Final Days

Sadly, my days together with Ron are numbered. Throughout this I am still trying to keep an outward facade to my family overseas who know no better. I do not want to add on to their worry. In the midst of all this, Robert’s long awaited Christmas present from Auntie Celia arrives. Its belated arrival made a sad testament to the changed circumstances. I picked the parcel up at the post office, and the it lay unopened for days. So I finally decided to open it and divided the presents, which were supposed to be shared. Ron got the tea, and I kept the chocolates, while Robert got the whole lot of baby goodies and a book.

During the past week Ron and I steered away from each other. He kept his usual morning routine, and at night he went to sleep soundly while I stayed awake, reading news feeds and blogs and writing my own. Just messing around on the internet to shorten the hours of the night and to keep the fear and desperation at bay. Many of my problems do not have solutions yet. Who will look after Robert while I am away at work? How will I manage work in the long term? what will happen next? I try not to think of everything at once, and deal with one problem at a time.

I had to explain my situation at work, thus making myself a novelty and a freak. People who have been at my work long enough know that I have been close to divorce before, and I can imagine the gossip that is spreading on the floor. I endured the pitying looks and asked for some arrangement to my shifts. The first solution that came to my mind was to work 20 hours of night shift every week. I thought that Robert slept through the night, and Jackie is home almost every night so she can keep an ear if he wakes up at night for some reason. I am still waiting for a response for my request, but if it is not granted I really do not know what else to do. Jackie is careful and paranoid about people who enter her house. It will be difficult for me to employ domestic help if they do not meet with her approval.
All these problems I try to forget while Robert and I are together. We are spending many hours at the park, and enjoying our final days there. Once I move in with Jackie it will be a much longer walk here, and I am not sure whether I can come here every day.

Robert crawls now very easily on the grass, and he can sit in the swing for a very long time.

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Crocheting and Unraveling

Two weeks ago I started crocheting a dress for Olivia, who was yet to be born. After almost finishing the dress I discovered that it was sitting too stiffly and was not the greatest piece. I unraveled the whole thing and started over with a larger hook, and crocheted a jacket this time. I always unravel stuff when I am not too happy about something, or when I spot a mistake that nobody else would Two weeks ago I started crocheting a dress for Olivia, who was yet to be born. After almost finishing the dress I discovered that it was sitting too stiffly and was not the greatest piece. I unraveled the whole thing and started over with a larger hook, and crocheted a jacket this time. I always unravel stuff when I am not too happy about something, or when I spot a mistake that nobody else would notice. This time my aborted project was an imitation of my life. I am unraveling my marriage because it is obviously not working. The jacket turned out beautiful, more so because the wool was softened and stretched with unraveling. Perhaps this is what will happen to me sometime in the distant future.

Trust a Man

Today’s quote from Husband (hereafter referred to as Mr. Negativity-he won’t be Husband for long) : “You will never appreciate all the things I have done for you through nine years of marriage”. The quote came on the heels of an accusation to me that I have stopped doing anything around the house. Yes, it is true, I have stopped because there is no point. There is no pleasing the bugger whatever I do, so I just took a step back and started slacking off COMPLETELY. I am using him for all he is worth, for now. Because I know: a) Whatever he is doing right now serves to massage his guilt and promote his self image as the martyr and the victim of the piece. b) Heck, I will be having a real hard life next, and will not get much out of him after these next few days, so I might as well enjoy it while it lasts. No, I am not going out with my girlfriends every night and leaving him with a crying baby. I am not maxing out his credit card. I am only slacking off in the housework department (where I was a slacker to start with), and when he cooks dinner I eat the extra portion he puts aside. I still take care of baby whenever I am home from work, but he still feels that he is so nice to help me babysit our son. Oh, please give me a break. Like this is stopping him from his life’s work ! At least looking after the little child is a productive and rewarding activity. Better than trying in vain to reverse the passage of years at the gym. Of course this is not the way he sees it. As far as he is concerned he is paying me GENEROUS child support of x thousand Rand (don’t hold your breath, it is honestly peanuts) so that he doesn’t have to do babysitting. What the cheapskate forgets is that the generous amount includes R600 contribution to my medical aid, which he still benefits from. After deducting it, there is just enough to cover the rent of a furnished room in a friend’s house. We still need to live and pay for nannies if I want to continue to work. I rest my case.So, what has he done for me in nine years of marriage? The one good thing is my little one, and if he didn’t think that having a child was something that will magically fix his life, he wouldn’t have allowed me to have him. Then there is ruining my self-esteem, isolating me from my friends, giving me complexes about my healthy appetite, begrudging me every treat, and trying very hard to change me. His excuse: he wanted me to be someone compatible with him. Yes, and I am the fool who fell for this crap for six long years. When I had enough he fooled me again by telling me that HE has changed. In my native tongue there is a saying : trust a man, trust your water to a sieve.

