Yolandé Pienaar

Anders: 'n Paranormale Liefdesverhaal Halfprys by Smashwords.com

noreply@blogger.com (Yolande Pienaar) — Mon, 07 Mar 2016 09:42:00 +0000

Tot 12 Maart 2016 is Anders: 'n Paranormale Liefdesverhaal beskikbaar teen halfprys by Smashwords.com. Gebruik die kode RAE50 wanneer die transaksie voltooi word om dit te kry teen $1-50.

Hier is 'n eksklusiewe proestukkie uit Anders:

Soos die vorige keer, stap sy tot by die plaat bome by die spruit voordat sy met haar voete in die koel water gaan sit. Sy stut haar rug teen 'n boomstam en bid dat die yslike miere wat sy al in die omgewing opgemerk het, verkies om in die nag te slaap. Die sagte vloei van die water is soos balsem op haar siel. ’n Naguiltjie roep na sy maatjie vanuit ’n nabye boom en in die vêrte, tjank ’n jakkals.

Dan voel Karlia sy teenwoordigheid. Die wolf is naby en glad nie aggressief nie. Sy sit roerloos en wag dat die dier naderkom. Sekondes tik om in minute en dan sien sy hom. Skaars vyf meter van haar af aan die oorkant van die smal stroompie. Hy lê met sy kop op sy voorpote terwyl sy oë haar elke beweging volg. Nuuskierigheid straal van hom uit.

"Jy is net so nuuskierig soos ek nè?" Karlia skrik vir haar eie stem. Het sy nou al haar varkies verloor deur met 'n wolf, wat sy nog glad nie oortuig is werklik bestaan nie, te praat? Sy trek haar skouers op. As hy bloot 'n figment van haar verbeelding is, kan sy net sowel met hom praat. Wie is daar om te hoor en oor te vertel? Indien hy werklik bestaan, kan hy ook nie dit wat hy hoor oorvertel nie.

Die wolf se ore lig en ’n sagte tjankgeluid trek Karlia se aandag. Hy draai sy kop skuins asof in stille vraag.

"Ons is darem twee onnatuurlike wesens. Jy, heel uit jou area in 'n land wat nie wilde wolwe het nie. En ek wat jou emosies lees." Sy waai met haar hand. "Altans ek dink so. Deesdae is ek ook nie meer so seker nie."

Met geen reaksie van die wolf wat aandui dat hy enigsins iets anders ervaar as blote nuuskierigheid nie, gaan Karlia voort. "Jy weet, met jou kan ek praat sonder om te wonder of iemand gaan dink ek is mal en hoort in 'n gestig. Ja, daar is mense wat so sal dink. Baie van hulle. Wat is nou natuurlik daaraan om ander se emosies aan te voel? Dis nog aanvaarbaar, maar wanneer jy ander mense se gedagtes lees, dan voel jy baie daarna om jouself in 'n gestig te laat opneem." Sy kyk die wolf vraend aan. "Jy sal tog nie verstaan nie, maar 'n normale mens is nie veronderstel om weet wat ander dink nie."

Karlia trek aan 'n nabye graspol en breek 'n stukkie harde gras af. Sy draai die grassie om en om in haar vingers. "Kyk nou vir Jessica. Sy het darem 'n verskoning vir haar optrede met haar dwelmverslawing. Watter verskoning het ek as die mens by my se gedagtes my so ontstel dat ek vergeet om my masker van onkunde op te hou? Nee Wolfie, die lewe is nie regverdig nie."

Vanaf die wolf kry sy nou meer as blote nuuskierigheid. Daar is ook 'n simpatieke gevoel en geamuseerdheid wat sy ontvang. "Sien wat ek bedoel. Hier voel ek aan dat jy soos 'n mens my jammer kry en ook stilletjies vir my lag. Dis mos simpel man. Dis menslike emosies wat nie by 'n dier plaasvind nie. Tog voel ek dit vir die waarheid aan. Geen wonder my suster dink ek is nie lekker in my kop nie."

Die wolf tjank saggies en kruip 'n entjie nader aan die stroompie. "Jy bly net daar aan jou kant. Al weet ek nog nie of jy blote verbeelding is nie, wil ek nie graag op die harde manier uitvind jy bestaan regtig nie. Netnou besluit jy ek lyk vir jou na jou volgende aandete."

Wanneer die wolf proes, sweer Karlia hy lag vir haar. Sy moet dit aanvaar. Haar verstand het haar volkome verlaat. Hier sit sy met 'n wolf en praat asof dit 'n mens is en dink sowaar die wolf verstaan haar. Nee, haar ma moet maar die kamer langs hare vir Karlia voorberei want ten spyte van haar vlug na die afsondering van die Kalahari, lyk dit nie of haar brein enigsins gaan verbeter nie.

"Nou is ek regtig besig om mal te raak," fluister sy. Sy sluit haar oë en dwing die wolf om te verdwyn sodat sy weet dit is net 'n sinsbedrog wat sy ervaar. Die emosies van die wolf word meer intens en Karlia skuif ongemaklik regopper teen die boomstam. Hierdie wolf soek 'n maat. En as sy haar nie heeltemal verbeel nie, dink hy sy is 'n kandidaat. Rillings gly langs haar ruggraat af.

"Nee, jy is verkeerd. Ek mag nooit jou maat wees nie. Jy is 'n wolf en ek is 'n mens. Ons mag vriende wees, maar niks meer nie." Die paringsdrang by die wolf groei en Karlia kry ’n goeie dosis aggressie ook deur.

"Okei, ek gaan nou spore maak en ophou praat sodat jy kalmeer."

Sy druk haarself op met haar hande maar ’n gegrom vries haar beweging. Oorkant die stroompie het die wolf op sy voete gekom en wys sy tande vir haar. As dit haar verbeelding is wat parte met haar speel, is hierdie nou nie meer snaaks nie. Vrees klem om haar hart en sweet slaan op haar bo-lip uit. Sê nou net die wolf is nie iets wat opgetower is deur haar verbeelding nie en hy bestaan werklik. Dan is sy mos nou kniediep in die moeilikheid—moeilikheid wat deur haar eie nuuskierigheid veroorsaak is.

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Anders: 'n Paranormale Liefdesverhaal

noreply@blogger.com (Yolande Pienaar) — Mon, 15 Feb 2016 13:13:00 +0000

Vandag is Anders, 'n Paranormale Liefdesverhaal in Afrikaans vrygestel in die meeste aanlyn winkels en ook in gedrukte formaat by Amazon en Takealot.com. 'n Lys en skakels na die gewildste aanlynwinkels is op die boeke-blad aangebring.

Anders is die eerste boek in hierdie genre wat ek in Afrikaans aanpak. Die boek het werklik lank geneem om te voltooi omdat daar nie juis soortgelyke leesstof in Afrikaans is nie. Dis nie 'n populêre fiksieafdeling in Afrikaans nie en ek het geen verwysingsraamwerk gehad om te gebruik nie.

Paranormal Romance is 'n groot en gewilde kategorie in Engels, maar ek het nog nie regtig iets soortgelyk in Afrikaans raakgelees nie. Omdat ons mark so klein is, dink ek skrywers huiwer om hierdie stories te vertel, behalwe in die jong volwassene en tiener kategorië. Verder klink die paranormale terme soveel beter in Engels en wanneer jy praat van 'n shifter weet almal wat jy bedoel. Die Afrikaanse terme is egter nie so goed gevestig nie en soms het dit hare-uittrek geverg om 'n term te vind wat nie té anglisisties is nie.

Die verhaal speel ook grootliks af in die Kalahari—'n streek wat my na aan die hart lê. Daar is net iets aan die warm, dorre vlaktes wat spreek tot jou siel. Toe ek 'n plek moes kies vir Karlia om heen te vlug, was daar vir my geen ander plek wat beter gepas het nie. Die Kalahari leen hom tot stille selfondersoek en soms ook geweldadige aanvaarding van dit wat jy is of nie is nie. Die isolasie dwing mens om jou lewe in perspektief te sien en ware karakter te ontdek.

Maar bowenal is Anders 'n liefdesverhaal. Sonder liefde is die lewe leeg en betekenisloos. Almal het liefde nodig—hetsy selfliefde, naasteliefde of die liefde vir 'n sielsgenoot. Soms is dit nodig dat mens weer hierdie noodsaaklikheid opnuut besef om 'n vervulde lewe te lei.

Hoop julle lees heerlik aan die boek en moet asseblief nie huiwer om my te laat weet wat julle dink nie.

Proe-stukkie uit Anders: 'n Paranormale Liefdesverhaal

Daar is ’n vreemde ondertoon in Armand se emosies. Hy voer 'n innerlike stryd, maar die emosies is 'n onsamehangende warboel. Wanneer hy omdraai om die melk in die yskas terug te sit, loop hy tromp-op teen haar vas. Sy het so gestaan en droom dat sy nie gesien het hy het die koffie reeds gemaak nie. Sy probeer uit sy pad staan, maar verloor haar balans. Dadelik gaan sy arms om haar en trek hy haar teen hom vas.

Haar asem stol in haar bors en haar mond word droog. Daar is nie tyd om sy gedagtes te analiseer voordat hy haar ken met sy vinger lig en sy lippe saggies op hare neerkom nie. Verwoestende emosies spoel deur haar. Begeerte, honger, opgewondenheid en 'n onmeetbare teerheid. Sy lippe raak dringender op hare en Karlia se arms gly asof vanself om sy skouers. Sy hare is sag onder haar vingers en sy draai die swart lokke om haar wysvinger. Wanneer sy tong toegang vra, skok dit haar tot nugterheid.

