In true Sunday afternoon style, Johno and I spent Sunday afternoon at his aunt’s house, sharing a roast with as much of the extended family as could be gathered.

I wish I’d taken a picture of the view from Karen and Mike’s front porch. They look down from a hill onto nothing but various shades of tree and flower, which artfully conceal the fact that their property is actually in a city. It’s easy to imagine that the house is in fact the only one, in the centre of a forest. Absolutely beautiful.

The food was all exquisite, and we crammed ourselves elbow-to-elbow around a table next to the pool as we ate. I’m very much enjoying getting to meet more of Johno’s family. It’s an awfully good deal to gain not only him, but his parents and brother, a couple of aunts and uncles, some very nice cousins and their children. (Cousins once removed? Cousinlings?) The two cousinlings are one and four years old, and I admit to spending rather more time with them than with the adults. We went tiger hunting, and wrestled on the lawn.

We closed off the visit with a dip in the pool, and then trickled home, all happily full and sunburnt.

Photo credits for the following photos go to Johno’s cousin Saskia Kuiper, who did a very good job capturing the fun and the people. I stole them off her instagram. Thanks!

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A bit of family explanation. Sally and Karen are Richard’s sisters. Tim and Saskia are Sally and Jaap’s children, while Simon and (one other whose name I forget because he wasn’t there) are Karen and Mike’s. Saskia’s four year old son Noah didn’t make his way into the photos, but I’m sure you’ll meet him soon enough.

Fun was had! So many nice people who have very kindly welcomed me into the family.

So far, we’ve shared some of the happy things we’ve done as we settle into Zimbabwe. But the people we’ve done things with have been hidden behind accounts of birds and beasts and places. Today we went to Mukuvisi woodlands again, this time with Tim, and saw Southern Hyliota, Yellow-fronted Canary, White-crested Helmet-shrike and 40 other birds. <- See what I mean? Let’s try a different approach.

Tim is a cousin of mine on my dad’s side. Don’t tell my other cousins but he’s one of my favourites. He’s also based in Oxford, but we managed to see him a few times during his stay in Zim, where he’s doing research on poaching. We got to hear him preach on Sunday. His love for the Lord and deep, earnest thoughts on things have made him an invaluable role-model for me. He leaves tomorrow, so we took him into the bush for a last taste of African sun and wildlife.

There. Humans are important too I guess. You’ll get to meet the rest of the family here in a post that Ellie is currently writing, so I’ll move on to friends.

We live in a little cottage behind the home of Clare and Gary Griffiths. They are wonderful, and you’ll struggle to meet a more interesting couple. That said, all the interesting people who might vie for the title seem to pop round whenever they feel like it – the kitchen in the main house is almost always full of fun humans drinking tea and examining plant specimens or chatting away. We need only to poke our heads out our door to be pulled into something fun. On Friday it was making plum jam, cutting up the tasty fruit with Mr Powels (my old Chemistry teacher, among many other things), Scott (a botanist who also lives in a cottage here), Glenn (who gifted us some baobab and snot-apple pods) and Brooksie (a whirlwind of sociable energy who is often around to share a smile and a chat). The Great Danes get in the way, Gary yells pleasantries from the next room and buckets of tea are made and consumed. This is the life 🙂

If living here wasn’t enough social, we could walk 100m across the circle on a Saturday night and join my old bible study. I’m speaking there next week. Picture 30 happy folk in late high-school/early university meeting to pray, share, study and eat together. A truly special bunch that has set many of us on firm paths for the rest of our lives.

100m is a bit far given the current fuel crisis, so Ellie and I have also devised a sneaky plan to bring the friends to us. On Thursday evenings we cook a ton of food and lure in all the cool peeps. This week was our first dinner, and our little cottage was filled with 14 people having fun and playing games. These are the special ones, most of whom I’ve known since the old days of Bible study and youth group. Here’s a snapshot of the chaos:

I am so looking forward to keeping up this tradition, opening our home to lovely people and sharing food together every week.

We’ve found a church (although we may keep exploring a bit longer) so I don’t think it’ll be long before we have some good friends there. There are also more people around than I’ve been able to invite to Thursdays, so we’re kept busy seeing them before they head off back to University or whatever. So I think you’ll agree that even if we get tired of birds we will have an abundance of two-legged creatures around to keep us happy.

