“Kullid Kultcha”

I said my next post would be something positive, and lo and behold…this is IT!! Enjoy 😉

I have been naafi (melancholic, off-sorts, upset, insert more negative emotions here) on-off over the past few months. No specific reason. Just some life-changing decisions we’ve had to make, my health issues, my personal issues.

I think I’ve just been a bitch and I need to stop it. Lighten up. Have some fun.

And I started thinking of what I am leaving behind….which alternately makes me sad, but also happy, and proud.

I have been reflecting on our mannerisms and “traditions” that makes us who we are. “Us” being the “Kullids” (Coloured is the PC-word) in South Africa. The little things that make up our “Kultcha” (that’s how we pronounce it), our identity, the way we talk, how we socialize, and township living.

One of the things I remember with a smile on my face is the “groente karretjie” (veggie carts) that used to do the rounds every Sunday – up and down the streets they would go, honking their horns to let us know what they have to sell that day. “Squashees” and “Wortels” (carrots) and “Dhania” (coriander) and “Mammie, ek het Spinach ok vir jou!!” (Miss, I have spinach just for you). These carts were simple & functional – no comfort or speed considered. These guys were life-savers every time. And once they got to know you, you would be guaranteed delivery of your “pakkie” (package) of onions, potatoes – you name it – first thing in the morning. Now that is service.

Groente Karretjie

This picture does not do our groente karretjies justice – it is way too posh! 🙂

Partying is in our nature. We live and breathe for it. We don’t need any occasion to “make it happen”. A simple “kuier” (visit from friends) could turn into a full-fledged “howza” or “gazi” (house party). All it takes is one house, some friends, a cell-phone (to call all the other buddies), some snacks, and lots of “dop” (booze).

I miss those days the most. Here (Germany) you need to make an appointment to see your friends, you cannot party without informing – and getting the OK- from all the neighbours and maybe even the police. Otherwise you may just get into some unwanted trouble. Too much PT if you ask me.

Howza!

Something else we “Kullids” love doing – sitting in front of our houses and watching everyone drive by. This is called “gesien word” (being seen). This is one way to get a “street bash” started (no need to translate I’m sure). All we need are – grass (or something to sit on – a car will do) and music. We don’t even really need a house. Any strip of grass will do, or any available space where we can “Park” (literally park our cars) and hang out. Oh, did I mention the booze? 😉

Since there are only a few streets where all the “hip-and-happening” people will be cruising on (really, they cruise like in the movies) you are guaranteed to have a good party going within minutes – if you are hip-and-happening, they will stop to say hi…and there you go – party started!!

And don’t forget to dress to the nines. Can’t be seen in public wearing last years’ rags at all. Totally uncool. But of course, you also have to be prepared because…

….From there, we move on to a Disco (also known as a Night Club). For us it was Club Bel Air, or Sewende Laan, or Times4 (not sure if this still exists). Since we chose places which were close-by, we didn’t have to drive far. We could walk. And if you didn’t have a lift, well, there were plenty who would give you one. Our Disco’s catered for our musical needs and style, i.e. no rave or techno. Only house beats, R&B, Hip Hop. Real music 😉

And of course, on Monday, no one would be in the office. Everyone would be sick. “Ek voel nie lekker nie” (I don’t feel well) was the excuse for Monday morning absences. Naturally, after a while the bosses became aware of what exactly that meant (Hang-overs galore) – which meant the fella’s needed to be more careful with the Sunday night parties.

On a long-weekend, we would go to the club for a “16Hour” – we call it that since the disco would end only when the sun came up. For us this was a big deal. If you were not in the “16Hour” you were totally un-cool. Everyone was there, everyone was seen. And your “kit” (what you wore), who you danced with, how you danced, who you hooked up with would be the topic of conversation for the next weeks to come.

And that’s just some things that makes the Coloureds so….ja, colourful. The speech, the mannerisms, the music, the openness, their love of booze and parties.

Boy, I miss it.

Quirky Age

It seems like all I am doing is posting when I am frustrated. This will change. With my next post I promise 😉

I’ve told you before that I am going though the Crises (midlife and menopause). I find that I experience so many different emotions – sometimes in the span of a few seconds – leaving me feeling dizzy and not quite as “in control” as I like to be.

One minute I love my husband to the moon and back, and the next I just want to kick him to the moon and back. He is a wonderful, caring man, has a heart of gold. And he puts up with all my shit. What more can I ask for?

Give me strength!

But I am. I want the guy that I married 19 years ago, back.

I have a question to everyone who have been married for 20 years or longer….How on earth do you do it?

OK, I lied. I have MANY questions.

How do you stay married for 20 years and more, and not feel like you sometimes could happily strangle the guy? How do you keep the magic? Is the guy you married still the same, or has he changed much more than you anticipated?