Wat doen sy? ’n Verhouding is buite die kwessie al is die man by haar se emosies 'n refleksie van haar eie. Sy kom kruip juis in die Kalahari weg. Die gevoelens wat hy aanwakker in haar, is beslis nie rustig nie en is nie goed vir haar verstandelike gesondheid nie.

Saggies druk sy hom weg en hy laat haar dadelik gaan. Sy oë is donker poele van begeerte wat aanklank vind in haar siel. Hulle asems jaag en sy weet as sy nie die situasie ontlont nie, gaan dit veel verder gaan as wat enige van hulle bedoel het.

"Ek gaan nie om verskoning vra nie. Daarvoor het ek te veel respek vir jou. Ek wou al van die eerste aand af weet of jou lippe werklik so sag is as wat dit lyk."

Karlia draai haar rug op hom. "Ek is bly jy vra nie om verskoning nie, want dit sal 'n leuen wees." Sy gryp die koppie en stap sitkamer toe. Wanneer sy in die stoel neersak, sien sy hy het haar geluidloos gevolg. Hoe kry die man dit reg om so stil te beweeg?

"Enige verhouding tussen ons is doodgebore. Ons wêrelde verskil te veel."

Armand gaan sit stadig op die stoel oorkant haar. "Hoekom dink jy so? Ons wêrelde is nou een. Hier in afsondering leer mens jouself ken."

"Nee, Armand. Dit mag dalk vir jou so wees, maar ek weet wie ek is en ek wil nie betrokke raak in enige verhouding nie."

Hy kyk haar vraend aan. "Hoekom? Waarvan hardloop jy weg?"

Sy skud haar kop. "Dis privaat. Ek voel gevly dat jy belangstel, maar ek kan en wil nie betrokke raak nie. Laat ons net vriende bly—as ons selfs dit is op die oomblik."

"Vriende deel hulle geheime. Vriende vertrou mekaar."

"Dan leer ken ons mekaar. Sonder die komplikasies van hormone wat 'n rol speel." Sy ignoreer die stemmetjie in haar kop wat waarsku dat dit reeds te laat is. Haar lyf moet leer om haar verstand te gehoorsaam. Nie andersom nie. Sy het nog nooit toegegee aan die begeertes van die vlees nie en is ook nie van plan om dit nou te doen nie.

"Is jy nie bietjie naïef nie? Ons is twee mense wat mekaar aantreklik vind op 'n afgeleë plek. Net die omstandighede alleen maak dit moeilik om die aantrekkingskrag tussen ons te ignoreer. Hoekom dit nie 'n kans gee en kyk waarheen dit lei nie?"

Hemel weet, dit sou soveel makliker wees. "Nee, Armand. Ons soek vir moeilikheid wat kon bly. Buitendien ken ons mekaar nie goed genoeg nie."

Hy neem die laaste sluk van sy koffie en staan op. Hy lyk moeg. "Ons sal mekaar wel leer ken. Hier moet jy op mekaar staatmaak." Hy stap na die kombuis en Karlia volg hom. Sy sit haar koppie by syne in die wasbak neer voordat sy die agterdeur oophou.

"Moet ek jou nie gou huis toe neem nie? Dit is regtig al laat."

Hy skud sy kop. "Moenie jou oor my bekommer nie. Ek ken my pad in die nag." Hy vryf met sy vinger oor haar wang en Karlia sluit haar oë teen die emosie wat in die aanraking opgesluit lê. Sy sluk swaar.

"Nou goed. Dan sien ek jou weer."

"Tot netnou Karlia." Sy hand streel 'n oomblik oor haar skouer voordat hy dit laat sak, omdraai en wegstap in die nag.

Karlia kyk hom agterna totdat sy silhouette verdwyn. Sy druk die deur agter haar toe en draai die sleutel in die slot. Soos 'n outomaat stap sy kamer toe en sit die ligte agter haar af. Slaap gaan vanaand moeilik wees.

Resensie: Liefdestango deur Dirna Ackermann

noreply@blogger.com (Yolande Pienaar) — Wed, 19 Aug 2015 00:00:00 +0000

Van die agterblad:

“Jy bly weg van daardie man.” Dis al wat Dané uit haar ma kry oor die man wat terug is op Kransbaai nadat hy agtien jaar gelede net padgegee het. Hoekom Dané se verbintenis met hom nie haar ma se goedkeuring wegdra nie, kan haar ma nie sê nie—of sy wil nie.

En in so ’n klein gemeenskappie is dit in ieder geval nie moontlik vir twee mense wat eens op ’n tyd so naby aan mekaar was om mekaar te vermy nie. Veral nie terwyl Dané en hy nog soveel vuur vir mekaar in hulle harte dra nie.

Maar toe die waarheid uiteindelik uitkom, wens Dané sy het liewer nooit geweet nie.

My resensie:

Ek het hierdie verhaal werklik geniet. Dis een van die min Romanzas waar die hoofkarakter ’n ouer vrou is en miskien is dit waarom dit vir my lekkerder as gewoonlik gelees het. Dané is nie meer ’n uilskuiken nie, maar steeds leef sy haar lewe volgens haar ouers se reëls ten koste van haar eie behoeftes en begeertes.

Hierdie is so sprekend van die tye waarin ons leef. Min van ons kan onomwonde verklaar dat ons leef soos ons gedroom het ons sou. Die lewe maak draaie met mens en sonder dat jy dit besef suig jou eie behoeftes naderhand aan die agterspeen. En net toe Dané besluit om haarself te laat geld, begin die poppe behoorlik dans.

Die skryfster slaag uitstekend daarin om haar lesers vinnig gevange te neem en mee te sleur in die verloop van Dané se lewe. Wanneer die alledaagse lewe vervaag en jy verlore raak in die storie tussen die buiteblaaie, spreek dit van goeie fiksie. Dis ’n boek wat ek nie kon neersit nie ten spyte van ’n berg werk wat gewag het en daarom verdien dit volpunte.

Georganiseerde Chaos

noreply@blogger.com (Yolande Pienaar) — Wed, 12 Aug 2015 00:00:00 +0000

“Hoe organiseer jy jou lewe?” vra iemand nou die dag vir my.

“Organiseer?” sê ek oorbluf.

“Ja, man, hoe kry jy dit reg om by alles uit te kom?”

En daar staan ek met ’n mond vol tande. Die eerlike antwoord is dat ek nie ’n benul het van organiseer nie, maar ek kan dit mos nou nie so stel nie. Dis ’n ernstige vraag en ek wil aan de giggel gaan, want in my lewe heers daar altyd ’n mate van georganiseerde chaos.

Eerstens bly ek op ’n plasie (bietjie groter as ’n plot en baie kleiner as ’n plaas) waar ons spekuleer met kleinvee en groente verbou. Ons het nie permanente werkers nie so daar is altyd baie om te doen. Ek is mal oor die winter wanneer die verbouing van die groente bietjie afneem weens die koue op die hoëveld. Dan kry ek normaalweg tyd om voor die rekenaar te spandeer en my vingers oefening te gee. Vanaf September berei ons lande voor vir tamaties, kool, spinasie en aartappels en is die dag nooit jou eie nie.

Tweedens woon my skoonouers by ons en dit op sigself moet ’n duidelike aanduiding wees van die hoeveelheid chaos daar daagliks is om te organiseer. Hierdie jaar het siekte ons genoop om die eerste ses maande van die jaar ons dae te probeer beplan na aanleiding van die dokters se diagnoses en die behandeling wat ontvang moes word.

Derdens probeer ek stories vertel. Ek het nie minder as vyf halfvoltooide manuskripte wat iewers in ’n donker hoekie van my rekenaar sluimer tot ek die dag die tyd het om dit af te stof en klaar te skryf. Soms skryf ek aan twee boeke gelyk, wat op sigself soms katastrofiese gevolge het.

Hoe kom ek deur die dag? Deur te prioritiseer. Die belangrikste vraag wat ek vra is of dit kan wag tot later. As die antwoord nee is, is dit wat eerste gedoen word. As die antwoord ja is, vra ek net of daar ernstige gevolge gaan wees as ek dit uitstel en as die antwoord ja is, word dit na die eerste doen lysie geskuif.

Die ander lessie is om altyd notas te maak. Ek het ’n goeie geheue maar wanneer die wêreld om my verander in ’n Smartieboksie en ek voel soos ’n verkleurmannetjie, is my breinkrag soos halfgaar roereier. ’n Onmisbare notaboekie is my foon se Notes funksie. Van kruideniersware wat aangevul moet word tot belangrike take wat ek moet afhandel word daarop aangeteken. Die dae van alles sommerso onthou is verby—daarvoor is die pas van ons daaglikse lewe te vinnig en die gevolge as jy ’n belangrike afspraak vergeet, te ernstig.

Dus die kort antwoord op haar vraag: Kry jou prioriteite reg en maak notas.

Hoe voorkom jy chaos in jou dag?