Whoever walks with the wise becomes wise, but the companion of fools will suffer harm. ~ Proverbs 13:20

We’ve been birding continuously (67 and counting) and enjoying all sorts of lovely green spots as we do it. One place we have yet to visit is a patch of damp grassland a few minutes from my parent’s house where flufftails and longclaws abound. Well. I say ‘yet to visit’. I mean ‘yet to visit *in daylight*’. Let me explain.

Sunday evening began with a braii. Sweetcorn, stuffed peppers and the smell of smoke as we chatted and caught up. Lovely, and normally not a situation one is eager to leave. But this time, I kept catching the eyes of Ellie and Scott. Time to leave? Shall we head out? You see, we had other evening plans as well, and we didn’t want to be out tooooo late. By 19:10 we could take it no longer, and muttering farewells we slipped away from the social and drove off into the dark.

Our mission was frogs. Monovale vlei, the aforementioned patch of grassland, was rumoured to contain something interesting and amphibian. Navigating the crumbling back-roads and trying to find our way, we quizzed Scott for everything he knew about this hobby that was so foreign to us.

It turns out, frogging mainly involved tromping around in the wet, looking for tiny creatures who make a lot of noise until you get close. We set off into the vlei, lights piercing the dark and reflecting off thousands of shimmering droplets on the reeds, left there by the recent rains. Every flick of movement was met with deep scrutiny as grasshoppers, moths and mosquitoes got out of our way as we pushed further from the road.

The ground was sodden, often completely underwater. Our breath fogged in the torchlight, and we were filled with excitement by the chorus of frog calls around us. It didn’t take long for Scott to find the first frog of the evening – a green reed frog whose identity was uncertain.

Many more sightings of our green friends soon followed as Ellie and I got our eye in. Around us, we could hear Bubbling Cassinas and another unknown frog calling, but try as we might we could never locate anything but those green reed frogs. Up and down we searched, scrutinising each clump of reads as we crept about. Eventually the sky dropped a few raindrops as a warning and we began to move back towards the car, still hoping for another species or two. No luck.

I started the engine, flicked on the lights and turned the car towards home. 5 seconds later, a toad hopped across our path and we leapt out of the car in pursuit. The toad got away, but on the patch of road where it had been was the cutest little frog you’ve ever seen – a Puddle Frog 🙂

We arrived home, but before we could retire to our separate cottages I persuaded Scott to come with us to inspect the garden ponds. There we found River Frogs and Guttural Toads, while Scott grumbled about ‘Canned frogging’ and ‘Cheating’. Call it what you like – we found as many species in those 3 minutes as we had the rest of the night! We had had a ton of fun, collected some good reference photos of the reed frog (believed to be Hyperolius nasutus) and added another adventure to our rapidly growing 2019 list.

PS. 105 – “Their land swarmed with frogs Even in the chambers of their kings.”

This post is for my Mom, and anyone else who wants pictures of our new home. Otherwise, disregard, and wait for Johno’s impending post about frogs. Frogs are cool.

We spent almost a week with Johno’s parents, before moving to our new home on Saturday.

The time with family was lovely, but I must confess I had been really looking forward to having our own space. I’ve been dreaming of setting up house since I started apartment hunting last year in Cape Town. It’s fun to imagine making a space our own, down to establishing an ordered kitchen, and ornamenting the walls.

And moving in was such fun! The only really decided thing in the cottage we’ve just moved into was the bathroom. Outside one door is a fridge. Outside another is a spot where we’re assured we’ll have a kitchen sink once the plumber finishes his holiday. Apart from that we started with a jumble of furniture in an open, two-room sort of space. We got to decide what to make of it, which is awfully satisfying.

Of course, we’re still putting together bits and pieces. We’ve got some home improvement schemes still in process. For example, the box currently marked as “food” is just some plastic trunks where we’re hiding our food from the ants. Above that we’re going to add a little more counter space. And once the piano is repaired and tuned, it’ll get its own bench that isn’t the side of the bed. Plus, hooks! Lots of hooks everywhere.

