I am half way through a gripping account of the famous sinking of the Lusitanea during the first world war by the German U- Boat U-20.
I had been torn between keeping it on my bedside table for bedtime reading, or leaving it in the long-drop for accompanying reading.
In the end the loo won the day.
With disasterous consequences as it turns out.
Skye visited the loo earlier today, and in following my instructions to keep the solid drop dry, she did a mid poop shift to the wet loo to have a pee, leaving the lid of the dry, solid loo open next to her.
Then she unfortunately reached for the loo paper, and in doing so, unbelievably, sunk the Lusitanea for a second time.
No German involvement required (if you discount the fact that Skye has a German passport)
Not only that, but my second loo-reading book, the MUCH NEEDED “Guide to East Coast Fishing”, followed the Lusitanea into the murky depths.
This has ruined my day in several ways.
1. I was only half way through a pretty good read.
2. I have lost two good books.
3. My fishing is not in a position to withstand any further set-backs.
I also now find it terribly difficult to relish my quite time on the loo quite as much as I did before, knowing that I am desecrating the printed word below, which I was raised to revere.
You try it and see.
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
Sunday, April 26, 2009
Last Loo Update Ever
Our loo is working like a dream.
No smell, no flies.
Clever Charles.
I sense the potential for a patent.
I have finally put on a proper corrugated roof, and added a vent (I used a piece of standard 100mm diameter plastic drain pipe, which has one end in the business end of things, and the other sticking up above the roof slightly.
The top is covered to keep visiting flies out, and resident flies in (they die at the top of the pipe, trying to get out into the light)
I covered this with a piece of mosquito net that I cut quietly from a corner of her Barbie Princess mosquito net that has butterflies Velcro’d to the sides)
Anyway, all systems go her.
Good job all round.
View from the loo
Imagine the life of a fly born at the bottom of my pit latrine.
Once you have got over the poetic beauty and ingeniousness of the design, you have a quick feed (yum), perhaps copulate, lay a few eggs, and then, while regurgitating and sucking up more food, glancing up you a misty white light. You fly up and up, and up further still until you get to the source. The glorious warm golden sunshine. Fields of fresh cow manure await your pleasure.
But you are stuck behind some mosquito net, and after two days of trying to get out, the last thing your tiny little brain registers, is that you have been foiled by a master.
No smell, no flies.
Clever Charles.
I sense the potential for a patent.
I have finally put on a proper corrugated roof, and added a vent (I used a piece of standard 100mm diameter plastic drain pipe, which has one end in the business end of things, and the other sticking up above the roof slightly.
The top is covered to keep visiting flies out, and resident flies in (they die at the top of the pipe, trying to get out into the light)
I covered this with a piece of mosquito net that I cut quietly from a corner of her Barbie Princess mosquito net that has butterflies Velcro’d to the sides)
Anyway, all systems go her.
Good job all round.
View from the loo
Imagine the life of a fly born at the bottom of my pit latrine.
Once you have got over the poetic beauty and ingeniousness of the design, you have a quick feed (yum), perhaps copulate, lay a few eggs, and then, while regurgitating and sucking up more food, glancing up you a misty white light. You fly up and up, and up further still until you get to the source. The glorious warm golden sunshine. Fields of fresh cow manure await your pleasure.
But you are stuck behind some mosquito net, and after two days of trying to get out, the last thing your tiny little brain registers, is that you have been foiled by a master.
Water Sustainablility
I now know why people go to war over water.
I watch mine like hawk.
I put a padlock on our tank yesterday because the neighbours little four year old played with it and left it open for a couple of minutes.
Everybody was very aplogetic but I wasn't going to risk our water on a pre-schooler.
Other than showering the kids at the lodge once per day we have become entirely self sufficient.
At the moment we have enough water for Sonja and I to each use eight litres to bucket bath, and we get through about 15 litres per day for cooking, drinking, tea and coffee etc, and washing hands and brushing teeth.
Dogs, kittens and chickens use up another 5 litres
We use a further 10 litres or so for cleaning and rinsing the dishes.
So, if I included kids sharing a 20 litre shower, we can get by on 66 litres per day, for a family of five, plus pets.
An average bath is about 200 litres, so 66 litres is pretty good.
If nobody screws with my tank.
I watch mine like hawk.
I put a padlock on our tank yesterday because the neighbours little four year old played with it and left it open for a couple of minutes.
Everybody was very aplogetic but I wasn't going to risk our water on a pre-schooler.
Other than showering the kids at the lodge once per day we have become entirely self sufficient.
At the moment we have enough water for Sonja and I to each use eight litres to bucket bath, and we get through about 15 litres per day for cooking, drinking, tea and coffee etc, and washing hands and brushing teeth.
Dogs, kittens and chickens use up another 5 litres
We use a further 10 litres or so for cleaning and rinsing the dishes.
So, if I included kids sharing a 20 litre shower, we can get by on 66 litres per day, for a family of five, plus pets.
An average bath is about 200 litres, so 66 litres is pretty good.
If nobody screws with my tank.
Caleb & Mila Update
Caleb and Mila have both slotted into this new lifestyle with absolute ease.
They head off to pre-school each morning where they are the only two English speaking kids.
Mila comes home every day and tells me all about “my courser friends”
She is planning to marry Nti-Nti, Lindile’s son.