Feminisme en Liefdesverhale: Kan die Twee Versoen?

noreply@blogger.com (Yolande Pienaar) — Wed, 19 Nov 2014 12:35:00 +0000

Vandag het ek 'n oulike artikel raakgeloop oor die feministiese siening wat daar soms steeds oor liefdesverhale heers. Die artikel op die Romanzalesers-blog bevat lekker stof tot nadenke vir diegene wat ten spyte van wat die statistieke al bewys het, steeds neerkyk op skrywers van liefdesverhale.

Romanza en skeptiese feministe | Romanzalesersblog.

’n Genre wat fokus op die liefdesverhouding tussen ’n man en ’n vrou laat gereeld wenkbroue lig, nie net by meeste mans nie, maar ook by vroue wat selferkende feministe is.

Volgens die patriargale sisteem is ’n vrou eers ’n volwaardige persoon nadat sy die titel van mevrou bygekry het. Indien sommige vroue dus romantiese fiksie wil vermy is dit te verstane.

Maar ons bevind ons nou in die 21ste eeu waar feminisme nie meer ’n vloekwoord is nie en feministe ook nie meer hulle bra’s verbrand en hulle beenhare laat groei nie. Kaalvoet en pregnant is by die deur uit saam met die siening dat ’n butch-voorkoms jou onafhanklikheid beklemtoon.

Janice Radway, ’n kenner op die gebied van romantiese fiksie, se navorsing bewys dat feminisme eintlik ’n subversiewe genre is omdat die skrywer (en die leser) mans skep soos vroue hulle wíl hê en nie soos hulle werklik is nie.

En nee, die lesers is nie almal treurige oujongnooiens wat alle hoop op liefde begrawe het en nou maar ’n genadige einde met nege katte inwag nie. Dié genre se heldinne is sterk vroue: besigheidsvroue, onderwysers, joernaliste, prokureurs – noem maar op. En so is die lesers, want die heldin is die leser se alterego.

Die romansegenre is onlosmaaklik verbind aan die evolusie van die vrouebeweging. Vroue is weer vroue sonder om hulle identiteit prys te gee en te probeer om soos mans te dink en te doen. Die moderne vrou voel sy is geregtig op haar eie tyd met ontvlugting soos romantiese fiksie wat haar emosioneel versorg. Want hoewel die kontemporêre vrou in teorie meer voordele het as haar susters van lank gelede, is sy steeds hoofsaaklik verantwoordelik vir die hele gesin se emosionele versorging terwyl sy op haar eie reserwes aangewese is vir haar eie versorging.

Geen moderne vrou kan identifiseer met ’n sorry-Suzie wat te dankbaar sal wees om haar man se skoensole te soen nie. Dus is die heldin sterk, onafhanklik, trots en hoewel sy nie, in die woorde van Romanzaskrywer Madelie Human, “haar bra hoef te verbrand om op haar regte te staan nie” – kry sy haar spreekbeurt.

Die held daarteen is haar gelyke. Hy vul haar aan en aanvaar haar ware self, sonder om ’n vloerlap te wees waar sy haar stiletto’s kan afvee. Hulle is lief vir mekaar en waarom kan die liefde en feminisme nie hand-aan-hand loop nie?

Die feministe vergeet gerieflikheidshalwe dat romantiese fiksie ’n genre is wat deur vroulike skrywers oorheers word. Of dat dit vroue toegelaat het om hul eie geld te verdien in ’n era voor vroue die arbeidsmark kon betree.

Vurige heldinne lewer beslis ’n bydra tot die opheffing van vroue. Of dit so direk is soos die heldinne van die Davelvroue-reeks of meer indirek deur rolmodelle te wees.

Die Amerikaanse skrywer, Suzanne Brockmann, sê oor haar heldinne: “Ek dink die boodskap wat ek deur my boeke stuur is dat vroue sterk kan wees. En dat vroue sterk moet wees. En dat die liefde nie gaan oor die verlies van jouself nie, maar eerder om saam met jou geliefde te werk. Dit gaan nie oor ‘Eendag sal my prins kom en my volledig maak nie’ eerder ‘Eendag gaan ek iemand ontmoet, en ons sal langs mekaar werk om saam ’n toekoms te bou.”

En dis die kern van die romanse: Vroue word op ’n subtiele wyse bemagtig.

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Vir meer inligting en lekker gesels en proestukkies uit Romanzaskrywers se penne, besoek gerus die Romanzelesersblog op http://romanzalesers.wordpress.com/

'n Vrou is Niemand se Speelding

noreply@blogger.com (Yolande Pienaar) — Fri, 03 Oct 2014 09:21:00 +0000

[caption id="" align="aligncenter" width="600"] Image Courtesy of Valdemaras http://valdemaras.deviantart.com/art/White-Rose-79624850[/caption]

Mishandeling van vroue neem soveel vorme aan dat mens soms wonder hoe ’n vrou in vandag se lewe oorleef. Wat my die meeste hinder is dat die fisiese geweld baie meer blootstelling kry in die media —wat goed is—maar die emosionele teistering, verkleinering, mishandeling en aftakeling word selde, indien ooit, belig. In die tyd wat ek as Kommissaris van die Kinderhof gedien het, het ek die impak van hierdie emosionele mishandeling op families eerstehands gesien. Moenie my verkeerd verstaan nie, ek het nie ’n graad in sielkunde of berading nie en die opinies wat ek hier vorm is geheel en al my eie en gebaseer op dit wat ek self gesien het gedurende my tyd as landdros.

Miskien gooi ek nou die jakkals in die hoenderhok en ontketen ek ’n hele herrie (gelukkig lees min mense my gerammel) maar ek was altyd van die opinie dat die fondasie van alle verhoudings wedersydse respek vir mekaar moet wees. Indien kinders van babatyd af geleer word om mekaar en ander persone se eiendom te respekteer, kan baie van ons sosiale probleme opgelos word. Dis ’n oorvereenvoudiging, maar tog kring dit wyd uit. Leer kinders dat alle mense, ongeag wie of wat die persoon is, respek verdien en moenie persoonlike vooroordele oordra aan die kinders nie. As kinders die basiese beginsels van respek geleer word, sal daar heelwat minder volwassenes wees wat met haat in hulle harte rondloop. Laat die kind self besluit wie verdien die meeste respek en wie nie. (My beskeie mening.)

Mans wat vrouens mishandel, hetsy fisies of emosioneel, het volgens my ’n algehele gebrek aan respek vir die menswees en vrouwees van die persoon wat hulle teiken. Hoe kan jy iemand respekteer as jy voel daardie persoon is jou besitting om mee te maak wat jy wil? Ongelukkig word hierdie gedagte prosesse dikwels aan die kinders oorgedra as aanvaarbare gedragspatrone en die hele siek siklus herhaal hom keer op keer.

In my laaste boek, Speelgoed, is die hoofkarakter ’n vrou wat besluit het dat sy nooit weer iemand se speelding sal wees nie. Na ’n huwelik gevul met geweld en emosionele aftakeling, het sy mans afgesweer. Ek het met opset probeer om die tema lig te hou en net na die impak van hierdie mishandeling op haar eie ervaring van vrouwees te ontbloot. In teenstelling met wat meeste mans dink, het vroue ook lyflike behoeftes wat net so lank geïgnoreer kan word. Wat die vrou daaromtrent doen, kan soms katastrofiese gevolge hê.

Hier is ’n uittreksel uit die boek:

Later kyk Annelie die verdwynende liggies van die motors agterna voordat sy omdraai en terugstap in die huis. Sy sal vir Wynand moet waarsku oor Barend. Hoe sy dit gaan doen sonder dat haar neef kapmesse begin rondgooi weet sy nie, maar dis beter dat hy voorbereid is op die moontlikheid dat Barend hier kan opdaag. Sy wil nie nog ’n moord verduidelik nie. Hierdie keer sal die speurder werklik nie glo sy het niks daarmee te doen as haar neef haar eksman vermoor nie. Hy sal die samelewing ’n guns bewys, maar sy is seker die regstelsel sal dit nie as versagtende omstandighede aanvaar nie.

In die kombuis is Wynand nog besig met die laaste voorbereidings vir die volgende dag se spyskaart. Annelie wip op ’n blinkskoon toonbank en wag vir die onafwendbare skrobbering wat altyd volg.

“Nig, jy beter ’n bleddie goeie rede hê om op my skoon kaste te klim.” Hy gluur haar ’n oomblik aan voordat hy die vadoek oor sy skouer slinger en met sy heup teen die kas by haar staan.

“Hoekom lyk jy asof die honde jou kos afgeneem het?”

Sy trek haar skouers op. “Ek het gedink ek is vir altyd van hom ontslae.”

Wynand frons. “Van wie?” Hy trek sy asem skerp in. “Het hulle Barend vrygelaat?”

“Nee, hy het ontsnap.”

“O hel.”

Wynand kreun as hy sy groot lyf op die kas langs haar ophys. Die kas kraak in protes. Gaan die granietblaaie werklik sterk genoeg wees om sy meer as honderd kilogram te dra? Miskien as sy doodstil sit.

“Dink jy hy sal …”

“Hierheen kom?” Sy haal haar skouers op. “Ek weet nie, maar dit is ’n moontlikheid. Hy het my pa vermoor vir sy geld wat hy toe nooit gekry het nie.”

“En nou gaan hy dink dit kom hom toe sodat hy vir hom ’n lekker lewe in een of ander obskure land kan gaan uitwerk.”

“Miskien. Maar miskien sal hy hom net uit die voete maak. Hy is nie onnosel nie. Die polisie sal hom heel eerste hier kom soek.”

