Tag Archives: South Coast

Oribi Mom

Oribi Mom

The “Oribi Mom” Column

Newspaper Column Regularly Featured in the South Coast Herald

Since 2020, this little newspaper column has become a standard feature in the Lind household. It’s an actual newspaper – the kind that rubs off black onto your fingers – publishing our comings and goings here in Oribi Gorge.

Part of the motivation behind it was to give the Lind children something in black and white one day after we get old and don’t remember all the details. The local community here also seems to have enjoyed the offering, which tries to share our story 400 words at a time. A few neighbours and friends have appreciated some of the humour, relatability, family drama, and close encounters with nature. International readers just gasp, wondering why we choose to live in a place where Black Mambas do.

Why Oribi Mom Started

Ambitions to be a journalist in the teen years were short-lived. If you’d asked then whether we’d like to just blog for a local newspaper whenever inspiration hit, it would have seemed inferior to “real” journalism. What a crazy idea.

Fast-forward to about a month before the entire world shut down because of the COVID-19 pandemic, and the need to share our experiences felt overwhelming. At eight months pregnant, South Africa’s hard lockdown had cancelled just about everything. Things got complicated, including the smooth, quick route needed to reach the hospital three hours away.

Instead of calming soundtracks and earphones, we had to remember to pack our eldest child’s birth certificate in the hospital bag — just in case. What if the police stopped us on the highway to ask why we were out of our home when the government had expressly told everyone to stay put. We’d even rehearsed the speech to say in between contractions. “Yes, he’s our son. Yes, we had to bring him with us. No, there’s nobody to look after him at home. No, we couldn’t go to another hospital because the doctor is at the one three hours away (another long story).”

We hadn’t found much online about going through a late-stage pregnancy during a global pandemic. Nobody else crazy enough to try it? So, we wrote one. And we’ve never looked back.

Thanks for reading!

Oribi Mom

Oribi Mom

Oribi Mom: The Beach Never Gets Old

“Where did those twenty-something years go in the blink of an eye?”

Heather and Robin Lind.

April 23, 2024

An old friend’s son has just turned 18. He was 11 just last week. A certain Oribi Dad’s big midlife birthday is also fast approaching. I can still remember the moment our eyes met for the first time like it was five minutes ago. Toes in beach sand, but wearing a jersey because it was the middle of July. South Coast living is very kind in that way. You can grab a jacket but still get away with shorts and slops most days of the year.

My 15-year-old self was a little different from now. Bolder, and much cheekier, with a smaller waist and an even narrower worldview. All of the people there teased us about a summer fling that was sure to end once we all got back to school. We didn’t even live in the same town. Twenty-three years later, our fling is a ring, three sweet sons, two dogs, and many memories of other beautiful beaches we’ve explored together. What are the chances?

Also, where did those twenty-something years go in the blink of an eye? We’ve already moved past so much life and so many changes. I still like Turkish Delight, but it sits on the hips a little easier these days. He still likes Greenday and jokes about it near the end of every September. The Lion King still makes both of us gulp back the tears. It’s 30 years old. Thirty! That’s as old as the new South Africa!

What was I doing thirty years ago? Grade 2, I think, with Mrs Bentley, who loved tennis and dyeing her hair strange colours. She was certainly younger then than I am right now. There’s a thought. She loved tennis, as I did, which is probably why I remember her hair and mini skirts. That was what we wore to play tennis then. Little skirts with ball holders clipped on the back of them, so we could serve with only one ball in our hands and not throw it up skew. We must have been so cute! We thought we were the bee’s knees.

In another thirty years, I’m sure I’ll have a more mature perspective on my life right now. What will it look like from over there, to look back in this chaotic and exhausting mother-of-three-little-boys phase? Why did I use to think it was so hard? Who knows?

That’s why we do it as best we can in each moment. Isn’t each of those moments life itself?

Published here.