Sorry Adam. Such is the fickle hand of fate.
We have gone from a good Jewish boy, to a good Xhosa boy.
Her main concern is that her ring, which she has, will not fit her when she is a “grown up”.
Caleb, a little concerningly, but much to his mothers delight, (she wants her children to be interesting and free spirited) is going to marry a Prince.
Don’t you mean a Princess buddy?
No! I want to marry a prince.
Who knows, I might get to walk three children down the isle.
Their Xhosa is coming on pretty quickly and they are always singing songs in Xhosa and playing with all the nearby village kids.
They have a great time and are always doing something that gets them dirty.
Very happy and carefree children.
They normally get home from pre-school (a good walk in anybodies book) at about 1pm, and we try and enforce a nap, or at least quiet time.
Then they dash off climbing trees, visiting the lodge finding new suckers to read to them, playing cars with the village kids etc.
I have had to rescue Caleb at least once from the top of a tree. His bloody naughty little sister has no fear and he follows her blindly. I often see his little three year old body higher than I would like.
Mila very nonchalantly came to me last week when I was working on my laptop, she strolled across and said, “Um Dada (she has slipped form English Dad into Xhosa dada), Dada, Caleb fell out of a tree, our climbing ship tree, that we were pretending to be dragons in, and he hit his head on a branch when he fell down, and now he is lying on the ground, and dada, I am thirsty.”
True as bob, there he was under the tree on his back.
I had Skye informing me that she held up seven fingers and he said she was holding up three.
And “he said his name is Gerald.”
“Yes, thanks darling” through gritted teethe.
He seems fine though. He still has a big graze on his forehead, and when he sporadicaly gets a lot of bites (ticks and fleas) I tell Sonja that when he takes his shirt off he looks like a little boy covered in the pox from a 17th century Bruegal painting.
Them scratching their head isn’t always lice. A lot of the time it is chicken mites.
Mila has a habit of talking at the top of her voice, no volume control ever developed in that one, and when I am showering the three of them down at the lodge, in one 20 litre shower to save water, she always waits until there are other people showering before shouting out
“DADA, DID YOU BRING THE LICE SHAMPOO DOWN, DADA?
“I HAVE GOT BAD LICE DADA”
I have become adept at sneaking in and out when nobody is around.
Skye Update
Skye has written several blog updates that her parents never posted.
She is asleep now, so I still can’t post them. Bugger.
She spends her days doing home schooling and enjoying life here and down at the lodge.
Her day starts at 06h00 when she gets up with the rest of us.
At 07h15 she walks Caleb and Mila to Xolisa’s hut, a bit further up the hill, where they walk to pre-school from.
She has about 1 and a half hours home schooling with Sonja (normally in the morning), and another hour and a half with me in the afternoons.
We are most conscious that the change in lifestyle is most drastic for her.
She moved away from all of her friends and activities and had just started enjoying movies and children’s sleepover parties, school team sports, and hanging out with all of her friends.
We compensate for this poorly, but are very aware we need to make more of an effort.
She is very bright, and makes home schooling pretty easy.
I am teaching her Natural Sciences a full grade (year) ahead of her peers, and her literacy is really good and we are well ahead of where she needs to be.
The biggest challenge is keeping her from getting bored with the work.
There is scope to introduce a lot of proejct work that she can do on her own.
There are not many village kids around of her age group so she spends a lot of time with us and other adults.
This becomes really challenging as a parent as you constantly need to be maintaining a balance between being free spirited and a young adult, and having her understand that some decisions are not hers to take.
She spends a lot of her free time pottering around the lodge or horse riding.
She has cut a deal with the village guides who offer horse riding as an activity that she helps clean the riding gear once each week in exchange for being able to ride one of the horses home after the rides.
Looking down from our hill I will see her riding bareback and completely alone, through the long yellow grass, taking the horse to the homestead a couple of kilometres away.
She loves it.
There are also a surprising number of children that visit the lodge with their parents, so quite often she makes friends for a few days with these families and goes canoeing, fishing or horse-riding with them.
We also make sure we fit in the usual family walks and fishing and swimming in the river.
She is slowly picking up Xhosa and seems much more confident greeting villagers and making simple conversation.
She loves all the farm animals and especially now as there are an abundance of baby lambs, kids and calves.
No baby chickens though!
Another favourite is driving the bakkie (pick-up).
I used to let her sit on my lap and steer, and told her when she could open and close the gates we have to drive through on her own, then I would teach her to drive (they are tricky gates, made of barbed wire and loose poles. No hinges here)
Well of course she did, quickly, and so a couple of weeks ago I put her in the driver’s seat.
After explaining which was the clutch, the brake and the accelerator (no automatic here), she calmly put us into first, did a perfect take off, and drove off beautifully. After a couple of minutes pottering along a 4-wheel drive track in first, I explained to her how to change into second, which she again did beautifully and drove us all the way to the lodge and parked.
She has done this a couple of times now, and I proudly reckon she id one of the only 9 year olds in her class to be able to drive a big, heavy bakkie.
Sonja and I have also taken her with us the few times we have had to go away to meetings.
When I drove to Cape Town she was so excited about having some one-on-one time, and loved little things like over-nighting at a B&B and using their little complimentary soaps, and finding a chocolate on her pillow.
Sonja will take her and Mila with her in a few weeks when she has to fly to JHB for business and Skye is so excited about flying again.