Wynand snork. “Dan is hulle ook idiote. Jy het so lank voor die besigheid niks met hom te doen gehad nie ek weet nie hoe hulle ooit sal kan dink jy is betrokke nie.”

“Ek het gister weer die speurder wat die saak destyds ondersoek het, in die stad raakgeloop. Nou wonder ek of dit toeval was.”

Wynand frons. “Waar het jy hom raakgeloop? Hy werk mos nie in Pretoria nie.”

Annelie kan die blos wat oor haar wange sprei nie keer nie. “Jy wil nie weet nie.”

Een kyk na haar rooi gesig en Wynand vryf sy hande teenmekaar en grinnik. “Uit daarmee. Waar was jy toe jy veronderstel was om voorraad op te laai?”

“Maak nie saak nie,” brom sy en mik om van die kas af te spring. Hy hou haar egter maklik met die een hand terug.

“O nee ou Nig. So maklik kom jy nie weg nie.”

Annelie sug. Kon sy nie maar haar groot mond toe gehou het nie? Nou sal hy aanhou totdat hy dit uit haar het en dan die alewige geterg.

“By ’n sekswinkel in East Lynn.”

Vir die eerste keer sedert sy Wynand ken is hy stil. Sy loer in sy rigting. Sy mond gaan oop en hy haal diep asem en dan maak hy weer sy mond toe. Sy oë soek deur die kombuis, maar kom nie tot rus nie. Dan kyk hy haar weer aan en skud sy kop.

“Sjame.”

“Ag, gaan bars man. Dit was vir die damesgroep en ek het op die ou einde niks gekoop nie.” Sy gaan hom beslis nie vertel waarom sy niks gekoop het nie.

“Nig, as ek my droomvrou in ’n sekswinkel raakloop sou ek ook maar maak of ek by verkeerde plek ingestap het.”

Sy klim van die kas af en swaai haar vinger beskuldigend onder sy neus. “Mens kan jou ook niks vertel nie. Ek gaan slaap, so moenie te veel raas nie.”

Sy lag dawer deur die kombuis. “’n Sekswinkel. Wie sou kon raai my nig raak so desperaat?”

Hy lag steeds wanneer Annelie die deur agter haar toetrek en in die gang afstap. Al kan hulle mekaar se siele versondig, was Wynand haar redding. As hy en sy vrou, Grace nie ingestem het om hier by haar te kom werk nie, was die gasteplaas nie moontlik nie.

Die woonsteldeur klik sag agter haar toe en sy sak op die bed neer. Soos ’n outomaat trek sy die rekkie uit haar vlegsel en kam haar hare uit. Hugo en Barend hoort nie in haar lewe nie. Hoe minder sy van hulle sien, hoe beter. Hulle verteenwoordig ’n see van pyn waarin sy byna verdrink het. Nie weer nie. Sy sal geen man weer toelaat om haar menswees van haar te stroop nie. As sy Hugo uit haar gedagtes verban, verbreek sy die mag wat hy oor haar het en sal haar gekneusde vrouwees haar geheim bly.

Speelgoed is beskikbaar by Amazon, Kobo, Kalahari en verskeie ander aanlyk boekwinkels.

Vyf Kerse vir 'n Facebook-Vriendin

noreply@blogger.com (Yolande Pienaar) — Mon, 18 Aug 2014 08:29:00 +0000

Kerse het deur die eeue heen verskillende betekenisse vir verskillende mense gehad. Soms is die kers romanties, soms 'n teken van spiritualisme, soms om te onthou en soms, soos vandag, net om te sê ek dink aan jou. Maar soos gewoonlik span ek die kar voor die perde in. Eers 'n bietjie geskiedenis, sodat almal kan verstaan hoekom hierdie vyf kerse my so na aan die hart lê.

Vandag, presies een jaar gelede, het ek met verwondering na die foto's gekyk wat my Facebook-vriendin op haar profiel gelaai het. Sy het pas 'n nuwe ouma geword van die mooiste babadogtertjie met 'n vol gesiggie en hemelblou ogies. Ek het saam met haar gejubel en met oopmond na die nuutste wonderwerkie gestaar, want sien, ek was ook op pad om 'n splinternuwe ouma te word. Elke foto wat sy gelaai het om met die res van die wêreld te deel het ek bewonder en gedink ek verstaan hoe trots sy voel, hoe vol haar hart moet wees.

Ek was verkeerd. Eers toe ek net meer as vier maande gelede my eie kleindogter in my arms gehou het, het ek regtig verstaan. Geen mens wat nie self 'n ouma is nie, kan daardie oombliklike volheid in jou hart, daardie byna bo-menslike liefde wat bot, bloei en jou hele wese volrank, verstaan nie —nie regtig nie. Die oomblik wat die besef deurdring dat hierdie volmaakte, Godgegewe geskenk, deel is van jou eie liefde eerstens vir die pa van jou dogter en tweedens daardie onbreekbare, onverskrokke liefde wat 'n ma vir haar kind het. En jy besef jy is sandkorreltjie klein en jy kruip jou knieë nerf-af om te probeer dankie sê terwyl jy weet die ses-en-twintig letters van die alfabet sal nooit genoeg woorde kan saamflans nie.

Hierdie twee prag-kinders het saam gegroei en ontwikkel vir meer as vier maande en elke foto was 'n plesier om te bestudeer. Sjoe, maar sy het groot geword van die eerste foto wat ek gesien het en ouma lyk so gelukkig soos net 'n ouma kan wanneer sy haar kleindogter vashou. Ek het asem opgehou vir die aankondiging dat sy haar eerste treë gegee het.

Maar op 31 Julie 2014 lees ek die mees ontstellende berig. Die Here het Elena kom haal en my Facebook-vriendin is stukkend. Deur die trane probeer ek my indink hoe sy moet voel, maar die seer is heeltemal te veel. Ek WIL nie weet nie en steeds brand die hartseer 'n gat in my bors. Sê nou dit was Liyane? Sal ek dit ooit kan verwerk? Kan enige iemand dit verwerk? Elf maande oud en so pragtig en gesond. Ek wil skree en skel en vra WAAROM? Waarom 'n onskuldige kind wat deur almal om haar liefgehad was, gekoester was en so welkom was? Kyk hoeveel ander kinders word verwaardloos, is onwelkom, word mishandel. Hoekom dan nou hierdie enetjie so voor haar tyd neem?

My Facebook-vriendin se pyn is duidelik, skerp en soos 'n vlam wat deur haar normaalweg vrolike insette skroei. Elke keer wil ek vir haar sê ek verstaan. Maar ek verstaan NIE. Niemand kan nie. Tensy dieselfde smeltkroes vir jou gedeel was, sal jy nie verstaan nie. En ek huil weer omdat ek nie die woorde het om te sê ek is jammer nie, om te sê ek bid elke aand vir jou as ouma nie. Woorde wat so dor klink soos die woestyn op 'n wolklose dag.

So vandag steek ek nie net een kers aan vir Elena nie—ek steek vyf aan. Elena, want al het ek haar nooit self ontmoet nie, voel dit asof ek haar ken deur haar ouma. Irene, want geen jong moeder verdien hierdie hartseer wat aan haar uitgedeel is nie. Edmundo, want jy het al op skool my hart gesteel as vriend vir my seun, Oupa Ferreira, want daardie hart moet in stukke wees en nou moet hy sterk wees vir die res. Laaste en belangrikste, vir Ann, want al het ek nie woorde nie, hierdie ouma-seer het baie meer as 'n pleister nodig.

Hierdie lirieke sê dit so mooi:

Daughty - Gone Too Soon

Wanneer Mens Moet Oor Begin

noreply@blogger.com (Yolande Pienaar) — Tue, 01 Jul 2014 15:28:00 +0000

Dis nou wat gebeur as jy vir maande lank te besig is om aan jou weblog aandag te gee. Jy verander jou vonkposadres en siedaar, jou 'hosting' se vervalkennisgewing bereik jou nie—jy verloor jou hele bloomen blog. Nou ja, huil gaan nie help nie, so mens begin maar voor.

Vir diegene wat my nog nie ken nie, my naam is Yolande Pienaar en ek skryf stories. Natuurlik verskil mense se opinies oor hoe goed of sleg die stories geskryf is en dis okei, want dis nou ongelukkig iets waaroor ek geen beheer het nie—skryf moet ek skryf. Die boeke wat tans te koop is, is te vinde op die bladsy genaamd Boeke deur Yolande Pienaar indien iemand belangstel.

Ek hou van stories wat mens die ligter kant van die lewe laat sien, want wraggies, die alledaagse lewe het genoeg van sy eie kwaad. So ja, ek hou van humor en ek glo die liefdesverhaal-genre leen hom by uitstek daartoe om die simpel goed wat mens elke dag aanvang uit te buit in 'n storie. (En ek is oud genoeg om baie van daardie idiotiese dinge self te ervaar het.)

Op hierdie blad gaan lesers in die toekoms so ietsie van alles kry—van nuutgepubliseerde liefdesverhale in Engels en Afrikaans tot 'n alledaagse gerammel oor die stampe en stote van die lewe. Hierdie is tog 'n web-joernaal so, anything goes.

