Wehmut

Wehmut is a beautiful word. It is sweet and bitter at the same time. I had to look it up in the dictionary. It said wistfulness or woefulness. Maybe Wehmut is another word like Angst, which the English should adopt into their vocabulary.

My friend A makes the most beautiful children (and adults) clothes. I just read her blog and that reminded me again of the dresses she made for Luzie about 7 years ago, while she visited us in Bangkok where we lived at that time.

I looked at the photos and I was so sad that this little girl was forever gone. She will never come back.
Part of me is sad; part of me is glad.

Spitbraai

Sven more or less invited ourselves to a spitbraai. The sheep was delicious. It was oom (sprich uahm) Cloetes 50th birthday. Every younger Afrikaans person would call an older person oom (uncle) or tannie (auntie). That still sounds funny to me, but it is a form of respect.

When I asked Mandie once if I would call Coias Mom who is about my mothers age tannie, she shook her head and said: “Nooo!” I asked, “why not?” and she said: “Because you are old!”. Mandie is 21 and I could tell that she didn’t really saw a difference between me and Coias Mom.

Cloetes brother said in his speech which Simonei translated simultanously from Afrikaans into English for me: “50 ist a great age. You are finally wise enough to make the right decisions and you have enough time left to benefit from these decisions”.

Oom Cloetes 50th birthday

The fire never stops

Grieki

The meat goes into the pot

Klein Johanneki chewing on a bone