Creative Timout

Two weeks ago I started crocheting a dress for Olivia, who was yet to be born. After almost finishing the dress I discovered that it was sitting too stiffly and was not the greatest piece. I unraveled the whole thing and started over with a larger hook, and crocheted a jacket this time. I always unravel stuff when I am not too happy about something, or when I spot a mistake that nobody else would notice. This time my aborted project was an imitation of my life. I am unraveling my marriage because it is obviously not working. The jacket turned out beautiful, more so because the wool was softened and stretched with unraveling. Perhaps this is what will happen to me sometime in the distant future.

I enjoyed working on the pink jacket so much, I knitted one more in variegated wool, Baby Milkyway which is a local brand. The wool is very soft, but perhaps more suited to knitting than crochet. My second jacket, this one for Kylie the newborn daughter of a colleague at work, turned out okay, but not as nice as the one crocheted in solid pink (double knitting yarn also a local brand). Too bad I do not have a picture of it.

Getting Ready for Battle

We are going to do battle soon, over trivial things. I feel the eminent confrontation over what is mine and what is his. I can almost walk away from everything except for my books and my craft tools. The only thing that stops me is knowing deep down that I am entitled to some things.

There is precious little in this flat that belongs to me alone anyway. These are few things that I bought for me, with my own money, when I first came to Cape Town two years ago. Husband is the type that buys the cheapest kettle, and toaster. While I give myself a little treat with a cordless kettle, and a sandwich maker. I am partial to the things I bought, because I chose them with care and paid the correct prices. Strangely enough it is not the appliances that I hang on to, it is more the little gadgets and tools.

Today the argument was as follows: If I do not pay the telkom bill then he will deduct it from my -yet to be seen- maintenance, or maybe from the child’s maintenance. Earlier, when I asked him if he can take us shopping for diapers and baby stuff he answered that he doesn’t need to do that, because he will pay for maintenance, and why should he pay twice. I can sense that we are going to descend to pennies and cents shortly, but what the heck, there is no point being nice anymore.

Bear in mind that I have offered to keep him on my medical aid in return for a contribution and even thought of leaving the modem for the telephone line. He even alluded to the fact that he wants one more ticket at staff prices from my airline employer. I did not say : Hell no, you do not deserve it. I just try to be reasonable, for the sake of momentary peace. In the end, he is helping me look after HIS son while I go to work. In his book he is being nice and doesn’t have to do it.

I look at my poor baby and feel sorry for him. I have chosen a complete jerk to be his father. I hope he will not be afflicted with the same emotional and psychological shortcomings of his sire. Yes, I know I am not perfect, but heavens I consider having my baby a privilege not a burden. Having the baby made me discover that I had love and dedication in me, while it exposed his self-centered tendencies. Of course these suffered with the advent of a new life. When I am confronted with this attitude it is difficult to curb my revulsion. If a person cannot melt with love towards their own child, then they are incapable of feeling this emotion towards anyone. It is rather sad.