Tussen ons, het julle gesien hoe klim die Suid-Afrikaanse skryfster Marie Dry se boek Alien Mine deur Amazon se topverkoperlyste? Die boek is skaars 'n week op die rakke en tans 369 ste op die VSA webwerf se topverkopers!

In a bleak future where government systems are breaking down and lawless bands of men terrorize the country, botanist Natalie Hanson fears for her life and hides in a cave in the Rocky Mountains. When she is captured by human raiders, a fierce alien appears and slays her attackers. Natalie is now held captive in her own cave by the sexy and striking alien commander, Zacar, who informs her that she will be his breeder. Natalie soon realizes that these aliens worship strength. So what will happen when Zacar finds out she has severe asthma?

Totsiens tot 'n volgende keer.

Using Tomato Seedlings or Germinate Your Own Seed

noreply@blogger.com (Yolande Pienaar) — Thu, 14 Mar 2013 07:30:00 +0000

During the previous season (2011-2012) we decided to germinate our own seed. We obtained Divine seed (the name of the variant is actually Divine) and proceeded to plant them in polystyrene seed trays. And waited. And waited. The seed germinated slowly and by the middle of November we were nowhere near transplant stage.

I did an internet search and could find only a few places to buy tomato seedlings. And all of them were more than 200 kilometres away. After phoning around I happened upon Terra Nova Seedlings, situated a mere 50 kilometres away. The seedlings also cost about a third of what the seed did. We planted the seedlings inside the tunnel at the end of November – directly into the soil, enriched with fertilizer and Pine sawdust a couple of weeks before.

We set the tomato plants 45 cm from each other and planted the next row 60 cm from the first. We planted the seedlings diagonally from each other in the two rows close to each other. The space between the rows was 1.6 meters.

Not having any way to find the correct fertilizer, we used a general purpose fertilizer for vegetables that you buy at your local farmers shop (Afgri) and used it as a foliar spray. This we did at three -week intervals. For bugs we used Malathion and for fungus Funginex.

The seed we planted germinated and by 17 December 2011 they were at last ready for transplant.

These seedlings we planted outside on 4 January 2012 with no protection. We staked the tomato plants with Poplar saplings. Here we planted single rows with the plants 60 cm from each other and the rows 1,5 m apart. The only problem we had with the tomatoes planted outside was to control the amount watering when it rained.

By the end of December the seedlings in the plastic covered tunnel had grown into huge plants and the fruit began to set. Using baling twine we guided the plants upwards with the help of 20mm plastic pipe cut into 3cm pieces. This proved to be ineffective due to the high temperatures the inside of the plastic vegetable tunnel reached. The stems slipped through the slit cut in the plastic and caused the entire plant to topple over.

The tomato seedlings planted outside only reached the same stage as those in the plastic tunnel about 6 weeks later. The photo above was taken on 12 February 2012.

The photo above was taken on 29 December 2011 inside the tunnel. We were excited about the rapid growth of the plants. Little did we know that in the space of one week, our elation would turn to despair when the unpruned plants outgrew us. The photo below was taken on 3 January 2012. Five days made the difference between manageable and out of hand.

For days all we did was prune the plants into shape again. This was a lesson well learned and one we vowed not to repeat. Having to prune the plants in mid-summer heat also brought home the fact that the plastic tunnel had too little ventilation and the temperatures were much too high for successful tomato production.

As to whether we will germinate our own seed or buy seedlings - I think the answer is obvious. It is definitely more economical to buy seedlings than germinate your own seed. It might not be as rewarding, and if you have a small garden it is worthwhile going that route. But for mass production in a high tunnel, buying the seedlings just makes more sense.

Next time I share what we learned about pruning.

.

del.icio.us Tags: Tomato seedlings,Tomato Seed,growing tomatoes,high tunnel tomatoes,planting tomatoes

Growing Tomatoes in High Tunnels

noreply@blogger.com (Yolande Pienaar) — Thu, 28 Feb 2013 07:30:00 +0000

To my horror I realized that I haven’t posted to this blog in quite some time. Hmm… two years qualify as a pretty long time. Since we moved to the farm, live has catapulted us into a rat race unrivalled by that in the city. It’s no excuse though for neglecting some of my friends. (Grovelling will surely be required to fix the situation)

Since my last post we erected the vegetable tunnel in 2011 and promptly planted tomatoes -late in the season – it only went in around 21 November. Despite reading like crazy about the growing of tomatoes in high tunnels, we made a bundle of mistakes. And paid the school fees.

The Highveld of Mpumalanga can get scorching hot. Combine that with the plastic covering of the tunnel and inadequate ventilation and you get tomatoes that burst their seams. Now, I suspect that the inadequate watering (my miscalculation) added to the crop being damaged. We did however manage to sell enough of the crop to recover our costs.

Naturally over the Christmas period we sort of left the tunnel to its own devices except for watering it. BIG MISTAKE. We returned to the tunnel in January only to find that there were no passages left, the tomatoes had grown to such an extent that it resembled a tropical forest. Being already large, we spent most of January trying to prune the plants back into shape. I wouldn’t advise anyone to leave their tomatoes grown in a high tunnel covered with plastic for more than a few days.

In any event, we were determined to grow the tomatoes well and when someone offered us another second hand high tunnel, we bought it. Over the next couple of weeks, I will let you in on how the production went. The previous season taught us well and this season, we were more prepared. Although no expert, I can only share what we have learned.

Until next time.

del.icio.us Tags: growing tomatoes,high tunnel tomatoes,growing vegetables

Personal Projects for 2011

noreply@blogger.com (Yolande Pienaar) — Tue, 08 Feb 2011 10:23:00 +0000

For the last couple of weeks, since December 2010, I have been setting goals for the year 2011. Well, you might say, this is nothing new, everybody does this. My goals, however, keep shifting in timeline.

I made a firm promise to myself that this year I would do the following and it is not negotiable:
1. Publish a novel or at least get one accepted by a publisher,
2. Produce enough vegetables to not only supply our own household – I am already doing that, but to sell and supply to needy families in the local community,
3. Get my African Grey parrots settled on the farm and have them start breeding again. All of this needs to be done while still working a full time job at DKP Investigations and helping on the farm.

This doesn’t seem like much of a goal, but life has a strange way of getting in the way of realising your goals.

The two novels I have finished, need to be edited. I HATE EDITING and I keep finding more important things to do – like updating the blog! I am itching to start with a new novel, but have to finish editing the others first. Finding the time to read your own writing and being critical about it, is not that easy. One tends to read over the mistakes or start doubting your own abilities.

As for producing the vegetables, I have to wait to get the tunnel installed and at the moment, the men just don’t have the time to prepare the earth for the project. We are located on a hilly slope and the ground has to be levelled first. So now I wait…and wait… and wait. Hopefully this will get done before the end of the month, but at the rate we are progressing now, that timeline might also shift.

The African Grey Parrots were supposed to be relocated by the end of January, but again, construction on their housing haven’t even started yet. I love it when we have African Grey parrot chicks in the house as it means I am forced to work until their 2am feeding time and the house is quiet from 10pm onwards. Many of my novels were written during that time.

Well, I hope to have the novel edited before I go the Kruger National Park in the first week of March so that I can celebrate my anniversary with a clear conscience. I’ll keep you posted on how I get along with realising the goals.

How Much to Feed African Grey Parrot Babies When Hand Rearing

noreply@blogger.com (Yolande Pienaar) — Mon, 25 Oct 2010 06:26:00 +0000

The amount of formula to feed an African Grey Parrot chick and the times between feedings vary from bird to bird.As stated in a reply to a previous post, African Grey chicks are like children – each has their own needs and personality.

How Often Should you Feed the African Grey Parrot Chick?

The general rule of thumb is to feel the chick’s crop. If the crop is nearly empty, it is time to feed the baby.

What we usually do is to start feeding every three hours from the time we take them from the nest – usually at three or four weeks. We monitor the crop clearing carefully during that time to make sure the crop never completely empties. You should also take care not to leave too much food in the crop as this could lead to illnesses in the chick.

When you find that the crop is empty after two hours, you need to decrease the time between feeds and if the crop is still relatively firm after three hours, increase the time between feeds.

Here is an African Grey parrot chick with a nearly empty crop.

And here is the chick with a full crop.

Your bird therefore mostly dictates how often he/she should be fed.

How Much to Feed your African Grey Parrot Chick

When the chick is still very small, you need to feel the crop to make sure you don’t under or over feed the chick. When the crop is feeling stiff, not hard though, the chick will have enough formula for the time being, Overfeeding can lead to the chick bringing up the excess formula and underfeeding will be detrimental to the bird as it would stem development of the bird. As the parrot babies get older, they will stop feeding when they’ve had enough.

They will also begin to show interest in other foods like shelled sunflower seed, fruit and a boiled mixture of other seeds. From about six to eight weeks we introduced these foods slowly before and after feeding the formula to get the birds accustomed to a variety of other food except formula and sunflower seeds.

Abusers are Cowards

noreply@blogger.com (Yolande Pienaar) — Mon, 27 Sep 2010 19:59:00 +0000

Yes, you read correctly. All child-, animal- and woman abusers are cowards. How can I make such an generalization?

Easy, I worked in the courts for 10 years and this included being a criminal prosecutor, criminal magistrate and commissioner of the children’s court. After that I practiced as attorney, so I dare say I have some (although not perfect) insight into what character traits an abuser has. How do I justify the statement? This is my personal opinion not something I read somewhere:

1. Abusers are cowards because they are too afraid to attack someone their own size who can defend themselves against the abuse.