How do you stay in love with someone that long? How do you not fall “out” of love? What does it take to stay physically attracted to each other? Just…HOW????

Don’t tell me about love and loyalty, and date-nights and what-not. Because once date night is over, you come home with the same guy, with the same shitty habits. I want something I can work with, not fairy tales.

And before you start throwing daggers – I know we all go through changes, our bodies change, we grow hair in inappropriate places. Everything that was perky and pretty is now…less perky and pretty (matured we call it ;-))

And we get used to all those changes, we become comfortable with it. But he’s changed way beyond what I can cope with right now.

His mission

He eats like every meal might be his last. When he eats, it’s such a racket, I swear you can hear him from a mile away. And the food is all over his face. I mean really?! Using a knife and fork is a challenge – there’s more food around the plate than in the plate.

He is constantly in the kitchen – eating sweets, or cookies or something. It seems like he is scared he will die if his mouth is not moving.

And his tongue lolls. Like a dog’s. I swear, I am not making this up.

When we watch movies, his mouth moves as if he’s repeating the actor’s lines.

Even his laugh has changed. He laughs like a deranged person. We are too scared to go to the movies because you can hear him above all else.

The kids are embarrassed by him.

I cannot say when exactly all this started, but I noticed.

It is driving me C R A Z Y.

And because of this he has become so un-sexy, that I can’t get it up anymore. I’m totally off it. I am running out of excuses already! Granted, there might be other reasons for this (such as my M&M’s) but I dunno….surely I should be happy for any sex I get at this age, seeing that I might not be able to get it up without some help in the near future, right?

Is all of this attributable to the M&M’s – my crises? Is this all just me being a shitty person? I am really hating myself for thinking all of this and for being such a mean person.

So what now, I ask you?? Shall I tell him? I don’t want to hurt his feelings. He already thinks I am a shrew, so can you imagine what he will call me after this? Anyway, the boys have already – on numerous occasions – told him about this, but he ignores it.

Is this normal? Has your guy also changed like this?

Am I just full of shit???

H E L P

D

I often get so fixated on what’s going wrong in my life – what I don’t like and what I don’t want, what’s missing in my life. This is a great reminder that it’s not always just about me…and that I sometimes really need to stop and “smell the roses”.

Ideas for success

 “I will be faithful with the talent, time, and opportunity God has given me.

 I realize that when I make the most of what I have, God will multiply it and give me more.” ~Victoria Osteen

I will fill my thoughts with things I love and like, because that not only makes me stronger, more loveable it also makes me happier. Thinking about things I don’t love (worry, anger, lack of forgiveness, fear) only make me weaker and bring more bad things into my life.

I will live my life doing the very best I can today, because I know my thoughts and attitudes shape my actions and my actions determine my destiny.

I will spend time helping people around me, my friends, co-workers, loved ones, because I know a person always reaps what they sow, if they reap good things, they will sow good things.

I will do my…

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Rather the Devil You Know?

I have just come from my umpteenth blood test.

I am filled with so many emotions right now…anger, disappointment, futility….but the most overwhelming is…I am just plain fucking pissed off. On a scale of 1 – 10, I am at 12. That’s how angry I am

I might have told you that something was wrong with me in this post. And that was weeks ago.  At that point I was already humungously angry since no one was able to tell me what the hell’s the cause of my anemia. I have seen different doctors –  internists, gastroenterologists, gynaecologist – just about every single ~ist you can think of. All that’s missing is a fucking psychologist – because…maybe it’s all in my head, hey?

And through it all I keep telling myself “It will be better as soon as I know“….As soon as I know what? That it’s incurable? That it’s all in my head? That I’ve basically lost 3 months of my life AGAIN???? That I can deal with it AS SOON AS I KNOW?

I dunno anymore. I think this is just the start. Once they find out it won’t stop there. Unless I just have a few screws loose of course. Then the real fun starts 😉

At the moment I honestly don’t care about anyone but myself. I can’t deal with work, I can’t deal with my kids’ issues, I can’t deal with hubby’s issues. I just can’t deal. Because it is all about me. If I am not well, no one will be well. And I will continue alternately moping, then swearing then dancing around like a madwoman. So I have to focus on sorting me out first. Is that wrong?

So my question – is it really better if you know…whether your husband/wife is cheating on you, whether your mother has an incurable disease, whether you have an incurable disease…

Do you think you can fight the devil as long as he has a face? Can we really deal with “it” once we know what and who it is we have to fight with/against? Will knowing make it any more bearable or “dealable”????

I am hanging on….but by a thread. This needs to come to an end.

M&M’s

Sorry, not the ones you know covered in candy, but as in “Menopause & Midlife (crises)”

When I looked at my last post (no, I didn’t cringe) I see it for what it was. A woman who had completely lost her marbles. Someone whose mind had been taken over by aliens. For a split second I almost believed that. A girl can try, can’t she?

