Weekly Photo Challenge: Gone, But Not Forgotten

My maternal grandfather had many interests and hobbies: he studied the stars (astronomically, as opposed to astrologically), played the violin and loved photography, carrying his camera wherever he went.

I don’t know if he kept a journal, but if he did, it’s long lost; however, his insatiable curiosity about so many things–from people to architecture, to history, to nature–is well documented through the many photos (in slide form) that he took over his lifetime.

He worked as a mosaic tradesman and sometimes travelled from his hometown, Durban, South Africa, by ship up the east coast of Africa to do mosaic work on buildings in exotic places, such as Lourenço Marques (now Maputo) and Beira.

On one of these trips, he took my mum and brother along, documenting the journey with his lens.

I particularly love this photo that he took on the ship of my mum making bubbles for my brother. And I love my mum’s reaction to it: “Oh, what a silly young thing I was then.”

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Photo by RIP © beeblu

 

For more entries to this week’s photo challenge, see The Daily Post.

 

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Lena Maree

Tonight,
I think of my maternal grandmother,
(Chelsea buns, vetkoek, hugs to save the world)
passed some 30-odd years ago –
“Kari, Kari…”, her loving voice as I drift to sleep
and remember that stark day
she fell crossing the road
outside the Durban Museum

And I, five, thinking she was dead,
screamed!

But she did not let go
of my hand, and smiled
in her usual, generous way
as strangers helped her to her feet.

Always the comforter of souls –
Sweet, wonderful Lena Maree.

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Weekend Prompt: Childhood Revisited

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It wasn’t smells or tastes or dear old Patchy,
or Teddy or Polly or clothes that were scratchy,

but bright orange blossoms beaming out from my walls,
retro symbols of happiness from ceiling to floor –
my first bedroom’s wallpaper sticks like glue
in my mind to this day  (my sibling’s too
at the time they thought he had chronic colic
but, it seems, brother’s wall-art was making him sick –
all those racing-cars whizzing about his head
(he confessed, years later) made him dizzy in bed).

So my first memory – wallpaper, and subtropical heat,
and the tickles of mum’s kisses under my feet.

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In response to the Daily Post’s Weekend Prompt: Childhood Revisited – What is your earliest memory? Describe it in detail, and tell us why you think that experience was the one to stick with you.

Rogue

Once,

on a shimmering day,

I saw the sea fly up

Llandudno Beach

and swallow our sunwashed

detritus –

faded towels, Hang Ten slops, trashy

novels, footprints

ingested,

as we scramble-watched

it from the boulders,

churning back out to the horizon

with the indigestion

of our lives,

not looking back

to wave