My sincere thanks to Far Out In Africa who invited me to take part in the Five Photos, Five Stories Challenge. I have been following this blog for quite some time, not only because I also reside in Africa, but because I really appreciate the beautiful photography, the stories behind them and the love for the countryside which is so aptly demonstrated through the pictures. I must urge you to visit this blog if you have not already done so.
The rules of the Five Photos, Five Stories Challenge require you to post a photo each day for five consecutive days and attach a story to the photo. It can be fiction or non-fiction, a poem or simply a short paragraph and then you nominate another blogger to carry on this challenge. Accepting the challenge is entirely up to the person nominated, it is not a command.
Being new to the blogging community, I very rashly accepted this invitation to join in the fun without fully having grasped the consequences: it is only now I realise that I am neither a photographer (aim and push the button is the best I can do), nor am I a writer and I haven’t befriended that many bloggers yet. However, I have been following some bloggers publishing stunning photographs of our beautiful continent and weaving stories around these pictures. I am sure you have also met most of them already. These are predominantly Afrikaans blogs, although some writers also blog in English, but I find that the pictures tell a story of their own. I would like to honour these bloggers and (who knows?) just maybe they will agree to play along with the challenge. 😀
Today I salute a motor cycle enthusiast by the name of Sparkle. Her travels on two wheels “following her nose”, have led to interesting small towns and villages in South Africa’s breathtakingly beautiful countryside. Her pictures tell interesting stories of these places and the people who live there. Be sure to visit her site Doutrapper and enjoy.
My Day One entry for this challenge:
My mom suffers from cardiac arrhythmia and This Dog suffers from a condition called “I-ate-way-too-much-in-the-past-and-now-I-have-to-pay-for-my-sins”. In order to keep the weight down and to prevent my mom’s heart from attacking her, we not only live on a very strict diet, we also walk distances of at least five kilometres every day, come rain, hail or sunshine.
Walking on paved city sidewalks really held no attraction for any of us, so we recently moved to the Southcoast of KwaZulu-Natal, which we promptly renamed to “Paradise”. We love exploring the coastline on foot, walking on the beach through thick sand, collecting shells and driftwood and stopping every now and then for a swim.
Sissy, who is much younger than Mom and much prettier than me, accompanies us on these walks. Sissy suffers from an overactive imagination and she sees a story in every pebble or drop of water, but she is way too lazy to write, so she just takes pictures and Mom does the writing. Very early one morning we were walking along the beach front of a town called Margate, and this is what we saw:
“Oh My Dog”, says Sissy, “Look at that empty wheelchair. What have here? A suicide attempt? Should we call the police?”. Mom tried to calm her down, but she kept on spinning tales of gruesome drownings.
Very perturbed we walked on at a fast pace, until we came to an old pier jutting out into the sea, and there were loads of fishermen throwing in a line in the hope of an early morning catch. Sissy barely stopped to catch her breath, but ran down to the pier to tell the fishermen about the abandoned wheelchair.
To Sissy’s great surprise they took this dreadful news in their stride and then they explained to her that the wheelchair belongs to the person sitting at the very tip of the pier, calmly fishing for his breakfast.