Bargaining with the Cheapskate

The lawyer I saw two years ago for my first divorce attempt is helping again for this final one. We sat together last week to try and draft a consent paper. My soon-to-be-ex husband was also present. At the end of the meeting I thought that we had agreed on everything, but a day or so later husband came back with a counter offer, which I found insulting. One more day of ugliness and name-calling followed then another revised offer. I am not about to fight over a thousand here and another there, so I basically agreed on whatever he suggested. I agreed on pathetic terms for child maintenance and spousal support, but then I am hoping that I will not need this small change. Besides I have reached a stage, where I do not mind buying myself out with some small concessions to his pocket. So we are finally in agreement about the settlement, but my soon-to-be-ex still chokes on small stuff. He always has, and onces a cheapskate always a cheapskate.

I know that I said I took the word divorce out of my system for good, but the lawyer convinced me otherwise. Why should I stay married in name only to this guy, and let him get the benefit of our joint estate and avoid being accountable for maintenance? It might suit him but not me. Now at least I know what I will end up with and what to expect (or not to expect) financially. For all I care he can keep the dubious satisfaction of telling whoever comes next that I was the one who divorced him.

A Day at Kirstenbosch


I have been to Kirstenbosch only once before, when I came to Cape Town for the first time on an educational trip with African Eagle, the tour company I worked with while we were still living in Johannesburg. So it was natural that I would jump at the chance to go there again with Britt and her children. In the past few weeks Ron had been on several outings this way with his new friends and I felt it was only right for me to get out as well.

Robert enjoyed the day in the sunshine. He was a model child sitting on Britt’s mat, eating rice cakes and just playing with his toys and my water bottle which he emptied on the grass soon after we arrived. Britt had a harder time with her little girls, who are both fully mobile, especially as we sat near one of the small water features in the garden. It was such a beautiful day which I tried to enjoy although I was heart sore.

Why?

As I sit here near the Southernmost tip of Africa wearing shorts and sandals, my sister still perches north of the Arabian peninsula and dons her headscarf to go out shopping.

When I first heard about my sister’s conversion to become a newborn Muslim, if I may use the expression, I was fuming with anger. How dare she, I thought. It is the ultimate betrayal of women’s rights and liberty to bend to the needs of society and cover one’s head. It is absurd, since the head and the face are neutral parts of our anatomy and cannot be considered seductive. Not even the thickest and most bouncy hair can be considered sexually alluring, or am I thinking again in the logic of western societies?

I grew up in an Arab country, where Christians and Muslims live side by side. The increasing religious zeal was apparent as I grew up. It has resulted in clear distinctions between the so-called secular or non-practicing Muslims and the orthodox faction. The absolute majority is orthodox and their pressure on the rest is very strong. After all they have the voice of Allah on their side and literally the threat of hell.

If you couple this with the prevalent misogynist view of society, you come up with a situation where the morality of society is dependent on the way women dress. I have been brought up to the tune of : “Men are creatures of lust and they cannot control it, it is a woman’s duty and obligation to put a stop to their advances”. Women kindly dispense of such advice to their daughters and female charges, while turning a blind eye to the dalliances of their sons. I think it is ridiculous to expect women to carry society’s morals on their shoulders, as if they do not have feelings and desires like men. Men are secure in the knowledge that they aren’t the ones to get “caught” and therefore, and in true male fashion they just pass on the responsibility onto the female.

The society I was born into does not give evenhanded instruction to young men and women when it comes to sexual knowledge. Women are prohibited from any sexual adventures prior to marriage, yet it is acceptable for men to have such an experience. It is purposely overlooked that this sort of experience will only come about with willing female partners. Whether these are frustrated married women or poor girls who are willing to go loose for a new item of clothing, or just girls who have slipped once and no longer need to preserve their image of purity. Regardless of what sort of woman gives the man his first initiation into sex, her existence makes this patriarchal society even more distrustful of women. Therefore men try to enforce veils on their women, to prevent other men from ogling them. This is another one sided solution that does not require or expect the participation of men in enforcing morals. Women are forced, coerced, or convinced to cover up in the manner of the last century, while their husband walk alongside wearing the latest fashion. They would never dream of wearing the ‘dress’ of the prophet and his ilk except to prayer. And while their own women are safely covered there are hundreds others whom they can freely ogle. The fact that they are not covered up labels them as available and willing prey for flirtation and maybe more.

