Part One — The Wound That Made The Man
My soul decided to launch its short journey into this world in a family by the name of Robbertze.
I have thought about that decision many times since.
We lived in Troy Street, then Water Street, Sunnyside, Pretoria. Middle class homes in a middle class suburb — the kind of streets where appearances were maintained and doors were closed before voices were raised. My father, Christian Johannes Robbertze, was an educated man. Several degrees in economics. Eventually city treasurer of Pretoria, the capital of South Africa. A man of standing. A man of expectation.
He abused alcohol. What that did to the interior of our home was not visible from the street.
I remember a plate of food hitting my mother’s face because it had not met his standard. I remember being stripped of my clothes and put into the backyard for the night — a boy, alone in the dark, learning something about power and about shame that no child should have to learn.
My mother, Maria Hendrika du Toit moved through this the way women of her generation were taught to move through it — with endurance, with silence, with the particular dignity of those who have decided that survival is its own form of resistance.
We were three boys. Dirk. Chris. And me — Johann. T. Robbertze. The T has never been explained to me. To this day I carry an initial whose meaning no one has accounted for. There is, at the centre of my legal identity, something unnamed. A man is always partly illegible — to others, to himself. What we cannot name in ourselves is often what drives us furthest.
I was the eldest. And I was not built for containment.
At ten years old I ran. The police caught up with me in Livingstone, Northern Rhodesia — a child who had hitchhiked across borders, sleeping rough, moving toward nothing except away. I was expelled from schools. I absconded from boarding houses. I hitchhiked the length and breadth of South Africa, sleeping on beaches and shoplifting food to survive.
I was a boy who had learned that the inside of things — homes, institutions, families — was where the damage happened. The outside, however dangerous, was at least honest about its terms.
Boystown changed something. Not dramatically, not overnight — but something real shifted there. They gave me what no one had thought to give me before: the direct equation between responsibility and outcome. You own your actions. Your actions determine your life. For a boy who had been acted upon, this was not a small thing. It was the first framework that made sense. The first door that opened inward.
That impulse — raw and unrefined as it was — would turn out to be the most reliable compass I ever owned.
The Navy
At eighteen a man is conscripted, whether he is ready or not. I was not ready in the conventional sense. What I had in my favour was the water.
When the opportunity came to apply for the South African Naval diving course, I took it. Not out of patriotism. Not out of any particular attraction to the military. I took it because it was the hardest door available, and I wanted to know if I could walk through it.
I could.
The demands of the course were immense — physically, psychologically, and in ways that are difficult to fully account for in ordinary language. They break you first. That is the design. You cannot build what has not been emptied.
My father had told me — not always in words, more often in punishment, in contempt, in the naked backyard and the slammed plate — that I was insufficient. That I would not meet the standard.
The diving course answered that directly. Every successful dive, every navigation in zero visibility, every moment of controlled breathing when the body is screaming and the darkness is complete — each of those moments was evidence. Not proof offered to my father. Proof offered to myself.
Underwater there is no performance possible. The water does not respond to charm or bluster. You are either present and skilled and calm, or you are in danger. That binary — that absolute honesty — was the most clarifying environment I had ever entered.
Every institution that had failed me had imposed its terms. The Navy’s terms I had chosen. That single distinction — consent — made all the difference between confinement and freedom.
The difference was simply that it was my choice.
I have lived by that principle ever since.
Next: Underground — from the Navy into the earth. Anglo-American. Kinross. Evander. Gold mines.
— JR
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This is not a feel-good story.
It is an honest account of a life spent refusing containment — and what that costs. What it gives. What it takes from the people closest to you and what it ultimately returns, if you are willing to stay in the room long enough to find out.
I have not written this to justify myself. I have written it because three lifetimes of hard experience taught me things I wish someone had told me earlier — and because my children deserve to know who their father actually is, not the version that circumstance and distance constructed for them.
The title comes from a line that stopped me the first time I encountered it and has not left me since.
