P.S.  Thank you for the lovely letter you sent with Gerald! Xxx and I letter I read on the plane!

                                                                                                                               

Telephone:   299 Sabie                                                                                   “Mbulwa”

                                                                                                                                P.O. Box 205

                                                                                                                                Sabie, 1280

                                                                                                                                Eastern Transvaal

                                                                                                                                South Africa.     

Mr. and Mrs. T.J.Guthrie

104 Burlington Street,

Crows Nest, N.S.W. 2065

Australia. 12th September 1992.      

My darling Mom and Dad,

I have to write to share with you.   I am sitting, at dusk, with a gin and tonic, in one of Africa’s most beautiful places:   Harry Oppenheimer’s Lodge for their Anglo American Directors – on the stone verandah, the Drakensberg Mountains lilac and around me, majestic, the birds are preparing for bed – and the silence is deafening.

I am surrounded by opulence of a by-gone era – a staff of twenty, dinner suits for dinner, crystal and silver and damask, polished stone floors, antiques, old dogs by a huge roaring fire – real LINEN sheets, tubs big enough for two, beds big enough for four – absolutely straight out of an African novel.  

I cannot begin to describe the wedding, a fairy-tale of HUNDREDS of pale apricot and cream roses, ribbons and hundreds of candles, gleaming floors and hundreds of tiny twinkling lights – all on a huge outside verandah, French champagne, women dressed in thousands of rands of EXQUISITE clothing, men in tuxedos, a meal unlike any I have ever eaten, candlebra, glossy silver everywhere, and our darling Priscilla, a vision of lovliness in pale pink silk and beads, so happy to be marrying her beloved Jack.  Some of the most powerful and influential men in Africa presiding over all – John McKenzie from Chingola remembers you Dad, as “A very important man to us in Anglo at the Open Pit” and asks to be remembered to you.

So much to tell ….. in a nutshell, pure delight and decadence.   Yesterday, Gerald and I (WHAT a happy surprise!) went on a 380kms trip through the Homelands, Bourkes Pot Holes, God’s Window and much much more – we saw a giraffe at the side of the road, many baboons and monkeys, wart-hogs – and THEN! – a HUGE BUCK jumped out from the side, Gerald swerved and we missed him by a foot!  Blydes’s River Canyon and its glory, the smiling, chattering children, in the land of our birth, with each other – is HEAVEN.  We are so happy, swimming, eating, walking, making love, laughing, in these surroundings, walls 2’ thick and luxury, luxury, luxury ….   Bubble baths, tea in bed, good friends, and each other. 

Tomorrow we go to Sabie Game park for the day, stay over, and return to Joburg on Monday.   Dad and Mom – we have spent a lot of time with them – Dad is better than we thought physically, but mentally has given up and is waiting to die.  Mom is EXHAUSTED, and longs for relief in the form of company, and Dad will not allow her to move from his side.   We hope to take them away.   Greg and Renate and Cindy and Paul are happy, generous, fun and so kind.   Marian and Mike and their boys are delightful – so loving and so excited to be with us!  Glenda and her man Steve, overjoyed with their new baby – and a big party planned for the day Josh arrive, to meet everyone!

Things are the same and different.  Big changes to the race laws mean blacks are sharing in most things, but prejudice is alive and well, and still shocking to us.   Old attitudes abound, entrenched in the Afrikaaner way.   People barricade themselves behind ten foot high fences, dogs, guards, bars, keys and alarms – I could not live this way now.   The huge difference between the rich and the poor is so marked, the African in the city is surly (and scarey) – I try to read their expressions, and fear what I see.   (I understand it.)   The country is very different.  People DRINK so much.  Marriages break up often, it seems almost all are married two or three times.   The women are spoiled, and when I look at my Australian friends and their life values, I am so glad Josh grew up in a country with a balanced lifestyle – as much as I enjoy this pampered holiday – it’s not REAL in my daily world.

Despite this, Africa weaves her magical spell – intoxicating.  Seductive.   Vibrant.  Violent.  Passionate.  The red dust, the birds, flowers, technicolour explosions of light, the smell of the bush, the African, the way of cooking – polish, creosote, wood fires, roses in silver bowls – the sounds of African laughter, their constant talk – sudden fits of the giggles, their endless patience, the inscrutable African stare, the spontaneity of the piccanins waving at the roadside – are all part of WHO I AM. I love the black African.  The DUMB Afrikaaner response on the phone recently, directory assistance, when asked for the number of Zambian Airways ….. much computer punching and sighing, only to be told by her “Sorry, lady, no Zambian Airways”.  At my insistence there was indeed such a number, she postulated “I DON’T have a Zambian Airways, only a Zambia Airways” ….. and so is the Afrikaaner!

Thank you so much my darlings, for doing all you are for Josh, the animals, the house – for Gerald and I.   I would not be here now if you had not been this generous.   I love you both – and miss you – and at times feel you here with us.   Dad - this oasis is Africa as you recall it – perhaps one of the few spots left.

We miss Josh and can’t wait to see him – and so many people waiting to meet him.   I hope all has been well.   Please give this to Verna and Dave and Jo and Al to read – tell Ian too, and perhaps Susan would like a photocopy of this, as we move on daily now, and writing is difficult.   Our love to all of them.

I have a huge bowl of sweet-peas on a yellow wood table I am writing on (inside our SUITE now!....) and tody we went to the Trout Farm, a picnic spot, simply entitled “The Chairman’s” – (Harry’s!) for a braai, complete with crystal and silver and napery….

Karen Blixen wrote “I am in Africa, where I ought to be.”    That’s how I feel now – and yet I know, I am an Australian.  This beautiful, cruel, haunting, explosive land has embraced me, again.

I love you, I thank you, I miss you – all my love, and Gerald’s,

Sandra xxx

P.S.

I have just stepped outside to re-read both your letters – your love envelops me – as does the ink black velvet African night, warm and breezy, the insects are singing good-night, their African song – and I am so happy with my life and all you have given me, continue to give, so generously.   It’s hard to believe that outside these privileged walls, the savageness of Africa lies …

Dad, your telephone book and the advertising was a BRILLIANT idea!   Congratulations!  I look forward to seeing it.

 I must now pack, for a 6.00 am departure ….. I think of you all and all I do, and see, and hear, and share, is for all of us – my dearest darlings, my Mom and Dad – God Bless and keep you safe and well, till we meet – your rosary beads accompany me always –

Your loving daughter,

Sandra xxx