On returning: The Comeback

Hey everybody
Okay, a while ago I said that it is possible for a person to Return. That is the big kind of Return – the kind that when it looked like you ran away but you came back. You can also call it the Comeback, which is actually a better word, it has just been used a bit too often.
People can make comebacks in a lot of different ways. Anton Leonard made a comeback for the Bulls after a year on the side. Ds Louis Venter returned to Universiteitsoord after a few years in Stellenbosch. I returned to Kollegetehuis after a year in a commune.
People do it all the time, and still the people around them think: “Hmmm. What are they up to?”
They are up to nothing! The thing is this: sometimes you need to get out – out of the place you are in fisically and emotionally, out of the situation, out of the circumstances. You need to do that to get perspective. This achieving of perspective may be hurtful sometimes, because in order for that to happen you need to leave behind some things or people that are dear to your heart. You will miss them and they will miss you.
But if you get the chance to return, to make the comeback, and you take it, the return can be ever so sweet! It can be a much rewarding experience, and there really is nothing like coming home. There is something of this in the parable in the Bible of the Prodigal Son. We all know how it feels when you come home to people you love, even if it means you have to take yet another risk just by going back. Because the return is NOT always sweet. That, too, can sometimes be a big mistake, a step back.
I think it depends on your reason for returning, for your comeback. Is it because you are afraid to stay outside for too long? Is it because you feel comfortable there? Is it because you feel that you still (and maybe now even more) have something to offer?
Whatever your reason is, it depends on the circumstances wheteher it is right or wrong for you.
Something that you will have to accept, though, is that the place/people/things you return to will inevitably have changed. It is not going to be exactly the same as when you left it. As long as you can make your peace with that and still go along with this “new” way of life, I can’t see a reason why anybody can not return or make a comeback. The problems start when you are still stuck in your old mindset and you try to enforce it on the people who stayed behind. It is not your right to do that! Yes, participate by all means and give input, but remember that YOU were the one who left! They stayed behind and took control of things. YOU are the one that is returning. Making a comeback requires maybe more discipline than you thought.
Oh, but once you made your peace with it and you can start to define yourself and your role in a new way…a comeback may be the best thing you can experience. Ask the Prodigal Son. He had a whole feast prepared in his honour!
You can return too. You can make a comeback too. To anything: Home, friends, family, a town/place you lived in…and back to God. Yes, a comeback requires discipline and going with a new system, but God is always waiting for you like a Father with open arms that wants to embrace you after you’ve ben away.
So do it: take some time off, get perspective, but remember that The Comeback is always possible.

300 men and a Bible passage

The full thing is still under construction…as one of you pointed out, the Super 14 first need to finish! But yeah, I watched 300 today again and I’m going to link it with rugby and religion. About the last 2 subjects it suffice to say for now: think of the parallels: place of worship, certain group you belong to out of choice or not, songs you sing, customs and habits…let your thoughts flow a bit
On 300: “For honour, for glory, for SPARTA!!!!!!!!!” and “Come and get them!”
For honour: who does not want to live an honourable life?
For glory: what do you perceive as glorious?
For Sparta: Substitute the place with any other place or thing of importance in your life…what are you willing to sacrifice?
And lastly: at the end of the movie Leonidas whisper “My wife…my queen…my love…” All of you who have seen it (and I think all men should, even if it is moerse violent) go read 1 Corinthians 13 afterwards…”If I don’t have love…”
I would love to hear some comments so long!
Cheers 4 Eers!
Mr T

The mugging

As promised…
Here is the mugging story in English.

I’m writing this post to stop a few rumours that have been going around and to keep the truth intact. Also, this is to inform those of you who haven’t heard (sorry, it is not a nice tale!). Luckily it has a positive ending as well as a warning…

On Saturday night 24 March 2007 after the Sêrrie-finals on TUKS I have went out with friends that I haven’t seen in a while in Hatfield Square, Pretoria. It was a very good evening, everybody was in a cheerful mood and because it has been quite some time since we all partied together we enjoyed it very much. Those of you who know me know by this time that I enjoy a beer on its time, but that i have learned long ago to behave myself. This night was no exception.

