, mementos and such) and in mind every day: Not a day passes without a twinge of sadness, a (literal) groan of regret, a stab of loss, and sometimes a (physical) pain in our hearts. <u></u><u></u></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="color: #404041; font-family: inherit;">But we carry on: Because there is little choice, and because life has to be lived. And we are okay.<u></u><u></u></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="color: #404041; font-family: inherit;">Thank you all again for the love, support and your donations for Natey, <u></u><u></u></span></div>
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<span style="color: #404041; font-family: inherit;">Love<u></u><u></u></span></div>
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<span style="color: #404041; font-family: inherit;">Andrew & Jane</span></div>
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JaneFhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05624529776216917022noreply@blogger.com0