Women need to carry the weight of children and family, in addition to keeping the integrity of their marriage. They are also responsible for the immorality, women are the root of all evil. Meanwhile, men can contemplate this sad state of affairs while watching scantly clad women on satellite television, or while conversing with other buddies over tea and bubbly (water pipe). What a wonderful life.

This Time it is Over

We are definitely getting divorced. This time I will not chicken out or make an about face, because I have had enough.

I am packing boxes of books and yarn. My clothes and baby’s are still waiting to be packed. This makes a fourth time for me, I have dismantled my life three times before for the same man or because of him, and this time I want my own life back. A life where I can call the shots this time, and make my own decisions.

In the end it turned out that people do not change that much. Perhaps he tried to change, perhaps he wanted to, but he finally realised that he couldn’t. I never offered to change, and if I had I don’t think I could change either. It is the way things go.

I still bear him some grudges, especially because he lied and pretended to be what he isn’t. Because he put a child in this world because he “thought” it would make him happy. In contrast, I KNEW that I was ready for a child, and I knew that having him will change my life. I am glad I did not know what the future held because I would have missed out on the most wonderful thing in my life.

Seven Months: Moving Quickly

I forgot to take pictures for Robert’s seventh month birthday. A lot of stress is going on in our lives at the moment and that is why it is hard to keep track of simple pleasurable things. However, I am still very aware of the time we spend together and how we spend it. I try not to communicate my negative feelings to the little one, and I put on a happy face when I am around him. Robert does his magic to my act and after some minutes in his company I feel genuinely happy and so blessed. No matter what else happens, I have him to love for the rest of my life.

This month Robert has become mobile. He is crawling all around and covering a lot of ground with increasing speed. I took some pictures of him wearing a small baby jacket I crocheted for baby Olivia, who was finally born on the 26th of March. One can tell that he is not overly impressed with wearing pink.

He is finally starting to utter da da da, and sometimes tha tha. I note, though, that he still has a marked preference for ma ma ma. Last week Ron had the late babysitting shift, and told me that the baby was whiny, complaining a lot, and calling ma ma ma. Obviously he had some stomach ailment characterized by frequent spit up and general indisposition. The food couldn’t have caused such a problem, and my only explanation is that he is now exposed to a wider variety of germs, tramping around on the floor, whether here in our flat or at Jackie’s place. Of course, the endless teething can still be the root of all trouble. I can feel the outline of the two little bottom incisors but they haven’t put in an appearance yet. It seems unlikely now that they will show up before the end of the month.

Another interesting development is Robert’s new-found ability to pull himself up to a standing position. This can happen anywhere but mostly in the cot. It follows that it is more difficult to keep him lying down when he doesn’t want to sleep. Because he pulls himself up to a standing position and continues to complain until somebody comes to the rescue. One morning I was waiting in vain for his cries to subside, and decided to check on him. I was surprised to find him holding on to the cot’s edge and complaining. It was the first time I saw this happen, so I burst out laughing at the funny pictures. Robert did not think it was funny at all, and started crying with bitterness and hurt feelings.

Miriam has gone AWOL. I think that she has finally found an office job, and frankly she is more than capable for a regular job, and overqualified as a nanny. Pity, because I really liked her and Robert did too. But I had a feeling throughout our acquaintance that she wasn’t really interested. I have to trust my instincts more, they are usually very accurate. Now I have some complex arrangement to look after Robert and they will probably work out for a few weeks in our new and evolving circumstances.

I am starting to take more pictures of Robert in the park. The nannies love him and often carry him and play with him. I am also starting to get more involved in our play together at the park. He enjoys being on the swing and crawling around on the grass.

 

 

Finally, here are some funny pictures of my little boy:

Standing in his crib and razzing with great concentration

A somewhat glum expression

Crawling into small spaces.

Reaching up for trouble.

Since he is capable of all this, I have removed the bassinet from the crib, and he now sleeps on the lowest level, and cannot possibly jump or lean out.