2. Abusers are cowards because they are afraid to face up to what and who they are – they would much rather blame the abuse on the victim by alleging the victim asked for the abuse.

Today I need to share with you the story of Jack and how Jack came to live with us. If I seem harsh, please understand that I have been mad enough to give a puffadder (snake) an open mouth kiss for the last nearly two months.

A Little Background

We live on a farm just outside Balfour on the old road between Balfour and Greylingstad. Due to the Burnstone Goldmine which opened about 4km away, this road carries a lot of traffic. Heavy vehicles make use of the road day and night and because we are situated on a small hill, the speed limit is very seldom adhered to. Road works on the new road linking the towns caused long waiting periods so most people chose to use this road instead to save time.

I have three dogs of my own, two Jack Russel terriers and a Boerbull, which I adore. The first thing we did when moving in was to ensure the yard is fenced in so that the dogs would be safe. The two Jack Russels, Mica and Terri (for terrorist) sleep with us every night and accompany us wherever we go. They are like children in the house and everyone adores them.

Jack’s History

A couple of weeks ago, I think it was about 7 weeks ago, my son called me to watch as people in a newish Opel Corsa motor vehicle put two small dogs out of their car opposite the entrance to our farm. At first I couldn’t believe what I saw, but then the Corsa slowly pulled away in the opposite direction and the two dogs trotted behind. The car then accelerated and disappeared from view. How far the dogs ran to try and catch up with their owners, I don’t know, but over the course of the next few weeks they often ran in that direction, obviously trying to see if their owners will return for them.

Jack and a Fox-terrier-breed dog were dumped next to the road like yesterday’s garbage. The most upsetting part of this was that the dogs were in good condition and well cared for. I can’t adequately describe the feelings (anger, disbelief, sadness) which I experienced that day. We drove up and down the road to try and find the dogs, but they were nowhere to be seen.

Two days later we saw the two dogs in our fields. They had managed to dodge the traffic and stay alive. Bear in mind, these dogs were not used to fending for themselves and I can’t even begin to imagine the terror they went through trying to find something to eat and a safe place to sleep. At that stage it was still bitterly cold. What really broke my heart is when we tried calling them and they hurried away. They were petrified of humans.

As they ran away, the fox-terrier struggled to keep up with Jack and Jack would run for a while and after realizing his companion lagged behind, he would stop, look around and wait for the fox-terrier to catch up. They disappeared in the same direction the Corsa drove off in and we didn’t see them again for a couple of days.

About a week later we drove into town and found the dogs next to the road going through garbage. Their condition were terrible. Both dogs were thin and scruffy. Upon our return to the farm, I put down some food next to a dilapidated building some distance from the house in the hope that they would find it.

The first day the food remained untouched, but the next day the plastic tin was empty and dragged some distance away from the building. I thought they were too scared to navigate close to buildings for fear of human interaction (they must have been chased away so many times while trying to get food) and I moved the container with the food to our entrance gate, close to the road. In the photo below you can see the long driveway leading to the busy road.

Over the next couple of weeks they often ate from the tin and regularly visited the food source. All of us tried several times to approach the dogs, but the ran away as you approached. Two weeks ago I decided to move the tin halfway up the driveway to get them away from the road.

Jack came to eat, but his friend was not with him. We drove up the road and our worst fears were realized. The fox-terrier was hit by a truck and lay dead in the road. Seeing the terrier lying on its back with its feet tucked up, was a sight I wish on no animal lover. He/she looked so much like our own dog, Mica that I cried for hours, cursing the people who left the dogs. How could anyone call themselves human if they allowed this to happen to an animal that only asked for food and love and in return rewarded you with unfailing loyalty and love?

Jack was now alone and despite the food, he remained painfully thin every time I saw him. About 8 days ago, Jack first investigated the house and surroundings. He must have been extremely lonely without his friend, but he was skittish. It was over the lunch hour and the yard was quiet with nobody walking outside. From my office window I saw Jack sauntering closer and closer to the house. I held my breath as he went to lie in the shadow of an oak tree close to the gate. When my husband returned from town, he didn’t run away immediately, but the Boerboel saw him and barked. Jack ran like lightning down the road.

I Finally Meet Jack

Over the next couple of days he remained close to the house but didn’t venture into the yard again. He ate his food regularly and last Friday he watched me from the nearby hill as I walked down the road to put his food in the tin. The whole of Saturday we saw him around the yard, within viewing distance of the house and we moved his tin to the tree just outside the gate at around midday. Being closer to the house, I could now also put some water in a container for him. We watched him eat and drink water from a safe distance.

By dusk, I checked on the food and water again and as I straightened from pouring the food into the container… there was Jack…crawling towards me…waving his tail. Between the tears, I went down on my knees and he immediately turned on his back so I could scratch his belly. I could feel every single rib with barely any flesh under the skin. He whined softly and wagged his tail constantly. I called my husband to help me introduce him to the rest of the family and Jack immediately went to him and allowed him to pet him.

Jack was filthy, his body riddled with ticks and fleas and before we took him to meet the rest of the family we dosed him with Frontline to help him get rid of the pests. The introductions went well, but Jack refused to let either me or my husband out of his sight and whined when we left him. After a hearty meal and plenty of water he settled down on the enclosed veranda for the night. He was obviously used to being indoors and early on Sunday morning we let him out without him making a mess inside the house. Now, Jack sleeps inside on a warm bed with food and water always on hand. He already accepted us as his new family and is very protective of everyone in the family.

Now meet Jack and tell me why anyone would dump this cutie next to the road and leave him to die.

Animal Abuse

So, what constitutes animal abuse?

Failing to provide an animal with sufficient food, water and shelter are the most common methods of animal abuse. Many people want to have a pet and buys one without really thinking it through. Animals have needs just like humans do. They cannot fend for themselves and are totally dependant on their human owners to provide for them.

When the small puppies grow into bigger dogs, many dog owners feel the dogs are too much work. This happens every day, but it still doesn’t excuse the dumping of animals next to the road and leaving them to fend for themselves. The SPCA has branches all over the country and when animal owners feel they are no longer able to care for the animals, doing the humane thing would be to approach the nearest SPCA to assist them in finding a new home for the animal. The SPCA website has a list of telephone numbers that are regularly updated and help is only a telephone call away.

Like I said, abusers are cowards too afraid to face up to what they really are.

Lost the Groove - Where's my Mojo?

noreply@blogger.com (Yolande Pienaar) — Tue, 22 Jun 2010 14:00:00 +0000

Today is one of those days that I wish I worked for a company and not for myself and I could get to say I am sick to go home. Not that I ever did that, but it would be nice to do so once in a while when you're feeling sorry for yourself and it seems that nothing worthwhile is happening in your life - or rather, nothing you do is worthwhile doing as you seem to accomplish absolutely nothing with 18 hours of work per day.

Yep, I am feeling sorry for myself. I guess everyone has those days, its just I am not used to them. Being busy 90% of my waking hours means I don't get much time to ponder things that bother me and which I have no control over. Today though, my attention span is non-existent, my temper short and my patience thin. Why? I have no clue!

Writing usually solves the problem, but today the mojo took a vacation. I have no desire to edit the book I planned to send to the publishers (notice the past tense) nor the inclination to write the myriad of articles needed to maybe someday supplement my income. Going at it for nearly two years with only peanuts to show doesn't exactly create motivation in my mind. Add the dwindling page views (nobody has the answer as to why) and the accompanying revenue drop and you will also feel like slamming the keyboard against the wall and walking out.

Add to the above the fact that a publisher now has been reviewing a novel for nearly 5 months with no answer - not even a peep, you will understand the frustration setting in. Reason? How the hell do I know if the hours spent writing (which is fun) and editing (which is horribly hard work) are good enough to be considered for publishing. How do you motivate yourself to continue writing / editing when you have no clue as to the worth of the stories in your head?

Don't get me wrong. I will keep writing down the stories in my head until the day I die - it is like breathing - a requirement for me to live. Knowing they are not good enough to share with the great world out there, would eliminate the editing process...I hope. Talk to any writer and you will hear that they always strive to do better, to improve their writing skills, to find a way to more effectively tell the story in their minds. Mmm, I foresee a problem. Stories need to be told, which translates to someone has to hear/read them. Editing will thus not be eliminated - a writers ego wouldn't allow unedited work to be displayed.

Darn, looks like I will be stuck with the whole process whether I like it or not. Let me go for a walk and ponder this some more.

Walking is as good as any therapy session - did you know that? While walking on our small farm the sun reflected on the yellowing grass harboring Cape Long claws (Oranjekeelkalkoentjies for the Afrikaans speaking readers) and I realized that I could see. Wow, how many people out in the world are unable to see the miracles of nature and here I am complaining while I can see the wonderland God created.

I can hear the black-collared Barbet fight with the crested Barbet. I can hear the wind rustling the leaves of the acorn trees and feel them floating down on the breeze. How many people will never experience that?

The biggest factor - I can walk! How cool is that?

This blog post just served to lighten my mood. I have NOTHING to complain about and so much to be thankful for. The mere fact that I am able to write this, is a reason to be grateful. How fickle is the mind of a human. We, who are more privileged than at least 60% of the world's population, tend to moan and groan on how bad we have it, but we conveniently forget about war-torn countries where to breathe and be alive is not guaranteed. We forget about poverty-stricken countries where the next meal, how small it may be, is not a given.

