wresting

cheeta

bear and cub

horses

leapard

elephants

geese

wilde bees

couple by sea

couple on bed

climbing ice

yellow flowers

table mountain flowers

paella

woman at window

cheeta and cub

surfing

woman swimming

roses

cheeta

meditation outside

couple in afternoon

meditation at home

main pic

e and s

woody

phoenix

s

\

Life force of all,
from everlasting to everlasting
thou art

I started on the path;
my visual experience:  sitting in eternity with thee,
looking down

light of thy creation ::  gold  ::  surreal  ::
I have climbed this route a thousand times,
yet, I hardly recognised it.

I sat down.  everything about this hike was wrong.
I took this pic and turned back.

meditating.

When I consider the works thy laws
the movement of time and change
beauty and grandeur of thy intentions
how privileged are we to be a part of the all of thee.

i see her
beautiful

beginning to love again. radiant!

meditating.  connected.

(sometimes I get the feeling she is watching over me)

***********

Thee, oh great one has trained my hands for war
my feet for the battle
thy wisdom has been imparted into my soul

My feet flies across the rocks
Michael runs next to me.

I laugh.  Want to slow down.  He shouts:
“faster eben, faster!  you can keep up!”

my mind disconnects
my feet lands on places to fast for my eyes to see

i fly!

he jumps
into clear air where he is met by swirling clouds.
wind that slices in joy.

he cries out in ecstasy!
“eben, look!”

“beauty of life”

somewhere on earth a penguin dips between the water to hunt.

a leopard mom plays with her cub.

zebras play

i sweep down on the wind
from high above the spinning, blue globe
i catch her as she floats on white mist. meditating.  connected.

we dance.  across the great mountains of earth.

later that day we sit on a glacier in the arctic talking about the kids.
that evening she swims the Atlantic and I surf in Mauri.

is this ground control to major Tom?
the stars look very different today.
though I passed one hundred thousand miles, i am feeling very still.

tell her that I love her very much. . .  she knows.

©  eben van tonder

Copenhagen

Sweden

Vienna

christmas at home

Christmas in Sweden, Vienna or Copenhagen
can’t compare with one at home
where we scramble up a mountain
T and I
sanity doubting

Sun and sea
No sleigh bells in the snow
none compare with a Christmas at home
La and I
Graffalo’s she child
and sweet lullaby’s

today is for loved ones
from near – from far
thankful meditation
phoenix beauty, brothers and sisters
friends from around the globe
celebrating
. . . .

merry Christmas everybody!

© 2011

Africa reminds me of you.

When I heard that the Tommies took you prisoner in Harrysmith, I was shocked.

I told my neighbours that night at the bar that if they harm you . . . . well, I used many  good Afrikaans words and Pieter’s wife told me that there was no need to use language like that in the company of ladies.

I did not care.

The next night, when Jannie brought me the letter you wrote from your prison cell. . .

Angelique, I am a man who have seen much in my life.

That night was hard.  When I learned that there was a chance for them to execute you.  The letter that you asked me to read at your funeral, if they do. . . .  it was all very moving.  Overwhelming.

Also, appropriate.

I was strong.  Thinking how foolish it looks if I fall apart while you are in prison, facing the firing squad and you are so brave.  Writing such beautiful things to your family.  Also some hard things that had to be said.

Angelique, our lives are real and we are real people. I respect you!  Everything you said moved me and I will never forget it!

I know the trial came and went and the magistrate ordered your release.  Still, your letter stayed with me.  I can not rid my mind from it.

Today I am looking out over Table Bay on a clear, warm summers day.  The wind, pleasant and exhilarating to the soul.

I think about you and wonder what I would say at your funeral one day.

One never knows what can happen.  With the runderpes and malaria; lions and very stubborn oxen; the English ruling in the Cape and wanting to take our freedom; our own war – we just never know.

Of course I will read your letter, but what else will I say?

