I had always been the ‘quiet’ child.
Throughout my childhood years my wonderful imagination served as a safe harbor, a place void of judgement. A space where I could laugh at myself and feel OK to be silly. The love of words opened that door for me a long time ago. I learnt from a young age that a good book can take you places, but a great one has the power to keep you there for just a while longer.
I was born at the Frere Hospital in East London. It wasn’t long after that, when we relocated to the Transkei where my father was commissioned to be the Commander of a Police station. Due to unrest and rioting we moved back to the Eastern Cape where I attended the majority of my primary school years. Together with my sister and brother this coastal city produced some of my fondest family memories. From there we moved to Springs in Gauteng, (my mother was advanced in her career) and become a Police Chaplain. The last move we would embark on was to the Western Cape – Paarl. Where I completed my last high school years.
Not really knowing in which direction to study after matriculating, I persuaded my parents to send me to France, Paris where I lived for nearly two years. I celebrated my 18th birthday in a foreign country and it was in that moment that my love for traveling was born. When I returned to South Africa, I was enthralled by university studies of 1st Century BC Roman mythology and sociology which was sparked by my travels in Rome. I went on to study Theology and finally became a registered Pastoral counselor through CPSC. This was initially fashioned from my fascination with addiction and abnormal psychology.
I live in Hartenbos with my husband and two precious daughters whom I love and adore more with each passing day. I regard my greatest life’s work to be the lives of my children.
Who without fail, challenge me to be my best! At worst, I am but an empty vessel, a blank palette without the Lord, who has given me every good gift. To Him, I give all the praise and honor.
I believe, that we all have stories to tell. Some will transpire enough tears to wash away mountains, while others will invoke hope to billow into the skies. Our stories ebb and flow with the tides of time and are relevant to era’s in our lives. Our memoirs can be weapons of destruction or power tools. We need to be responsible and harness our words to make sure that we use our past to build the present, to construct bridges and not to burn them down. Our words are a testimony of the condition of our hearts.
incase you missed it, below you can read some of my latest blog posts
My favorite season travelling to the Boland is in Autumn. The weather is mostly mild compared to the Summer’s explosive heat waves. When in Paarl, the locals like to ‘joke’ amongst each other saying that; “If you break a raw egg over your car bonnet on a really hot...
There are those of us who cannot wait to pack our bags and head out to the great outdoors. Once we get there it is a different story altogether. The struggle to unwind and enjoy our natural surroundings is real. I recently escaped to the tranquil seaside village of...
For the past two years, this story could not be spoken aloud! It would mean giving specific words permission to filter through the universe, letting its ink blot out the moon, sun and stars. Surely, if history has taught us anything, it would be that some stories are...