She is a great child and we need to make much more of an effort to make sure this remains a positive experience for her.
We’ll do our best, but definitely sometimes fall asleep knowing you could have done better, or been more patient.
Shelter from the Rain
We can finally sit outside and drink coffee on our veranda when it is raining.
It went up in several easy steps.
I had two young men from the village, Wankie and Lindile, helping me cast the concrete.
When we returned from a half our break for lunch the wet cement had kitten prints (several tracks in and out), dog prints (with his back legs showing clearly how he drags his nails with each step) village chicken prints (small) broiler chicken prints (large) Caleb’s foot prints. (I was slightly in the dog box for giving him a bollocking and slipping in a half hearted and frustrated whack (we are a non smack household, mostly, sometimes, when we are being good parents and not grumpy adults)
We got rid of Caleb’s prints, but left all the rest as a memento.
It was raining gently the other evening and it was with great pleasure that I sat under the roof and had a quiet whiskey, watching the lagoon and the coastline floating up at me though the mist in the moonlight.
This morning (Sunday) I had coffee with a good book in a light drizzle, and was distracted by a pod of at least 50 dolphins working their way across the bay.
It went up in several easy steps.
I had two young men from the village, Wankie and Lindile, helping me cast the concrete.
When we returned from a half our break for lunch the wet cement had kitten prints (several tracks in and out), dog prints (with his back legs showing clearly how he drags his nails with each step) village chicken prints (small) broiler chicken prints (large) Caleb’s foot prints. (I was slightly in the dog box for giving him a bollocking and slipping in a half hearted and frustrated whack (we are a non smack household, mostly, sometimes, when we are being good parents and not grumpy adults)
We got rid of Caleb’s prints, but left all the rest as a memento.
It was raining gently the other evening and it was with great pleasure that I sat under the roof and had a quiet whiskey, watching the lagoon and the coastline floating up at me though the mist in the moonlight.
This morning (Sunday) I had coffee with a good book in a light drizzle, and was distracted by a pod of at least 50 dolphins working their way across the bay.
The famous $135.00 egg
We definitely have the best chicken coop in the village.
We built a simple A-Frame structure that we split into two levels.
The top is enclosed and has special laying boxes, and the bottom is fenced.
There is a simple gang plank leading upstairs that can be raised at night.
The sides of the coop open to enable the easy collection of eggs.
We used to have our single $115 dollar egg, and a cowardly rooster.
The eggs situation now reads $135 dollars for minus 2 eggs.
We bought a lot more feed, and in order to stimulate egg-laying, we took three of our store bought eggs and cleverly let them rot over a week in the nesting boxes.
They made a pleasant popping sound when I hurled them out (in a high arc) into the surrounding grassland.
So we are now two eggs down.
At least they know who is in charge.
I lectured them severely one evening when they were all in and promised not to let them out until they had produced and egg. Just one. A single one between them.
I would have lasted longer than the seven days, but two snuck out when I opened the coop to check on the seventh day.
I didn’t give up so much as give in.
In seven days we never saw an egg of theirs.
The women in the village tell me I need to feed them crayfish eggs.
Any idiot knows this will never work.
I have a farming manual that tells me that based on the body shape (very narrow hip, very long legs) I should “Good laying hens should have … wide apart pelvic bones, and a white, large, moist vent. If they have the opposite wring their necks.”
I have heard stories of lonely farmers, typically from New Zealand, and chickens vents and will not examine mine to see if the they are white, large and moist. However, I would wring mines necks if my kids stopped paying attention for a second.
By the way, I didn’t collect the prawns especially for the chickens. Don’t be silly. I am not one of these sandal making new age tie die sorts.
I was going to use them for fishing bait, and when the weather turned bad decided not to waste them.
Quite a few coincidently did have yellow spawn on their tails.
But that was before the week incarceration, and so this didn't work either, and my results remain at minus two.
Apology Two
Dear Mum and Dad stop Sorry we haven’t written for a while stop Please call off the Minty’s and the rest of the family stop We are all well stop It won’t happen again stop Sedgwick still alive stop Still no eggs stop Kids dirty but fine stop Parents tired but well stop Kitten crapped on bed stop Caught a fish stop See you on the 1st stop Please bring lots of wine stop Enough to drink and leave a lot behind stop Crayfish ordered stop Long drop odourless stop Much love stop
Apology One
Dear Urban Legend
Your Nome de gare, Andrew, is singular but I am convinced that you cannot possibly be just one person.
Your vast reservoir of knowledge is too great for a single individual.
I suspect that you are a secret team of Cambridge and Oxford biogas academics (built around a nucleus of St. Stithians Add-Maths protégés).
You know too much.
Your insights and instincts are too chillingly accurate to be the brilliance of only one person.
But what is your secret project?
What is at the bottom of our long drop that you need so badly?
How can I get my hens to lay eggs?
Are you watching me on Google Earth as we speak?
What is a Walvis Peeter?
Will it be silly of me to bucket bath tonight, out in a chilling wind, both my feet in a metal tub, while around me lightning and thunder crack and roar and explode, my hand silhouetted against the flashes of lightning, held up high pouring water over myself with a metal bowl?
Why did we go offline?
Your Nome de gare, Andrew, is singular but I am convinced that you cannot possibly be just one person.