Here is what I came up with this morning on Table Mountain.  eternal life

At the beginning of time
worlds were brought fourth
from Odin and Ymar to the Menominee and Manabush
particles, energy, soul interfused
at the beginning of all,
consciousness – pre-empted

At the alpha of consciousness,
the start to self
from the Elohim to the Potawatomi Story

beauty, kronos and phoenix distilled
beget
you

Your soul is the soft breeze
high on the mountain top
Tales of Pan Gu and Nü Wa
beauty that million minds perceive

Your spirit, every regal morning
from the Cape of Good Hope
to deep in the Pyrenees

Your eyes the rain
falling on a thousand beautiful lands
the vital life source
of every beast, woman and man

your heart, the love of mothers
who hold an infant close
and sing sweet lullaby’s
of triumph against all woes

your passion, vision and you love
the world itself is this
a million waterfalls and sunsets
connected. . . IS your life

the hoof beats of a thousand animals
celebrating, life untamed
it is what flows from you
my dearest
beauty, distilling from mist to rain

Your soul, the start of every morning
creation when all’s brought fourth
from Odin and Ymar to the Menominee and Manabush
the convergence point of glory

you can never die, princess
queen of heaven and earth and life
and this my words will be
when one day, your body departs

My dearest Angelique, it came to me that every flower and the soft mountain breeze – how effortless my soul communes with these, talking to you, every day, even if you are a thousand kilometres from me – you are right here.

Its almost Christmas.  I hope to see you soon and would dearly love to give you this letter in person, but in case the Tommies or some other nation would interfere, I am posting this letter today in the hope that you will get it before Christmas.

All my love,

Eben

Finally it feels as if summer has arrived.  I am sitting at Michaels, working.  My mind wonders.  Its your last day of primary school today, T!

You guys are my most precious moments!

T, your first school day was in Vanderbijlark, when we stayed with Ouma.  7 years ago!

We did not have money to pay for our own place.  We just lost Millennium Marketing and after that nothing seemed to work out.  The asking rate just always seemed to be more than the run rate.

I cant believe its only 7 years ago!

You were going to school and I was trying to figure out the next business move.

Remember STAR!

In the photo you are sitting next to Bernalee, a previous Miss South Africa!  and La’tjie is sitting with Patrick, one of the flight paramedic’s.

I did some contract work for All Joy Foods.  I realised there are more opportunities in food than in chemicals and I changed focus.

I got a job at Stocks Meat Market in Cape Town and we moved to the Cape.

When the kids and Julie arrived in cape Town – we had NO furniture. Here La sits on the only furniture we had – a wooden coffee table. We slept on blow-up mattresses and sat on camping chairs for months.

Your first school day in Cape Town at Groote Schuur Primary School.  Not one of us guessed that Mom would end up working at the school and you would become deputy-head boy!  Or that La’tjie would do drummies and become SA champs five years later!

Deputy head boy

I worked for Stocks.  Resigned after they decided not to implement the strategy that I was employed for originally.  I again got some contract work with a food company, Goosebumps Frozen Food Distributors and moved to Johannesburg for a year and a half.  It was during this time that I met Oscar who would become my partner and the man who would make Woodys a success with me.

Deep in rural SA. A place called Sibasa in Venda. At a client – Spar.

When I came back, I started Woodys – 2008.  Oscar joined me in 2009.

T and La with me at Uncle Okkies pig farm

Woodys finally brought stability in our lives from a work perspective.

We had the most amazing times in Cape Town and moving here from Gauteng was one of the best decisions of our lives!

We climbed the mountain probably a million times!

On Table Mountain – the day when we got stuck in a storm at the top.

Remember all our trips up Lions Head?  How scared I was the first time when we got to the chains and before I could do a thing you guys were up the chains to the horror of me and everybody watching you guys!

Remember the afternoons at Sea Point when we would go and eat MacDonald’s.  You guys would play put-putt and I would go for a run.