Just to give a bit of context: the men’s residences is about 1.2 km from campus and about 1.7 km from the Square, depending what road you take. If you pace yourself, it takes about 15 minutes from the entrance to the Square to our res. This is if you take South Street till Duncan and turn from Duncan into Duxbury Road until you get Lunnon Road, which enters the men’s residence grounds. In Duxbury you pass a Girl’s school, St Mary’s Diocesan School for Girls. This is a relative safe street, not exactly what you would call an alley. This is a route that we (most of the male students residing in residences) have walked many times in our lives before.

A week and a half before I was in an accident with my bakkie. Nobody got hurt and my bakkie only suffered bodily damage, but it was in such a condition that I wasn’t able to drive it. That is why I had to walk that particular night to campus for the Sêrrie-finals, after which I went to the Square. That is really close to campus and you can get there by walking across campus.

So we were partying in front of Cheeky Monkey that night and later on in Chillies. Because I still had a Dogmatics exam the Monday thereafter, at about 00h30 I called it a night. I only had three beers, but still decided to get myself a cheese&ham pie from the Sasol garage in Duncanstreet. With the pie in one hand and my cellphone in the other I walked on. Now I know that that was most probably not the smartest thing to do. So, lesson number one: don’t walk around late at night alone while smsing or mxit-ing!

Last year I was mugged in broad daylight on my way back to the commune where I stayed at the time and therefore I was cautious of people walking behind me. So when I heard people behind me on that night again, I let them pass, about at the gate of St Mary’s. I didn’t concentrate on how far the three black guys that walked passed me went forward. Some distance in front of them there were two other black guys, one that I recognized from my residence where he is a first year.

As I was walking along and sms-ing, I was suddenly stopped by a hand coming from the front. My blood chilled in my veins, literally, because the previous mugging flashed through my head. And then the first guy said the fearde words:
“Hey, I want your phone!”
I know some people have laughed when I told them my reaction, but what else could I do? This would have been the second time I got mugged and when things happen so suddenly you react instinctively. So I shouted:
“No!”
The next few things happened so quickly that I wonder how I remember it all, but I guess now it is that thing where your brain slows down the things around you to give you time to react (I learnedsome of it when I was doing my gun’s license).
With me shouting “No!” the guy in front pulled out a knife. I thought, fine, I’ll give you my phone, but before I could do anything, I already felt how the one guy that came and stand behind me stabbed me with a knife in the back. I screamed out and as I was falling to my knees, the guy that stood beside me grabbed my phone. The one in front’s eyes turned very wild and then they turned and ran away with haste.

For a few minutes (minutes? moments? I don’t know how long) I just sat there, in shock, on the sidewalk at the bend of the road on my knees. I couldn’t believe what just happened to me. Not only did I got robbed (again) of my cell phone in a violent way – this time the people who did it, was willing to hurt me, kill me for it…just to steal my cell phone. I mean, how do you do it? How can you just decide, without any reason: tonight I’m going to take this person’s belongings for me and while were at it, his life too, to accomplish my goal. How can anybody think that way???

I realised that I couldn’t stay there and that i can phone nobody. Luckily the entrance to the men’s residences was about 200m from there and with my hand on my back I got up and staggered towards it. The first year from my res, Abraham, then stopped. I asked them to help me get to res. They said that they heard me screaming, but they didn’t want to go closer.

At res I entered the bottom corridor and knocked at the first door I hoped would help me. I knew that my back was bleeding and that someone’s got to take me to the hospital. The guys from across the hall came out and as I knew them too, they took me to Little Company of Mary in Groenkloof, Pretoria. From shock and adrenaline I got sick. At the hospital the doctor cleaned my wound calmly and put my fears about HIV/Aids to rest, dosed me with Tetanus and closed the wound up with 4 stitches.We the went back to res.

The next day I went to buy myself some pain killers, but didn’t get any antibiotics because you need a prescription for them. Later the day my aunt suggested that I see their house doctor to get some from him. Everything was fine that Sunday and I even got to study a bit.

By the evening the news already spread like a bush fire and at church I just had to tell the story the whole time. The short version of it. During the service I became dizzy and tired again and I knew all was not fine. Afterwards me and twoo friends went to get some notes for the exam. There I began to feel really bad and started to get headaches. We the decided that I would not write the following day, but rather on the day of the re-exams.