Oribi Mom

Oribi Mom: It’s Heartwarming To See Honesty Boxes

“You put your money into the honesty box that’s on the table and then go home with your beautiful plant.”

PHOTO BY PIXABAY

September 25, 2023

When you drive up from the nature reserve, there’s a little table of plants in front of a polocrosse field. I often get strawberry plants and other little flowers from there to spruce up my garden. They have labels with a price or just a sign that says R10 or something. And you put your money into the honesty box that’s on the table and then go home with your beautiful plant.

The boys even bought a little strawberry plant the other day for a local Gogo’s birthday. Their dad helped them deliver it to her door, and the next week she had two fresh strawberries in her pot. They also bought me a blackberry bush so that we can grow our own sweet berries to eat. It’s very prickly and I haven’t found a good place for it yet. Didn’t Farmer McGregor have a blackberry hedge that Peter Rabbit hid behind? Maybe I’ll try that.

If I’m Honest, There’s So Much To See In Oribi Gorge

The honesty table even had a geocache by it a while ago! The boys were very excited to spend an afternoon doing that with their cousins and have found all sorts of little treasures in our area here.

Plus, if we drive slowly enough, we can see the ostriches that live at the polocrosse field, a sight that really excites little imaginations. They’re spectacular birds, though it seems odd to call them that.

They’re nothing like mannikins or the lovely sunbird that’s back making her nest on my porch this year again. They can’t soar over the deep gorge and farmlands like the majestic vulture colonies we adore here. And they don’t sit still in the shadows and blend in with the green like the gorgeous Narina trogons, either.

In any case, seeing ostriches in Oribi Gorge shouldn’t come as a surprise. It’s a place that takes your breath away for many reasons, including the beauty of still being able to have an honesty box in the neighbourhood.

Don’t forget your R10 notes next time you come up here. You might get a flower or shrub for your garden to remind you of this beautiful part of the world.

Published here.

Oribi Mom

Oribi Mom: Hearing the Roar of the Waterfall

Apparently there is some special limestone-evolved skink here that researchers are trying to pin down.

The beautiful waterfall. PHOTO BY: HEATHER LIND

June 25, 2023

It’s quite a struggle leaving home in the dark. Winter school runs require some otherworldly resolve to crawl out from under the covers. You must will yourself to get the small children dressed, fed, and half-decent for the day.

It’s also ridiculous how much colder we are in Oribi Gorge and Paddock than in town. Oribi Dad often leaves home in the dark with a fleece top and beanie and returns an hour later with a T-shirt and sunglasses. Why bother?

This weather is confusing, too. One minute it’s so dry we’re irrigating the baby macadamia trees and the next there’s giant thunderstorms ripping through our echoing gorge. They strike Eskom poles to leave the whole place off the grid, and not in that idealistic sort of way.

The Waterfall Roars After a Good Storm in Oribi Gorge

The waterfall below our house really pounds after that rain as the water drains from all the surrounding slopes and gathers in the streambed. It roars, much louder than the cane trucks. It’s louder than the UGU bus putting its accelerator flat on the floor to try and get up our winding gorge road without stalling. The waterfall is even louder than the tractors sometimes, and those whizz right past the house.

You can get to the bottom of the waterfall with some careful balancing and boulder-hopping off the rough trail. And once you do, it’s hard to describe the transformation. The cane, macadamias, and tea tree are far above you. The sounds stop, except for the birds. The bright sunlight doesn’t even make it down there into the moss-covered rocks and twisty skyscraper trees.

Down Into a Magical World Out of Sound and Time

I imagine that’s how Middle Earth’s elven forests must have been in the mind of its maker. It’s like you’ve stepped into a world of fantasy. But you still have to look out for the area’s rather impressive selection of dangerous creatures.

Even grumpy bushbuck aren’t the safest, though seeing them gracefully walking down the narrow bush trails is still spectacular. Apparently there is some special limestone-evolved skink here that researchers are trying to pin down. I’m yet to find it. But there’s still time.