Waves at Seapoint. . . . Tris, standing his ground. . . only because he does NOT know what is behind him! )

How we would watch every movie in the DVD shop.  Play Wii games.  Braai’s with Paul and Claudette and take drives around the Cape Peninsular.

Paul and Claudette’s wedding.

The bunk bed you guys slept on.  Remember “bear-bear” every night before you went to bed and Graffalo’s Child?!

Remember the “smoking” incident the lesson that there are certain things you DO NOT tell your mom about!

Cheap Tuesday movies at Kennilworth and Lauren’s “play-and-eat” at the Spur!

Drives to Oudtshoorn to go and visit Ouma and your cousins.

La and ouma (grand mom)

T and ouma (grand mom)

So many good memories.

During this time I wrote “The Anatomy of a Sceptic” in which I describe the road to the realization that there is no Christian God.  You guys took to this idea like a fish to water and loved the fact that we no longer went to church on a Sunday!

The visits to your Grandparents for Christmas in Pretoria and the days on end you guys would spend in the pool.

The kids with Gamma

Mom and I decided to give each other some space and divorced.

Getting a divorce.

T became deputy head boy and learned that like me, you are not built for cricket! 

You started to LOVE rugby and in your last year of primary school were playing for the High School already.

T – Playing number 3!

La’tjie did not want to be forced into anything by grown-ups and decided to start doing Drummies.  SA champion!  What an amazing achievement!

La’tjie and friends at the drummies finals in Durban.

T did what we have taught you all your life namely NOT to follow other peoples ideas of right and wrong and against my advice, you choose to go to Rondebosch next year.  A decision that I now support wholeheartedly, knowing that it is the right choice for you and one of the best schools in the country!

I have seen you develop from a boy, tempted by all kinds of insecurities, to a young man who are confident and independent.  A leader!

T and I being brave!

I have seen Lauren develop from a cute girl into a gorgeous child!

Lauren @ sea point

Its a time of growth and change for all of us.  Mom and I have the opportunity to move on with our lives.  I am working with Oscar at setting up the Woodys Factory, setting up our international trading partners.  Redefining my personal life.  When to hold on and when to move on.  When to hope and when to be realistic.  And the enjoyment of climbing Table Mountain every day!

I hope each of you find your own Table Mountain one day!

Today is a day for thinking about next year, T!  So many things happened in the 7 years since you went to school for the first time.

Final primary school day for T!

You have the character, the determination and the eye for quality to be very successful in high school, as you have been in primary school.  As with La, I am very proud of the person that you are becoming and I treasure every moment with you!

La’tjie, you have such clear goals for next year.  It is amazing to see.  The excitement with which you approach every new day!  You are a beautiful child and I love the two of you very much.

Your mom and dad are by no means perfect and of course there are days when all is not fun and games.  Like us, you guys will one day also be in your late 30’s and early 40’s and you will have to face the daemons of your own past as people tend to do when they reach this age.

T, as you enter high school, and La, as you finish primary school, remember:

Connect with who you are and what makes you happy.

Live according to the values in your soul!

Try and do something daring every day!

Embrace challenges!

Do everything in your life with excellence and passion.  Shun mediocrity!

Challenge conventional thinking!

Respect the rules of engagement!

Never fear anybody!

Be creative!  Find new ways to do things!

Learn how to hold on and also, learn to let go!

Live each day as if its your last day on earth!

Surround yourself with friends who will challenge you to be better!

Learn how to treat beautiful woman! 

Don’t get involved in other people’s problems.  (generally – dont involve yourself in adult problems.  the problems of your parents and other adults in your life are theirs and theirs alone.  dont make it your problems.  IT IS NOT YOURS!  Refuse to get involved!)

Have fun!

Being your dad is the greatest privileged of my life!

You guys rock!!

Your Dad
9 December 2011

Seeing you in the Bushveld was better than pork cracklings or a very good harvest.

