at Granny and Grampa’s. One of their favourite things to do was swim in the pool with Gramps and then play in Granny’s office. Driving home that day Jen turned to me and said excitedly, “Look, Mom, I started writing a book.”
“A book, really?” I said distractedly. “That’s lovely, darling.”
I glanced at her. “Wait, hold on, what do you mean by ‘a book’, Jen?”
Jen explained that this particular day they had played a game called “author, author”. With a smile she handed me a fistful of scrunched-up A4 pages. When we got home, I grabbed a coffee and sat down to read them. There it was, in Jen’s small cursive handwriting, The Magic Bissie Tree by Jenna Lowe.
As I read, I got goose-flesh. This was the start of a children’s story, already three chapters long.
“Wow, Jen, did you write all of this yourself?” I asked.
“Yes, Mommy,” she said.
“It’s really good. I mean it’s really good.”
“Ah, thanks, Mommy,” she said, brushing off my comments.
“Are you going to finish it?” I asked slowly. I turned to look at her to get her full attention. “Jen, do you want to finish the story?” She looked up.
“I do, Mom,” she said, “but it’s really tiring.” Jen had poor hand-eye co-ordination and so physical activities were not her greatest strength.
“You can finish it easily if you want, my love,” I said. “I can type it up for you on my PC, you don’t have to handwrite it.” Her little face lit up.
“Really?” she said. “Okay, Mom – can we start now?”
Over the next six weeks Jen came into my office every afternoon for half an hour after school with her lunch and dictated while I typed. The story flowed out of her uninterrupted. I loved being part of the process. She would cock her head slightly to one side, and look upwards, then she’d take a deep breath and the story would pour out of her. Once we were done for the day, I would read it back to her and she would check carefully to make sure I hadn’t changed one single word. Jenna was discovering a new passion: creative writing.
The story is about a little forest girl who steps on a magic thorn and becomes ill. The little forest girl seeks out the help and company of a witchdoctor, and together they set off to find the golden apple of the “the magic bissie tree” which holds a cure. The descriptions are magical. It is a mystical children’s adventure story that describes their travels. For an eight-year-old, it is a remarkable piece of writing.
I showed The Magic Bissie Tree to Stu. “Shit, Gabs, this is really good!” he said. We were keen to publish it but believed she was far too young to cope with any publicity that might have come from that, so we left it. It took two years before Jen came to us and said, “Mom, Dad. Remember you said we could publish my book? Is that still an option? I think I am ready now.” She was 10 years old at the time.
We approached Ashleigh, the 12-year-old daughter of Charles and Fran, who are long-standing friends of ours. Ashleigh was a talented artist and she and Jen spent hours together, with Ash working on the illustrations, drawing in pencil as Jenna described her characters in detail.
Initially we printed 200 books just for friends and family, but they were soon gone, and when a small article appeared in a local paper the story of this very young author erupted. As one of the youngest published authors in South Africa, Jen was suddenly being interviewed, visiting book fairs and speaking at breakfasts. We ordered another print run, this time of 2 000 books.
Jenna, always passionate about effecting social change, used the book as an opportunity to do just that. She first met Chaeli Mycroft at a shoot which was to be part of a feature on young girls making an impact. Chaeli, who was the same age as Jenna, was an active and effective South African disability activist. She had cerebral palsy and was wheelchair-bound. Her positivity, courage and passion had a huge impact on Jenna. Jenna decided to support her campaign, “Hope in Motion”, and donated 25 per cent of her book sales to the cause. She also attended and spoke at some of Chaeli’s awareness events.
Looking back now, it’s crystal clear how community impacts children. Mine were lucky. They were surrounded by interesting, driven and intellectual people who brought different and important perspectives to their lives.
One such person was Jenna’s godmother, Sandy. Sandy had been a close friend of mine for decades. Slightly built, with inquisitive blue eyes and dark hair, she and Jen developed a special bond. From a very young age Sandy engineered one-on-one time with Jen. She would read to her and they would chat for hours, debating all sorts of topics. Sandy’s unique critical thinking skills were a formative influence for Jen. She stimulated her ability to think analytically. Whenever Jen came home having spent time with Sandy, she was always so inspired.
Stu and I understood the value of these kinds of conversations for our girls, so when friends visited, we encouraged them to join in. Some adults encouraged this more than others, but those who did were so loved by my girls. Genuine interest in their perspectives and opinions seemed to really feed their growth and confidence.
The success of The Magic Bissie Tree nurtured Jenna’s social activism spirit. She learned that you can be an effective advocate no matter your age and her confidence grew daily.
We didn’t know then that one day Jenna would use her illness to activate change.
CHAPTER 6
High tea and puppy love
By 2007, the age gap between Jenna and Kristi was more apparent. Jenna, now 13 and in Grade 7, was in her last year of junior school and Kristi, now 10, was in Grade 4. They still spent loads of time together, but they were also establishing themselves as different people. Kristi was besotted with horses and animals in general. She hung out at the stables as often as possible, fostered puppies and worked at the local vet in her spare time. While she tacked up horses and mucked out stables, Jen would tip-toe gingerly through the stables, ensuring that she didn’t touch anything. Kristi wasn’t a talker like Jen and found endless discussions tedious. They were different, but close.
Now that Jen’s love of writing was piqued, she started to write more regularly – essays, poems, journal entries and notes. I love this poem she penned one day in class shortly after the Grade 7 “Moms and Daughters” school camp up the Breede River.
CAMP REFLECTIONS – Grade 7, Jenna
The wind blows softly
Caresses the checkerboard of blue and pink
Skims the gigantic crags that watch over the eager crowd
We step out into the pale sunlight, enthusiasm emanating
from our very pores
We are not disappointed
The watery rays of the sun giggle with us as we tumble into
the structured routine of camp
Organised chaos
Our very ears rejoice the experience
The