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Well, that’s all for now! Mini tour over, I’m headed over into the main house, where we’ll be having supper with our hosts, Clare and Gary. I’m bracing myself, because Barnabas the “puppy” has a tendency to affectionately lean on me. Last time he did it, I ended up on my bum in a flower bed! Ah well.

Today was a lovely lazy day. We relaxed in a hammock in the garden, read our books and introduced my dad to biscuits and gravy. He went fishing and hooked a nice one for George. Where did this fishing occur you ask? Just outside our back door!

This afternoon, we went for a walk in the Harare Botanical Gardens. Ellie and I plan on coming here most days – it’s within walking distance of where we’ll be living. Today was mostly an exploratory visit to find out about membership, but we did see some new birds and lots of lovely forests.

Now, I bet you’re wondering what the alliterative title was about. On our way out of the gardens we walked by some prickly pears. They were right in front of the offices and reception. As we all know, stolen food tastes better! Ellie had never tried these gloriously purple fruit, so I plucked one (following Baloo’s advice) and deftly popped it into a tea-cup before anyone noticed. I have on a previous occasion made the mistake of eating the spoils while still in the garden. My purple face and hands as I walked past the gate guards must have told the whole story! This time we got the loot safely home, and only got partly prickled. It’s OK on it’s own, but I couldn’t resist seeing what colour it would turn a smoothie.

These gardens are a little run down, but still so lovely. I’m excited about supporting their work and enjoying this patch of nature so close to our doorstep.

“Let the rivers clap their hands, let the mountains sing together for joy” – Psalm 98:8

New birds:

• Green-winged Pytillia
• Tropical Boubou
• Brubru
• Brimstone Canary
• … and lots of ones we’ve seen before, including the happy ‘paintpot’ Crested Barbet.

We are in Zimbabwe!

The last few days of packing and organising flew by as we spent time with family and got a last taste of Muizenberg life. In a fit of admin powers, I registered to pay tax in SA – I may want to come back at some point without worrying about an angry SARS representative meeting me at the airport. Admin meant town, which was a perfect excuse for lunch at the Waterfront and a trip to the Museum of Contemporary African Art with cousin Lamb.

With family density at critical mass, a new game was invented. I’ll have to explain the rules another time, but suffice to say that ‘Swoggle’ is now a thing, and we were gifted a ceremonial set to bring with us to Zimbabwe. Here’s a still from the video documentary I took:

Anyway, the festivities ended and we got an early night before heading out at 4am to the airport. Bless our wonderful family, who woke up early to see us off and observe our departure dance. This cheerful Ker tradition involves letting loose after security for the entertainment of family, airport staff and fellow passengers. I whipped out my ukulele and we gave it our best shot – here’s hoping it goes down in the family oral history 🙂

We were met at the airport by my folks, where the chaos of the parking lot welcomed us to our new home. Ellie smiled at me. ‘Any chance I can take a few weeks rest before I try to drive in this country?’ Zimbabwe’s scary traffic and crazy economics are enough to make anyone re-think their life choices, but 10 minutes later we were out and driving past Mukuvisi Woodland, with Eland and Zebra peeking over the fence and the green bush reminding me of all that I love about this land.

We’re staying with the parents, and everything is just as it has always been. The garden is happy and full of flowers and veggies. The dogs are getting older but their tails wagged just as happily as they welcomed me back as if I’d merely popped out to school for the day. Mum’s special chicken curry tasted wonderful as we ate a late lunch on the veranda, and my old bird friends flitted about as we played scrabble and sipped our Tanganda. This is a happy place.

From the smell, I think supper is nearly ready. I’ll end this post with some pictures from our evening walk around the block.

John 14:1-2 “Do not let your hearts be troubled. You believe in God; believe also in me. 2 My Father’s house has many rooms; if that were not so, would I have told you that I am going there to prepare a place for you?”

Thank you Lord for bringing us to this beautiful temporary home, and for setting us up with an even better eternal home, founded on the rock!

In late September of last year, I took a road trip to the Hermanus whale festival with seven of my friends, one of whom was my fairly new boyfriend, Johno. I could write a lot about that trip, but for brevity’s sake I’ll get to the point. There were two important moments on that trip that have really stuck with me.

