dawn’s pink fingers
caress the town awake
softening the darkness
bringing forth the light
he walks alone
fighting recollections
of grim gun-metal days
running through
crimson-spattered streets
dodging snipers
and falling shells
the war is over
but remembered sounds
and bitter memories
remain locked inside
his broken heart.
Image credit: Maksym Harbar @Unsplash
Written in response to Sadje‘s What do You See #101 photo prompt.
Today is Heritage Day, a public holiday in South Africa, our multi-racial, multi-cultural and muli-coloured nation. On this day, South Africans are encouraged to celebrate their culture and the diversity of their beliefs and traditions, in the wider context of a nation that belongs to all its people. It’s a day that has its origins in the post-1994 flush of the Rainbow Nation that sought to create unity in diversity.
Today it means different things to different South Africans, from dressing in traditional finery to firing up a braai (aka barbeque). Its timing coincides with the start of spring and now that some of the covid-related restrictions have been lifted, and it begins a long weekend, it’s a real feel-good holiday, even if you just stay at home.
It is also known as a National Braai Day in commemoration of the culinary tradition of informal backyard barbecues, known as braais. In September 2007, Archbishop Desmond Tutu celebrated his appointment as patron of South Africa’s Braai Day, affirming it to be a unifying force in a divided country by donning an apron and enthusiastically eating a boerewors roll. (Boerewors is a sausage, popular across Southern Africa made from coarsely minced beef and spices). Here’s the great man busy with the braai.
Desmond Tutu at the braai
Many elements and influences characterise my adopted country and when I decided to write a novel set in South Africa, almost 10 years after I came here, I began by auditioning some new characters. I placed them in different settings and through them, tested out some different themes.
In the piece below, which I originally posted in 2019, the characters represent (some of) the different groups in our diverse country. The novel I was planning eventually became ‘Song of the Sea Goddess’. If you’ve read the book, or even followed the various excerpts I’ve posted this year, maybe you can guess who the three men eventually became.
~~~~~~
Parched Earth
‘You must call the San Man,’ she whispers. ‘Only he can bring the rain bull.’
‘But how?’
‘You must go to the cave which watches over the veld. Go at dusk, light a fire.’ She reaches into the pouch she has beside her and holds out a handful of grey-green herbs. ‘Burn a little of this, and then watch and wait.’
He raises his eyebrows at his two companions.
The old woman holds up a finger. ‘He may not come the first night,’ she shakes her head slowly. ‘He may not come at all.’ She stares intently at each of them. ‘Now go.’
The three men depart.
‘I guess it’s worth a try,’ says the first. He is a tall, robust white man, dressed in shorts and sandals; the hint of an overseas accent.
‘Another winter with no rain; we must do something,’ agrees the second, a brown-skinned man, whose features echo the ancient people that once inhabited this corner of Africa.
The third man, by far the youngest of the three is silent. He too is brown-skinned, a son of the Rainbow Nation, where a multitude of peoples have planted their seeds.
Later, the three trudge silently up to the koppie where the ancient cave paintings are. The air is hot and parched like the veld. The sky turns liquid orange as the sun is swallowed up by the smudge-blue mountains. They light the fire and sprinkle herbs onto the flames. The three settle down to watch and wait.
~~~~~
Now, as the sun sets, let’s gather round the fire and enjoy some of the sights and sounds of ‘National Braai Day’.
Bethany stared at the green-clad brother and sister who had turned away and retreated a few steps to confer in private, she strained her ears but her grasp of their conversation was limited to what she took to be oaths and exclamations; whatever could be the matter?
She surveyed her surroundings, as she retrieved the memory of her previous encounter with an ‘other world’; by whatever method she had been transported to this unfamiliar place, it was important to commit the exact location of entry to memory in order to find the way back.
Their discussion over, the green-clad man marched back to Bethany and stared up at her, ‘Greta and I have decided, we have to hand you over to the Owl-King, we don’t want to, but…’ he paused and took a breath, screwing up his eyes, ‘it’s the Rules.’
Greta hurried over to join them; taking her brother’s arm, she whispered, ‘Hans, there’s no need to frighten her,’ she stared around with anxious eyes. ‘Anyway, we haven’t decided; we’ll go back to the house and then we’ll decide.’
Although Bethany still had no idea what was going on, she was certain that this Owl-King was someone best avoided.
Written in response to two challenges:
– Di of Pensitivity101‘s Wednesday’s Three Things Challenge – PRIVATE, LIMIT, RETRIEVE
– Denise Farley of GirlieOnTheEdge‘s Sunday’s Six Sentence Story Word Prompt – METHOD
Bryony, Bethany and Mr Eyre first appeared in my historical fantasy fiction novel, Following the Green Rabbit. They’ve been begging to go on another adventure and it looks like they’ve got their wish!
