A Lion at the camp...

Amidst the sweet smell of jet fuel hanging in the early morning air, the high pitch sound of helicopter turbines starting up, the South African border around the Okavango is a haven and natural habitat for the most beautiful wildlife in the world. Ironically this was now also occupied by thousands of troops and special forces in the long war against communism from the north. There are many stories to be told about Terry the lion and his long and happy relationship with the Recces.

One night, one of the Operators was tasked to give Terry some food, as he was occasionally fed while at Fort Doppies. This particular Operator did not appreciate being tasked to do this job in his free time, and was quite annoyed. Taking the meat for Terry, he went to look for him, and found him not far outside the front gate of Fort Doppies.

It appeared to the Operator that Terry was in an uncharacteristically bad mood, as he growled at the Operator, and made striking movements with his front paws. Terry also didn’t look in good shape. The Operator was also not in a good mood at having been tasked to feed Terry, and this unusual and annoying behaviour towards him by the Lion further annoyed him.

The Operator therefore unceremoniously threw the meat towards Terry instead of taking it right up to him, and stood there shouting at the Lion for a few minutes.  He then went back into Fort Doppies and walked into the pub – where he saw Terry sitting at the feet of the other Operators.

The Operator had found, fed and shouted at a wild lion !!!

In later times, Terry used to like walking into the Operators sleeping quarters during the night or early hours of the morning, and would jump on top of them in their beds and try to go to sleep there – while crushing them.  Terry’s sudden appearance would also terrify the few visitors who occasionally entered Fort Doppies.  As a result of this, some anti-Terry barriers were erected around the housing during period when visitors were going to visit, or when the Operators needed a good night’s sleep. Visitors coming to Fort Doppies who had not been there before were also informed about Terry when they arrived.

At one stage, a group of cabinet ministers arrived for a visit to Fort Doppies. This visit was not looked forward to by the Operators due to their apolitical mentality, and the fact that some of the statements that had previously been made by one of these cabinet ministers in South Africa did not conform with the Operators view of human relations in our country.

Therefore, when the group arrived, it was neglected to inform them of the existence of Terry, and it was also neglected to inform them that the toilets at Fort Doppies were situated well outside the anti-Terry barriers. To this day, no-one can figure out how we actually forgot to tell them, or how we forgot to task anyone to tell them.

Consequently, and possibly through a stroke of grace, the very person who had made the unwelcome statements decided to go to the toilet first, which he did.  Having completed what he went to do, he opened the door of his toilet cubicle to leave, and found himself face-to-face with a huge male lion, sitting on its haunches right outside his toilet cubicle, looking him right in the eyes.

Although some of the Operators in retrospect thought that they heard the screams as they started, this just happened to coincidentally coincide with the volume of the radio in the lounge being turned up substantially so that nothing more could be heard, and so it was not until several hours later that the person’s disappearance was noted, and a rescue party was launched – which strangely enough started searching on the opposite side of the base to the toilets, and arrived only much later at the last point of search – the toilets – where a very peaceful Terry had fallen asleep outside the only closed and bolted cubicle.

Fort Doppies was never visited by these people again.

'Terry is the only Lion so far to have been awarded
Honorary Operator Status
by the South African Special Forces'.

Excerpt from The Recces.                                                                                                                                             

I simply ran the pain away...

In my pajamas, I ran from the hospital. Across the road the park sprawled with its winding paths. Blinded with a headache and vomiting at intervals, I ran through the park oblivious to the pain, breathing fresh air as I reached my stride. The year was 1974. I was sixteen years old and had been a runner all my life. This year had been spent in hospital under observation and having tests for a suspected brain tumour. It would take twenty more years for medical technology to diagnose the multiple lesions on my brain. My white cells had already started ravaging my own body and demyelinating the nervous system.