Nothing real can be threatened. Nothing unreal exists.
If you are reading this and something in you recognises that line — this book was written for you too.
I am not a writer by profession. I am a man who finally sat down and told the truth. Make of it what you will.
— JR
]]>Die plaas was vir Jakkals ‘n baie interessante plek veral die koelkamer waar al die botter gebere word. Terug in die Bos begin Jakkals dadelik om sy planne agtermekaar te kry. Sy eerste gedagte gaan uit na sy ou groot vriend Wolf wat saam met sy gesin in ‘n erdvarkgat aan die buitekant van die bos woon.
Gedurende ‘n wandeling ontmoet Jakkals vir Wolf. Hy was besiq om heuning uit ‘n dooie, hol boomstam te haal. “Goeie dag ou Wolfie” groet Jakkals. Los liewer die heuning en gaan saam met my om te gaan verken wat op Boer se plaas aangaan. “Sonder baie praat val die twee in die pad. Omdat Wolf ook baie lief was vir botter het sy belangstelling ook by die koelkamer bly vassteek.
Jakkals praat nie ‘ n enkele woord oor die botter nie. Hulle keer al pratende oor hul gesinne wat hongerly na die Bos terug.
Na ‘n week nooi Jakkals weer vir Wolf saam na die plaas maar die keer in die nag. Om op die plaas te kom moes hulle met ‘n sandpad langs loop. Skielik maak Jakkals of sy voet baie seer is, “Ag ou Wolfie, dra my asseblief, dit voel of my poot wil afval so seer is dit. “Wolf dra hom toe tot by die koelkamer. Dit moes seker toeval wees. Die deur van die kamer staan half oop. Die twee stap in.
Die rakke staan vol stene botter en dit ruik ook so lekker. Sonder dat Wolf dit merk steek Jakkals n paar stene in sy sak. Met die terugreis Bos toe kerm Jakkals weer oor sy seer poot en Wolf moes hom maar weer dra.
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Ou Kraanvoel, n ander bosbewoner, het weer sy nes hoog in die toppie van ‘n reuse ou boom gemaak. Die boom het naby ou Jakkals se woonplek gestaan. Kraanvoel en sy vrou was die bure van Jakkals en het mekaar gevolglik dikwels gesien. Hulle het begin om oor en weer te kuier ook.
Jakkals het dit baie geniet om die ander diere te kul en hulle moes gedurig onder die ou se poetse deurloop.
Een oggend besluit ou Jakkals om vir Kraanvoel ‘n poets te bak. Hy het goed geweet dat sy buurman ‘n lang rooi snawel het met ‘n ou dun tongetjie binne die snawel.
Ou skelm Jakkals loop toe vir Kraanvoel diep in die Bos raak en besluit net daar op die plek om hom vir aandete te nooi.
“Goeie More Buurman”, groet Jakkals oorvriendelik. “More Jakkals” kom die antwoord.
“Buurman, dit is vir my ‘n groot voorreg om jou te nooi om more aand by my te kom eet” se ou Jakkals met die vriendelikste uitdrukking op sy bakkies.
“Ek neem jou uitnodiging met graagte aan”, se Kraanvoel en skud solank sy vere reg vir die groot aand.
Baie honger en lus vir die heerlike kos wat Jakkals belowe het daag Kraanvoel met sononder by Jakkals se huis op. Die tafel staan reeds gedek en Kraanvoel en Jakkals neem hulle plekke aan tafel in. “Bring maar die kos, vrou”. Mevrou Jakkals kom binne met n heerlike, stomende bak sop wat so lekker ruik, dit laat ‘n ou se mond sommer water.
Sy haal die doek wat oor die tafel gele het af. Verbaas kyk Kraanvoel na die tafel waarop slegs twee baie vlak borde gedek is. Sy skep die hele koppie sop in elke bord in. “Kom ons eet maar, lekker smul aan die kos Kraanvoel.” se Jakkals.