I heard that you organise men and woman all over the Bushveld to join the fight.

This impressed me very much.  Not that I did not think you could be so brave, but that I wonder if I could work as hard as you and deal with very stubborn Boers who insist on fighting the way their fathers did.

I respect you!

The Xhosa queen who was with you was not at all how i pictured her.  She is kind and the Boers at home will be much intimidated by her as you yourself are intimidating to the Boers.

It is a strange thing that we have much more in common with the Xhosa and Sotho people than with the English.  We share this great land and call Africa home.  We eat pap and we can stay out in the sun for a long time without turning pink.

It is also a funny thing that Boers are very mucho and when you speak to them and they are enchanted by your beauty and frightened by your intellect, they become very fearful and much less “big and strong”.

Around me are strange fly-like bugs.  Blue.  And lizards with blue heads. Kudus and the smell of the bush.

My spirit goes quite and I am happy that I am home again.  In my beloved land.

My thoughts are captured by the beauty of this land.  The grandeur of the quest I am on.  The friendships of the people I am with.  What you said about being true to oneself and not to deny the love and passion in ones heart.

Angelique, I have realised that life is not about great quests and wars.

Life is about friends and about the kids and about Cape wine that was brought to the Bushveld with the post wagons.

Life is not as i have always thought.

It is about a Xhosa queen, far from her land, who honoured me by giving me a big hug and introducing me to her kids.

The nice food we had on Oom Frik’s farm and Aunt Susanne who brought so many melkterte from the kitchen that we could not possibly eat all of them.

You told the burgers to connect to the values in their heart.  You inspired me Angelique!

Before you left for Pretoria, I told you that I am insanely jealous when any of the burgers or foreigners come close to you.  It is what is in my heart!

When you stood by the carriage and the sun was in your hair and I held your hand, I told you the things that are in my heart.  All of it!

The neighbors on the farms in the district will laugh when they hear what I told you.  I dont care.  Its what is in my heart and it is real.

Its colder tonight.  I have a glass of red wine.  Moths come in from everywhere to the candle on the table.

Life happens for me when I taste wine from the Cape and smell the Bushveld.

Especially when I think about how pretty you looked when I saw you standing under a Bushveld tree, talking to the burgers. That I told you all that is in my heart and the great love I have for you.

The smell of your hair when I kissed you just as the moon was low over the bushveld trees.  The softness of your lips.  Your infectious laugh.

This is all that is important to me.

I can see how you must be to many of the Boers like a vision from heaven.  You are exactly that and I told you how I feel.

In the end Angelique, we are best friends and it feels as if I can tell you anything.  Even though I told you what I feel before, I have never said everything that I told you before you left.  I hope you are not angry with me for having said all those things.

Still, how tomorrow will work out, who knows? Today is all that matters.

The soft spring wind and the smell of your hair. Your beautiful eyes.  A Xhosa queen telling me the story of her life and her love for children.

My Angelique, I wrote you something tonight.  Its not something fancy like the English can write who went to Oxford and studied literature.  Or the clever Americans who always have the right words.

You know I am a simple man who have learned to say what is in my heart.  Nothing more and nothing less.

Most of the words I learned that time in school when I used to get so many detentions and was forced to read books that were boring then, but I am glad I learned english after all.

I call you “my lunar beloved”.

i dance on star dust
i engineer in ether
at night . . .  my beloved comes to me.

why do you come to me
with lunar incantations
in temporal synthesis
with your rapturous persistence
(with sunlight so near,
to wrench my heart away)

i bath in solar flairs
i construct in complication
at night i commune with my beloved

at twilight our souls beckon,
we meet at the bottom of a stairwell to the sea
in crepuscular night,  i behold perfection
when dragons bath in tempestuous seas

in the day i fight a war of absolution
at night, i worship my lunar beloved

Tonight, in my dreams, I will again smell the hair of my immortal beloved!  Sing a  song, taught to me by my forefathers and the kings and queens of the great xhosa people!  About love and great friendship!

tomorrow I will fight my war of absolution.  