I simply ran the pain away. My years as a boy holidaying at my grandmother’s farm hotel in the hot, arid Karoo had taught me the thrill of running across the vast open veld, racing wild animals along dry river beds. With clay between my toes, I was a boy filled with all the spirit of the African bush. Behind the hotel, separated by the Fish River, lay the wide open farmlands where thousands of sheep grazed. Here too lived the farmer’s greatest fear, the lynx and the jackal. Post colonial South Africa in the sixties was abundant with people of colourful character; Traders and cattle farmers, travelling salesmen and migrating entrepreneurs. The evenings were a spectacle of excitement as the giant generator resembling a locomotive hissed and burst into life. The smell of biltong drying on the verandah, butter being churned by one of the native cooks, the hotel bar was a noisy place of strange smelling men at the end of each day.
                                  

 So it was no surprise to see a cheetah lazing in the sun behind the hotel kitchen! My Grandmother had accumulated a menagerie of every living creature that could be tamed. Dozens of cats lived beneath the railway platform right in front of the hotel. It was not uncommon to be bottle feeding tiny Caracals, often orphaned by a farmer’s snare. These Rooikat were regarded as vermin. Leopard were present, Vervet monkeys raided the hotel kitchen at night, baboons barked from the river behind. And then the best part was Spot the Cheetah raiding the chicken run…after all, these chickens would only be served in due course to guests in the main dining hall.

 Only a few years later and a thousand kilometers north, with the African sun on my face, my legs carried me swiftly along while ahead lay one hundred kilometers of dirt track. For many this may have meant a challenge, but my body knew only one thing and that was to run and never stop. I glided along the dusty landscape. They call the camel the ship of the desert for its endurance. Wild buck would run for hours on end in this same environment. I understood all of this. This was 1977 and Fleetwood Mac’s “Don’t Stop” was blaring out in every army base across Southern Africa. Oh, did I mention that this was war and I had just crossed a firing line? My Air Defense Artillery unit was deployed all around, with regular incoming targets being fired upon. Constantly tucked away in my pocket was a tattered card with the words…”Yea though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil”

Thirty years later and I am still running, walking and searching for mountains to climb. It is when you stop that momentum ceases, and since momentum equals energy, your soul is sure to die.

"When the root is deep, there is no reason to fear the wind."

Regards,

Sean

Then the answer appeared…

 

The cardiac intensive care theatre had a resounding chill as the surgeon and his team maneuvered and delivered the stent into place, reopening the vital artery. The soft comments of artery disease and a leaking valve vanished amongst my immediate thoughts of business, diamonds and clients from around the world. Operating theatres had become all too familiar a place, having survived gunshots wounds, embedded shrapnel, animal attacks and more recently an almost fatal snakebite.

Thoughts of an empty house far away in another hemisphere drove my worries deeper.

Then the answer appeared…

A few months later while recovering out of hospital, I was at my computer screen when I noticed a contact with the catch words ‘Bulgaria’ and ‘dogs’. Within a few days I realized that this person and her family where doing an incredible job rescuing animals in Bulgaria. It was soon apparent that they might just need some extra land to accommodate the animals that they were saving. This was something that horrified me about Eastern Europe. The blatant disregard for animal welfare. But here was this British family doing exactly what I had obsessed over!

Diane and Anthony Rowles, together with their family, accepted my offer and soon their daughter Kerry with her partner Kosta had arrived at my house. It was an unfortunate start when they discovered that my house had been totally vandalized and everything on the ground floor stolen! From the boiler to the oven, all the furniture, even the plumbing had been taken. ‘This wasn’t even Africa’ I thought, ‘this only happens down here’.

During the next few weeks these two young brave souls saw it through, with no water nor electricity, cooking their first meals on bricks and a roof tile! It became a blur of desperately trying to get money wired to them to replace the vital utensils to sustain them. Sleepless nights trying to contact the mayor of a village in a distant country which might as well have been on the moon.

Within a couple of weeks they had their first rescue dog, ‘George’ a German shepherd who had his ears cut off as well as having been shot. Soon ‘Big Dog’ arrived, followed by many others. The old house is now a sanctuary of fresh life…of wagging tails…and of puppy dogs frolicking in the snow.

At present, while South Africa is having a scorching summer, Bulgaria is in the middle of an extremely cold and icy winter. No person nor animal can survive the harsh sub zero temperatures.

