reassuring roar of waves upon shore
The shrieks and laughter that accompany us everywhere
we go.
The wind blows softly
Holding the camp leaders’ sighs, trailing them over the left-
over pieces of
Inspiration, teamwork, leadership
Blowing them over the mist of the new green buds of
friendship
Breathing them over the shattered remains of prejudice lost
We are gone.
While Jen and I were away on that camp, there was a break-in at our home. Stuart and Kristi, sleeping, were woken by the sound of smashing windows. No one was physically harmed but the experience of seeing men in balaclavas and guns deeply affected Kristi. She no longer wanted to sleep out; she became a “homing pigeon”, happy to explore during the day but needing to be at home at night. She noticed and was fearful of our safety for the first time. Some naivety was lost that night, and sleep became an issue for her again. For many years after the burglary we kept a mattress on the floor next to our bed so that she could creep through to us in the night if she was feeling scared. We took Kristi for two trauma counselling sessions and swiftly upgraded our security and alarm systems. It was a nasty fright.
Jen’s 13th birthday was imminent and, as it was her first teen year, I’d promised we’d plan something special. Ali came up with the idea of going to the grand old Mount Nelson Hotel for high tea. It was such a Jen-like thing to do. She loved the idea! We had a gentle day on the lawns surrounded by close friends, family and cousins.
By now Jen was tall, long-legged, willowy and slim, with long brown hair that shone as she moved. She was a compelling beauty, with an even more compelling mind. Jen had a loyal and committed group of girlfriends and was becoming slightly less of a bookworm. She and her mates were just reaching the age of “movies at Cavendish Square”, a popular shopping mall down the road. The group was also starting to show an interest in boys and spent many hours on the weekends socialising. Slowly, large groups of girls and boys started being invited to our home. Enter 13-year-old dark-haired Daniel, affectionately known to all as “Daffy”. He was kind, affable, funny, cool and gorgeous; and coincidentally born on the same date as Stuart. Jenna and Daffy developed a whopping teenage crush on each other.
It was really cute. Encouraged by their mates, they started messaging each other constantly via BBM (it was the days of BlackBerry Messenger) and within a few months Daffy had asked Jen to be his girlfriend. They chatted daily and saw each other every weekend. They held hands, ate popcorn, went to movies and went ice-skating together. They dated happily for three months and then Daffy made a fatal error: he tried to kiss her! Poor Daffy. Jen was out of there like a scalded cat. She just wasn’t ready and called the whole thing off. He cried behind his closed bedroom door and listened to sad music. Eventually, I am told, his mom sat him down in desperation and said, “Daffy, you are so young and there are many other fish in the sea, I promise.” “No, Mom,” he insisted, “you don’t understand. This one is special.” His mother took him seriously. “Okay,” she said, “if she is that special, then there is only one thing to do. My advice to you is to stay friends … you never know what the future may bring.”
It was nearing the end of Grade 7; Jen and her friends were all so ready to leave junior school. One hot and peaceful summer’s day, a low buzz in the air, Jen sat at her school desk, staring out of the window at the oak trees and chewing on her pencil. Double English, her favourite class. The assignment was to write a poem that finished with the words “It’s Me”.
Knowing what we know now makes this poem that she wrote aged 13 even more powerful and poignant.
Jen graduated from junior school top of her grade. The ground felt stable under our feet. Good. Solid. We were oblivious to the weirdly prophetic nature of this poem.
But then, nothing could have prepared us for what was coming our way.
CHAPTER 7
Sweet 16
In 2011 Jenna turned 16. Sweet 16. She was class captain and captain of the school’s Debating team, and she had a wide circle of friends. All traces of early childhood shyness had dissipated. She was a high achiever but she also had humility, compassion and a good solid value system. One of the highlights of Jen’s Grade 10 year was when she and her friend Lethu were chosen to attend the Archbishop Emeritus Desmond Tutu’s Youth Peace Summit. Archbishop Emeritus Desmond Tutu, an Anglican archbishop, had been a well-known and much-loved activist for the rights of black people during and after apartheid. A key architect of the Peace and Reconciliation Committee, “the Arch”, as he is affectionately called, was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize for opposing apartheid. He was one of Jen’s heroes. The invitation to attend his summit was a great honour. It brought together a diverse group of young people from different geographic areas, youth institutions, economic and cultural backgrounds to interact, engage and learn to build peace in their own lives and communities as well as the world at large.
It was both an eye-opening and life-changing experience for Jen, one she treasured. Lethu told me (Jen wouldn’t dream of it) that Jen was admired, respected and well liked within the group. I had just collected them from the summit, and they were chatting away in the back of the car, sharing stories of their workshop groups, when Lethu said, “Okay, Jen, that’s it! We are going to run this country together one day. I will have to be president because I’m black [giggle], but you will be my right-hand lady. I’m simply not doing it without you.” They certainly shared the passion, character and intelligence required of good leadership.
When she wasn’t trying to save the world, Jenna was being a normal teenager. She had the same fears, insecurities and need to fit in as every other girl her age. She could be challenging, especially with me, and we had some spectacular spats (which I seldom won). We were very similar beings, Jen and I, and we could go around and around in circles, frustrating the hell out of everyone, Kristi in particular. And we were intensely close. There was nothing Jenna felt she couldn’t tell me and nothing we didn’t share.
By now her interest in boys was a bit more prevalent. As Stu said, “They just keep appearing out of the woodwork.” Jen was both alluring and compelling, but she had very high standards. She was yet to have her first kiss. “I feel so stupid, Mom,” she said one day. “Everyone else has done it already. Now they have that anxiety out of the way. I shouldn’t have waited so long. Why did I do that?” In her slightly nerdy way she was making some sort of scientific experiment out of it. Cute. But in truth, she told me, she was concerned it might be awful … I tried to tell her she needn’t worry. Teenage hormones have a way of taking care of these things.
Plettenberg Bay – Plett – the little seaside town up the Garden Route was, and still is, our favourite place. Magnificent beaches, warm sea and an amphitheatre of mountains. I have visited Plett with my family for as long as I can remember. Stuart and I did the same once we were married. Every year we punctuated our lives with a family holiday in Plett, creating a lifetime’s worth of memories. We developed close holiday friendships over the years, and it was a bonus for us that Ian and Jillie lived there. Family holidays were filled with boating, long lazy lunches, beach walks, mountain hikes, sunsets and body surfing in the warm salty ocean.
It
