My Afrikanerhart (this one is for those who think and do in Afrikaans)

Ek seil om die aarde en vaar tans windop teen 'n ondraaglike skuinste op 'n sewentig voet seiljag in die middel van die Stille Oseaan. Alles is blou om my - die see, die lug, die horison,  en die kimme van my emosies. Dis 'n baie lang trek van China tot San Francisco, en mens delf diep om kop en sinne te behou op die grysblou planeet in 'n eindelose sirkel van tyd. Soms omvou die blou jou en lank terug se herinneringe en vrae terg jou onverskrokke van een golf tot die volgende.   

Vir die afgelope bykans dertien jaar vandat ek Suid-Afrika verlaat het, het ek hoofsaaklik in Engels gefunksioneer en het dikwels gewonder of ek nou al in Engels dink en droom, want net wanneer ek my ma se stem in my kop hoor my berispe oor iets doms wat ek aangevang het, sal Afrikaans in my dag-tot-dag kop uitsteek. Wanneer ek baie moeg is, of wanneer ek baie emosioneel is, sukkel ek om myself in Engels uit te druk en dan kan net die woorde van my kleintyd se wese uitspraak vind.

Partymaal tik ek iets in Engels en onwillekeurig sal my vingers die woord in Afrikaans laat verskyn, of ek sal met iemand praat en as ek my weer kan kry gebruik ek skielik 'n Afrikaanse uitdrukking.  Wanneer mense my frustreer sal ek hulle onnutsig in Afrikaans vertel om te gaan k@#. Maar oorheersend het ek myself oor die jare in die buiteland al hoe meer hoor tel, baklei, hardop dink, en selfs saggies bid in Engels.

Mens gee baie op wanneer jy jou geboorteland verlaat, maar die diepste verlies is jou moedertaal in jou elke dag se verloop. 

En dan bevind ek my in die middel van die Stille Oseaan baie alleen op 'n boot met dertien ander vreemdelinge, en terwyl ek na my musiek luister deur my oorfone kom Koos DuPlessis se stem en deurboor die diepste kamers van my Afrikanerhart.  Iets sny deur al die vertaal en uitspraak en behoefte aan uitdrukking gee. 'n Roepstem vra na naakte eenvoud van woorde waarvan ek elke nuanse verstaan, en waar dit onnodig is om te dink want alles is net daar om op te tel en te gebruik.  

Afrikaans is moontlik 'n growwe en kras taal op die vreemde oor,  maar vir my dra die taal van die mooiste poe"sie en woordkuns.  Met Koos, Laurika of Coenie in my ore besef ek my hunkering na gesprekke waar humor en kultuur bloot le^ soos 'n kat in die son opgekrul  - rustig en sonder enige inspanning.  Ek mis waar ek nie hoef te wonder oor sarkasme, ironie of intensie nie, want dis ingebed in elke sinsnede, uitdrukking en speelsheid soos my pa my geterg het as kind, of my ma my geleer en stories vertel het. Dis ingewortel in jou grootword, en die stamme van Afrikaner-klanke vertak deur elke hoekie van jou denkproses. Dis so deel van jou soos jou vingerafdrukke.

Behalwe vir die gemak van gebruik van 'n moedertaal is daar ook die ongenadige manier wat dit skerp infokus op emosie, en vandag het dit my alleenheid aan die keel gegryp.  Ek het stil in my swyende bootbed gesnik en myself absoluut vereenselwig: 

"As almal ver is, word die hart skielik oud.  As die wereld 'n ster is, afsydig en koud. As daar geen een is, sit jy als op die skaal, want jy weet wat geleen is word eindelik gehaal.  

Dan kom die waarheid en besweer elke leun. Skenk jou weer klaarheid en laat jou alleen. 

As almal ver is vind jy jouself, waar jy in laaie in stil hartkamers delf.  As almal ver is, vind jy jou siel, weerloos en eensaam soos 'n vrou voor 'n spieel."

Grey Days

Day ?.. uhm, not too sure! Less than 100 days left till race finish, but apart from that, I am not even sure of the day of the week! It feels like a lifetime since race start in London on the 1st of September 2013. I can't believe we have already covered something like over 35 thousand sea miles on this boat, and over six thousand across then Nothern Pacific Ocean on this last leg! In a bit over five hours we will arrive in San Francisco and sail underneath the Golden Gate Bridge!!!!!!!!! I have walked over it, driven over it, cycled over it, and now I am going to sail underneath it!!!!! How utterly amazing is that!

And then, you might wonder what I want to do when I arrive, after four weeks at sea? I want to walk. Yes, I want to walk. And  not only because I haven't walked at all for four weeks, but I just want to keep on walking until I get so far away from this freaking boat as I possibly can! I feel as if I never want to get on a boat ever again!  A friend likened this existence to Truman Burbank's in the movie The Truman show, and I can tell you, we have often looked for hidden cameras and talked about this cruel social experiment where we are all being setup by some psychotic director? Oh wait, we do actually have CCTV cameras on deck and in the galley!!!!

"but you never saw into my mind"

I think most of our crew feel the same way. We are so weary and fed up and skanky that I am sure any loved ones waiting on the dock might keep a polite distance and refer to the smell we carry as 'boat'.  'Boat' refers to stinky feet, lots of farts, unwashed and dreadlocked hair, sweaty base layers, farts, battery acid spillage, rotten fruit, too-much-legume poos, dirty socks in the engine room, cooking oil and onions used in almost every meal (I almost think there might've been some in the oat porridge), farts, over used dish towels, and just a general smell of fourteen people in a small space who haven't showered for four weeks. Man, we stink!!!

And we are tired. We are so tired of each other, and of the skipper, and of this narrow, angled bloody bunk, and of bumping around, and of trying to pee in a cubicle that moves around all the time at such an angle that you pump while you pee to prevent it from spilling over the whole floor, and tired of mopping up pee that has spilt all over the whole floor, and of noodles, and walking up walls, and stumbling through the passage ways holding on to whatever you can as if you have a severe disability, and looking like some poor person getting convulsions because you do all kinds of weird body movements to stay warm on deck, and swinging on poles to get around corners, and tired of getting up at ungodly hours, and tired of getting a sail up in the middle of the night and then putting it back again because the skipper changed his mind. We've had enough of wearing seven to nine layers of clothes to survive the bitter cold on deck while the sea throws buckets of water over you, and fed up scooping buckets full from bilges, and grey skies and greyer waves, and sleeping with a bra and all your clothes on, and feeling itchy, and just generally tired of always being one of the damn last boats into port!!!!

Sometimes so much is happening that you want to tell people about, but you don't have the time, energy or physical ability to write it all down. You are basically just focusing on surviving the next watch, and then just the next one. All your thoughts start accumulating at an exponential rate leaving you procrastinating more and more because there is just too much, and nothing really, to talk about. The last race of leg 5 (from Singapore to Qingdao) and this current leg 6 (from Qingdao to San Francisco across the Northern Pacific) has left me rather overwhelmed, so I have neglected to update my blog. To put it simply, I just didn't feel like it!

So, I can only try to be more diligent on the next races.. That is, if I even decide to do the next race!

Watch this space...