Maybe the dark, cold winter mornings aren’t the most enjoyable part of family life on the farm. But the beauty and diversity of this place makes up for it in a big way. And the aloes, now those are always a great reason to look forward to June on the South Coast, aren’t they?

Published here.

Oribi Mom

Oribi Mom: Making a Racket Again

“There was apparently a sighting in Harding a few years back, but it was still incredibly rare to see it here. It was also my first time seeing one.”

An example of a racket-tailed roller. PHOTO WIKIPEDIA

May 30, 2023 

There have been two phenomenal birding sightings in our area this last month. One was on a telephone line, and one was in a puddle.

I’ve been off social media for a while trying to eke out time for my many commitments as a mommy to three little people. Scrolling steals too much of that, which means I haven’t seen the South Coast Birder’s group in a while. I miss it.

Not One But Two Amazing Bird Sightings in Oribi Gorge

Anyway, the first sighting was by yours truly. A casual drive-by and a glance up at a telephone wire revealed a turquoise shimmer on a biggish little bird, undoubtedly a roller.

We get quite a few European rollers here over the summer. I love to admire these rather impressive and beautiful birds whenever they pop up. Maybe because I always used to love seeing the lilac-breasted rollers in the July holiday visits to the Kruger Park as a child. They would be shining in stunning purple and blue on top of a brown bush, a striking contrast that’s not easy to miss.

So, seeing rollers in my backyard as an adult has been rather special. But at the last minute, I saw this one jump and turn around. As it faced the other direction, I saw long tail streamers behind it, with little rounded bits on the end. I gasped a little. It was truly spectacular, but I wasn’t aware of why. I didn’t know that European rollers had long tails like that! Wow.

It turns out they don’t.

The Bird Wasn’t What I Thought It Was, But Close

I drove home, chatting to the kids, looking for reedbuck, jackal buzzards, water mongoose, and tractors like we do every day. We spied vultures above Leopard Rock. We saw a jiga duza (a Bell loader) that always gets my boys very excited.

So, when I got home and remembered to look at my birding app, I was shocked to find that what I had seen was not, in fact, a European roller at all. I wouldn’t have known that it wasn’t one of those gorgeous blue birds so common on our telephone wires in the summertime if I hadn’t driven past at the exact moment it jumped up and showed me its spindly tail.

It was a Racket-tailed Roller! And it was hundreds of kilometres south of where the map distribution indicated it should be. I couldn’t believe it.

I even messaged a birding fundi to check that I wasn’t going mad. I wasn’t. There was apparently a sighting in Harding a few years back, but it was still incredibly rare to see it here. It was also my first time seeing one ever.

Maybe, I should be travelling with my camera in the backseat instead of chattering farm boys shouting with delight at the tractors, TLBs, and cane-loading machinery we pass.

Oh, and the other sighting was by one of the farmers down the road who saw another wayward bird, the African Crake. Birder’s eat your heart out in Oribi Gorge, hey!

Published here.

Oribi Mom

Oribi Mom: Must Love Birds and the Adventure of the ‘Chase’

I’ve also loved flitting about the South Coast birding community on Facebook bird groups.

January 14, 2021

A pretty white-eye photographed by Heather in Oribi Gorge.

I’ve always loved nature, but since our move to Oribi Gorge, my blood is emerald green, just like ‘Hello Georgie’.

I may actually be obsessed with the feathered friends that fill this beautiful country.

An overseas friend asked if I was a twitcher, and after a quick Google search, I solemnly declared myself a true bird lover instead.

I’m not a tick-off-the-list ‘twitcher’ who loses interest after they’ve seen every one of South Africa’s 850 recorded species once (725 resident species).

No, I sit on my porch for morning coffee and daily appreciate the wine-red firefinches, melodious black-headed orioles, opportunistic Black Sparrowhawk (which hunts our free range chickens), and the soaring vultures high above our Umzimkulu cliffs.

I’ve also loved flitting about the South Coast birding community on Facebook.