Today, I felt more lucid. Calm, controlled. And angry. Myself. Watch out world!!!

But with the lucidity came the questions – why did/do I feel like that? When did I first notice the crazy (ok, ignore that part). Is it normal to get so crazy (PMS excluded)? And I started thinking about a whole lot of things, bits and bobs of experiences shared by my cuzzins came back to me…slowly, I admit, but I can’t claim always being fast on the draw…

It hit me square in the middle of my frazzled brain – this is not just me, being my normal crazy – there’s a whole lot more going on. And the M&M’s might just be the start (and finale) of it all. This is my story and I am sticking to it…

So I took some time out to read up on some M&M’s. I only read a few articles (never mind that I spent almost half a day on this) which were enough to equip me with dazzling clarity – that I am truly having the M&M’s. Did I mention I am sticking to this story like superglue?

It would appear that I am not fortunate enough to experience the M&M’s in phases (like other normal women I suppose) and in the sequence I would have preferred (i.e. Serie, not Parallel ….remember: organised and controlled??). No, it seems I am lucky enough to get the double whammy in one fell swoop. FCUK.

I’m not sure if I should laugh or cry. I mean, is it too much to ask that a girl only gets hit by one wave at one time?

….and think about it for a second – if you could choose, what would you prefer to have first – Menopause or The Crises? To be honest, my choice would be Menopause first – I could make up for all the crap I went through afterwards by completely immersing myself in The Crises (did you notice I dubbed it “The Crises” now? Damn I’m good…). After the emotional turmoil of Menopause, anyone would be dying for The Crises – it’s almost like an affirmation of life and womanhood, right? That you are ok, and sane and still attractive (hopefully). No jokes. I actually believe this shit.

Me-No (getit????) is like one of those farts – no one hears it, no one sees it, no one smells it. But boy, do you know you let rip. Even at home. They see no outward change, no stray hairs, don’t hear you having complete conversations with yourself. Nor do they wonder what you are really doing in the bathroom for hours on end (with the make-up mirror in hand no less). It’s only the occasional screech-fest which alerts the boys something may be awry. Poor hubs. I do rather feel sorry for him. He deserves better, but there’s no way in hell I’m telling him that!!

This is what I really look like

The Crises is everything but. Anyone with 20/20 vision can spot it a mile away. Probably because you act and dress completely opposite to your normal self. What gives it away….the sudden fixation on
• hooker heels (check),
• the daring outfits (sigh…check)
• (more) make-up (chee-eeck)
• flirting (furtively) inappropriately with young(er) men (CHECK),
• depression (CHECK)
• getting a tattoo (can’t decide which one and where to put it…)
• (insane) interest in obtaining THE physique (triple check).
• generally being shameless whenever you find the chance (CHEEECKKKKK!!).

Sound familiar? If it doesn’t you are probably in denial. Take the first step – admit it, then embrace it….

There are people who really know about this stuff, who can tell you a whole lot more than I can about the true face of the M&M’s. I was bored to tears by some of it, and I will not repeat, but will be kind enough to leave you to read one yourself. You can thank me later. Warning: explicit sex and nudity cannot be expected here

What I found interesting from some articles were – that many women publish memoirs of their lives – post M&M’s of course. Writing about how tortured they were and how they survived the horrors, to finally transcend into lucidity and inner peace. Seriously?! I am more interested in milking The Crises for all it’s worth, thank you very much.…

What does piss me off though – men get to use this excuse longer than we do…The Crises lasts about 3–10 years with men and 2–5 years with women…..That’s just wrong – why do men get to have this much (guilt-free?) fun????? And did you know, The Crises itself could last way into your 60’s?? (don’t quote me on that, Wikipedia is not that trustworthy) I have to admit, that’s way too much excitement, even for me

In any case (now to the crux of the matter) – I have decided …. seeing that I can only get away with this excuse for max 5 years, I ‘d better go for it with all I’ve got. To hell with what’s written and with all the judgment. Enough of the Jammer Sannie shit. I will embrace this new chapter in my life. And irritate the crap out of you with all my dizzy interpretations.

So bring on the bling, and the short skirts, and the leather pants (ok, maybe I’ll pass on that) and the inappropriate flirting with the young(er) men. This is me now, and I think I might just like it.

I will no longer look at other women in their 40’s and think they are pathetic, with their big do’s, toy boys and tight skirts. I will think “Yeah, mama, you go get ‘em girl, it’s your turn”

…in the meantime, I can dream….sigh

Channing “GI Joe” Tatum

I may feel differently next week, but honey (yes you, reading this post), I love the idea that I can use M&M’s as an excuse. And I am delirious it’s not just the guys who are privileged to use The Crises either. Yay for (a bit of) gender equality!!!

Until the next dizzying time

D