Your vast reservoir of knowledge is too great for a single individual.
I suspect that you are a secret team of Cambridge and Oxford biogas academics (built around a nucleus of St. Stithians Add-Maths protégés).
You know too much.
Your insights and instincts are too chillingly accurate to be the brilliance of only one person.
But what is your secret project?
What is at the bottom of our long drop that you need so badly?
How can I get my hens to lay eggs?
Are you watching me on Google Earth as we speak?
What is a Walvis Peeter?
Will it be silly of me to bucket bath tonight, out in a chilling wind, both my feet in a metal tub, while around me lightning and thunder crack and roar and explode, my hand silhouetted against the flashes of lightning, held up high pouring water over myself with a metal bowl?
Why did we go offline?
Monday, March 30, 2009
What is a decimal point between friends
Slight maths miscalculation.
We paid $150 for the single egg, not $15.
Don't have the courage to eat it in case it is off.
We paid $150 for the single egg, not $15.
Don't have the courage to eat it in case it is off.
Sunday, March 29, 2009
Those of you in London putting a loo in your back garden
Big mistake on the bio-degradable toilet front.
It is a good idea to sprinkle cow crap to get the bio-degrading bio-degrading.
It is a good idea if you are positive that there are no fly eggs laid in the cow dung before you do it.
If there are they will hatch.
Beautifully.
Noisily.
A friendly, buzzing, black mass whose sole desire is to crawl over your exposed bottom when you least expect it, and awkwardly can't immediately move away.
We fitted our chimney, which killed quite a few.
And I hung down the shaft, and attached a couple of sticky rolls of fly paper.
(with my lips pursed tightly together)
But I was definitley the only one using the outhouse for a week while we got it sorted out.
So wherever you are in London, don't sprinkle fresh cow patty down the loo like we did.
It is a good idea to sprinkle cow crap to get the bio-degrading bio-degrading.
It is a good idea if you are positive that there are no fly eggs laid in the cow dung before you do it.
If there are they will hatch.
Beautifully.
Noisily.
A friendly, buzzing, black mass whose sole desire is to crawl over your exposed bottom when you least expect it, and awkwardly can't immediately move away.
We fitted our chimney, which killed quite a few.
And I hung down the shaft, and attached a couple of sticky rolls of fly paper.
(with my lips pursed tightly together)
But I was definitley the only one using the outhouse for a week while we got it sorted out.
So wherever you are in London, don't sprinkle fresh cow patty down the loo like we did.
Yet another chicken
Got back home last night after pulling an all day drive.
Left Cape Town at 3am and got home at 6pm.
A long drive.
Made longer having a single CD jammed in the CD player.
The CD unfortunately being Phantom of the Opera.
As the CD player looked ill, I thought I would stick in our worst CD just in case, to cleverly test it.
Well, I got it in, but not out. Then had 16 hours of Andrew Lloyd Webber to keep me awake.
Good stuff.
When I got to Bulungula I saw the most amazing rooster.
Giant, with a tail that would put a peacock to shame.
Paid R80 for him.
He was wild as hell. Took two dogs and two men to catch him. He was so angry he got his wings and his legs tied, and was then bundled into a bag.
He lost his tail in the process.
Just what we needed to whip our crew into shape.
Crack the whip and all.
This moring we were outside when we heard a terrible noise.
The neighbours scrawny, flea-bag of a rooster was giving our a real hiding.
They both ran right past us and into our room, making lots of noise and flapping wings and screeching.
I picked up the scrwny one and got it outside.
When I got back, our bloody expensive prince, had his head jammed behind a piece of wood, hiding.
Things are not looking good.
He spent the ret of the day sulking and hiding in our coop.
We have now spent just under R1000 for a single egg (chickens R420, building materials R500, feed R75) ($15 for a single egg)
Left Cape Town at 3am and got home at 6pm.
A long drive.
Made longer having a single CD jammed in the CD player.
The CD unfortunately being Phantom of the Opera.
As the CD player looked ill, I thought I would stick in our worst CD just in case, to cleverly test it.
Well, I got it in, but not out. Then had 16 hours of Andrew Lloyd Webber to keep me awake.
Good stuff.
When I got to Bulungula I saw the most amazing rooster.
Giant, with a tail that would put a peacock to shame.
Paid R80 for him.
He was wild as hell. Took two dogs and two men to catch him. He was so angry he got his wings and his legs tied, and was then bundled into a bag.
He lost his tail in the process.
Just what we needed to whip our crew into shape.
Crack the whip and all.
This moring we were outside when we heard a terrible noise.
The neighbours scrawny, flea-bag of a rooster was giving our a real hiding.
They both ran right past us and into our room, making lots of noise and flapping wings and screeching.
I picked up the scrwny one and got it outside.
When I got back, our bloody expensive prince, had his head jammed behind a piece of wood, hiding.
Things are not looking good.
He spent the ret of the day sulking and hiding in our coop.
We have now spent just under R1000 for a single egg (chickens R420, building materials R500, feed R75) ($15 for a single egg)
Life on the Front Line
While I was away in Cape Town for a few days I received the following email from Sonja, which is pretty typical of life in Bulungula...
Hi my love
Hope you slept well.
All fine here. Xolisa is ill though so we may need to close the ELC for a couple of days – will see how things go today.
No eggs yet, but Goose is looking decidedly broody.
