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Camping. The great outdoors. Big skies. Stars. Log fires. John-whomever. Romantic.
Camping. Public ablution blocks. No hot water. Three-year old semi-potty trained child. Winter. Namibia. John-ex. Not romantic.
Mary1 is a get-a-long kind of gal. As are her offspring. She has trained them well. It is the way to be. She will carpe diem at the drop of a hat. She backpacked and hitch-hiked through Malawi sleeping outside on a concrete veranda beside the lake, atop the overnight steamer heading up the lake, at the bus stop shelter, and in-between was arrested by the police for indecent exposure (walked in her bikini sans kikoi) ... she's slept under 4x4 vehicles in the former Kalahari Gemsbok National Park and in the Pilanesberg in the middle of winter, she has slept at the edge of the Zambezi River (on honeymoon) and woken up to crocodile spoor beside her mat (no tent), she has even slept in a cave with her horse in the Drakensberg (no mattress, just straw) ... she has been there and done that, got down and dirty when necessary and had a ball. Camping and all.
Her last genuine camping trip was to Namibia. With John-ex and a gang of now former friends. The said friends became ex-friends when John-ex and Mary1 divorced a couple of months after the camping trip. Friends feel the urge to take sides when friends divorce. Not all friends. Just a few. Silly really. Silly friends. But hey, this strange turn of events says more about the sillies than about the ex-communicated, which is fascinating really. But I digress. Namibia is the ultimate big sky country. Camping there is tricky though. Especially if you are the mother of a small person. First of all, facilities are rather rundown. Hot water in public ablution blocks is uncommon. Which would be fine in summer. Not so when it's time to "bath" the three-year old: cold water, winter ... when her nappy leaks in the early hours of the morn and the sleeping bag, mattress and all are soaked through. And she needs to be freshened up. Down Mary1 would climb from her rooftop tent at 4am with a wet baby in arms ... Mary1's sense of humour was severely tested. And it failed. And she and John-ex instituted divorce talks two months later. Funny that.
It is in this context of less-than-happy camping memories that John11 is discussed.
John11 is an entrepreneur. Not surprisingly. Am not sure who would employ him and what he would do, but that is an aside. John11 is different. He is not wild and woolly so-to-speak, but he is not conventional either. He is more accountant-dull than Mick Jagger off-the-wall. He is more collared-cotton shirt than skimpy vest. Thankfully. Man-boobs are not attractive in vests when the wearer is approaching 50. In his endeavours to secure self-support, as entrepreneurs do, John11 had a wonderful plan which he was rolling out all over the country and up into Africa. It was seemingly well-thought out and original and was really quite exciting a project. I was riveted listening to John11 telling me all about his work. Without giving away the game away and sharing any proprietary information I shall err on the vague side regarding this project.
The project theme was camping, with a difference. Big market ready to be created by John11 and team. I was getting terribly excited giving John11 all sorts of clever ideas - I do this a lot - for his project. I was actually rather envious of his "job". So much more fun and exciting than mine. Which is not that hard really. I was picturing self getting involved with this adventure - I do love travel and I do love Africa - this could be a gateway for me ... that is, of course, if John11 and I became "John11 and me".
John11 was planning on living permanently in one of his ideas which would mean permanent camping. I am bright. Very bright. I can work out 1+1 and it equals 2 which would by definition mean that if John11 and I became "John11 and me" then I would be camping permanently. And in the words of Charles Dickens's 1838 bestseller Oliver Twist: my " ... blood ran cold ...". Africa. Ablution blocks. Cold water. Winter. I am 40-something and there shall be no more three-year olds to worry about. But even so ...
It was such fun meeting John11. But I shall restrict my future camping expeditions to luxury tented camps ... hot water, just saying ...