Tonight I hold you very close to me in my dreams and I read my poems to you!

worship my lunar beloved,

eben

I have not written to you before, but Dad tells me that Mom always sent my letters on to you. There are things that only brothers can share with each other.  This letter is one of these.

We arrived back in Cape Town from England last night.  Of course we have been successful in England.  A very friendly Welshman is going to help us.

Very few things that our Boers say about the English are actually true.  What is true is that the weather in England is miserable and that they cant play rugby.  The rest are almost all wrong.  London is beautiful and busy and the people are warm and friendly.

But, this morning I dont want to talk about that.  I have far more important matters to report on.

I left home to change things around me and find a way to win the war.  And I did.

Now that Im back in Cape Town I realise that in me something has changed.

I saw Angelique yesterday.

I have been missing her tremendously while I was on my trip.  I wrote her the most emotional letters from Europe.  As the trip progressed things in me started to changed. Things that I did not all understand.  But when she suprised me and met at the harbour, I understood my entire journey.

It was not actually at the harbour.  It was the next day when we hiked across the mountain and were caught in a massive rain storm.

It started to rain.  I looked at her, standing under a tree.  Drenched with water running down her face.  In that moment, the future and the past all converged into one moment of NOW.

I not only saw her, more beautiful than I ever remembered – with her eyes not green, but light shades of blue.  Her hair – dark and reach and wet.  Her laughter – more infectious than ever.

And suddenly I remembered everything.

. . . far more than I ever have.

This is going to sound strange, and you may want to call on Dr Attie to see me when I get home, but in the moment of seeing her, on the mountain with me, in the rain storm, I remembered not just one life, but many.

Memories of Denmark before the orphanage was build.  Emotions when I saw and felt the injustice of the rich exploiting the poor.  When I had to work 18 hours a day while the other 12 year old boys played and learned.

The pain of religion.  King Frederik, brother to King Hans, who at that time was once King in Denmark, Sweden, and Norway.  Who came to Tønder to his castle and took the property of the Friary in Tønder and allowed a Lutheren sermon to be preached.

Even as a poor, uneducated boy I loathed the treatment of the Catholic’s as much as I later hated the treatment of the Protestants when we fled to Holland because of the civil war.  As I hated the injustice to the poor!

In one moment, looking at my beloved Angelique, centuries of existences merged.

When I suddenly stopped worrying about Nico or David or Magiel who had much to say about the fact that I wanted to go and find a way to win the war.  Who did not like it at all when I said that I’m not going to church on Sunday any more and that I would rather pray to the God who speaks to my soul when I walk through the mielielande or ride through the grasslands of the Transvaal or climb Table Mountain.

Nico who said that he will never speak to me again unless I get on my horse and ride to his farm where I must listen to him telling me about my sinful life.

When I saw the purple flowers around her.  I was excited to be alive, enchanted by her beauty and I  knew that I will never again be bound by other peoples ideas about what is right and wrong for me.  And if loving her is right for me, then I will do it with no apology.

At that moment, all of the centuries that I have lived and the centuries that is to come, converged into one moment.  When I became me – free from the prison and fears of the past.  When all that mattered was the passion that burns in my own heart and that I be true to this passion.

When every purple flower on Table Mountain became the image of my eternal beloved!  As it has always been and always will be.

In that moment i was no longer on the mountain with her.  and at the same time, I was!  In the rain.  but we were also in Spain as a banished ruler and the priestess from an ancient temple-cult. I was in Tønder in South Denmark, as a poor slave boy.  In Copenhagen as a wealthy merchant.  she was many woman in many lives.

we were everywhere at once and everything in the universe was in us and outside of us at the same time.