The next morning I thought I’m dying. When I lied down I was fine, but as soon as I got up, the back of my head started to ache so badly that it literally pulled me down again. I couldn’t stay up straight and phoned my aunt for the appointment with their doctor. Later we went there and he, Dr Etienne Lubbe, called a friend of his. They then decided that the best thing would be for me to see a neuro surgeon. So, back to Little Company of Mary we went. There I saw Dr Gurnell who suggested that he draw some of my marrow for tests and that I stay in hospital for 2 days of observation. (That was the first time I was admitted to the hospital, not the 3rd time like some of the rumours say!).
I was then admitted to the hospital and got a lumbal puncture the evening. It really is as bad as the people are saying it is! The tests came back the following morning and everything said that my marrow is clean. Then I just stayed in hospital for the following 2 days while I got my antibiotics from a drip. Wednesday 28 March I was released from hospital. And yes, the Saturday morning following we went on the Kalahari Concert Tour from NG Universiteitsoord (of which Annelie Bouwer and I were the Tour Leaders)…

So, please learn that:
 You can’t walk around alone in South Africa even if you know the road
 You should not be walking while sms-ing on your phone – rather stay aware of your surroundings
 Your attackers are not necessarily hobo’s or scummy people – my attackers were well-dressed like any other student
My stitches are out and the wound is healed fine. Sometimes my back still hurts if I slept badly or lied down in a funny position, but other than that everything is under control. The spiritual shots I took are better already, but the emotional healing is probably going to take longer. It is difficult for me to trust (black) people behind my back. Excuse me, but the two times I got mugged, it wasn’t by white people…

Backstabbing…what happened to me

Hey everybody
Sorry that this post is in Afrikaans. There will be a translation within the next few days. Also, I will catch up with all the promises I made, like the expose on rugby and religion and stuff on going back and all that. It’s just that this has been a hectic time and if you read this then you will see why…

Blessings!
Tiaan

Hallo almal

Ek skryf hierdie post net om ‘n paar stories te stop wat die rondte doen en om te sorg dat die waarheid veilig bly. Ook om julle wat nie hiervan gehoor het nie in te lig (sorry, dis nie ‘n mooi storie nie!)! Gelukkig het dit ‘n positiewe einde en ‘n waarskuwing…

Ek het Saterdagaand 24 Maart 2007 na die Sêrrie-finals op TUKS saam met vriende wat ek lanklaas gesien het (Peach Boshoff en ander) in Hatfield Square gekuier. Dit was ‘n baie lekker aand, almal was in ‘n opgewekte bui en omdat ons mekaar lanklaas gesien het, het ons lekker gekuier. Dié wat my ken behoort teen die tyd al te weet dat ek ‘n bier op sy tyd geniet, maar dat ek gelukkig lankal geleer het om myself te kan beheer. Hierdie spesifieke aand was geen uitsondering nie.

Miskien moet ek net ‘n bietjie konteks ook gee, vir die wat nie die omgewing ken nie. Die manskoshuise is ongeveer 1.2 km van kampus af en ongeveer 1.7 km van die Square af, hang af watter pad jy stap. As jy teen ‘n redelike pas stap, vat dit 15 minute van Magrietjie-dameskoshuis (reg oorkant die ingang van die Square) tot by Kollegetehuis (waar ek bly). Dis nou as jy opdraai en met Suidstraat by Duncanstraat insluit en dan afdraai en met Duxburyweg tot by Lunnonweg loop. Lunnonweg loop in die manskoshuisterrein in. In Duxburyweg gaan jy verby ‘n Mesieskool, St Mary’s Diocesan School for Girls. Die straat is redelik verlig, dis nie regtig wat jy sou noem ‘n agterstraatjie nie. Hierdie pad is een wat ons (meeste mansstudente wat op die proefplaas woon) al baie gestap het in ons lewens.

Ek was ‘n week en ‘n half vantevore in ‘n motorongeluk met my bakkie. Niemand het seergekry nie en die bakkie het net bakskade opgedoen, maar hy was in so ‘n toestand dat ek nie op die oomblik met hom kon ry nie. Daarom het ek die betrokke Saterdagaand voetgeslaan kampus toe vir die Sêrrie-finals, waarna ek Square toe is. Dis baie naby aan kampus en ‘n mens kan basies regoor kampus stap tot daar.

