I’m not one to tell stories outside my own circle of… ahm… let’s call it “family”, but sometimes some information is way too interesting and could even be some sort of a warning to other sane members of the species homo sapiens - just in case someone runs into some of the specimens I’m going to describe in this short novel...
The people I refer to are actually my family-in-law and for one I’m not too worried about them reading this, as most of them can’t really read and those who can are not that good in reading English…..
We all ended up on a week’s holiday together recently and I have to say that if we all travelled in a bus, innocent bystanders might have thought that some asylum had an outing and through some horrible administrative mistake let loose the craziest of the crazies on the unsuspecting resort in the bushes of the northern part of South Africa.
Fortunately we travelled in four cars and no one noticed the “instability” until shortly after we arrived and started sorting out the sleeping arrangements….
There is nothing really sinister about the way we were supposed to sleep even though no hillbilly family I’ve ever seen has anything on this group.
You have to understand the dynamics of this unfortunate lot before I go on.
There are four sisters and each one by some stroke of unbelievable luck found a husband and has so far only been married once and most unbelievably still are - even though I think there may be regular thoughts of either suicide or murder when it comes to their husbands.
For some other unbelievable reason God apparently had a plan, which still has to be revealed, decided that these groups should be “blessed” by offspring and that perpetuated this unbalanced melting pot (read witches brew) of semi-disfunctionality…
Then there are the two unfortunate parents - now grand parents for their sins, which is also still to be revealed.
They have tried their best but became old before they turned 30.
They did, however, had the good fortune of convincing four - at the time, sane, normal young men, to marry their daughters. What a laugh and probably several sighs of relief they must have had after the last daughter left the house…
So there we were. The cars were parked except for one which, due to lack of a “convenient enough spot”, was just left behind some unsuspecting, normal vacationer’s truck, while the children ran around whooping, carrying several heavy cases of alcohol (not mine as you will soon find out – I mean the alcohol) above their heads. This led to terrified screams and some savory language coming from their parents.
Once the hooch was rescued the whips, hand cuffs and leather restraints were removed from the cars, which was basically all that was needed for an interesting few days.
Oh…. No. Don’t misunderstand. The parents have all been banned by most foreign governments and many Security Agencies globally from having any sexual relations ever again, just in case there are more children lurking in their loins…
The equipment is to subdue the children already in existence, as violence is the basic language that calms them down and prevents them from eating too much and stealing their parents’ booze. It also helps to contain them to their sleeping quarters in case they plan to escape to socialize with the rest of the unsuspecting vacationers without parental supervision (for what it may be worth) or to attack the wild life that went into hiding the moment the four cars burst through the gates anyway.
So, where was I?
Oh yes. The sleeping arrangements.
This little “incident” was, to say the least, a storm in a tea cup…. compared to the rest of the week.
Two pairs of grownups split and burst through the doors of the two houses occupying the only double bed in each of the apartments. This left the rest of the crowd with two more rooms with two single beds in each and two more rooms with four bunker beds in each. This situation was swiftly sorted after four hours of negotiations, by allocating two bunker beds to the grandparents and having 6 of the kids sleeping in the other bunker room and another one on a matrass in one of the living rooms. The grandparents were so grateful that they immediately forgot their claustrophobia and aching joints…
No one knew where their back pain complaints came from by the end of the week so it was just flatly ignored and put down to attention-seeking behavior.
Talk about back pain. One of the brothers-in-law, made the tiny mistake of offering his twin cab truck to assist the rest of the clan to bring along every single piece of clothing, the dining room set and the kitchen zinc on this four night excursion.
While loading a lounge chair he did his back in and was crippled for the rest of the holiday. I’ve heard that he’s still not well, but that’s probably mainly due to his wife’s giraffe of a dog, that greeted him very happily on his return to the metropolis of Christiana, which is where they live.
One thing I can say about this place we went to, is that to take the hiking routes is like choosing a lucky packet. If you ever happen to stumble along a sign mentioning the Bush pig walk, be warned. Don’t try it unless you have a week’s provisions of food and water with you, some mountain climbing ropes, hooks and other mountain climbing thingies. You will also need three pairs of climbing boots and very thick socks as you will wear out the boots in a few kilometers and the blisters you will have after this trek will be as big as satellite dishes. But this is a story for another day.
After offloading the entire luggage consignment and dividing up the kids, I was in desperate need of alcohol. And lots of it. To my disgust and heartbreak I had to find that none of the booze I thought would accompany me on this ultimate test for survival was packed. Probably a little trick my wife had up her sleeve. I didn’t ask and I also refrained from violence to keep the peace for a while.
Blind with thirst I high jacked a car and drove the 200 kilometers to the nearest town where I saw a booze store when we came past on the way to the bush camp. I emptied the store of all its stock and I was back at ground zero before the rest of the clan even missed me.
My alcoholic son immediately asked whether I provided for him as well and with the affirmation in place, he proceeded to hurt three cans in succession in the space of about twenty seconds and once I had him on a plug, it was time for me to apply the necessary “medicinal” attention to myself…..
The rest of the week actually went by as a bit of a blur and although I tried to remember how it actually went, I fail to recall any lucid moments.
I do remember that I played beach volleyball with a team of Swedish Swimsuit Models at some stage, but even that hallucination might have been brought on by some of the liquid refreshments I forced on myself, so take at least this part of my story with a pinch of salt.
Everything said, I think the week went extremely well and I really look forward to do it again next year….
Groete uit die woestyn en aan al die Arabiere
H of Arabia