She still remembers those days
ochre rays filtering
through gaunt autumn trees
casting patterns on the path
they trod together.
Days of promise, days of hope
leaves drifting downwards
crunching underfoot
creating crimson carpets
for them to follow.
And as long years drifted by
like autumn leaves falling
although far apart
treading different paths
they walk together.
Image credit: James Wheeler @Unsplash
Written in response to Sadje‘s What do You See #100 photo prompt.
The image shows sunlight beams are falling on a mother and daughter walking in the forest, holding hands
Let me introduce you to these two fine gentlemen: on your right is my husband, Cliff (he had hair then!) and on the left is Andreas, the man who made the best chips we’d ever tasted! It’s because of him that the fictional little town in my novel, Song of the Sea Goddess, has a café owned by a Greek, who makes the ‘best chips on the whole of the west coast’.
Back in the late 1980s and 1990s, we spent almost every holiday island hopping around Greece. I was counting them up, and we’ve visited twenty islands over the years (several more than once) and adding all those visits up, we spent at more than a year altogether in that beautiful country. We’d go at the start and end of the holiday season, two weeks in both May and September, taking any cheap flight we could find. Then, armed with a laden rucksack, a few guide books and book of ferry timetables, off we’d go.
We became increasing adventurous over the years and would try to seek out the less well-known islands and the more off-the-beaten track locations. We avoided the popular places plagued by package tourists, seeking a more authentic Greece (and escaping the Brits on holiday). I’d do my research in the local library, poring over Greek guide books on a Saturday morning after the unavoidable weekend shopping. One year, a photograph of some unusually decorated buildings caught my eye. My reaction? We have to go there!
And so we did! Here are a couple of photos from our visit. You can just make out the shaded roof garden at the top of the picture on the left. ‘Captured’ by Dmitri off the afternoon bus from the port of Chios, he offered us his rooftop room for rent. Accessed by a rather precarious metal stairway, it had all we needed, including a wonderful view.
On the right is an example of the xysta, the intricate wall decorations that first caught my eye. These adorn many of Pyrgi’s houses and are unique to this medieval village. These patterns aren’t painted, they are scratched into the surface plaster. They are everywhere!
The centre of the village is dominated by a large square, filled with chairs and tables belonging to a handful of tiny bars and restaurants which ring the square itself. In the evening, we found the square was filled with people eating, drinking and chatting while their children played on the periphery. It was here we came across Andreas, who owned the tiniest of restaurants in one corner of the square. His menu was simple, but fresh and delicious – and he made these wonderful chips, served with a generous dollop of tzatziki (thick Greek yoghurt mixed with salted and drained cucumber, garlic, mint and olive oil). Over several evening visits we came to know a little bit about his past, particularly about his time in the merchant navy, an occupation he shared with Cliff’s younger brother.
Spool on to November 2019, when I started writing Song of the Sea Goddess and although I’d not thought about him for years, Andreas suddenly stepped out from the doorway of a building by the harbour in my fictional little town on the west coast of South Africa. He seemed to be very at home and he hadn’t aged a bit!
You can take a little tour of Pyrgi on this clip I found on You Tube:
I hope you enjoyed that. Now, let’s see what my version of Andreas is up to in his little harbourside café.
Excerpt from Song of the Sea Goddess
Later that morning when Porcupine returns to the harbour, Andreas is picking up the battered tin bowl that has been licked clean by the scruffy little dog, which he’s taken to feeding with scraps from his kitchen. He raises a hand in greeting to Sam and Jannie.
‘There’s coffee still in the pot,’ shouts Andreas.
‘Should we tell him about the gold?’ Sam asks as they across the yard.
‘Could be he knows something about treasure like that. He was at sea far longer than I was and he sailed in different waters,’ says Jannie. ‘But I’m not so sure. You know he gossips like no tomorrow.’
Sam shrugs. ‘We don’t have to tell him the whole story.’
‘You mean say it’s something we just heard…’
‘…from a friend of a friend.’
The two men grin at each other.
The two conspirators enter through the back door of Andreas’s little café. Moments later they’re sitting at the counter while Andreas fills two tiny cups with thick, sweet Greek coffee and sets them down on the counter in front them.
‘So what’s new?’ asks the café owner as he resumes his slicing and chopping in preparation for lunchtime. Andreas serves up a simple menu from his native Greece: fried fish, kebabs, chips and salad. He makes the best chips on the whole of the west coast and if you can’t afford meat or fish, you can always dip your chips in his thick, garlicky tzatziki. It is this that he’s busy making.
