First week in Africa.

Confession: I am not very brave.

That's me in the Singapore flyer pretending I'm totally cool being 165meters above sea level leaning on a glass opening door. 

I can fake bravery and Marcus who after been married to me for a little over 12 years affectionately likes to tell people that I tricked him when we were dating. Because in my early twenties when we met  I was the skydiving, joining the army, travelling the world on my own type. I knew that he thought I was brave and independent and I enjoyed the make believe because I have always admired truly brave people.

tandem skydiving is easy.  I could never jump on my own.

The truth though, that he knows now is that I am overly cautious, safety conscious, low risk, low speed and much prefer to be the passenger than the driver. My fast snowplough when snow skiing is probably the best illustration of this trait. Going just fast enough to keep up but never letting the brakes off.

I am not ashamed of these traits, I know Marcus loves me despite them; but I see them in Lucy also and am starting to understand how frustrating it can be to one more confident.  

You see I didn't have much patience with her as she learnt to ride a two wheeler bike this summer. She was almost 7 for goodness sake, and every time the track narrowed or went down hill or a little bumpy she would dismount and walk. 

"You'll be fine Lucy! Just stay on, trust yourself, it's easy, you can do it, This is silly! Stop being so scared." were all words I'd call out in frustration behind her. (I admit while rolling my eyes to Marcus, who no doubt was chuckling quietly to himself about the apple not falling far from the tree).

I mention all this because here we are, as a family, one week into our 2 year adventure living in South Africa. I realise that this has been a very high risk, brave thing to attempt with our young family.  Marcus has been amazing, taking it all in his stride, leading from the front and now that we are here I am trying hard to fake it for the sake of Marcus and the kids, but I am not feeling brave.

Note the temporary fencing we put up around the pool in light of our third born. :)

We have been fortunate to rent a fully furnished house off an English couple for 6 months while they return to England for the summer.  This house is amazing and we were so blessed to have been just able to walk right in on Monday with our suitcase each and be able to get right on with living.

That Monday night I made up the beds, locked and re locked all the doors (because we've all heard the horror stories from SA), bathed the kids and then we all hit the sack.  Around 2am I woke up, not to  the sound of a home invasion but of of Nathan vomitting- everywhere. 2 hours later, Oliver joined him.  

I hadn't had time to fully acquaint myself with the house so I'm running around in the dark trying to find light switches, towels, buckets and mops and not been able to find anything but the decorative copper  pots hanging from the kitchen roof. Waving a cast iron pot around in the dark isn't recommended.  Then of course this beautiful house has animal skin mats everywhere which my boys seemed to treat as bases, running onto and stopping while they power-chucked everywhere. 

We got through the night, then spent all of Tuesday washing copious amounts of bedding, and walking around after them with a pot which they never managed to use. 

I had no idea how to attempt to wash a zebra skin mat, had no internet to google it, no charger for my phone, friends or mothers near by to ring for advice. Marcus, my wing man had left early in the morning to sort out our visas in Capetown and I felt completely abandoned and undone. The tears came.

Marcus called at lunch and I sobbed at him all my excuses and fears for getting off the bike. He responded not with eye rolls but with comforting confidence and solutions. The Laundromat across the road, our friend Amy who has been trying to get a hold of me all morning to say she had booked the boys into the doctors and that she would be around to pick me up. I got though Tuesday, then Wednesday. Wobbly but determined.

On Thursday Marcus and I inevitable got the bug.  Amy again came to the rescue picking up Lucy and the now well Oliver and taking them for a day of sightseeing on the coast.  Marcus and I were able to spend the day cuddling Nate who was still crook and sleeping it off while drugging up on left over medicine from the boys. For me it was a well needed rest stop on the bike track.

Friday we surfaced and attempted lunch at a seafood restaurant on the beach an hour away.  Nathan who hadn't eaten for 3 days sat down and stuffed 4 slices of bread into his mouth. 

"He's got his appetite back. He must be better" I said to our table of just met acquaintances. 

A minute later he had power-chucked all over the floor.  Now such a normal occurrence for him that he just carried on playing with his truck after the contents of his gut was splashed on the floor and other diners feet nearby. Thankfully the restaurant, unlike a recent plane trip of ours was filled with compassionate understanding people who hushed up my outpouring of apologies.

And today is Saturday. The African sun shone hot and bright all day. washing was dried on the make shift clothes line. Suitcases were finally unpacked. Internet connected, a car purchased.  Meals have been prepared in our new kitchen and eaten.  Blessings have been counted. Thankfulness prayers have been prayed. A pram brought so we can walk as a family to church in the morning. No one has spewed up or cried. 

Today I stayed on the bike all day, hand brakes on the entire time, but I stayed on. Things are looking hopeful for Monday when Marcus will start work and I will need to ride solo.

No doubt Lucy who has taken to Africa like a fish to water will be eye rolling me.