I was meeting her in Amsterdam after I fled there and I was walking with her through olive groves in Spain centuries before Amsterdam.

I was holding her before she falls asleep.

I was watching her while she sleeps.

I was making love to her.

. . .  all at once.  In one moment.

I was lost in her eyes and at the same time – grounded in the knowledge of what millennia of existences taught me, that I can only be happy if I am true to my own heart. and that my heart contains her and at the same time she is too lovely to be contained by anybody’s heart.

Kissing her because I love her and “not kissing her” because I respect her journey – all merged into one.  None was first or second.  all was NOW!

Every conversation we had yesterday were conversations that we had – many lifetimes before and the spiritual places we move to become starting points of untold lifetimes together.

The rain in my face.  Her eternal beauty.  Different universes.  Every war we lived through.  Every loss we experienced.  Every child we loved.  Every moment of torture and abuse.  As a slave boy and an abused child.  Every mountain we scaled.  Every setback we overcame.  Every friend we lost.  Every friend we made.  Every time our hands touched or our arms in an embrace or our lips in a kiss.

In that moment, all merged.  i at once understood everything and I knew nothing.  I was capable of the impossible and I was like a child.  I was strong and I was weak.  I was me and I was the universe that I am a part off.

and as assuredly as all of this, I knew that I love her forever!  and that she loves me.

that she is the rain on my face.  the flowers that I hold.  the air I breath. my every morning and my deepest sleep.   She is perfect and beautiful in her imperfections.

she and i are us!

when we made it down i retired to my room and fell into a deep sleep.  When I woke up she was gone, but she left me a note to meet her at the end of the year on the west coast.

Tomorrow I am riding for the Transvaal.  Can we all meet at home?  With the Burgers who signed up to fight with us.  I have much to share and many great stories to tell.

I am looking forwards to seeing you soon.

Your brother,

Eben

ps:  dont ask Dr Attie to come along unless he wants to be taught how to fight with us.

Its my second last night here.

We have found what we came for.  This time Europe and its people have been good.

Tonight I’m sitting in a small square. Soft autumn wind in my face.  Around me, horse carts and couples. My mind wonders to you, my immortal beloved.

The small streets. The cafe’s.   The street performers.   All remind me of you. The quality of a well ordered life!  Like ancient and well ordered Girona.

We may never be more than good friends.  I know this.

In Copenhagen I did not handle it well.  I was sad and was very much ashamed of some of the things I wrote.  Then, this morning I woke up and I was glad for the passion that is in my heart.  No longer ashamed for expressing it in less elegant terms when I am alone and tired.  When I have not seen the vast grasslands of the Transvaal or smelled the feinbos from the Cape . . . or have seen you for many weeks.

I woke up, glad that I am who I am and feel what I feel!  It sounds strange.  If I would tell my neighbours back on my farm – Jan, Piet, Louis or Boet -  they will make much fun of it at the bar on Friday.  But, I dont care.  I am speaking to you.

I realised that I feel things very strongly.  I am glad! I am alive!  Not only to feel cold German winds and Baltic water.  Not only to drink Turkish coffee at a border Post and get lost in Poland.  To fear when I have to walk alone next to a dark German forest.  But I am glad that my mind wonders, effortlessly and every moment of solitude to you, my eternal beloved.

Friends make fun of me for feeling this way.  They call me a fool and drink to my health in the hope that I will see the light.

Yet, I love everything about you.  Talking to you about the war at home. The complications of Europe. The beauty of Girona which reminds me of you.  Just being good friends.  It is almost magical.  Almost enough.  But not quite.  Not quite. . . .

I realised that I am here because  I have been inspired by you and because of the passion in my heart.  Both are true.  Equally.  The one, not more important than the other.  And not less.  My passion and your beauty.  I have to give an equal place to both of them in my life.

This morning I went out and bought myself shoes.  For me.  When I get back, I will win the war.  For you.  But also for me.

