Backgammon Days.

Hello,
This is quite a long one. We find it endlessly amusing to describe ourselves and things that happen to us. After reading out part of this post to some people here and noticing they weren’t finding it nearly as hilarious as we were I thought it worthwhile to warn you. This post is full of things we think are hilarious. The ‘we’ here may not be inclusive, may in fact be exclusive of everyone but Peter, Krista and Gillian.

We’ve been driving a lot lately. Other side of the road, other side of the car. Stick shift with the left hand, wheel with the right, somehow can’t figure out what to do with the diet coke? (am addicted again Mom). The switch has been mostly okay, just the inevitable awkward fumble when I try to pass something to Krista with my right hand, finding my left arm blocking my path. The only distressing thing seems to be the difficulty of translating your spatial awareness; both Pete and I drive almost in the ditch. Not sure why – seems like the middle-of-the-road comes too close so we edge away, blissfully ignorant of the yellow line disappearing its speedy way beneath the passenger wheels. Krista bears with this often-alarming placement with equanimity. Unfortunately for Driving Peter, Front-Seat-Left Gillian can’t stop from squealing at the trees, holes, ledges, pedestrians, mango-venders we shave by. Peter Passenger points out the near misses as well but I think he’s mostly just getting back at me for my skittishness. Why can’t we tell how close we are to the roadside? What happens to our perception?

Today driving. Sand storm, wind storm, rain storm. Wind ripping my skirt completely up just as a man comes to the side of the car to ask for food. I scream, he vanishes to the other side, I dive into the car telling myself ‘it’s okay, bathing-suit bottoms…” When I came back to myself he’d gone over to Peter, figured his bottoms were more safely anchored.

Love Gillian

Here’s Peter!

So, here we are driving along the Garden Route and Wine Route. We’ve just left the Wilderness (yes, there’s a town called “wilderness” there are many trees), and now we are heading to Somerset West near the very southern tip of Africa for the last phase of our African Adventure. We don’t quite know what we’re doing starting tomorrow, but God’s worked out a place for us to stay, (or Marianne’s mom has worked out a place for us to stay – it’s hard to tell the difference sometimes.) and God has also found some stuff for us to do, but as I mentioned before, we don’t know what it is yet. I wrote my contact Andy – a missionary from the UK – to say we were coming and willing to help with whatever projects he has on the go, and he just wrote back saying, “call me when you get here, I’ve got a few things lined up for you guys.” It’s a nice feeling to be going somewhere where you have something to do to help someone, but you don’t know what it is. It’s like a volunteer lottery. Maybe I’ll win Helping Black People Dig Ditches, or get stuck with the consolation prize – Watching skilled workers and occasionally hotshoting a suppy from the hardware store back to them. Either way, I’m looking forward to finding out what we’ll be doing, who we’ll be working with, what time we get to start (I always hope for 7am or earlier, but I know the girls differ with me on this)… We’re staying with Marianne’s mom and sister; Marijke, and Tessa – both of them friends from as far back as I can remember in rural north-central Alberta. Who knows what they’re doing in Africa, something about the winters.. As the end of our trip is now in site I’m enjoying myself, looking forward to coming home, getting married. We’re playing Backgammon all the time now. They gave us a new rental car since the spare tire didn’t fit in the old one. We also got an upgrade, and our new car has locks that work and speakers that make it so you can hear the words on my sisters mix CDs. Life is good. We came down the scenic route from Pietermaritzburg over the weekend, and it’s been very nice. We also went through the mountain kingdom of Lesotho and I bought a blanket – it’s for wearing!*
I guess I should rewind a bit to the end of our last project – We finished off the house we were building for Gogo Regina and her orphans, it looks very nice. We brought over some ice cream and had a small party with them. It was very nice. Perhaps the most directly and significantly I’ve ever been able to help someone. Uncle Stanley came to the party and didn’t’ mention money, so that was a plus too. We gave the family a lovely parting gift, but I’ll let one of the girls tell you about that. The main point is that God got the job done, and we were able to help. Very nice.
I don’t know if I have anything else to say right now. Perhaps I could use these last few lines to implore everyone reading this to start playing Backgammon. Immediately. Look it up on Google right now, learn the rules and buy a board and start to play with each other. It’s perfect for coffee shops.
Peter out

Gil bought a new skirt. About it she says, “I don’t know what’s with that thing, it’s like a parachute.” Also, Gil’s obsessed with cutting up all of her clothes. It started in Zambia, with the Mustard Seed shirt. It just needed a little trimming, that’s all. Then she hated it and almost threw it out at one point. Don’t worry; it’s back on her good side now. Then she bought a skirt, and cut the bottom off, apparently it wasn’t helping the parachute situation. She also bought some sandals, and they have become increasingly uncomfortable, so she wants to cut one of the straps off, and part of the sole. Oh, and there’s another shirt that needs the sleeves cut off. It’s not as if we have obscene amounts of clothes. Nope, Gil just really likes that knife her parents brought back for her from France and she wants to use it as much as possible. I use it to cut mangos.
I like mangos, and I like Gil.