Now I am thoroughly ashamed of writing this post in the first place, but like walking, it served to clear my head and focus on what is important in life. YOU HAVE TO COUNT YOUR BLESSINGS EVERY DAY, EVERY HOUR, EVERY MINUTE. Who knows when some of them will be taken away?

For those of you who read through these ramblings - thank you and may your thoughts always be positive. I'm off to continue editing. Until next time.

Winter Blues in Mpumalanga

noreply@blogger.com (Yolande Pienaar) — Fri, 11 Jun 2010 06:22:00 +0000

Today autumn flipped its leaves into winter. The wind howled around the corners and blew Acorn leaves all over the yard. Suddenly, the grass acquired a grayish tint over the yellow waving stalks.

My nose filled with dry earth and my ears rang with the song of the wind begging to be heard. How did I miss noticing the season of the dead approaching?

But, does everything die in winter? Or is everything not as it seems?

To me, winter signifies rest - not death.

Wild seeds rest peacefully underneath the frozen ground, giving the ground above a chance to recuperate after a lush growth period during spring and summer. Grass die down so that it can sprout new shoots when spring arrives. Everything seems to go into limbo, waiting in breathless suspense for the first thaw to arrive.

Nights spend in front of a crackling fire, roasting marshmellows and drinking hot chocolate more than atone for the inability to brave the unrelenting wind outside. Snuggling against your loved one - whether human or animal - on a cold winters night, shoveling snow from your porch (hmmm - not very likely in South Africa as we treasure the little snow we get) or slipping on early morning frost when the night covered the grass in a blanket of ice, are memories only winter can provide.

In all...I love winter!

How do you feel about winter?

African Grey Baby/Chick - 10 Days Old

noreply@blogger.com (Yolande Pienaar) — Wed, 10 Feb 2010 13:20:00 +0000

This African Grey Chick is 10 days old and a complete sweetie. We removed him from the nest a little too early ( I think) but he is feeding well and gaining weight. Two days ago the African Grey Chick weighed 130 grams and today a whopping 160 grams. That is a 23% weight gain.

Being alone seems to be the only problem this little one has, but the soft toy we put in with him appears to help ease the loneliness a little. He is much quieter than the other two, but makes soft noises when he notices you or you stroke him.

He is still a bit "naked" and looking at the tiny shafts of feathers appearing, it seems like he will still be that way for a while. At he moment the down on his head gives him the appearance of a semi-punk (which to me adds to the cute level substantially.)

He likes to eat and because the crop didn't clear enough in two and a half hours, we moved the feeding times to every three hours. (After the short break with the other two, this again takes a little getting used to.)

The other two chicks have settled in well with their owners and the reports I get are that they are absolutely the most clever and most cute parrots ever hatched. Hmm, I thought so from the start, but it's great to get positive feedback from their owners. Needless to say, both are being spoiled rotten and are treated like children in the home.

I hope you will enjoy this journey with the growing African Grey chick as much as we do.

Animal Cruelty - NOT FOR SENSITIVE VIEWERS!

noreply@blogger.com (Yolande Pienaar) — Thu, 04 Feb 2010 07:09:00 +0000

WARNING: THIS IS NOT FOR SENSITIVE VIEWERS!

I considered not posting this story to the blog, but I feel that as many people as possible should be made aware of the cruelty displayed against animals every day. If the post doesn't make sense at times, please forgive me, as I am struggling between utter sadness and being stark raving mad at the moment. Maybe a little background would help you understand why I feel this way.

I have a little dog called Mica. She is a "sort of" Jack Russel Terrier and the absolute light of our lives. We got her from a dear friend when she was seven weeks old and since then she sleeps in our bed, sometimes even eat at our table and is generally the love of everyone at home's life.

She gives unconditional love to everyone and likes nothing more than to just play with you and love you. All she asks is food ( not much by the way) and love - lots of love. Look at the pictures in the slide show and tell me she is not just adorable.

Now the reason for this post is an e-mail I received from a friend. Again - this is not for sensitive viewers. I post the e-mail intact below and request you forward this to as many people as possible.

Our society plays host to a couple of truly sick (evil) people. Understanding how anyone could physically harm another human being is difficult enough, but at least sometimes that other human has a chance of fighting back. Being deliberately cruel to animals I could never and will never understand. This is an unequal fight right from the start and being cruel to a dog, whose inherent nature is to love and protect you, is beyond my brain capacity. How could anyone betray such unwavering trust.

Sorry I ramble on. Here is the post - feel free to comment or to send it on.

THE BACKGROUND STORY

Subject: My name is Lucky Lucy and I was tied to a railway line to be hit by a train.

Hello everyone,

This is one of the saddest stories we have to tell! The pictures are the hardest to look at, I know, but it needs to be seen!

Andre and I went to the SPCA Wellington as we often do to go donate some doggy biscuits, cat litter and rub some of the doggies. We then left to go to the rubbish dump to disperse of our rubbish when a man stopped us to ask if we had a knife. We wanted to know why, so he said come and look! He hopped into the bakkie with us and we proceeded to underneath the R44 bridge next to the railway line, where Andre and I discovered one of the MOST GRUESOME acts of cruelty that the word CRUEL CAN NOT DESCRIBE! Please read below, her story, I tried to put it in words but it's so hard for me, I’m in shock too! The pictures will tell you her own story!

The terror and fear in this doggie is unexplainable! Andre cut her loose and gave her to me to hold, we could see some relief as she took another breath, and as he gave her to me, a train roared past OVER THE EXACT SPOT WHERE SHE WAS A MOMENT AGO! How many trains have gone over her before we found her, is hard to imagine as the trauma she must have faced feeling and seeing the train approach her and she couldn't get away.

We rushed to Market street Animal Hospital where she is presently with our great Vet's Dr. Du Plessis and Dr.van Deventer and Assistant Nurse Adri, who dropped everything to help stabilise her.

We want to go big with this story PLEASE the media need to know about this, we need the public to help us with her and we need the public to see this cruelty.

Circulating this email to your contacts could help too, please.

She is a very strong, special girl!

She has to be stabilized for 2-3 days then Andries Venter, Chief Inspectorate of the Good Hope SPCA offered to do further medical remedial operations by their great team of Vets.

THANK YOU SO MUCH ANDRIES FOR THIS, FOR THE CHANCE TO GIVE HER LIFE AGAIN!

THANK YOU YEAL THAT WE COULD RUSH HER TO THE VET FOR TREATMENT BUT MOST OF ALL THANK YOU THAT WE CAN GIVE HER A CHANCE CAUSE SHE DESERVES IT!!!!

After her operation Andre and I will teach her to love and trust a human again. Then when she is healthy, she will show us who her previous owner is, even if it takes us months, we will find the perpetrator and Lucky Lucy will have her justice!

MY NAME IS LUCKY LUCY AND TODAY I WAS TIED TO A RAILWAY LINE SO A TRAIN COULD HIT ME!

ALL I REMEMBER IS THAT I WAS HAPPY AND PLAYING, I WAS FED AND DIDN’T GO HUNGRY, PERHAPS MY OWNER DID LOVE ME AT ONE STAGE CAUSE I LIVED WELL AND WARM, I WAS CLEAN AND HAD FRIENDS TO PLAY WITH AND I FOUND A BOYFIREND AND CARRIED HIS BABIES, BUT THEN SUDDENLY FOR SOME REASON SOMETHING CHANGED IN MY OWNER.
HE WENT LOOKING FOR A STRONG ROPE, SOMETHING THAT COULDN’T SNAP OR GET LOOSE AND HE TOOK ME WITH HIM, WHICH I THOUGHT WOULD BE THE USUAL STROLL YOU GO ON WITH YOUR OWNER, BUT THEN WE WERE AT THE TRAIN TRACKS AND HE GRABBED ME, TOOK MY BACK HIND LEGS AND STRETCHED THEM OUT TO BE TIED TO MY FRONT LEGS, THEN MY BODY, STRETCHED, WAS TIED TO THE RAILWAY LINE, THEN HE TOOK MY HEAD AND TIED IT TO THE BOLT THAT HOLDS THE TRACK IN PLACE, MY HEAD MUST HAVE BEEN A CENTIMETER AWAY FROM THE TRACK.

THEN HE TURNED AND WALKED AWAY, DIDN’T EVEN LOOK BACK, I THOUGHT AT FIRST THIS MUST BE A GAME BUT HE DISSAPEARED. I DIDN’T K NOW WHAT WAS GOING ON, THEN I FELT THE VIBRATION, THEN I SAW THIS HUGE TRAIN COMING AT ME AND I COULDN’T MOVE, I TRIED WITH ALL MY STRENGTH BUT I JUST COULDN’T MOVE……….

THE TRAIN WENT OVER MY LEG, MY PAW WAS GONE AND MY MUSCLE HAD BEEN RIPPED FROM MY ALREADY SMASHED BONE!

I DIDN’T FEEL ANYMORE, I JUST LAY DEADSTILL AND WAITED TO DIE CAUSE A FEW MORE TRAINS PASSED OVER ME…..I JUST CLOSED MY EYES…..