Arme ou Kraanvoel doen sy bes om met sy lang dun snawel die sop te probeer drink maar slaag glad nie daarin om n enkele druppel in te kry nie.
“Buurman, aangesien jy nie honger is nie en nie jou kos wil eet nie, kan ek dit maar kry want ek is nog nie versadig nie?”, se Jakkals ewe onskuldig met ‘n spotlag op sy bakkies.
Kraanvoel is stomgeslaan, met ‘n magtelose gevoel gee hy die bord sop aan Jakkals en kyk met wrewel in sy hart hoe dat Jakkals met sy plat tong al die sop uit die bord opslurp.
Die ete is verby. “Goeie nag”, brom Kraanvoel en met ‘n maag wat skree van honger verlaat hy die tafel en treurig kom hy by sy huis aan. “Vrou, eendag sal ek nog daardie ou skelm wys waar Dawid die wortels gegrawe het”, se hy aan sy vrou en probeer om te slaap. Dikgevreet spring Jakkals in die kooi en slaap heerlik laat die volgende oggend.
Koelemani word wakker, spring uit die vere, kyk by die venster uit en merk dat dit ‘n heerlike vars oggend is. Die voels baljaar in die bome, die sonstrale skyn deur die blare. Koelemani besluit dat dit net die oggend vir ‘n lang wandeling deur die bos is. Hy neem sy wandelstok, fluit-fluit neem hy die voetpad en geniet dit terwyl hy al groetende die diere ‘n goeie more toewens.
“Nou wie op aarde staan daar so treurig onder die groot boom?” praat Koelemani met homself. Dit is kraanvoel wat so moedeloos voel. Hy staan net op een been, sy vlerke hang, pap langs sy lyf. Dit lyk of hy enige oomblik kan omval. Dit is baie duidelik dat hy iets swaar op die hart het. Goeie geselskap sal hom die wereld se goed doen.
“Wat pla dan so erg ou maat?” vra Koelemani. “Dit is daai slegte ou Jakkals wat my so ontstel” antwoord Kraanvoel. Hy vertel nou breedvoerig aan Koelemani presies wat Jakkals die vorige aand aangevang het.
“Op watter manier kan ek hom n les leer?” vra Kraanvoel wetende dat dit eintlik die werk van Koelemani is om raad te gee en vrede tussen die diere te bewaar.
“Betaal hom in eie munt terug en ek sal jou help om dit te reel” antwoord Koelemani. Kraanvoel moes ook ‘n ete gee en Jakkals en Koelemani daarheen uitnooi. Dadelik voeg hy die daad by die woord. Met sierlike vlerkslae skiet Kraanvoel hoog die lug in om sodoende vanuit die hoogtes te kyk of hy nie ou Jakkals kon opspoor nie.
Terwyl Jakkals so in die bos ronddwaal merk hy ‘n klein swart stippeltjie hoog bo in die lug. “Sowaar, kyk daar vlieg my vriend so hoog in die lug, ek wonder waarna hy soek?” praat die ou met homself. Skielik merk Kraanvoel vir Jakkals tussen die bome en met ‘n sierlike duikslag land hy netjies langs sy prooi.
“Goeie more Jakkals, hoe gaan dit met jou?” groet Kraanvoel baie vriendelik. “More Kraanvoel, waarom dan so opgewonde?” se-vra Jakkals so effe agterdogtig.
“Jakkals my vrou kook heerlike kos vanaand, wil jy nie by ons kom eet nie” nooi Kraanvoel. Jakkals neem die uitnodiging aan want hy is darem al baie honger omdat hy die hele dag nog nie ge-eet het nie.
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Vol verwagting daag Jakkals by Kraanvoel se huis op en word dadelik binne genooi. Tot sy grootste verbasing sit Koelemani ook aan die tafel. “Welkom ou Jakkals” groet Koelemani. Die tafel is al gedek en alles daarop is met ‘n doek bedek.