While Kerry and Kosta continue their courageous work in the far remote north, Diane, Anthony and their family are doing incredible work at home in Rudozem in southern Bulgaria.

"after I perform your autopsy" the doctor stated.

Thirty years past and having written thousands of descriptive pages with detailed sketches of jewellery, I  now attempt the daunting task of describing my colourful and often bizarre life.

“I’ll have the answer after I perform your autopsy”…the words from a bland faced Neurologist sent shock waves through my mind. Without bothering to reply I left the room. That was fifteen years ago.

Half paralyzed with the demon of multiple sclerosis, I immersed myself in every piece of literature and clinical study relevant to neurology and autoimmune diseases. The first few months were spent plotting my escape from the dreaded walking stick. Within a few months I stood at the front door, dropped the stick, and mentally placed one foot in front of the other. It worked, I found myself walking ten paces to the garden gate! Neuropathic pain numbing my left side, muscle spasms and optic neuritis threatening my eyesight, vertigo, ice pick headaches……. They  are all too familiar. It’s just whether you acknowledge them or not. A choice of mind over matter.

Simple sensible eating, cutting out saturated fats, continuous activity and positive thoughts have kept me on my feet. Yes, there have been occasional heavy doses of intravenous corticosteroids, and Beta-Interferon injected every alternative day for years, with horrific side effects such as fever flu-like symptoms, nausea and sweating, and drug induced depression. This is in the past…and now I choose to walk up mountains and get chased by wild animals!

You see, this perhaps goes back to the days as a boy in a bush war. The ‘70s was spent with every young boy serving compulsory military service. Many of us ended up in special units, fighting a raging war on the border of Angola and South Africa. Here there was no such thing as defeat. The world had sanctions against us (despite the fact that we were up against Soviet backed forces) lasting two decades, we faced armies of Cubans, Russians and guerilla terrorists. Here we quickly learnt that as long as there was breath and a heartbeat you were alive! We learnt the smell of death… learnt to ignore the heat, blood and dirt of war. Keep walking…keep running…keep fighting, whatever it takes, nothing is impossible.

Ironically, I became intrigued by this Soviet nation who had audaciously invaded our African continent. After all, they were so far from home in such a foreign environment. Recently my curiosity led me in a chain of events to purchasing a house in Bulgaria, an ex-communist country! ‘What were you thinking, have you gone crazy’ everyone asked. Well, that led me to three long haul trips within one year, (remember Bulgaria and S.Africa are hemispheres apart). The old house had all the charm with its grapevines and orchard, complete with a pretty water well. Subsistence rural country life a-la soviet style!

                                                                                 
The last couple of years saw the old house standing empty, albeit furnished in forties style original décor. There just had to be a use for this sad home, now void of the old lady who had spent her life toiling the garden and embroidering her blankets.

Then one day last year the answer  revealed itself. The greatest answer I could have ever wished for…

                                                                                

                                                                                  

                                                                                 

My First Day on the Job!

Hi there new friends
I have finally rationalized my computer phobia enough to start a blog ( and so that my wife will get off my back about how encouraging my posts will be to MS patients and wildlife lovers alike!)

For all the animal lovers out there, you are in for a real treat. Although I see myself as a humanitarian, I am an avid "animalitarian" !! Be it the kitten sleeping at our feet, the lynx on the chair next to the bed, or the latest white lion cub, animals are precious creatures and should be treasured.
Since leaving the South African Airforce in 1978, I have been surrounded by many treasures in my 30 years as a jeweller. Yet another appreciation of all things beautiful. Having the abilty to create a masterpiece out of diamonds and precious metals, has enabled me to enjoy the ultimate toys of boys: exotic cars and helicopters!
The travel bug bit a few years ago while delivering a ring to England over a weekend, and a few years later resulted in buying property in Bulgaria.
I have lived with MS for 15 years, successfully beating the symptoms, and have survived 16 years of marriage: I feel indestructable.
Because I've lived, loved and conquered the odds, the next part of the journey is the "blog".
Cat Man Can Do, Carpe Diem!!!

I look forward to many faithful followers; you won't be dissappointed.

Regards
Sean