While hanging up the washing (hand washed!) this morning, I was nearly run over by a horny donkey who was chasing the object of his desire. I think she ran to me for protection (who wouldn’t, considering the size of that thing!), and I barely managed to get out of their way! Perils of hanging washing in rural villages.
Have a great day.
S
xxx
Hi my love
Hope you slept well.
All fine here. Xolisa is ill though so we may need to close the ELC for a couple of days – will see how things go today.
No eggs yet, but Goose is looking decidedly broody.
While hanging up the washing (hand washed!) this morning, I was nearly run over by a horny donkey who was chasing the object of his desire. I think she ran to me for protection (who wouldn’t, considering the size of that thing!), and I barely managed to get out of their way! Perils of hanging washing in rural villages.
Have a great day.
S
xxx
Friday, March 27, 2009
Even Uglier
We had the ugliest 3 chickens in the world. Somehow the universe sent us three more.
Sonja picked up two broilers on the side of the road that were destined for the pot.
They are uglier and grumpier than sin.
They must have had a crap life because the are pretty much featherless on their bottoms and backs, and are missing a toe or two.
They are now in heaven, free range, all they can eat, and no rooster to bother them.
The sixth came via the neighbour who gave us the runt from her batch instead of some change she owed us.
Six ugly chickens, 21 days, one egg.
These are our worst statistics to date, beaten only by my fishing stats which read, 48 days, one fish, 100g.
This is Goose. Very masculine.
These are "Sulky Sue", and my one is called "don't get attached to me I am not a pet"
Goose and Freckles stepping out.
Snuffles, sometimes Mr Snuffles, which is a bit weird as she is a hen.
We don't have a pic of Mrs Smith (the neighbour - geddit), she rarely graces us with her presence, eating our food, and then scooting back to her mates at the neighbours.
We are now a place of safety for ugly and ex battery hens.
Sonja picked up two broilers on the side of the road that were destined for the pot.
They are uglier and grumpier than sin.
They must have had a crap life because the are pretty much featherless on their bottoms and backs, and are missing a toe or two.
They are now in heaven, free range, all they can eat, and no rooster to bother them.
The sixth came via the neighbour who gave us the runt from her batch instead of some change she owed us.
Six ugly chickens, 21 days, one egg.
These are our worst statistics to date, beaten only by my fishing stats which read, 48 days, one fish, 100g.
This is Goose. Very masculine.
These are "Sulky Sue", and my one is called "don't get attached to me I am not a pet"
Goose and Freckles stepping out.
Snuffles, sometimes Mr Snuffles, which is a bit weird as she is a hen.
We don't have a pic of Mrs Smith (the neighbour - geddit), she rarely graces us with her presence, eating our food, and then scooting back to her mates at the neighbours.
We are now a place of safety for ugly and ex battery hens.
Absolutely No Ways...
No ways. I am away from home for two nights and my wife posts very unflattering photo's of me in hole filled, old underpants, taking a bath.
Bloody hell. Thats not on.
I am crapping myself because she definitely took some on her cell phone of me wearing a cowboy hat and fluffy slippers (only)- A long story.
A word of caution.
The word, my love, is... "retaliation"
Lets keep it above the belt, eh..
Bloody hell. Thats not on.
I am crapping myself because she definitely took some on her cell phone of me wearing a cowboy hat and fluffy slippers (only)- A long story.
A word of caution.
The word, my love, is... "retaliation"
Lets keep it above the belt, eh..
Thursday, March 26, 2009
Magic moments...
Braaing marshmallows
Our favourite rockpool
Mud baths
Collecting dinner
Star gazing
We even have netball on our hill! (Charles rigged up a net on a piece of driftwood)
Our favourite rockpool
Mud baths
Collecting dinner
Star gazing
We even have netball on our hill! (Charles rigged up a net on a piece of driftwood)
Jujurha Early Learning Centre
One of the projects we are working on is an Early Learning Centre in the village. It will include a pre-school, an after-school tutoring programme for learners from the local government schools, a school mentorship programme (to support principals and teachers at these same schools), a library and a clinic.
One of the first things we did when we arrived was to rent an empty hut in the village to start the pre-school. The preschool has been running for almost a month now, with 21 eager kids. The kids follow a very simple routine - from 08h00 to 12h30, including breakfast, fruit snack and a light lunch.
There are no school fees, but families have to assist one day a month at the school in lieu of payment. This involves baking a bread (for lunchtime sandwiches), assisting with food preparation and cleaning up. So far this has worked extremely well.
Our amenities are very basic at the moment, but we've managed to raise R858,000 so far to build and run a superb Early Learning Centre which will provide the kind of quality education we all want for our own children.
We began digging the foundations last week, on the land donated by the community for the ELC. And we're planning an official opening in mid June. All welcome to this very auspicious occasion!!
Foundations of the first building for the Jujurha Early Learning Centre.
It's been ages since I blogged any news so I thought I'd catch up with some photos.
After many months of begging and pleading, Skye and Mila now each have their own kittens. Both cats were born in the village and seem able to deal with just about anything - including boisterous children, vicious village dogs and the resident rooster.
Meet Tigger (black and white) and Cheatah!
Their favourite spot in the house is diretly underneath the gas stove - note the flame to the right of Cheatah!