The first was the hike when I first met my orange and black friend, the cape batis bird. Johno and I, being madly in love and slightly less busy with coursework than our six companions, decided to brave the midday heat and walk up the little mountain behind our lodgings. There are few things I love more than walking on a mountain overlooking the sea, and so we meandered along in enraptured and slightly sweaty silence, occasionally pointing out some particularly striking patch of beauty in the overwhelming whole. Finally I spotted a rock face, with what looked to be a shaded ledge part of the way up, and called a break.

Picture this: you’re sitting on a shaded ledge of rock, looking out over descending hills of fynbos, to a quiet coastline speckled with red-roofed villas. To your right is your beloved. Tall bushes frame the view. Both of you are very aware of each other, and of beauty of God’s good creation. Could it get any better? Well, for me it did. With a sort of rasping trill, a tiny little bird hopped into view in the bush right in front of us. He had gorgeous markings of orange, black and white, and seemingly no fear of us whatsoever. I held my breath as he preened, displayed, announced to the world that this was his territory. I have no doubt he knew exactly how fine a figure he cut, because he spent a good ten minutes flitting around us so closely that I could admire him from every angle.

Although I’d spent several months already with Johno telling me the names of every bird in sight, something about this bold little friend caught my imagination. I had great difficulty remembering his name, instead opting to call him “our orange and black friend” whenever I needed to tell someone about that encounter. The next month I captured him in acrylic paint as a gift for Jonathan.

The second moment which stood out in that trip was when Johno helped me dye my hair purple, just for fun. Early one morning, I donned my oldest clothes, and he dyed my hair in the front courtyard. By the time the others woke up, my hair, and Johno’s hands were a vibrant purple.

The reason for these reminiscences is that my life seems to have come full circle since then. 14 months later, my husband Johno again dyed my hair in the front courtyard of our (!!) home. This time he got away with a single purple finger, and a purple wife. The next day we took our new binoculars to Kirstenbosch botanical gardens, where we were fortunate enough to see a nesting cape batis, as well as several others busily employed in scolding a greenbul bird. Today I was proud of myself for identifying and spotting a batis by its call.

In summary, God’s creation is still beautiful. My hair is yet again purple. I’ve still got a Johno at my side, and a growing cohort of orange and black friends. Life is so good.

We had a lovely wedding, with tons of special people around. But once it was over, it was time to head off for some rest and special time together. We made our exit in style:

After a few days relaxing in our hideaway, we set off on a road trip towards Rocklands. Tucked away in the Cederberg, this is a place with many happy memories for me – the annual Highline festival, bouldering and hiking with friends. Whenever I’ve been, I’ve joined the other dirtbag climbers camping on the dusty field. Little did I know that just around the corner, luxury was lurking!

The Storytellers have three secluded, off-grid units styled as ‘glamping accommodation’. Picture a big tent. Bigger than that – in the first room is two bunk beds and space to store your bags. The second contains a queen size bed and some cupboards. Above the tent is a separate roof to keep things cool, and every window has views of rock and wilderness. A separate little cabin has a shower, bathroom and kitchen (complete with gas stove and fridge). Such luxury! 

Our cottage was called ‘Tortoise Terrace’, the most secluded of the three. Nestled at the top of a valley, we had the choice of heading down to the dam and company or up into the mountains for stunning views and adventure tea. Wherever we went we were accompanied by a pack of happy dogs, who led us through the wilderness to a lovely secluded swimming spot and brought us safely home from our waterfall hike.

Besides our four-legged friends, our campsite was visited by a host of creatures coming by to say hello. Lizards scurried around on the rocks, a whip snake slithered past, starlings called and dived overhead and speckled pidgeons coo’d from the rocky cliffs above. A tok-tok beetle, happy with the nice hard flagstones of our patio, spent each day tapping away merrily, broadcasting his love to the world. And if I sat quietly in our hammock, a Cape Bunting would hop out from the bushes and explore our campsite. I managed to get a sketch and colour it later:

Everything about this place was perfect. We could rest and read in a beautiful setting, explore the boulder fields, hike along the river or just relax together in our cosy campsite. The cabins were thoughtfully constructed, with everything we needed and nothing extraneous. The company (both canine and human) was friendly and welcoming, and I was with my beloved wife. What more could one wish for? If this is glamping, sign me up 🙂