Andreas frowns as Sam explains about the friend of a friend and the strange pot of gold coins which no-one can touch with their bare hands. The wiry old Greek listens until Sam has finished, then throws his head back and laughs.
‘Well, you must know what that is,’ he exclaims.
‘What d’you mean?’ Jannie asks. ‘I sailed around the South China seas and in the cold waters of the far north, but I’ve never heard of such a thing.’
‘Really? And you’ve never heard of the ‘treasure that can’t be touched’?’
Jannie shakes his head.
‘They say it’s the old gold of Atlantis.’
‘Atlantis?’
‘Yes, you know, the lost city…’
Jannie shakes his head. ‘That’s just a legend. It doesn’t exist.’
Andreas chuckles. ‘Well, gold coins that burn your fingers don’t exist either.” He shakes his head. ‘Come on guys, I’m having a joke with you.’ He pours them a second cup of coffee. Then he notices the coin shaped scar on Sam’s right hand. He points to the scar and raises his bushy grey eyebrows. ‘Don’t tell me. That’s how you got that scar?’ Andreas’s eyes widen. ‘That’s what you were off-loading earlier, is it?’
‘What do you mean?’ asks Jannie. He cocks his head sideways feigning innocence.
‘Well,’ Andreas leans forward on the counter, his chin resting on his hand, ‘when Porcupine first entered the harbour this morning, she was sitting very low in the water. I thought Sam here had made it big. A net full of snoek maybe. But after he tied up the boat, rather than landing his catch, he called you over, Jannie. Then a few minutes later, deep in conversation and looking a little shifty by the way, you were both on the boat and heading out of the harbour.’
Andreas pauses, looking from one friend to the other. He grins. ‘I figured it wasn’t an illegal haul of perlemoen, since that wouldn’t have weighed so heavy. Nor crayfish.’ He wags his finger slowly from side to side. ‘And in any case, neither of you would do such a thing, would you?’
Sam and Jannie remain silent for a moment.
‘Okay then, Sam,’ Andreas says. ‘Where did you find this treasure you can’t touch? And what have you done with it?’
Sam and Jannie exchange glances.
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‘Perhaps this landed in the bush when Bethany fell?’ suggested Mr Eyre, holding out the object which he’d just lifted from the buddleia bush.
Bryony shook her head, ‘I don’t remember Bethany having a beautiful bracelet like that, in any case, it’s not the sort of thing people wear unless they’re going somewhere special,’ she took the bracelet from him and held it up to the light, gently unfastening the catch.
The bracelet fell open into two half-moon sections, an inscription ran around the glossy inner rim, written in a language which Bryony didn’t recognise; Mr Eyre peered over her shoulder, trying to decipher the strange script; then it dawned on him: ‘it’s mirror writing, Bryony, look!’
Mr Eyre took out his pocket-watch and opened it, tilting the inside of the shiny silver casing so they could read the inscription: to faraway lands, travel you may, now seek and you will find; Bryony looked up at her tutor, eyebrows raised, ‘What do think, Mr Eyre?’
The bracelet began to vibrate and Bryony began to shake with it; Mr Eyre held onto on her shoulders to steady her.
A moment later they vanished, leaving the buddleia bush swaying silently behind them.
Written in response to two challenges:
– Di of Pensitivity101‘s Wednesday’s Three Things Challenge – GLOSS, PEOPLE, REMEMBER
– Denise Farley of GirlieOnTheEdge‘s Sunday’s Six Sentence Story Word Prompt – ISLAND
Bryony, Bethany and Mr Eyre first appeared in my historical fantasy fiction novel, Following the Green Rabbit. They’ve been begging to go on another adventure and it looks like they’ve got their wish!
More stories here and we’d love you to join us… just follow the link!
At day’s end when golden rays slide silently into shadow
running through the shorter colours of the rainbow
while sun’s bright disk is swallowed by dark waves
I wonder, what did I achieve today?
Unlike dawn with her sacred dazzling promise
of a brand new day and a fresh clean start
another tiny chapter of life has closed
one more page has turned, waves
washing over sand, erasing.
I sit on the sun-worn steps
gazing out at the ocean
her timeless waves
her heart beating
and wonder
what might
tomorrow
bring?
Image credit: Kenrick Mills @Unsplash
Written in response to Sadje‘s What do You See #99 photo prompt.
The image shows a view of the setting sun over a body of water. In the foreground, you can see wooden steps leading into the water. Grey clouds are drifting in the sky.
