I watch the clouds this morning gather in the glowing rising sun, and hear someone saying in yesterday’s Connecticut afternoon, “It’s so hot!” …I guess. Our sunshine does not have the walloping blast the sun gives in Africa. The feel of the African sun is very hot indeed, not like anything I’d felt before. It’s as if it could casually fry off a person’s skin. When it would sizzle mine so slightly, and make me pink, in my mind I’d say “African sun. African sun is intense.”
I have been wondering about what heat does to a person- how pressure cooks the meal. How tough things become tender and juicy in a slow-cooking oven. There is a tiny goldfinch in our far away garden now, and he is flying carefully from the top of the little shovel stuck in the ground beneath the tree, and on to the planted soil, from which little sprouts grow, and perhaps this bright flying daffodil has found some extra seeds. He’s careful to find cover because the hawk that flies through each day looks for little morsels such as himself. It makes the goldfinch shy in a way, and ephemeral in his coming and going. Seeing him brightens my heart.
Part of the Greyhound pack with Antoinette.
This week I bought ground beef at the store, and I wondered how the cow was killed. In line with other cows, completely freaking out? It turned my mind to Dance Morning Star (regal hunter), the massive black greyhound of Oom Johannes and Antoinette at Theefontaine. Dance Morningstar is solid speed and rippled muscle. He has an eye that seems just a bit off, which gives him a goofy approachable countenance despite his somewhat intimidating sir dogness. Dance leads the pack of ten dogs that hunt on behalf of Oom and Antoinette. Together the dogs chase animals as large as antelope and as small as rabbit. Their running exhausts their chase, and allows them the chance to lunge in for the throat and silence the breath. After the hunt, the dogs receive half the meat.
Antoinette has a shiningness about her forehead, a softness to her eyes. Have you ever had a baby stare at you? Did the baby lock eyes and oogle at you in wonder? I felt like a baby staring at Antoinette; she is natural and hence unpredictable and beautiful. In some moments I even forgot about appropriate amounts of eye contact until she smiled gently, sweetly closed her eyes, and tilted her head down. And then I could no longer see her kind face, and would remember I was sitting there, staring at her. She invited us in for tea to her living room each day, sometimes as the rain roared on the tin roof, and she burned herbs to offer to the weather. There was little speaking when the thunder boomed, out of respect. Antoinette sat in her chair next to the candle chandelier that lit the small room, and Oom Johannes sat to her right, then Steve, me, Nik, Roger, and Tarynn. Sometimes our knees touched beneath the low ceiling, and it made me feel cozy. The evening we arrived, we sat together like that. Antoinette brought us all a mug of rooibos tea upon a tray with tiny spoons too, then she left for the kitchen again, and brought out a white bucket. “This is wild honey that Oom Johannes collected, please have some.” We all lit up, knowing this was really really good stuff in the bucket. I peered in to see the brown gooey slick peppered with honeycomb. The honey still had its bee aura on it, as if one was still flying around saying, “We made that!” And I wondered what audaciously rare blooms the bees had rolled in before coming home to the hive. As I dipped in the spoon, I wondered too how in the world did magical Oom Johannes go up to an African honey bee hive, take some of their honey, live to smile about it, and then go on and offer strangers the gold of his seriously skilled work? After stirring the liquid amber into the tea, I licked the slick on my spoon. And a shot of o my God whizzled into my brain, and I smiled wide-eyed at Oom Johannes, who laughed his belly laugh, knowing full well how sweet it is.
Two hearts at Antoinette's door.
We all sat there drinking our tea, and there was a delight about our traveling troupe, and it reminded me of the way I feel sitting with my grandfather, who likes to surprise his family with goodies and stories that make you feel special. Tarynn had her hand draped across her stomach, as I’d seen her do for a few days now. She half-heartedly stroked her tummy from time to time, which meant nothing unless you had eyes to see. Oom Johannes said something across from her in Afrikaans, and Antoinette asked, “You are in pain in your stomach?” Tarynn nodded. Antoinette disappeared into the kitchen again, and came out with a little jar. “Traveling can be hard on digestion. This is a blend of many herbs,” and she gave Tarynn a spoonful. “You will notice there are hard bits, which is the ostrich egg shell. It helps move things along.” Nik asked if he could have some too? Antoinette gave him a spoonful, and as he worked his mouth around the powdered herbs a kind of happiness lit him up, which told us all it was a good thing, and soon Steve, then Roger and me were swallowing assorted herbs punctuated by ostrich eggshell, and relaxation pervaded the room. Everybody knew at that moment (I’m willing to say) that here we did not need to be anyone important, here with these caring people we could be whatever it is that we are.
Roger filming Oom Johannes inside his cottage
I felt that way as I layed down on the bed in Oom Johannes’ cottage, upon the crocheted colorful quilt, and looking up there stood Antoinette and Oom. It was all right not to be strong around them. Oom placed his 94 year old hands on my calves with a salve, and smoke rose from my right leg. Antoinette asked, “Did you see the smoke?” Yes. Oom twisted my arms in different contortions as he felt the heartbeat inside my elbows. He then leaned in with his ear against my chest, and then again, listening intently. Thank God, I thought to myself as memories of serious cardiologists wearing thick glasses floated in my mind, thank you for this real doctor. Oom and Antoinette spoke together, and Antoinette leaned in to hear my heart. She said, “You can sit up now.” And she told me about the way the heart is beating, that it was beating heavy. She asked, “Do you know why your heart is heavy?” And I told her I could not figure out, I keep trying to figure things out with people, especially when they do things I don’t understand, and it makes my heart hurt, and I feel confused. She asked slightly aghast, “Can’t you remove yourself from these people?” That question alone freed me- wasn’t I supposed to cherish everyone? Maybe not! What a great idea! She told me, “I too have trouble being around people.” And again in a moment with Antoinette and Oom Johannes, my whole self relaxed. Together they told me that all this thinking in a heart was too much for one heart. And now I remind myself that this complex (unbelievably complex) world is not my responsibility to alter or understand. Maybe it is for some people, but for me, I can tell you- it is too much to understand. To gather food from the earth and watch the goldfinches fly is all right, is enough. So said the medicine people in the South African karoo…