After many months of begging and pleading, Skye and Mila now each have their own kittens. Both cats were born in the village and seem able to deal with just about anything - including boisterous children, vicious village dogs and the resident rooster.
Meet Tigger (black and white) and Cheatah!
Their favourite spot in the house is diretly underneath the gas stove - note the flame to the right of Cheatah!
Monday, March 16, 2009
Some meals from the kitchen
We have tried a few new tastes and cooking techniques and thought to paste a few photo's to tempt your taste buds.
Have been baking quite a bit of bread on the fire (in a pot)
Tends to work quite well as long as you have the time to watch the fire and maintain a constant, medium heat. Am pretty sure you can use any bread recipe. The trick is to cook over coals and not flames., so you have to keep manuevering coals and logs around. It also definitely helps to keep adding coals to the lid of the pot. This helps turn the pot into an oven more effectively.
Here are a few photo's of a typical evening baking bread outside.
The kids do actually wear clothes some of the time.
We normally let them do a couple of marshmellows and act like pyromaniacs.
We tend to do a wholewheat loaf, with a bit of syrup thrown in as well.
We did a great cheese loaf the other day as well.
We had crayfish the other night, which was really good. We can defitely dive these out ourselves and made sure we brought a licence along with us to do so. They are different from the West Coast rock lobsters we are used to in Cape Town. You also have to observe a season.
We tend to boil briefly until pink.
Then cut open along all of the underpart (head to tail)
You then use a bit of brute strength to break them in half.
Remove anything that looks like it will taste bad and trickle some melted butter, garlic, lemon and black pepper over everything.
If you haev coals going then you can add cheese and melt this over the tails.
Make sure to get all the meat in the legs.
We normally get half a dozen oysters when we go down to the beach at low tide.
These are definitely free range.
.
I am the only on in the family that eats them, so it is normally just me, my black pepper, tabasco and fresh lemon.
Tastes even better when you have got them yourself from the rocks.
A good tin mug of dry white wine also helps he cause.
I had never eaten Sea Urchins before so had to try these.
I picked a couple of each kind that I found.
Remembering what I had read once, I turned upside down and using a sharp knife gave it a full labotomy.
Removing the top of the skull, you could quite clearly see the yellow/orange "caviar"
I simply scooped this out into a bowl (you don't get a lot)
I tried some on its own, some with a drop of lemon, and lastly some on crackers.
It was pleasant to eat. Tasted like a combination of an oyster and a mussle with a hint of nut.
The texture was like caviar, but soft enough to turn to paste against the top of your pallet with gentle pressure from your tongue.
I did feel a bit bad on three counts.
1. The looked so pretty in the rock pool.
2. Their arms definitely move around on the table while you are swallowing them with a cracker.
3. They definitely were not substantial, so it felt a bit unjustified killing four of them, and still having a full dinner afterwards
Have been baking quite a bit of bread on the fire (in a pot)
Tends to work quite well as long as you have the time to watch the fire and maintain a constant, medium heat. Am pretty sure you can use any bread recipe. The trick is to cook over coals and not flames., so you have to keep manuevering coals and logs around. It also definitely helps to keep adding coals to the lid of the pot. This helps turn the pot into an oven more effectively.
Here are a few photo's of a typical evening baking bread outside.
The kids do actually wear clothes some of the time.
We normally let them do a couple of marshmellows and act like pyromaniacs.
We tend to do a wholewheat loaf, with a bit of syrup thrown in as well.
We did a great cheese loaf the other day as well.
We had crayfish the other night, which was really good. We can defitely dive these out ourselves and made sure we brought a licence along with us to do so. They are different from the West Coast rock lobsters we are used to in Cape Town. You also have to observe a season.
We tend to boil briefly until pink.
Then cut open along all of the underpart (head to tail)
You then use a bit of brute strength to break them in half.
Remove anything that looks like it will taste bad and trickle some melted butter, garlic, lemon and black pepper over everything.
If you haev coals going then you can add cheese and melt this over the tails.
Make sure to get all the meat in the legs.
We normally get half a dozen oysters when we go down to the beach at low tide.
These are definitely free range.
.
I am the only on in the family that eats them, so it is normally just me, my black pepper, tabasco and fresh lemon.
Tastes even better when you have got them yourself from the rocks.
A good tin mug of dry white wine also helps he cause.
I had never eaten Sea Urchins before so had to try these.
I picked a couple of each kind that I found.
Remembering what I had read once, I turned upside down and using a sharp knife gave it a full labotomy.
Removing the top of the skull, you could quite clearly see the yellow/orange "caviar"
I simply scooped this out into a bowl (you don't get a lot)
I tried some on its own, some with a drop of lemon, and lastly some on crackers.
It was pleasant to eat. Tasted like a combination of an oyster and a mussle with a hint of nut.
The texture was like caviar, but soft enough to turn to paste against the top of your pallet with gentle pressure from your tongue.
I did feel a bit bad on three counts.
1. The looked so pretty in the rock pool.
2. Their arms definitely move around on the table while you are swallowing them with a cracker.
3. They definitely were not substantial, so it felt a bit unjustified killing four of them, and still having a full dinner afterwards
Sunday, March 15, 2009
Cleaning the carpets
Don't you just hate it when that happens.
You know.
It's Saturday morning and you really need 15 litres of fresh, wet, warm cow poop, and you cant find any anywhere.
Man, I hate it when that happens.
