Back in the early 80s we fostered a young girl for about a year. Ginny (not her real name) was a petit blond, the same age as our eldest daughter Nicky. Both were pretty boisterous young teens and always up to some mischief or another; they were loads of fun!
Ginny had ‘lost’ her father unexpectedly, leaving her mom with five children to cope with.... not an easy task. The eldest, a boy, had to leave school to find a job to help make ends meet; still this wasn’t enough. The two girls had to be ‘farmed out’ while the mom kept the twins as they were still pre-school age.
Ginny was treated the same as our girls, and had to take her turn doing small chores around the house. When homework and chores were done, that’s when the fun started!
Jack (also not real name) lived up the road from us, and attended the same school as Nicky and Ginny. He often got a ride with us to school, so we knew him pretty well; he was also a constant visitor.
One weekend, our three (sorry four) girls were at a ‘loose end’. I too had nothing in particular to do – we decided to go for a walk. It was a beautiful summers evening; the stars glinted brightly in the velvet sky as far below, mischief brewed. As we were strolling along the main street in our village, the girls hit on a brilliant idea..... Why don’t we play ‘tok tokkie’? That is where you knock on someone’s door, and then run away before they open it. The problem was, there weren’t many front doors that were easily accessible, and most had fences....and dogs.
One house in particular stood out! It was in the second block down from our house. It had no front fence, and a semi-circle of veranda in front of the door... Perfect! Nicky and Ginny crept up to the door and knocked, while I stood a little way off with my two younger girls, Raylene and Angel, watching the lit but curtained windows. Nicky and Ginny came bounding off the veranda and we all ran for cover as the front door opened. The man of the house stood on the veranda and hurled abuse, but we were long gone.
Was this enough excitement for the evening? Oh no! Nicky and Ginny tried the same thing a few minutes later. This time the burly man brandished a whip; shouting that if he caught the miscreants, he would whip them to within an inch of their lives. We huddled around a corner, out of sight; trying to stifle our laughter, and hold our sides at the same time.
The previous episodes, instead of dampening our spirits, only fired our imaginations to greater heights. I must admit, at this point, I became the ringleader. I led the girls home, where we collected a few sheets of newspaper and a nice fresh doggie poop. About half an hour later, armed with a neatly wrapped ‘bomb’ and a lighter, we silently crept back. Hunched over, below window height, I placed the ‘bomb’ almost up against the door and lit it; knocked hard and dashed for safety with the girls.
We made it to the other side of the road, where an old acacia tree stood, its branches almost down to the ground. We stooped low; gaining entrance to the ‘umbrella’ that sheltered us from the world. We peeped through the branches as the big man did a war-dance on the flames, hearing him cuss as he realized what lay below the fire. The top half of his body disappeared inside the house for an instant, when it reappeared; he was hefting a shotgun.
Alarm set in; we had gone too far this time! The man was truly blowing a gasket! He looked as if he would come thundering down, off of his cute little veranda and blow us all to kingdom come. I am sure that he hadn’t spotted us yet, but I wasn’t sure about sticking around neither.
At that moment, we heard a bicycle bell ring behind us. We all nearly jumped out of our skins with fright. There stood Jack, astride his bike. He had observed, and recognised us from a lower road; charging to the rescue. Nicky, the little minx, promptly hopped onto the handle-bars, and off they sped, leaving me to sort out the rest.
As I peeked through the thorny foliage, I could still see an irate man stomping up and down his veranda, looking this way and that. After a hurried muffled conversation with the remaining three girls, we set out across the veldt on one of the many footpaths. The girls chatted brightly and quite loudly, as I had instructed, looking the picture of girlish innocence; not once glancing in the direction of the angry man. I strolled behind, trying to look as matronly and prim as possible.
We took the long way home, through the small piece of veldt by the ‘vlei’ (dam with reeds), till we came to the lower road, around the block of houses and back to the main street. As we passed his house, the glowering man still sat on the edge of the veranda, the shotgun across his knees. We jauntily called out, “Naand Oom!” (Good evening Uncle) in sweet girlish tones. We couldn’t make out his mumbled answer.
When we arrived home, Nicky and Jack were waiting for us at the front gate, all agog to hear how we got away. This tale was a hot topic amongst us for many years to follow..... How Mom took a walk on the wild side!
I saw the title and my initial thoughts were that you'd met Lou Reed and gone for a walk on the wild side.
To my surprise, I find out that you actually pulled this stunt off and as a mum (not a young mischievous lass). Wow, the kids must have thought you were a legend, cause I sure do!!
You've made me laugh while I was feeling sorry for the man with the smelly shoe. Hope he didn't walk that through the house to get his shotgun.
No, not Lou Reed's type of walk on the wild side, just my own version of it. I had lots of fun with my girls, when they were all still living at home. Even took them to the disco - well, our small town version of it. Also went gate-crashing parties with them. Maybe I was catching up on all the teenage fun I missed out on when I was young.
We still live in the same house, but sadly the big acacia where we hid, is gone. The house with the inviting half-round stoop is still there, but fenced in now. I think the house changed hands. I am posting a pic, showing the veld and acacia trees (which get trimmed these days - no more 'umbrella' to hide under.) The pic was taken during a storm, hence the 'river' the car is driving through.
The downpour reminded me of Cape Town and the dire straights (not Mark Knopfler) the residents will be subjected to, if the area doesn't get rain soon. I hope you are ok and don't have to cart water in!!