Nou ja, so kuier ons toe die aand voor Cheeky Monkey en later in Chillies. Omdat ek die Maandag daarna nog ‘n Dogmatiek-vraestel gehad het om te skryf (‘n Nederlandse handboek!), het ek hier teen 00:30 besluit om dit ‘n aand te roep en terug koshuis toe te gaan. Al het ek net 3 biere gedrink, het ek tog besluit om eers by die Sasol-garage in Duncanstraat aan te gaan en ‘n cheese&ham-pie te koop. Met die vleispastei in die een hand en my selfoon in die ander hand het ek verder gestap. Nou, ek weet dit was waarskynlik nie die slimste ding om te doen nie. So, les nommer 1 uit hierdie aand: moenie laataand alleen op jou selfoon loop en sms of Mxit nie!

Omdat ek verlede jaar oppad na die kommune waar ek toe gebly het, gemug is, was ek wel op my hoede vir mense wat agter my geloop het. Toe ek dus daardie aand weer mense agter my hoor, het ek eers gaan staan en hulle laat verby gaan. Dit was by die hek van St Mary’s. Ek het nie opgelet hoe ver die drie swart ouens wat toe verby my geloop het, voor my gestap het nie. ‘n Ent voor hulle het nog 2 ander swart outjies geloop, 1 wat ek herken het omdat hy ‘n eerstejaar in my koshuis is.

Terwyl ek nog so loop en sms, word ek skielik gestop deur ‘n hand wat my van voor stop. Ek het yskoud geword omdat die vorige mugging onmiddellik deur my kop geflits het en die eerste ou sê toe ook die gevreesde woorde:
“Hey, I want your phone!”
Ek weet sommige van julle het gelag toe julle my reaksie hoor, maar wat anders kon ek doen? Dit sou die 2de keer wees wat ek gemug word, en as dinge so vinnig gebeur, reageer ‘n mens instinktief. So ek skree toe:
“No!”
Die volgende gebeure het alles so vinnig gebeur dat ek wonder hoe ek alles kan onthou, maar ek dink nou dis daardie ding van jou brein wat die gebeure stadiger maak sodat jy kan reageer (ek het iets daarvan geleer toe ek die toets vir my wapenlisensie geskryf het).
Met dié dat ek “No!” skree, ruk die een wat voor my gestaan het, ‘n mes uit. Ek dog toe: goed, ek sal my foon gee, maar voor ek nog enigiets kan doen, voel ek hoe die een wat agter my kom staan het, my reeds met ‘n mes in die rug steek. Ek het geskree en soos wat ek op my knieë neerval, gryp die een wat langs my gestaan het, my foon. Die voorste een se oë het wild rondgekyk en toe hardloop hulle met ‘n spoed daar weg.

Vir ‘n paar minute (oomblikke? minute? ek weet nie hoe lank nie) het ek net geskok daar, op die draai van die pad op my knieë gesit. Ek kon nie glo wat sopas met my gebeur het nie. Nie net is ek (weer) van my selfoon beroof op ‘n gewelddadige wyse nie – hierdie keer was die mense wat dit gedoen het, bereid om my seer te maak, dood te maak…net om my selfoon te steel. Ek bedoel, hoe doen ‘n mens dit? Hoe kan jy net besluit, sonder enige rede: ek gaan vanaand hierdie persoon se besittings vir my vat en sommer sy lewe ook neem om my doel te bereik. Hoe kan enigiemand so dink???

Ek besef toe dat ek nie daar kan bly nie en dat ek niemand kan bel nie. Gelukkig was die ingang van die hek by die manskoshuise net omtrent tweehonderd meter van my af en met my hand op my rug staan ek toe op en strompel daarnatoe. ‘n Ent voor my het die ander 2 ouens wat ek ook gesien het, gestap. Die eerstejaar van my koshuis, Abraham, het toe gaan staan. Ek het hulle gevra om my tot by die koshuis te help. Hulle het gesê dat hulle my hoor skree het, maar dat hulle nie nader wou gaan nie.