Yet, the small streets.  The mid-evil town.  The cathedral.  The many restaurants.  The flowers and the summer weather.  It is as if every smell and sound becomes a soft breeze on witch my thoughts floats to you.

I am in love with you and I am in love with the excellence you stand for.  I am in love with myself and the excellence I stand for.  The passion in my heart and the wars I fought and am winning.  My commitments and my life.  All of it.

Like the lady who presses virgin olive oil. The mother who stains the rice black to create a payela like dish . . .the name of which I forget now.  The neat streets of Girona. The Mediterranean air.  The water from the Pyrenees.  The wine from France.

It all speaks about excellence.  Of being more than I have been yesterday.  Which is the very thing that I pursue.  As I pursue you, my eternal love. and myself.

A boat has been arranged to take us to London.

Leaving Spain makes me sad.  In so many ways I see you here with me.

England reminds me of the camps and the war and the suffering of our people.  But there are also good people there. This I am sure off.

I cant wait to see you again.

eben

I have not written to you in a while. I know. But the last few letters I wrote have been too personal. I have said to much.

Today is Sunday. I want to write to you and not mention “us”.  I just want to write to you as my friend.

Remember when we were in school together. How we used to play alies against you. You always took all our best albasters, which made all the boys very angry. And they teased you. But I did not mind loosing alies to you. I was always more interested in looking at your legs.

Those days are long gone. Care free days at a small Volksskool.  I miss those days. Or were they so care free?   My dad had a stroke and things became very difficult for us. And you had it so hard that it still makes me sad when I think about it.

Its autumn. We made it from Denmark all the way to the German midlands, undetected. Chris is brave this morning and went to town to see if he can find some bread.

I’m on a hill overlooking the town. The wind is very cold. Its not like the wind back home.

I wrote to my mom and dad that in Poland, I could not get you the necklace I wanted. We had to leave to early to try and make it back to the ferry to Denmark.

That made me very sad.

There are so many things I will rather tell you about in person. About how the first family who was supposed to take care of us in Germany almost could not. How the sister of the inn’s owner came late at night to fetch us.  How  I told her that it was such a beautiful night that her and I should be painting the town red.

She is old enough to be my mother and I think she did not understand why I wanted to paint a town. Especially since it was very cold and very late and we just got off a cart that brought us from northern Germany.

At the inn she told everybody we are English.  Even though this will make the Boers at home very angry, I think its right for the people here to think we are english.

Tomorrow we are meeting with the people who will show us how the Germans do it.   I am very much looking forward to it. Then we can show the people back home.

Angelique, I write to you about all kinds of things this morning. The things I have written you about previously . . .  please ignore them.

It is strange the things one thinks of when he does not sleep at night and when one is far from home and on a great quest.

I know you have a life of your own and we are good friends and I should think of the people in Poland and Denmark and at home.

No matter how sad it makes me, we are not at school any more, playing alies.

Now, all around me are tall trees and bright red berries and the ice cold wind. And the picture I have in my heart of how we can win the war at home with Polish, Danish, Spanish, English and maybe even German support.

I see Tristan jumping off a cliff, into the water, and my beautiful Lauren playing.

And these pictures of the war and of Tristan and La’tjie, playing and growing up should be what I see.

And the good friends I have who want my quest to be a success and the many families who depend on it.

And how I should be all I can be. Nothing less. And nothing more.

It now is very cold. I think its best if I sneak into town to try and get this letter to you.

Eben

i remember the night.  at the table in the dining room.

we were all there.  we knew that there is no way out.  we needed a big break, but who will go?

one of those moments that you see from outside yourself.  you hear your own words.  see your mouth move.  feel your fist slams down on the wooden table.

the next thing you know, you feel the cold free state wind against your face.  rhythmic breathing of your horse as she speeds to durban harbour.

and liberation?

the journey is like a blur.  then you arrive. . . . in  Copenhagen.