Peter has always made me laugh, but lately his quirky humour has become increasingly difficult to let slip by. I suppose it’s possible that by spending so much time in close quarters with him I’ve given him opportunity to manipulate my brain into believing that he’s the funniest man alive. Well done, Pete.
For those of you who are craving a taste of what the man is really up to, here’s a short summary:
He’s seriously obsessed with Backgammon. I mean, sure Gil and I are enjoying our games, but Pierre’s really digging in. I think he’s completed his memorization of the rule sheet, and he’s working on the best possible first moves, and the statistics of roll possibilities. This morning we went to an Internet place and Pete looked up further detailed rules as well as found an example of a game between two of the world’s best Backgammon players. He was really quite dismayed when we accidentally closed the computer and lost the example before he got to relive it for himself. We have to carry our travel-sized Backgammon briefcase with us everywhere, but that’s okay because it fits perfectly in Peter’s new purse. Oh yeah, Peter bought a goat hair man-satchel in Lesotho. He says that it’s one of the most beautiful things he’s ever seen, and he had to buy it because he couldn’t take his eyes off of it. He also got to meet the lady who made it since we were in a little hand-weaving factory. He keeps Licorice Allsorts and after dinner mints in his purse, along with the Backgammon of course. His passport stays in the girl’s purse, sometimes he gets to carry the keys.
Peter’s started speaking in man-grunts on a fairly regular basis. I’ve not sure where it came from, but it’s become a regular part of his vocabulary.
He goes on runs and farts more than seems normal, I think both of these things please him a great deal.
He’s getting married soon. (His lovely fiancé just returned home from S.A. and I believe she said that she likes hugs.)

We went for a hike in the Drakensbergs. The mountains said to me, “Krista, you will love us more than you thought possible.” And I said, “Okay.” The trees said to me, “Krista, you will fall weak in awe when you look at us.” I replied, “Of course,” as if prophecies of the forest are the most natural thing in the world. All of the clouds called to me, the wind wrapped itself around every part of my body, and the gallant, autumn sun shone right through my skin. On top of the plateau I almost couldn’t contain myself from spilling all over the place, or at least breaking into a sprint. Gil giggled at me. But really, it was incredible.
This country is more than beautiful. I don’t know which adjective I’d like to use, but it’s bigger and better than ‘beautiful’, and it when you read it, I’m sure you need to pause for a moment to collect yourself. This country is that powerful adjective everywhere.

Lesotho is really cool. We climbed a small hoodoo there. That was nice. I think Peter’s going to return someday to ask a chief for a 99-year lease on a mountain. Then I shall also come back and wander around in the valleys.

We’ve stayed in a new hostel every night for the past four nights.
#1: Amazing setting in the Berg’s. Gil and I read Rilke aloud before bed and then said goodnight to the German boys sleeping on the bunks above us –too bad I can’t read German and had to read the English translations of Rilke instead of the originals on the other side of the page.
#2: We stayed by ourselves in a 6 bed room in the Anglican Training Centre that no longer trains anyone in the capital of Lesotho. All six beds were fitted with their own bright pink comforters covered in a fairy and flower print. We took a picture.
#3: The Sugar Shack was proudly playing Bob Marley when we pulled in. Apparently some professional surfer owns the place –it’s right across the stress from the beach. I could see the waves crashing from my top bunk in our full 12-bed dorm. We accidentally overheard a conversation between a vegan beauty and a young man who believes that humans should be “classified as carnivorous”. It was an unfortunate argument.** Vegan-girl had two leather purses on her bed andI hope for the sake of her passionate argument that they were fake.
#4: A lovely old farmhouse in the Wilderness called “Fairy Nose” or something obscure like that. It’s getting cold. I needed two blankets. We somehow we managed to use all four beds even though there were only three of us, which apparently baffled the room cleaner this morning, it seems oddly normal to me.***

Gillian and I are finally finished taking our malaria pills. We’ve been out of malaria country for nearly a month now, so Peter’s been poking fun at us for having to continue with the awful drugs while he finished his a mere five days after we exited Zambia. Peter’s pills cost five dollars a pop. Poor social workers like Gillian and myself who haven’t managed to attain for ourselves fancy medical packages like Blue Cross needed to opt for the 84 cents/pill kind. Gil’s managed to find herself a little loophole, and I think I’ve been unfairly ingesting too much anti-malaria as a result. So you see, since the two of us spend mostly every waking moment together we try to share the same purse, wallet, pill-case, etc. So our malaria pills have been residing in the same pill bottle for the last month or so, and just recently I’ve found out that Gil’s been conveniently “forgetting” to take her pill every now and then, which means that her leftover pills have just been adding up in the bottle and adding on to the number of days that I must participate in the ritual of our supper-time drug taking. Gil, Gil, Gil. Sneaky girl. There’s one left in the bottle, and I’ll have nothing to do with it.