We normally have so much fresh cow poop you have to skirt around it.
Well. Saturday I had to walk for 35 minutes to get enough to do the floors.
We needed to re-dung our floors as the dust was getting pretty bad in the house.
We had been putting it off for quite a while (oddly, it wasn't difficult letting "rub fresh cow shit into your floor by hand" slip to the back of the chore list)
Our neighbour, Nonezile (non-neh-zee-leh)kindly showed us the ropes as we broke into virgin territory.
Once we had collected about 15 litres of cowshite (wet, very fresh, no crust)
All we needed was water to add.
I kept waiting for the secret ingredient.
There was none.
Basically you dump a bucket of fresh cow and bull dump into the middle of your floor.
Add a whole lot of water.
Get your hands dirty turning it into sludge. (I believe sewage farms use the term "slurry")
Then you get down on your knees and smear away.
The technique (in case you want to try this at home kids, don't ask permission first)is really about keeping it wet and slurry like, and using the edge of your little finger and the edge of your palm as a squeegee.
Remember when you were a kid and you went for aswim in the pool in the dark alone.
Of course there wasn't a shark in the pool.
But.
In that one James Bond movie they press a button and the pool has a secret door that lets in a shark.
So you laugh at yourself, but your heart speeds up a dash, and you get out quickly, and tell yourself it is simply because you don't want to miss Magnum PI.
Well, halfway through mixing everything with your hands, you have the following unavoidable thought process.
"I know I collected all the poop myself"
"It was all definitely cow poop"
"I definitely didn't get any human poop by accident"
"80 percent of the village poops in the bush and grass"
"I wonder what time Magnum PI starts out here"
"I wonder what higgins will be p to this week"
For about 30 minutes it smells like a cow shat in your lounge.
Then it smells sweet and rich and reminds you of horses and summer and clover.
Honest
And it is soft well insulated.
And free.
And it only took us about 20 minutes. And that my friends is quicker than a vacume.
You know.
It's Saturday morning and you really need 15 litres of fresh, wet, warm cow poop, and you cant find any anywhere.
Man, I hate it when that happens.
We normally have so much fresh cow poop you have to skirt around it.
Well. Saturday I had to walk for 35 minutes to get enough to do the floors.
We needed to re-dung our floors as the dust was getting pretty bad in the house.
We had been putting it off for quite a while (oddly, it wasn't difficult letting "rub fresh cow shit into your floor by hand" slip to the back of the chore list)
Our neighbour, Nonezile (non-neh-zee-leh)kindly showed us the ropes as we broke into virgin territory.
Once we had collected about 15 litres of cowshite (wet, very fresh, no crust)
All we needed was water to add.
I kept waiting for the secret ingredient.
There was none.
Basically you dump a bucket of fresh cow and bull dump into the middle of your floor.
Add a whole lot of water.
Get your hands dirty turning it into sludge. (I believe sewage farms use the term "slurry")
Then you get down on your knees and smear away.
The technique (in case you want to try this at home kids, don't ask permission first)is really about keeping it wet and slurry like, and using the edge of your little finger and the edge of your palm as a squeegee.
Remember when you were a kid and you went for aswim in the pool in the dark alone.
Of course there wasn't a shark in the pool.
But.
In that one James Bond movie they press a button and the pool has a secret door that lets in a shark.
So you laugh at yourself, but your heart speeds up a dash, and you get out quickly, and tell yourself it is simply because you don't want to miss Magnum PI.
Well, halfway through mixing everything with your hands, you have the following unavoidable thought process.
"I know I collected all the poop myself"
"It was all definitely cow poop"
"I definitely didn't get any human poop by accident"
"80 percent of the village poops in the bush and grass"
"I wonder what time Magnum PI starts out here"
"I wonder what higgins will be p to this week"
For about 30 minutes it smells like a cow shat in your lounge.
Then it smells sweet and rich and reminds you of horses and summer and clover.
Honest
And it is soft well insulated.
And free.
And it only took us about 20 minutes. And that my friends is quicker than a vacume.
Goose, Freckles and Snuffles
Our chicken experience was going to be as follows:
On Tuesday (2 days) we receive chicken wire, poles, wood, roofing.
I have chosen a really good spot a chicken run, including a nice coop, allowing easy access to collect eggs.
I would put the word out that I wanted 4 hens and a rooster.
I would then select premium stock.
We would keep them confined to the run for about a week, and then let them out sometime around 11am each morning once they have laid their eggs.
They would range free all day, digging and scratching around to their hearts content, sometimes followed by a few baby chicks.
At night they would come in to roost.
Our actual chicken experience was ----------------------------------------------------------7612777777777777777777723333333333333333333333333333333333aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa
(Sorry, the above was the kitten walking across my keyboard - no kidding)
Anyway, back to our actual experience as follows:
The kids and I arrive back from seeing Sonja off (she is off to JHB for three days)to find a white fertilizer sack with three semi live chickens inside. They have their feet tied and are bundled on top of one another.
.
The top one looks alive. I am not sure about the bottom two.
Our neighbour has walked half the day to get them for us, So I can hardly say no can I? I pay her the R50 she tells me is the price per hen(This is about 40% more than a frozen broiler form the supermarket)
I have no fencing, no poles, no chicken food, no plan.
I have three gasping, dying chickens, and three freaking out kids.
I stay calm and have a cup of coffee.