Kraanvoel, Jakkals en Koelemani is gereed vir die ete. Mevrou Kraanvoel neem die doek weg. In die plek van borde is die tafel gedek slegs met drie bottels met baie nou bekke. “Hier is julle sop” se mevrou Kraanvoel en vul elke bottle net in die helfte. “Ah” se Koelemani, “Dit sal lekker wees!” Hy neem die bottel en drink dit leeg. Tydsaam steek Kraanvoel sy snawel in die bottel en drink dit ook leeg. Ou Jakkals sit nou met ‘n groot problem want sy dik plat tong kan hy nie in die bottle kry nie. Hy probeer oor en oor maar verlee gee hy maar moed op. “Waarom eet jy nie jou kos nie, Jakkals?” vra Koelemani. Hy dink dadelik terug aan die gemene poets wat hy vir Kraanvoel gebak het en bly liewer stil as om sy skuld te erken.
“Jakkals kan jy dink hoe Kraanvoel gevoel het toe jy die gemene poets op hom gebak het?, jy het dit gedoen om hom te verneder. Dit was baie slegte maniere van jou. Jy sal nou maar jou straf soos ‘n man moet dra”.
Met ‘n rooi gesig van skaamte erken Jakkals dat hy verkeerd gedoen het en belowe om dit nie weer te doen nie. Almal in die bos het egter ou Jakkals goed geken. Hulle het geweet dat hy nooit by sy beloftes bly nie. Omdat hy so onbetroubaar is moes Koelemani maar die straf uitdeel.
Vanaf daardie dag af sou almal in die bos weet as Jakkals uitgaan om te gaan kos soek. Wanner hy so deur die bos dwaal opsoek na kos sal die hongerpyne hom dwing om sulke lang, treurige tjanke te gee. Elkeen naby hom sal sy huilgeluide hoor en dink aan al die kere wat Jakkals die ander diere so swak behandel het. Dit is nie net ou Jakkals wat gestraf word nie want sy nageslagte maak tot vandag toe ook sulke geluide as hulle op soek is na kos, omdat hulle Oupagrootjie so ‘n ou on-nut was.
]]>Omdat Groenmannetjie vir jare tussen die wilde diere woon, kon hy baie verhale vertel van diere en hul doen en late. Een so ‘n verhaal is die van Jagluiperd met ‘n stomp stert.
Naby Groenmannetjie se huis het ‘n erdvark ‘n baie diep gat gegrawe. Die gat kon skuiling bied aan diere wat hul kleintjies in gate grootmaak. Flitsblits, die jagluiperd het in die gat gewoon terwyl sy haar drie kleintjies, Hink, Pink en Knor daarin versorg het. Om vir drie honger kleintjies kos aan te dra was ‘n taak vir meer as een jagluiperd. Die ergste was dat een van die kleintjies ‘n baie snaakse geaardheid gehad het. Knor was gedurig besig om die ander twee af te knou en te terg. Sy streke kon soms lasting wees vir ander diere. Flitsblits het baie met hom geraas, maar ongehoorsaam het hy gebly.
Die arme ou Harmansdrup, die skilpad, moes dikwels onder Knor se streke deurloop. Sodra hy sy kop onder die dop uitsteek, gryp Knor dit vas en sleep dit oor die sand rond. Om te probeer weghardloop, was nutteloos want Knor was een van die vinnigste diere en Harmansdrup, een van die stadigstes.
Eendag nooi Groenmannetjie vir Harmansdrup om vir hom te kom kuier. Dit was net die regte geleentheid om te kla oor die gedrag van Knor. Harmansdrup wou nie meer op ‘n lang wandeling gaan nie, uit blote vrees dat hy weer deur Knor lasting geval sal word.