Hugo Voigts in Paddock is phenomenally dedicated – he once sat for over four hours in camouflage to capture elusive flufftail chicks (and this wasn’t his only comparable effort).

Lia Steen in Shelly Beach has the most magnificent finds right in her garden. She must have a brilliant camera to capture that much detail, too. I’ve learned a lot about birding habits from her fascinating posts.

The luckiest South Coast birder must be Stan Culley, somewhere near Port Edward maybe? ‘Culley’s Dam’ boasts fantastic bird visitors daily, including the cutest baby white-starred robin I’m yet to find in my patch of paradise.

Why birding? I think it’s the chase.

Some days you see a new one that you have never, ever noticed before. You read about it (maybe you’ll get a Roberts bird app for your birthday like I did) and learn the sound. The next few weeks, you realise that it is a screech or a song that you hear constantly. It wasn’t a new bird in your garden at all, just a hidden gem.

Once you see it, you can’t un-see it and then you start to appreciate the immense beauty of this country.

Birdwatching Is Good for the Soul

Next time coronavirus has you down, sit at your window or put your binoculars next to you on the porch.

Take a breath, laugh at the bobbing wagtails and the fluttering sunbirds and open your eyes.

You might see that martial eagle gliding above the clouds or you might notice the white-browed scrub robin around your fallen leaves for the very first time.

Wonder is the beginning, and from there, joy.

Published here.

Oribi Mom

Oribi Mom: A Second Wave of Life

Life doesn’t stop. You can’t hug your friends for a while, but you can text, call, video call and tag them.

January 7, 2021

Some of us have got stuck, but the road to recovery beckons as the sun rises on 2021. Photo: Pixabay.

If you are still trying to get through your toilet paper stash before 2025, there is something else you might be ready to consider while you wait for the tide to go out.

Things Haven’t Changed

For some of us, the new year has been a huge dent in a grand wall of expectation. We sent out good wishes and then, BOOM, one million COVID reasons to hide back inside our burrows.

Do you know what hasn’t changed, Mzansi? Desperate situations. Our people are still poor, hurting, and disillusioned. NGOs are still working in suffering communities. Domestic violence has escalated with stress and financial uncertainty.

Sickness and childbirth is now accompanied by anxiety about whether a bed will be offered in overburdened medical establishments.

A second wave of Covid-19 is also a reminder of missing billions, floundering leadership, and much grief.

Things Have Changed

Do you know what has changed in this second wave of death, though? We are now survivors.

Post-coronavirus society knows that there is light on the other side of our blacked-out social calendars. We know that alongside the flashing red death toll is a merciful recovery figure, a shining testament of how many people have walked through the valley and emerged mostly intact.

If you want to “speak life,” it’s time to start moving toward better things. You can’t hug your friends for a while, but you can text, call, video call and tag them. You can’t take your grandparents chocolates or cake, but you can bombard them and their caregivers with videos of your children and emails to be read aloud to them (like the “old school” letters they loved).

Give money to the causes that move you to compassion, and click to share their posts far and wide. Open your heart and your wallet again – the needs are still there even if your mask has obscured your view for the last few months.

You can’t date freely or party into the night, but you can maintain friendships, encourage your neighbours when you see each other, and intentionally support local entrepreneurs.

You can’t eat out much, but you can buy vouchers to keep your favourite establishments afloat. You can support free meal programs and fill up the formula coffers of the many baby places of safety that are on the edge of collapse.

There’s More to Life

If you’re jobless now, you have time to clear out clutter and donate to those less fortunate than yourself (they exist, I promise you).

If you’re anxious, you can offer compassion and words of affirmation to those you love to help you focus on life, not the struggle.

Read books, read scripture, exercise, and use the time well.

South Africa, the second wave is an opportunity to start living again. It is a new world but we still have values and connections as old as time. Don’t waste your life.

“Life is precarious, and life is precious. Don’t presume you will have it tomorrow, and don’t waste it today.” – John Piper

Published here.