Welcome back to our literary tour through the pages on my novels and, in case you didn’t realise straight away, we’re back in Liverpool, so we must be dropping in on the characters of You’ll Never Walk Alone. Look up, the words are written above these wrought-iron gates, right by where we’re standing!
These are the famous Shankly gates, erected in tribute to Bill Shankly, the manager who brought huge success to the team in the early 1970s. It was during his reign that the club adopted its famous anthem, ‘You’ll Never Walk Alone’. Hearing the fans sing the song at the start of a match or after a hard-earned victory, sends a shiver down the spine. It is that feeling of togetherness and belonging which really what inspired the title of my novel, as my ‘players’ stand together and support each other throughout the narrative. In fact, the book isn’t about football or Liverpool FC at all – just a few passing references and one character’s obsession.
Bill Shankly is famous for the quote: “Some people think football is a matter of life and death. I can assure them it is much more serious than that.” So it is for some in the city but not all, especially Gina, although Gary, her boyfriend is the die-hard football fan.. Here’s his view of the ‘beautiful game’.
Gina rolled her eyes at Gary. Well, what exotic location are we going to tonight?”
“Go for a couple of pints, chippy and back in time for ‘Match of the Day. My ideal night!” Gary turned to Tony Wong. “Here, Tone, have one of your crackers.” Gary proffered the bowl to its owner.
Tony Wong giggled and took the bowl. “Two left, which will you take, Miss Gina?” he said, holding the bowl out to her.
“Mmm, which one predicts I’m going to do something other than watch football on the telly tonight?” She pointed to each of the cookies in turn. “Eeny, meeny, miny, mo.” She picked out one of the cookies and chewed it open. “‘Your passions sweep you away!’ I think that should’ve been Lu’s.”
“Hey, I’m passionate about footy – you should be too.” Gary broke into song: “We’re on the way to Wembley, on the way to Wembley…”
Liverpool – South Africa Connection
Back in 2005, we were entertaining a little group of teachers from South Africa who were on an exchange visit to my husband’s school. As part of their visit we took an organised tour around the LFC ground. Our guide was explaining the importance of the Kop, the stand behind one of the goals occupied by the ‘Kopites’ – the home team supporters. At the time, I didn’t know what the Kop was named for. However, one of our party did. Carmen held up her hand and pre-empted him. You can’t keep a good teacher down!
Spion Kop (Spioenkop) literally means ‘Spy hill’. During the Second Anglo-Boer War, the town of Ladysmith, which was being held by the British, had been besieged by the Boers for a couple of months. The Spioenkop, which was occupied by the Boers, offered a view from the summit for hundreds of miles all around, so the British considered it important to attack and hold it. The British prevailed in the end, but they had lost 340 soldiers before they ended the four month long siege. The new Anfield stand, opened in 1906, was named the Kop as a tribute to the many local men who died during that battle.
It was that exchange visit and the friends that we made, that sowed the seeds that would lead to us moving to South Africa 5 years later.
The Other Team in Town
Before we get swept away by an outpouring of love for Liverpool FC, I must mention the other local soccer team, Everton Football Club, whose ground is only a mile away from where we’re standing. It’s another fine football club, with a long history which goes back even further than LFC’s. Obviously, there is strong rivalry between the two clubs, although it is genial for the most part. In the interests of balance I did introduce a Everton-supporting character: Bob’s Nan. It’s pretty clear where her loyalties lie, even if we never actually meet her.
It’s in the scene below that we first meet her little monkey, Fingers.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Excerpt from You’ll Never Walk Alone
Gary and his mate, Bob, had evidently come into the sitting room as the sound of the pre-match build-up on the TV started blaring out from the other side of her door. Liverpool were playing away to some team or other deemed by the boys to be too far away to attend midweek. It was a regular ritual: Bob would always come round when Liverpool were playing away because followers of Liverpool FC weren’t tolerated at his Nan’s where he lived, his Nan being an ardent armchair Everton fan. On these occasions Lucy and Gina would usually go to the local wine bar or spend the evening downstairs with Cynthia. Tonight they were planning a quiet drink at the nearby Alicia Hotel as Cynthia was out with Connor at some ‘poetry slam’, whatever that was.
She heard the door to the flat open. Even above the sound of the TV Lucy couldn’t mistake the characteristic squeal of the hinges.
“All right, Gina!” Lucy heard Bob’s voice, loud and cheery as ever.
“G, luv!” (Gary) “We got any more crisps?”
There was a pause. Lucy visualised Gina’s expression.
“Fingers ate them.” (Gary again).
Just then Lucy heard something crash to the floor
“What the..?” Gina’s voice rose an octave.