The ocean is cool. So are seashells.
My fingernail finally came all of the way off. I am very pleased.
Marianne, your family is lovely. Your house is amazing. I’m very excited to see the pieces of your life here.
We are driving, driving, driving. I am too young to drive a rental car. I’m just a baby.
Gil’s listening to our Zambian music.
I’m ready to groove.
Love,
Krista

PS: The parting gift. What a joy. Gogo is helped financially by a family back in Canada. After seeing their family photo proudly framed and given pride of place in the living room, Peter made it his ambition for us to be likewise framed in glory. Krista and I were horrified by this notion. Pictures of yourself are awkward enough at the best of times, let alone in a frame, let alone as a gift intended for display in someone’s home…. Gross. However, Peter thought they’d be pleased.
Imagine. The three of us, standing in a charity shop holding various items we’d found (fake flowers, tea cup, oriental teapot) beaming or looking stunned (however you take it). The whole photo is glazed with that weird yellow shade characteristic of photos taken in the 70s (not sepia, just a strange yellow glow). Blow the photo up to a size that passes normal and borders on the excessive and you’ve got our ‘lovely present for Gogo.’ Krista and I wanted to miss the gift-giving ceremony due to our extreme embarrassment however, I’m not sure why, we stuck around and I’m glad we did. Peter, once again, proves himself right with his persistence to continue on past the typical limit of embarrassment. Gogo loved her photo and we loved seeing Gogo get her photo.

* “for wearing” Honestly, for wearing. A friendly female banker took us under her wing, driving us to the best blanket-selling shop to ensure Peter purchased the proper, Kingly make of blankets. After 20 minutes of watching two Basotho men drape the blanket over Peter in various ways we did as recommended and purchased the “heart of a king’ blanket. Peter, as befits a Monarch of his caliber, draped himself and, equipped with the blanket, a free hand to hold the backgammon case, and a regal gaze, we continued down the road. Krista and I feeling proud and a little uncertain as to how to deal with this new, very obvious manifestation of Peter’s superiority. Should we follow behind? Can we walk beside? The Basotho people were very friendly at the best of times. Seeing a curly haired white man floating down the road draped in a blanket, showcasing his ‘heart of a king’ was quite new for them. People stopped, stared, turned their heads, finally laughing with an uncertain expression. Or call out their approval, welcoming Peter as one of them. One girl didn’t break her stare with the usual laugh - think she couldn’t make her eyes jive with what she was seeing, got stuck in the horrified stage poor girl.

**Peter will now transcribe the Veggie/Bloodsuckers convo:
hippie feminist agitated slightly drunk girl with pleather bags: I’m vegan because it’s just natural, you know? We weren’t designed to eat meat
very drunk friendly party-guy: yeah, but you know.. the human race are really carnivores right? I mean, I don’t want to reign on your parade right? I mean, what you’re doing is awesome right?
Hfasdgwpb: Well what? I don’t exactly know that right? I mean, India is the most populated in the world and they’re vegetarians. That’s got to tell you something right?
Vdfpg: Well yeah, but what I’m trying to say is we’re naturally carnivore. I mean the human species. Naturally we eat meat, not vegetables right? I mean, I’m with you, it’s awesome, just not natural.
Hfasdgwpb: well seriously though, I feel called to it. Meat, we don’t have to eat meat. There’s soy and tons of stuff. There’s no reason for us to have to eat meat man.
Vdfpg: I’m not trying to fight you man, I feel like you think I’m trying to fight you. No man, it’s awesome, just not natural. Naturally we’re carnivores…
And the argument continues for several minutes in much the same fashion of point, counterpoint, same point, same counterpoint, no one really making any sense or quoting any real facts and both parties getting frustrated and Krista and Gill continually wincing…

***Peter seems to have his own explanation about the beds and blankets:
What? Pardon? Well all right. Gill started out on a top bunk, so not to be outdone, I did the same. Krista took the bunk under Gill. Then Gill jumped on her bed and didn’t like it. She moved to the other bottom bunk and took her blanket with her. Now she has two blankets and while I’m showering she taunts Krista – “I have twoooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo blankets,” this inspires Krista to steal my blanket. I crawl into my bed, go to grab my blanket, and come up short. I use my ancient, tattered, MEC sleeping bag liner while Gill and Krista wallow in blanketed bottom-bunk luxury. The next morning I walk in on mr. room cleaner changing the bedding, “how many of you were there?” “there were three of us.” “and you managed to use four beds?”
Maybe he thought we had snuck in an extra person without paying. I didn’t have the heart to tell him that I hadn’t even used my bedding.