.SOMETIMES RAW.

Hello and Happy Wednesday!

Whenever I want to do good things in this world I have to start by being my biggest fan first. 

I remember the time when I was seven years old and we had to prepare an art project in school. We were supposed to built a house made out of paper rolls. Yep, sounds simple but it was not. In the end there was a prize that the student with the best house could win. I worked hard on this project for days. I was totally into building it. Slowly the house looked pretty awesome. I built and built. I remember we had two weeks to finish it and bring it to class. I even made a tiny door with a handle to open and close it. Perfection! I painted the entire little house in brown, painted the window frames in black and did not forget about to give some color to the  chimney. Well, the house was done. 

I took my house proudly to school the next day. I knew deep inside I would have the best house no matter what – that I would win. I worked so hard. I looked around in the classroom and almost all of my classmates brought in their projects. Some did not do finish it for whatever reason. I did not care really. And while looking around I could see that their houses were not even close to what mine looked like.

There is always one person in class that nobody like(s)d for several reasons. He was a bully, liked to beat us up and make us feel bad. He was also one year older than us and he always thought he was something special. Better than the rest in one way or another. However, he was not. He was lazy, rude, always came late to class and never did his homework. But today, he came to class with the most beautiful tiny house project I have ever seen. He carried it proudly and put it in front of him on his desk. 

My best friend back then whispered secretly in my ear that she “likes my house way better and that someone definitely built this house for him. He does not even know how to tie his shoes”.  He won. The teacher gave him the 1st Prize for his house. I got nothing. I was devastated because the teacher even asked him if someone helped him and the classmate-bully answered that his dad helped him “a bit”. I cried at home, not in school. I was so proud of myself and my little house. I worked so hard. Put everything into it. 

Eventually I learned to just accept the fact that others might get certain things in life before I get them. Undeserved sometimes, through connections or whatever else the reason is. I realized that I am okay the way I am and learned to love myself even though I might not be able to build the best house and win the prize. It has been a hard battle, but I won it eventually. I love who I am and what I am able to make and create. It is important to realize that because it is easy to all turn into a prison whenever I give too much power to things that I cannot change and question my own ability to accomplish things. I worried that I am not enough. That what I made is not enough after the classmate-bully won the contest. I was seven years old. 

I learned that I know what I am capable of and that if I walk into a room I love who I am while I carry the little house I built. I am a fan of myself. 

[On a little side-note while talking about art:  This is my amazing artist friend Mischa who let my son play with paint and brushes today. I will write an entire article on him and his artwork soon. His work is fantastic. Stay tuned]

Hello and Happy Sunday!

“My husband, Fanie, was dead and gone, but sometimes it felt he was with me again, like a bad taste in my mouth. Suddenly I could see the expression on his face just before he would hit me. My forehead was sweating and my heart beating fast. It was like I was having a bad dream, but I was wide awake.” 

Recipes for Love and Murder: A Tannie Maria Mystery is a fantastic murder mystery mixed with love, sadness, romance, food, the beautiful nature in South Africa and friendship. Tannie Maria loves food, to cook and is a woman who writes a column about recipes and relationship tips for the local paper, Klein Karoo Gazette. She solves relationship and love trouble through good advice and delicious recipes that are described in such a yummy way that I felt like trying some of them right away. Don’t read this book on an empty stomach. Chocolate heaven, full of flavor and nourishing recipes can be found at the end of the book. Pictured below is Tannie’s famous Milk Tart. 

Things change however, when one day, Maria received a letter from Martine, a woman who is being abused by her husband and tries to escape this hell she lives in. This reminded Maria of her own past. She had been abused for years and years by her husband before he passed away. This was reason enough to help Martine and to write her a letter back. Shortly after, local police informed the newspaper about the murder of this particular woman. Together with Harriet and Jessie, who are Maria’s colleagues at the Klein Karoo Gazette, they decide to find the person who committed the murder(s). They assist the police and find themselves in several frustrating and dangerous situations. Will they be able to find the killer? Things take a turn when Jessie went missing and Maria receives death threats herself. 

Is this book for me?  

This novel is very compelling, charming, a real page-turner — yet eye-opening and thought-provoking regarding this serious issue of the abuse of women in South Africa. I also enjoyed to read many words in Afrikaans that are explained in the glossary of the book. The reader will also find interesting details about South Africa and its beauty. 

The author focuses a lot on the characters which I love. I can almost see Tannie Maria cooking in her kitchen. This book is a real joy to read if you are into delightful, light crime novels, South African culture, of course food with a touch of serious issues. 

You can purchase a copy here. Do visit Sally Andrew’s website if you would like to find out more about South Africa and videos and pictures from the author. Enjoy! 

Hello and Happy Thursday. 

My sister and I are sitting in this little café on her birthday, celebrating with Campari and Soda eating Flammkuchen. It is lunchtime, the sun is shining, our drinks are close to the window and are shining and glowing  like lamplights through the sun. I feel like crying. Nobody notices. But I am really crying on the inside, this kind of cry of lifetime procedure. I am crying for the past 31 years we have known, loved and battled each other. For now, I have been talking about it all for myself. All the painful and tricky parts. The things you try to avoid because it is just deep and it hurts. We try to connect and struggle but we do have this desire to understand and hold some space for the difference. 

There is a tightness between us sometimes and  I know I love her but I am not able to tell her the way I would like to. Life is made for moment like that.  And when I really think about it, it is two women sharing the same mother and father, the same brother, and the same history and yet after all, memories are different. Between us is just a contrast which gives shape to the truth of our hearts. We had some shared memories. Some tough times. We have been though it. This tough love or hard truth. However, ultimately you are just full of love. I understand the color of your pain and the way  of your journey and the brightness of your joy. You are my sister and we are so alike. At the same time we are so different but together can celebrate everything we accomplished. 

How did this post come about? Really because we spent a day together at your parent’s in laws’ and I really got to see you. Got to know you again after a long time. We talked, exchanged thoughts, sat next to each other and enjoyed the moment.  The BBQ, the conversations, our kids playing together for hours. It was all an adventure. For all of us. 

What I would like to tell you  is first of all that you are beautiful the way you are and that you can achieve anything you want in life. No matter what. You can take a trip. Go somewhere. Discover something new alone or together as a family. Have a jet-leg when you get somewhere and pack not enough and then buy the things you need at a local supermarket. Get lost and argue with your husband and end up stopping at a restaurant and enjoy the best pizza and red wine you have ever had. Then, order a Campari Soda and watch the people walking by. Cheers to life. Cheers to who walks by next. 

Be open to discover something new and leave old pattern behind. Diana, you are my little sister but you have grown. You are such a beautiful amazing woman. You stand very tall, even though you are shorter than me. You hold so much strength and it is amazing how you take care of two children and keep your sanity. I am proud of you. Proud how you manage it all. I am proud to be your sister. This courage you have inspires me. To just keep moving forward and  just keep going. I hope I inspire you as you inspire me. Maybe we can inspire each other. I want to see you. Not only physically. I want that we see each other. I would love that we are a mirror for how beautiful we both are. We are sisters. How wonderful is it to call you MY sister. I love you. Forever.