Lucy opened her bedroom door to see Bob plucking a small monkey dressed in a grubby red waistcoat from the coffee table. The large metal bowl which they habitually used for snacks was upturned on the floor in front of the TV surrounded by a halo of crisp fragments.
The creature in Bob’s arms struggled and shrieked in alarm. “Shush lad, easy now.” He turned to Gina, “you’re scaring him.” He stroked the monkey’s head, who’d calmed down considerably in the safety of Bob’s grasp.
“Meet Fingers, girls!” Bob looked from Gina to Lucy and back to Gina. “Sorry about that. Bad manners. Gets excited over food, like.”
“You have a monkey?” Asked Gina, eyebrows raised.
“He’s me Nan’s. She found him down Paddy’s market. She was off to the bingo, like. Couldn’t take him, cos he’s been banned.”
“I wonder why,” said Gina, picking up the bowl.
“It’s a long story, like.” Bob looked down at Fingers and chuckled.
Lucy leant over the back of the couch and stretched a hand out towards the monkey. “Oh, but he’s sweet.”
“Sort of.” Bob grinned at her.
Fingers wriggled a paw from beneath Bob’s grasp and reached towards Lucy’s outstretched hand. He gently grasped her finger in his little paw, looking up at her while chattering softly.
“Looks like you’ve made a friend.” Bob winked at Lucy.
“Can I hold him?” Lucy stretched over to take Fingers from him.
“Okay, but be careful. He bites.”
“I’m sure he won’t bite me.” She took Fingers who snuggled in her arms, his delicate little paws playing with her long hair.
“Why’s he called Fingers?” Gina asked.
“Me Nan named him. I wanted to call him Robin.”
“Why Robin?”
Suddenly Fingers wriggled out of Lucy’s arms, dropped onto the couch and started rummaging between the cushions, chattering away to himself. He had almost disappeared when he popped back out again. With a loud whoop he skittered under the coffee table and disappeared behind the TV. Bob frowned. Moving surprisingly quickly for his sizeable build, he rushed to the TV. Pulling it aside on its casters he grabbed Fingers by the waistcoat and hauled him out. Wrapped around his neck was Lucy’s necklace.
“Because he’s a robbin’ bastard!”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
You’ll Never Walk Alone is available from Amazon in paperback and ebook & Kindle Unlimited
USA ~ UK ~ CAN ~ AUS ~ IND ~ the rest of the world
Image credits: playupliverpool.com, lfhistory.net, Mike Pennington
Bethany rubbed her ankle, although the soft moss beneath her had cushioned her fall, she’d still landed awkwardly; she stared wide-eyed at her surroundings: a swathe of swaying bluebells within a woodland glade, each painted with glassy dew; one thing was certain, she was no longer in the London garden where she and her sister, Bryony had been looking for the little folk.
Hearing voices, Bethany looked around to see two small figures, clad entirely in green, approaching – ‘look, brother,’ one said, ‘the golden-haired child, after all this time’ – the other replied, so quietly that Bethany could barely hear him, ‘hush, sister, wait until we’re sure what we’re dealing with.’
Bethany slowly rose to her feet, thankful that her injured ankle was stable, and took a few steps towards them, ‘I think I’m lost, can you help me please?’
The green-clad man glanced up at her and murmured, ‘if she’s come from Other World, we must tell the Owl-King.’
‘Other World? Owl-King? I don’t understand,’ Bethany held up her hands in confusion; she frowned, seeing them staring at them, ‘what’s wrong?’
‘She can’t be, brother,’ the green-clad woman’s face fell, ‘she isn’t wearing the travelling bracelet we left for her.’
Written in response to two challenges:
– Di of Pensitivity101‘s Wednesday’s Three Things Challenge – GLASS, CUSHION, TABLE
– Denise Farley of GirlieOnTheEdge‘s Sunday’s Six Sentence Story Word Prompt – DEAL
Bryony, Bethany and Mr Eyre first appeared in my historical fantasy fiction novel, Following the Green Rabbit. They’ve been begging to go on another adventure and it looks like they’ve got their wish!
It was love
at first sight
blood rushed
to my head
I sidled up
she looked away
modest, not brazen
I ’specially
liked that
about her.
I teased her
just a little
strutting
so street-wise
then cooing
sweet nothings
offering
tiny titbits
’til one day
she accepted.
Now and
forever
she is
the love
of my life.*
Image credit: Jonah Pettrich @Unsplash
Written in response to Sadje‘s What do You See #98 photo prompt.
The image shows a pair of lovebirds sitting together and cuddling with each other.
*Love Birds are native to Africa and they do mate for life!
luna's on line 