OUT OF NOWHERE THIS MAN SAW ME, HE SCREAMED AND RAN AWAY ONLY TO COME BACK WITH TWO PEOPLE, THEY JUMPED OUT THE CAR AND CUT MY NECK AND PAWS FROM THE ROPES. I DON’T KNOW IF MY LIFE WAS NOW GOING TO BE OVER COMPLETELY CAUSE WHO WOULD KEEP SOMEONE IN MY STATE ALIVE?

BUT AT THE HOSPITAL I HEARD THE LADY AND MAN SAY, “HOLD ON FOR US GIRL, DON’T GIVE UP, WE WILL GIVE YOU LIFE!”

Now I will try my best to pull through, I know they are asking everyone to pray for me, so I will pray for me too

We are excited to tell you all that Lucy's operation went very well. Her leg was amputated above the elbow and she's sleeping and recovering well. Unfortunately though, the pups she was carrying could not be saved.

I hope I am not looking too "hospitally" but I tried posing nicely. I don't know why I feel like I am going to stumble to the side all the time but I think I am doing ok, I ate a great meal this morning again. I think I need to thank A LOT BUT A LOT of people for phoning me here at the hospital, for the people who visited, for the people offering to adopt me and all the people who donated, cause Auntie Richelle told me everyday all about it. I’m hoping that people will see I need the long road ahead to recover and I want to do so peacefully and don't want to move too far away from where I feel safe now, close to my doctor's. I will hope though that all these lovely people who are trying to help me would please try and help my fellow K9's too, they may not have experienced what I have but from what Auntie Richelle tells me (wow she does not stop talking) they also have been through some traumatic experiences and still need the help today, be it with a small donation towards them too or even adopting one in the remembrance of my story it will help me with my rehabilitation that you not only want to help me but them too, cause it could have been any of us!

Thank you very much for all the help, I can't quite understand it all yet but Auntie Richelle says thousands of people want to come talk to me so my ears will be buzzing.

Colette Mang

Swartland and West Coast SPCA

Tel: 022 409 2237

Cell: 083 23 53 285

Fax: 086 609 12 18

If you can still read at this point, please spread the word so that we can try and help to catch the person responsible for this.

Wishlist for 2010

noreply@blogger.com (Yolande Pienaar) — Mon, 28 Dec 2009 16:48:00 +0000

Every year people wish for things, mostly unobtainable by themselves and often totally selfish. This year I decided to ignore my own wishes and tried to think of things which would ultimately benefit everyone on our fragile planet. Oh, don't be fooled, I'm as selfish as the next person when it comes to wishes, but once you get started thinking about the bigger picture, it really is not that hard to forget what you want in the small corner of your world. So here it is:-

I wish everyone in the world a crime-free year ahead. Although I am from South Africa and crime is truly a problem in our country, ours is not the only one where people are affected by the results of crime on a daily basis. Take a moment and think about this. Violent crime is not limited to street muggings and robberies from people you don't know. Domestic violence must be one of the most under-reported (both in the media and the police stations) crime in the world. Most abusers are clever and spin a web around their victims, emotionally and physically dis-empowering them to the extent where the victim feels worthless with no self-esteem left. I've seen this happen over and over again while working as Commissioner of the Children Court and even in the criminal courts. We only hear about domestic violence in the media when the victim snaps and fights back - often with more force than people deem necessary. But, this abuse usually continues for years before someone realize there is a problem. So my first wish for this Christmas is that nobody should suffer in the hands of an abuser - whether known or unknown.

I wish every child in the world a warm bed, abundance of food and most of all - plenty of love for the next year. People able to support themselves and their families tend to look away from a street child begging on the street corner or at the supermarket. They don't want to see the hungry face because it makes them feel guilty. They justify not helping the child by saying there are millions of these children around the world and helping this one unknown child will not make a difference. Just think about this: if one person helps one child every day in each country of the world - how big a difference would we be able to make? How many children would be saved, helped, fed and provided for? So in short my wish for the year ahead: I wish every person on the planet would help one child in some way every single day of the year.

May the powers that be work together without putting the monetary benefits first, to ensure the future of our planet. The fragility of our planet has been in the news often lately and more and more people start to realize that we cannot keep on abusing the planet as we are doing. Resources are slowly being depleted and the recent funny weather (and this is my opinion) is evidence of more radical changes to come if nothing is done about the effect our habits have on the environment.

Three simple wishes for the world. The frustrating part is that one person alone can do very little to achieve these goals, but working together, we all can make a difference.

I hope everyone has a prosperous New Year and that health and wealth will follow after the 1st of January.

African Grey Babies Now 7 Weeks Old

noreply@blogger.com (Yolande Pienaar) — Mon, 07 Dec 2009 18:25:00 +0000

The African Grey Parrot chicks are now 7 weeks old and full of feathers. Hand rearing the chicks has not been such a mission as we first thought and they are becoming more and more independent. They started to eat soft food over the weekend and now resides in a proper parrot cage with extra mesh at the bottom to prevent them from falling through.

The smaller one is a keen learner and already starts to react to instructions to climb onto your finger, but the feet are not yet co-operating and if she has one claw closed the other refuses. Her balance is much better than the bigger one which is a complete sweetie.

The younger one also is the most inquisitive and will investigate anything and everything you place inside the cage. She now decided she likes the soft food better than the porridge and it appears that she will be weaned long before her older sibling as she eats less porridge with every feed and more soft food and seeds.

I don't know how we are going to say goodbye to these two in two weeks time as they each has their own personality and are adorable, but I suppose that is part of breeding African Grey Parrots.

African Grey Chicks - Comparison at 3 and 6 weeks

noreply@blogger.com (Yolande Pienaar) — Wed, 02 Dec 2009 13:27:00 +0000

A 10-week old Congo African Grey Chick

Our Congo African Grey chicks are now 6 weeks old and I thought it would be interesting to show a comparison between the African Grey babies at 3 weeks and at 6 weeks. The chicks showed an interest in soft foods today for the first time and after realizing the food is quite tasty, they ate and played with the food for nearly an hour.

The bare wings now have feathers and even the long feathers at the tips of the wings are developing quite fast.

The red tail feathers, which are unique to the Congo African Grey parrots, have also developed and three distinct rows of tail feathers are present. Note the lone red feather just above the tail and the tuft of down just below.

We weighed the chicks today and the smaller one weighs in at 550grams while the larger chick weighs a roaring 650 grams. They have more than doubled in size in three weeks.

During the past weekend we cared for a 10 week old African Grey parrot. "Gogga" the parrot baby is already weaned and only wanted to taste the baby formula because the little ones ate. At one stage we had a total of five parrots ranging from 6 weeks to 8 years old on the kitchen table and it made for interesting play time. Gogga enjoyed climbing all over hubby while the little one sought refuge from the miniature windstorm Gogga created.

In the photo's of the African Grey parrots below you can clearly see the difference in the eyes of an adult and baby parrot. The adult African Grey parrot has a yellow ring around the black pupil while the baby's eyes are nearly totally black.

We have already found a home for the smaller baby African Grey parrot, but will only deliver after the chicks are completely weaned and able to fend for themselves.

Please Pray for Christopher Beets

noreply@blogger.com (Yolande Pienaar) — Tue, 24 Nov 2009 15:49:00 +0000

Please take 5 minutes to pray for this child.

African Grey Parrot Babies Develop Feathers

noreply@blogger.com (Yolande Pienaar) — Fri, 20 Nov 2009 17:05:00 +0000

Our African Grey parrot chicks are nearly 5 weeks old now. They have grown by the hour and I think doubled in size during the last week. They are eating well and this week started to develop feathers.

Even the red tail feathers, unique to the Congo African Grey start to show.

The parrot chicks enjoy stretching their legs and simulating flight by flapping their wings - causing mayhem in the brooded as wood shavings fly all over the place. As mentioned in the previous post, they discovered their voices and now they tend to "talk" to the person feeding them (Especially if the porridge is not provided quickly enough.)

You will notice the eyes are fully open and trust me, they see quite well. The eyes will turn more yellow as the African Grey parrot matures and the black eyes are a dead giveaway for a young parrot.

African Grey Chicks - 28 Days Old

noreply@blogger.com (Yolande Pienaar) — Tue, 17 Nov 2009 08:27:00 +0000

The African Grey Parrot babies are growing by the hour. Feeds are now 4 hours apart - yah! More sleep, but they are cute as buttons. Each one of the African Grey chicks has his own personality and feeding time turns into playtime for them.

The photo's show the oldest hatchling after a feed, stretching those legs that must support him for the rest of his life and exercising the wings (not that those small wings would ever support the likes of the round body).

Since three days ago, they are fluffy little creatures and both discovered they have voices. Night time feeds tends to get a bit noisy and I predict the one sleeping would soon be awaken by the antics of the baby parrots.

Dont' you also want one?

From Baby African Greys

Pictures of African Grey Parrot Chicks

noreply@blogger.com (Yolande Pienaar) — Wed, 11 Nov 2009 21:47:00 +0000

Here is a few pictures I took today of the African Grey Parrot babies. They are now 24 days old and growing by the hour. Note the feathers starting on the wings. We added some soft toys for them to cuddle up against and they seem to enjoy the company.

Man Eaten by Snake- True or Not?

noreply@blogger.com (Yolande Pienaar) — Tue, 10 Nov 2009 07:56:00 +0000

I received this via e-mail today and thought I would share it with you. Don't know if it's true or the details thereof. If anyone else knows the true story I would appreciate you sharing with us.

Anyone has an idea what really happened?