By die koshuis gekom het ek by die gang op die grondvloer, Die Gat, ingegaan en by die tweede kamer van die punt af byna die deur afgeklop. Ek het geweet dat my rug bloei en dat ek nodig het dat iemand my hospitaal toe moet neem. Daar was nie antwoord by die deur nie, maar die ouens wat reg oorkant hulle gebly het, het uitgekom. Gelukkig het ek hulle ook geken en hulle het my toe hospitaal toe gevat, Little Company of Mary in Groenkloof, Pretoria. Van die skok en adrenalien het ek naar begin raak. By die hospitaal het die dokter rustig die wond skoongemaak en my vrese oor HIV/Vigs besweer, my met Tetanus ingespuit en met 4 steke die wond toegewerk. Ons is toe terug koshuis toe.

Die volgende dag het ek vir my gaan pynpille koop, maar kon nie antibiotika kry nie omdat dit mos met voorskrif gekry word. Later die dag het my pa se suster, Tannie Connie, voorgestel dat ek Maandag na hul huisdokter toe gaan om die saak af te handel. Alles was fine daardie Sondag, en ek het selfs verder aan die Dogmatiek geleer gekry.

Teen die aand het die nuus natuurlik ook al reeds soos ‘n veldbrand versprei en by die kerk moes ek net die heeltyd vertel. Die weergawes is maar kort gehou. Tydens die diens het ek egter agtergekom dat ek weer duiselig en moeg begin raak en dat iets nie lekker is nie. Na die tyd het ek en twee van my vriende, Cobus en Maartje, gaan notas afrol vir die volgende dag se Dogmatiek-vraestel. Daar het ek regtig sleg begin voel en begijn hoofpyn kry. Ons het toe al reeds besluit dat ek nie die volgende dag gaan eksamen skryf nie, maar dit tot die hereksamens sal laat oorstaan.

Die volgende oggend het ek gedog ek gaan dood. As ek gelê het, was alles okay, maar sodra ek regop gekom het, het my agterkop so erg begin pyn dat dit my letterlik weer platgetrek het. Ek kon nie regop bly nie en het toe my Tannie gebel vir daardie afspraak by die dokter. Ons is toe later soontoe en hy, Dr Etienne Lubbe, het ‘n vriend van homgebel. Hulle het toe besluit dat die beste ding sal wees is as ek ‘n neurochirurg sien. So, toe is ons terug Little Company of Mary toe. Daar het ek Dr Gurnell gesien wat toe voorstel dat hy rugmurg van my trek om toetse te doen en my dan vir 2 dae in die hospitaal te laat bly vir observasie. ( Dit was die eerste keer dat ek opgeneem is, anders as die rumours wat sê dat ek 3 keer opgeneem is oor die naweek!) So is ek toe in die hospitaal ingeboek. Die lumbal puncture het die aand plaasgevind en dit is regtig so seer soos wat die mense sê! Die toetse het die volgende oggend teruggekom en alles het gesê dat my rugmurg skoon is. Toe het ek net die res van die 2 dae in die hospitaal gelê terwyl my antibiotika met ‘n drup ingevoer is. Woensdagmiddag 28 Maart is ek teen 17h30 uit die hospitaal ontslaan. En ja, die Saterdagoggend daarna het ons op die Kalahari Konserttoer van NG Universiteitsoord (waarvan ek en Annelie Bouwer die toerleiers was) vertrek…

So, leer asseblief hieruit dat
• ‘n mens nie in SA alleen kan rondloop nie selfs al ken jy die pad
• jy nie op jou foon moet loop en sms/mxit nie – bly eerder bewus van jou omgewing
• aanvallers nie noodwendig hobo’s of gommies is nie – my aanvallers was geklee soos enige ander student
My steke is vanoggend uitgehaal en die wond is mooi toe. My rug pyn nog as ek sleg geslaap het of op ‘n snaakse manier gelê het, maar verder is alles onder beheer. Die geestelike shots wat ek gevat het, is ook al baie beter, maar die emosionele genesing gaan waarskynlik langer vat. Dis vir my moeilik om (swart) mense agter my rug te vertrou. Verskoon my, die 2 kere wat ek gemug is, was dit nie deur wit mense nie…

Anyway, so dis dan die feite van my kant af. Asseblief: bly veilig. Kyk na julself. Ek het groot geskrik en ek is jammer as ek julle laat skrik het. Pas julself dus op! Dis gevaarlik daarbuite en ons wil tog nie mekaar verloor nie!

Mooi bly. Ek is lief vir jul almal!

Mr T