The circle of life

An overzealous sperm cell aims for the bulls eye, the ovum. In a race with million other sperm cells, its survival of the fittest.
The sperm cell travels on an arduous journey towards its destination to fertilize the ovum. Life is created.

The mating of the sperm cell and the ovum forms a new creature which develops in the womb over a period of nine months. The carrier of this new life, woman, delivers the creature to the second stage. A child is born.

Infancy. Childhood. Teenagehood. Adulthood. Infancy. The cycle, thus, is complete.


My childhood was wonderful, having the basics that keep any child happy: doting parents under one roof, toys, playmates and infinite fun.
My friends were my extended family, discovering and playing together until the sun hid from the moon.
Growing up in a humble four roomed home in the dusty streets of Zwide, Port Elizabeth.
Bred in the era of 'my child is your child' and 'your mother is my mother'. A place where innocence roamed freely on the streets,
and respect had a perpetual presence.
I never noticed anything amiss or any cracks in our family, but I see now with the gift of hindsight.

My maternal grandfather stayed with us, his home was in Peddie, the rural areas of Eastern Cape. Old age wreaked havoc in his life, and could no longer live independently.
Of his seven children, my mother took him into our home. My father would look after him, and he was a handful.
My grandfather would get longings of his home in Peddie, and when he did... Beware!
When the great yearning for his home came, he would bundle up his bedding, sheets, blankets and all. He had one of those grey Pep blankets, and he
would roll them up and put them over his shoulder and when no one was looking make his grand escape. The urge to go home would come any time of the day,
morning, evening, even after midnight.
At times he would have a succesful escape and reach Peddie. He usually never got far though, we would find him at the local police station, or at a home where they know my mother.
On one of his unsuccessful attempts at escape he bundled up his bedding, thew it over the gate, then his shoes followed over the gate.
He climbed the gate, got on top but didnt land. His long, grey coat got caught on a piece of wire, and he was left high, and dry.
Passerby's were amused at the old man hanging out, and one took the new pair of shoes mom had bought for him that he'd thrown over.
These are amongst the fond memories of my childhood home, my parents and grandfather.

It turns out, my grandfather had a medical condition, Alzheimers. It attacks the mind during old age, with loss of memory mainly associated with it.
Grandfather could recollect past memories of his home but wouldnt remember the names of the people around him.
He was strong willed and strict but Alzheimers rendered him dependent, but his strong will remained.
He passed away on 10 May 1994.

Fast forward to June 2010. Cape Town. Mother and Daughter. Repeat of my grandfather's episodes, in a milder form.
The moment that I knew that, "Houston, we have a problem" is when the tap water was left running in the bathroom sink and overflowed. But, anyone can make this mistake.
Then, the water was left running in the sink, luckily the stopper was not closed. Then it overflowed again.
Now, I have to check all the taps and the stoves so we dont get a flood, or fire.

Isnt it just funny, the circle of life?
Zygote. Embryo. Infanct. Teenager. Adult. Infant stage again.
From an overachieving student, a capable nurse, homemaker, independent woman, and now reduced to infant stages needing constant supervision.
And I have the guardian role to fulfil, its the least I can do.
My mother gets those longings to go back to Port Elizabeth. Before she gets it into her head to jump over the gate, I will indulge her and we take a short Shot left to PE.
All I can do is hope that I can have someone who would do the same for me if I should get to that stage later in life.