Back in the USA

Hello friends

Completely shocking to think I haven't written any reflective thoughts for 10 months. In that time Luke broke his arm, Nula got pregnant, we went back to South African for 6 months, we had another boy named Benjamin Michael, we returned to California last week, Samuel and Luke went to an American School and I had my first encounter with a 1980's CHiPs looking American law enforcement officer.

I'm not going to even try and catch up on lost time so I'm simply going to pick it up from where we left the sunny concrete shores of Johannesburg on the 3rd of September 2009 with a baby and two boys in a plane rigged out with every parents dream entertainment system. This kept our two tornadoes mesmerized for about 2 hours, the next 22 hours were a combination of various levels of drug induced sleep, Manchester United stickers and continuous questions about whether we are in America yet?

Getting past homeland security - the gatekeepers to the promised land - felt as easy as buying a McDonald's cheeseburger this time. It involved a deep sigh about the mountain of paper work I dropped in front of him and then a fairly long chat about Charlize Theron, who's passport he had the privilege to stamp and how to pronounce her surname correctly. It seems the secret is to land in the USA in Southern California - they're just way more chilled than the dudes on the East coast.

We gathered our mountain of luggage, eventually found our pram - nobody knows what that is in the US, you have to say stroller - and piled it all into a monster Chevrolet Suburban. I am always thankful that the US have no shortage of huge cars when I arrive with my huge pile of stuff. It felt good to be home when we arrived at our apartment under the shady Oak tree. Is this home? Well right now I just feel like planet earth is our home, but we will breathe our personalities back into this apartment by hanging our African art and filling it with music from our homeland.

Next morning we all woke up at 3:30AM feeling as thought it was midday and I decided I would take the boys to the beach to watch the sun rise.


Well I proved that I never wake up that early because the sun rose on a different beach and I had my East and West completely wrong. Anyway it was still a very bonding moment with my boys being attacked by a stars wars sword and a fluffy turtle at sunrise with no sun on Goleta beach in Santa Barbara.




More pictures here.

That was Sunday, fast forwarding to Tuesday the boys had their first day at Santa Barbara Charter School. Nula decided that I should take them to school because I'm less emotional. I first dropped Samuel in his class and it was a simple affair. Samuel saw his friend Oliver, Oliver said here's my best friend Samuel, Samuel said bye. Could it have been simpler? Luke started walking towards his class with me and saw an older lady walking with him, who he thought was his teacher and he barked out that she's too old to be his teacher. When we got to his real teacher he let off a huge protest. I sat with him and his teacher while the other kids did PT and he exclaims that she's fat. At that point I just want to dissapear into a hole in the ground but she is gracious and calm and eventually he decides that she's cool. We fetch them early becuase they're still jet lagged.

That week was an emotional roller coaster ride with morning battles dragging them to school. We made sure they had very exciting food to eat at school in their lunch box and the week actually ended pretty well with them liking their teachers. We are totally blown away by their teachers - they are really wise and manage to give indiviually stretching work to each kid. It's incredible to think the level of education in this free school is the same as a private school in Pretoria but with the advantage that you have kids from a more balanced spread of income groups.

Sunday - we actualy manged to make church - which is a miracle in itself. We went to the first Presbyterian church that we found last year. Nula and I spend the whole service with our boys in Sunday school and Susan gave a great message about "talking peace" - how do you show love to others. One girl in the sunday school lost her home in the huge fire last year and all they escaped with was their photo albums. She said that everyone in the neighbourhood became like family and offered their homes while they looked for a new house. That was their way of "talking peace"

Tomorrow I get my digital piano - hooray! - it has been like having a limb amputated without a piano. Hopefully I can get Samuel interested in carrying on again and get Luke to play.

Benjamin is so chilled, I almost forgot to talk about him. He has been a totally Southern Californian style baby. If the last few days are anything to go by, he will be a very laid back kid and his brothers are very proud of him and kiss him a lot - sometimes too much. He is looking a lot more Winston Churchill like, the last few weeks - which is always a good thing. Babies must always look like Winston Churchill then you know they are getting enough milk.

Getting back to the 1980's CHiPs looking cop- he stopped us becuase my license stickers had expired on my car. In California you stick you licence stickers on your number plate and cops can immediately check if you're legal or not - well I was not legal but planning on getting legal that week. So first I see that ominous black and white sudan with flashing lights driving behind me and I think ... interesting do they always drive around with flashing lights? Then I hear a very polite wheeep of the siren and I am finally convinced that all the attention is on my black 97 Honda Accord Coupe.

I slowly pull over to the right and play through some hollywood movies in my mind of beeing pushed onto my hood and frisked for guns. I reach for my wallet and make sure all my hands are visible as I wind down the electric window. A polite but firm American voice says my stickers have expired and he asks for my drivers licence. I reach into my wallet and there is no South African drivers licence, Nula says that Luke was pulling stuff out of my wallet and the drivers licence is at home. I relay the sorry tail to the police officer who's belt looks like it can't carry any more belt hanging things from guns to radios to other objects that hang on belts. He walks over to Nula's side and asks for proof of insurance and registration papers, at that point I am relieved to find my passport and I begin to compose the perfect excuse in my head. My insurance had also expired - so theoretically I could be cited for expired license, no drivers license and expired insurance - my car should be impounded, license suspended and nasty large fines handed out. But I hand over the passport and say I've just arrived in the country, he sees the baby, I say we dropped the kids at school and the kindly fellow who looks like Puncherelo but is more like "Jon" in CHiPs, says just get home and sort everything out.

I like this - firm but merciful law enforcement - no bribes accepted!

Thats it from the American Reviera
Goodmorning, Goodafternoon and Goodnight

David, Nula, Sammy, Lukie and Benji