RE-UNITED AGAIN

I was 12 years of age and it was the year 1982. She was eight years of age. I grew up in Goodwood and she grew up in Lansdowne. I have a younger brother. Sally has an older sister and two older brothers. Cousins growing up in different suburbs in the Western Cape, South Africa.

We used to get together at our grandparents’ house over the very special times of the year, particularly over Easter and Christmas. 

We were a large family. My grandparents had a son and four daughters. The son had four children. The oldest daughter had three children. The second oldest daughter had five children. The third daughter had four children. My mom was the youngest daughter and she had two children. I had 15 cousins on my mom’s side of the family. Some have already passed away.

My grandmother and grandfather stayed in a house that they shared with one of my aunts in Parow, South Africa, being a block away from the primary school I attended. I remember they had chickens in a coop in the backyard. Every now and then my granny would wring a chicken’s neck. Chicken would grace the dinner table. The rest of the time they were fed garden snails. 

My grandparents planted their own vegetables and had many fruit trees. Figs were abundant on the tree and so sweet, one could eat them with skin and all. The red strawberries are still fresh in my mind, even after so many years. In the hot shed, I recall a sunken fish tank with a few goldfish. There were bokkoms hanging from the ceiling to dry.

Over these very special festive times, our granny would make homemade ginger beer. She would hide it in her clothing cupboard so that my cousins would not find it. One year it exploded, leaving a huge mess behind.

We spent plenty of time having fun, chatting and laughing and playing together as children should. We never got together often, so when my aunt and uncle arranged a visit at our grandparents’ place, it was a special treat. The house was lively and it buzzed with chatter and excitement.

After the passing of my grandfather, things changed drastically. The house was placed on the market and sold. The family gathering place where we got together, was no longer. There was no longer the fruit trees. Vegetables were no longer grown in the backyard. No more strawberries or chickens or bokkoms hanging from the ceiling of the hot shed. No more goldfish in the sunken fish tank. My grandmother came to stay with us for two years before she became ill and passed away. Life would never be the same ever again.

The last time I saw my cousin was at my mom’s funeral. We parted ways as young adults and at that moment, little did we know that we would lose contact with each other for many years to come. After my grandmother had passed, it never felt the same again. My grandmother was the core and the essential component that kept the family together.

Life continued. We each completed our studies. We each found employment, met partners, got married and had children. Yes, life was busy and it continued. Then, it was as if Sally had vanished off the face of the earth.

I was sick with worry. I had not heard from Sally in months. Her sister had found a note on her bed one morning, explaining that life had become much too difficult. She was in a lot of financial debt and had taken up drinking. Her husband had left her and she wanted to end it all. It seemed as if Sally had disappeared, without a trace. Many times I tried finding her but to no avail.

Over the years, I would find myself often wondering what had happened to my cousin, her mom, brothers and sisters. How they were doing and where they were staying. I had heard that their dad had in the interim passed away. Still, no word from Sally.

On 26 January 2019, my husband, son and I decided to move to Portugal. The sight of the chickens and countryside living with fruit trees and vegetables often took me back to my grandparents’ time, their backyard and most of all, the visits with my cousin.

Then out of the blue, in July 2019 I received a Messenger text from a young lady asking whether my late mom and her granny, on her dad’s side were family. We corresponded and we were sending text messages back and forth, as if no time had passed by at all.

Sally gave me a Messenger call that afternoon. She explained how tough life had become. She was embarrassed and had made her mom, brothers and sisters promise not to give her secret away. She had admitted herself into a clinic for a few months to begin the healing process and had managed to turn her life around. 

I was thankful to re-establish contact with Sally and the rest of the family again. I could not believe it. All the years that we had missed. We had so much catching up to do. It was scary, yet exciting at the same time.

The past few months have been wonderful as we can Facebook and use Messenger to communicate. Although many years have passed since we last saw each other or spoke to each other, it seems as if it was only yesterday that we were children, visiting at our grandparents’ house.

I no longer have to wonder how the years have treated my cousin. We were able to send and post photos on Facebook. We picked up just as easily and we had left off. I am forever thankful that with the aid of Facebook and Messenger, I have found my family members again. I am now 50 years old and Sally is 46.

Sadly, in early January 2021 Sally’s mom passed away. I am, however, so grateful that it is not too late for Sally and I. 

My husband and I have since bought a “quinta” in Portugal and plan on homesteading, planting vegetables, having a fig tree. Perhaps some chickens and even a few sheep. I am certain that after lock-down, Sally will be in Portugal for a long overdue visit.