I decide that I obviously need to get them into a holding cell for three days until I can get a coop built.
My ideas of a picture perfect coop go out the window.
I get the canopy off my bakkie (pick-up)
Bang together a few bits of scrap wood and rusted wire I find thrown away.
And put together the ugliest chicken run in the world.
I want to scream out to everyone that it is only temporarily
We get all three out of the bag and into their temp home.
We get them plenty of water and I manage to bum a bag of chicken feed from David, down at the lodge.
I get my first decent look at them, and honestly. They all fell out the ugly tree and hit every branch on the way down.
They are so shocking, they are kind of creepy.
Of course, the kids adore them.
All three are instantly named.
Skye chooses one and names it Freckles
Mila goes with the big, John Cleese looking one and calls it Goose
Caleb names the dark one Snuffles (which is vaguely funny, as in Snuffed, died, killed)
I have to promise solemnly that I cannot kill any of their birds without asking first.
Mila and Skye inform me that I will never kill either Freckles or Goose.
Caleb is pretty open to the practicalities of farming.
You can kill mine, he informs me.
Good chap.
But to tell the truth, they are so freaky and weird looking.
I could never eat any of them.
Mila is busy negotiating that "babies" fall under the same protection.
Not to worry, I am not spreading these genes any further.
Next trip to town I am buying 6 Rhode Island Reds, and a grand rooster.
On Tuesday (2 days) we receive chicken wire, poles, wood, roofing.
I have chosen a really good spot a chicken run, including a nice coop, allowing easy access to collect eggs.
I would put the word out that I wanted 4 hens and a rooster.
I would then select premium stock.
We would keep them confined to the run for about a week, and then let them out sometime around 11am each morning once they have laid their eggs.
They would range free all day, digging and scratching around to their hearts content, sometimes followed by a few baby chicks.
At night they would come in to roost.
Our actual chicken experience was ----------------------------------------------------------7612777777777777777777723333333333333333333333333333333333aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa
(Sorry, the above was the kitten walking across my keyboard - no kidding)
Anyway, back to our actual experience as follows:
The kids and I arrive back from seeing Sonja off (she is off to JHB for three days)to find a white fertilizer sack with three semi live chickens inside. They have their feet tied and are bundled on top of one another.
.
The top one looks alive. I am not sure about the bottom two.
Our neighbour has walked half the day to get them for us, So I can hardly say no can I? I pay her the R50 she tells me is the price per hen(This is about 40% more than a frozen broiler form the supermarket)
I have no fencing, no poles, no chicken food, no plan.
I have three gasping, dying chickens, and three freaking out kids.
I stay calm and have a cup of coffee.
I decide that I obviously need to get them into a holding cell for three days until I can get a coop built.
My ideas of a picture perfect coop go out the window.
I get the canopy off my bakkie (pick-up)
Bang together a few bits of scrap wood and rusted wire I find thrown away.
And put together the ugliest chicken run in the world.
I want to scream out to everyone that it is only temporarily
We get all three out of the bag and into their temp home.
We get them plenty of water and I manage to bum a bag of chicken feed from David, down at the lodge.
I get my first decent look at them, and honestly. They all fell out the ugly tree and hit every branch on the way down.
They are so shocking, they are kind of creepy.
Of course, the kids adore them.
All three are instantly named.
Skye chooses one and names it Freckles
Mila goes with the big, John Cleese looking one and calls it Goose
Caleb names the dark one Snuffles (which is vaguely funny, as in Snuffed, died, killed)
I have to promise solemnly that I cannot kill any of their birds without asking first.
Mila and Skye inform me that I will never kill either Freckles or Goose.
Caleb is pretty open to the practicalities of farming.
You can kill mine, he informs me.
Good chap.
But to tell the truth, they are so freaky and weird looking.
I could never eat any of them.
Mila is busy negotiating that "babies" fall under the same protection.
Not to worry, I am not spreading these genes any further.
Next trip to town I am buying 6 Rhode Island Reds, and a grand rooster.
Friday, March 13, 2009
Building a composting Toilet Part Two - The Structure
Once we had the hole dug and just the top of the blue drum sticking out of the ground, it was simply a question of putting up four poles, and a floor frame.
Then putting on the floor (with hole cut in it to fit the top of the drum snugly.
Place our pre-made lovable loo around the top of the drum (site tested by Mila. Then we added on a roof frame,wall frames, a door, and wrapped two layers of shadecloth around the whole thing. We still need to put the roof on, and our plan was to (painstakingly) cover the outside of the walls with groovy looking bamboo strips. But for now it is shadecloth, which, although not waterproof, is very light and airy.
We have a double seater. One for solids (down the hatch) and one for wee which goes into a bucket that needs emptying every few days (wee only - I don't have that strong a constitution that I am going to be emptying crap buckets without barfing)
Here Mila tries out the pee pot.
Followed by the real Macoy.
The idea is that once you have done what you need to (and finished off the chapter you were on), You simply wipe. There is no adding of soil or compost or wood chips. The platform off the ground means things should dry out on their own. Once a week I collect some cow dung, mix with with a bit of wood ash from our fireplace, and sprinkle it over all that lives below.
The pee bucket is currently emptied by hand, but we will fit a pipe as soon as we have a vegetable garden fenced, and will drain this into a banana garden, along with some grey water.
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