Home
I am in Bloemfontein now, and it has not changed much in the three years since I was here last. Actually it has changed, but not nearly as much as I have. It is not so much my habits, or behaviours that have changed, but my perspective, my passion, my attitude. If you are someone who is serious about anything, then you realise how important attitude is. Maybe it is the most important thing that separates successes from failures, winners from losers, dreamers from doers.
I am here, and this is who I am. I went to school here, I studied here and I couldn’t wait to get out of here. I only managed to do that for the first time when I was 27. I’m 33 now, and maybe not a whole lot wiser. But I have been on boeings, I have been there and back again, I’ve visited some of the things in Middle Earth that are good, and seen some things that are not so good. Some things away from home are better, but not as many as we like to think when we are young and vigorous, and have the anger of a young man.
I am at home now, writing this is on my notebook, and actually this is my brother’s room (it still feels that way even though he will soon move into his own house a few miles from here). For a time we shared this room, we chatted till late at night, we shared dreams and excitements, we fought and raced and made comparisons. We drew pictures together (today he is a professional artist) and we swam together. When I jumped off the side of the swimming pool, into my father’s arms, the first time, I was 3 years old. I could swim a fairly decent crawl at the age of 4, but my brother, 2 years older, was obviously much further ahead in the pool and I always felt slower and weaker and left behind.
Our pool is still fit for swimming, though the white gates have mostly been removed and replaced with hedges and tall bushes. There are no toddlers to prevent from falling in the pool now. Frogs occasionally do, and big songolollos (giant centipedes).
It’s not the same swimming the pool now. It’s usually just me, and after swimming for so many years, it’s not so easy to play in the water, especially by myself, but occasionally I do. That means swimming underwater. One of my favourite movies was The Big Blue, but I have grown up a bit since then, especially after seeing an unedited version that was quite terrible. I’d like to not have some of the illusions I had a younger man, even though I studied marketing and it is often nice to sell something as brighter and happier (and better) than it really is. I don’t work in marketing though, as I am not sure I believe in it as something one should do with one’s life. But whatever one is doing is at some stage or another a form of selling. Now I am selling my ability to write, and about something that is of interest to you and others. I also teach English, and find this a meaningful way to be alive, and it provides a great environment for me to learn, not only about others but about myself, and about the psychology not only of children, but different attitudes to Life.
As kids my brother and I spent a lot of time around the pool, and especially in it. In summer it felt like we were in it most of the day, and reluctantly got out when it was dark or if it was lunch or dinner time. Friends often came over because we had a pool and because in Bloemfontein the summer’s here can be hellish. Today was about 31 degrees Celcius. There is a statistic that most swimming pools only get used (even in South Africa) for a total of 18 days a year. I am not sure if that is still accurate today, but I know since I have been home I have swum only about 6 or 7 times in our pool. The other times were swimming. Workouts.
So my father, who was himself a great swimmer, taught us how to swim at an early age. He would step further and further from the side of the pool and we’d be encouraged to jump in and swim to him. He step further and further away and we’d have to stay afloat. We used armbands but not for very long. My mother, even until the day she died, could not swim. This was possibly because of a bad memory of something that had happened when she was a girl. She got pushed into the water and since the water was deep, a lot deeper than she was tall, all she could do was sink to the bottom, kick off the bottom, and this went on and on until she finally grabbed the side of the pool. That push into the pool, and the ensuing panick was enough to put her off swimming for life.
But we swam. Once we started we didn’t stop. And our coach, Penny Prideaux, guided our first few strokes in the very same pool where my mother almost drowned. The Arthur Nathan pool, in the shadow of Naval Hill (and the Franklin Game Reserve) and just a short skip and a jump from the nursery school we were attending. David Davidson. It’s somewhere else now, but the Arthur Nathan is still there, and almost the same as it was. The creepers covering the grand façade of the building, and the entrance, have been removed, which is a shame. I went there a few days ago to take photos and the echoes reached me after all these years – 30 year old memories (and I am only 33).
