A trip to St George's Street.

Yesterday I woke up and said to Graeme: "I want to go to my Grandmother's old house. And I want to go visit her at the Old Age Home." We had no idea what sort of day was ahead of us. I didn't realize how hard it would *actually* be to go back there.

I'm going go to in to a bit of detail here, because I want to keep this information for my boys. I think that to really understand who you are, you need to understand where you came from.

My mother and her four siblings grew up in Bellville, Western Cape. I grew up in Empangeni, Kwa-Zulu Natal.

I went to my Grandmother's house (11 St George's Street) when I was about Noah's current age or younger. When my biological dad passed away, I lived there for about six months while my mom put things back together. Our family lived in Kwa-Zulu Natal at the time. Well, my mom and my two brothers.

The last time I was at the St George's house marked our family's last Christmas together. We were all there in the Christmas of 1999 again, and my brother Neil passed away suddenly in 2001, at 19. I never went back to that house. 

My Grandfather, Jack (Willem Johannes Carel van Niekerk) and my Grandmother Joyce (Magdalena Johanna Botha) (Direkte afstammeling van Generaal Louis Botha) -her biological father was French, but she never knew him - And she is also a Hugenout. Okay so they were married when my Grandmother was 18 and they were married for 54 years. And had five children. And lived in a little house in Bellville, on Sydney Street, number 8. That is where my mother grew up. My Grandfather built the Church next to the house, and had an incredibly good relationship with God, as did my Grandmother. 

My Grandfather was in an accident when he was a young man, at work with a power tool. He almost lost half his face, and had a glass eye. I remember he used to take it out sometimes to completely freak his us kids out. So he could not get work, as he only had one working eye, which obviously limited his options. They had no income, and he was unemployed for 18 months, with five children. My mom says that he helped build the Church to keep busy. I'm not sure if he built it on his own, but it wasn't a paying job. They were a very proud family. Members of the Church used to leave meals for them, and sent money via the children to my Grandfather. I don't know if people are still like that today  -as caring and community orientated, but I really hope so.

He used to open and close the Church after services. As a little girl myself, I attended services and Bible Studies and Prayer Groups with him at that very same Church. Isn't that just... Something?

My Grandfather passed away three years ago. My Grandmother is now in an Old Age Home as she needs special care and refuses to leave as she loves it so much. She has company, routine, security and a whole bunch of friends that I met yesterday. The ladies there are so formal. They all call each other by their last names, which I found really strange. Like, her BEST friend there calls her Mev van Niekerk. I asked my gran why, and she said "You don't call a lady over sixty by her first name." Well in the Afrikaans culture I have never said "you" to my mother. In Afrikaans, you only address your mother by the word "mother". So you would say "Mom, can mom please get me that biscuit from the ones that mom baked yesterday?" You're not allowed to say "you". You must NEVAH. Anyway.

It's so funny. My Grandmother is almost 75. She had a special 'visitor' the one afternoon. The elderly gentleman arrived with flowers and chocolates for her and and she sent him away. When asked why, she said that a man may not visit her without another person present. What type of lady does he think she is? It's just not done. She also complained that the lady across the hall from her slammed her door and my Gran was in horror. "What sort of a lady was raised to slam doors?" Graeme totally gave me the eye. 

So we spent the day on Sydney Street, where my mom grew up, and on St George's Street, where I lived briefly as a toddler. I asked my Grandmother if I ever asked for my father during that time. She told me a lot of things that I didn't know, and she put a lot of little pieces in to place, which left me feeling more at ease and with a better understanding of things.

I love Old Age Homes, I do. I used to work in one, when I was about 21. Yesterday I chatted to a few of the elderly there. They all enjoyed Noah and Benjamin a great deal! The boys were running up and down the passages, greeting everyone -giving hugs and saying general hello's. Everyone was really friendly. Noah was very impressed with my Gran's 'pram' (push-car / walking wheel) and wanted to ride in it. We took her to Big Bay for the day and sat at a beachfront restaurant drinking milkshakes and chatted. Noah showed her all the bikes on the promenade with great gusto. 

He slowed his pace to hers when we walked -even though he is usually so far ahead of everyone. He was so patient and gentle and respectful. Not because anyone told him to, but he just knew. At the Old Age Home there were a lot of people that needed a lot of help in the corridors. There was an elderly lady that is mentally handicapped and her mannerisms / body language would have seemed unusual to most, but he didn't change his ways with anyone. He never asked any questions, he just greeted and chatted to everyone all the same. He carried my Grandmother's handbag for her and was gentle and polite with everyone that he met. He even picked out her flowers -yellow roses and chose the fluffy the winter slippers that we got her. You don't understand how much she loves slippers.

It really was a wonderful day. We will go back to the home soon, and take cake for all the lovely people we met yesterday.

This is near-ish my Mother's old house. I thought I recognized it but couldn't place it.

Well. There you go.

Paul, Roxane, Neil, me and Landi in front of my Grandmother's house on St George's Street in about 1986

Noah and Benjamin on the same spot in 2012, about 26 years later.

Me in the same spot, 26 years older.

It broke my heart to see how different the house is now. It used to look completely different. With no steel, a rose garden and snails. They'd covered up the pool and divided the house. It doesn't look the same at all.

My Grandmother used to work at the tuck shop at Bellville Laerskool. She used to make these chocolate bees and bears in moulds. I remember those from when I was two years old.

The Church that my Grandfather built, on Sydney Street, Bellville. His service was held here.

The house where my mother grew up, next to the Church. 8 Sydney Street.

Noah in front of my mom's old house. That window on the left was her bedroom, she said.

My mom says she fell down those stairs a lot, when my Gran polished the stoep / porch

Neil and I at about the age when our biological father passed away.

My mom (left) and her sister Joy. They shared that room with the window on the left.