I loved that pool, but would have feared it as much as my mom if not for my dad’s instruction in our own pool. By the time we went swimming with the other kindergarten kids, we were already a lot more advanced, a lot stronger, and Penny soon suggested we take up swimming lessons. That we swim regularly. And so we did. First my brother, and then me.
I am here, and this is who I am. I went to school here, I studied here and I couldn’t wait to get out of here. I only managed to do that for the first time when I was 27. I’m 33 now, and maybe not a whole lot wiser. But I have been on boeings, I have been there and back again, I’ve visited some of the things in Middle Earth that are good, and seen some things that are not so good. Some things away from home are better, but not as many as we like to think when we are young and vigorous, and have the anger of a young man.
I am at home now, writing this is on my notebook, and actually this is my brother’s room (it still feels that way even though he will soon move into his own house a few miles from here). For a time we shared this room, we chatted till late at night, we shared dreams and excitements, we fought and raced and made comparisons. We drew pictures together (today he is a professional artist) and we swam together. When I jumped off the side of the swimming pool, into my father’s arms, the first time, I was 3 years old. I could swim a fairly decent crawl at the age of 4, but my brother, 2 years older, was obviously much further ahead in the pool and I always felt slower and weaker and left behind.
Our pool is still fit for swimming, though the white gates have mostly been removed and replaced with hedges and tall bushes. There are no toddlers to prevent from falling in the pool now. Frogs occasionally do, and big songolollos (giant centipedes).
It’s not the same swimming the pool now. It’s usually just me, and after swimming for so many years, it’s not so easy to play in the water, especially by myself, but occasionally I do. That means swimming underwater. One of my favourite movies was The Big Blue, but I have grown up a bit since then, especially after seeing an unedited version that was quite terrible. I’d like to not have some of the illusions I had a younger man, even though I studied marketing and it is often nice to sell something as brighter and happier (and better) than it really is. I don’t work in marketing though, as I am not sure I believe in it as something one should do with one’s life. But whatever one is doing is at some stage or another a form of selling. Now I am selling my ability to write, and about something that is of interest to you and others. I also teach English, and find this a meaningful way to be alive, and it provides a great environment for me to learn, not only about others but about myself, and about the psychology not only of children, but different attitudes to Life.
As kids my brother and I spent a lot of time around the pool, and especially in it. In summer it felt like we were in it most of the day, and reluctantly got out when it was dark or if it was lunch or dinner time. Friends often came over because we had a pool and because in Bloemfontein the summer’s here can be hellish. Today was about 31 degrees Celcius. There is a statistic that most swimming pools only get used (even in South Africa) for a total of 18 days a year. I am not sure if that is still accurate today, but I know since I have been home I have swum only about 6 or 7 times in our pool. The other times were swimming. Workouts.
So my father, who was himself a great swimmer, taught us how to swim at an early age. He would step further and further from the side of the pool and we’d be encouraged to jump in and swim to him. He step further and further away and we’d have to stay afloat. We used armbands but not for very long. My mother, even until the day she died, could not swim. This was possibly because of a bad memory of something that had happened when she was a girl. She got pushed into the water and since the water was deep, a lot deeper than she was tall, all she could do was sink to the bottom, kick off the bottom, and this went on and on until she finally grabbed the side of the pool. That push into the pool, and the ensuing panick was enough to put her off swimming for life.
But we swam. Once we started we didn’t stop. And our coach, Penny Prideaux, guided our first few strokes in the very same pool where my mother almost drowned. The Arthur Nathan pool, in the shadow of Naval Hill (and the Franklin Game Reserve) and just a short skip and a jump from the nursery school we were attending. David Davidson. It’s somewhere else now, but the Arthur Nathan is still there, and almost the same as it was. The creepers covering the grand façade of the building, and the entrance, have been removed, which is a shame. I went there a few days ago to take photos and the echoes reached me after all these years – 30 year old memories (and I am only 33).
I loved that pool, but would have feared it as much as my mom if not for my dad’s instruction in our own pool. By the time we went swimming with the other kindergarten kids, we were already a lot more advanced, a lot stronger, and Penny soon suggested we take up swimming lessons. That we swim regularly. And so we did. First my brother, and then me.
posted by Nick at 3:35 AM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home