‘n Vriend van Groenmannetjie, Tawwetienie die Ratel, behoort te weet hoe om van so ‘n laspos ontslae te raak. Tawwetiene se plan word toe baie fyn uitgewerk. Hy en Harmansdrup soek ‘n sanderige plek uit. Harmansdrup word met rug in ‘n holte in die sand neergele. Hy steek sy pote aanhoudend uit en swaai daarmee rond asof hy probeer om weer op sy pote te rol, maar dit nie kan regkry nie.
Naby die plek waar Harmansdrup met sy swaaiende pote le, het Tawwetienie ‘n groot, swaar ronde klip gerol. Hy kruip agter die klip weg sodat dit lyk of Harmansdrup alleen en hulpeloos daar le. Nadat die twee vriende vir ‘n tyd lank geduldig gewag het, merk hulle dat Knor aangestap kom. Knor merk sy ou vriend in die ongemaklike posisie en stap nader. Eers bejammer hy vir Harmansdrup en vra onnodige vrae net om snaaks te wees. Harnansdrup smeek om hulp maar hy weet goed dat hy geen hulp van Knor kan verwag nie, hy sal eerder van die wal in die sloot gehelp word.
Knor ruk en pluk aan Harmansdrup en maak of hy hom wil omrol, maar telkens druk hy so hard as hy kan op die dop van Harmansdrup om hom nog dieper in die sand te laat vassit. Skielik hou hy op om hulp te gaan soek maar op Harmansdrup se versoek stem hy toe om nog een keer te probeer. Hy maak of hy al sy krag inspan om Harmansdrup om te rol. Sy lang stert le mooi reguit in die sand. Met een stoot rol Tawwetienie die klip mooi bo-op Knor se stert. Harmansdrup rol self om en daar staan hy en Tawwetienie en lag vir Knor wat al sy kragte inspan, maar hy kan die klip op sy stert nie eers effens roer nie. Tawwetienie en Harmansdrup maak nou of hulle die klip van Knor se stert wil afrol, maar is kastig te swak om dit te doen. Hulle sal nou maar moet gaan hulp soek en dit nogal by Groenmannetjie.
Knor is baie bang vir Groenmannetjie en smeek dat hulle liewer iemand anders moet kry om die klip van sy stert aft e kry.
Selfvoldaan stap die twee maats baie tydsaam in die rigting van Groenmannetjie se huis. Hulle is nie haastig nie, want die son moet eers vir Knor goed warm bak voordat hulle hom gaan bevry. ‘n Miernes naby die plek waar Knor se stert vassit onder die klip skep nou vir hom ‘n groot probleem. Die miere word kwaad omdat hul nes so verniel word deur Knor wat woes tekere gaan om los te kom. Klein stukkies vel word van Knor se stert losgeskeur deur die woedende diere. Die bloed loop uit die wond, maar die miere byt en knaag sonder ophou terwyl Knor jammerlik roep om hulp.
Knor kan die pyn in sy stert nie meer verduur nie en begin om om en om te rol om sodoende sy stert onder die klip te porbeer uitdraai. Sy stert draai nie onder die klip nie want die klip is te swaar maar waar die miere byt, draai sy stert wel. As hy so aanhou met omrol gaan sy stert morsaf draai. Net voordat sy stert die breekpunt bereik, kom Groenmannetjie en sy twee vriende daar aan. Knor is baie skaam omdat hy in so ‘n vernederende posisie verkeer dat hy skoon spraakloos is, hy vra nie eers dat die klip weggerol word nie.
Tawwetienie rol die klip weg en daar staan Knor uitgeput en baie verlee met ‘n stert wat nog net aan ‘n stukkie sening hang. Dit is baie duidelik dat Knor sy stert vir goed verloor het. Groenmannetjie wou die stert sommer net daar met sy knipmes afsny, maar Knor pleit mooi dat hy dit nie moet doen nie. Bleek en uitgeput kom Knor by Flitsblits, Hink en Pink aan en hartseer vertel hy sy treurige verhaal. Sy stert word versigtig verbind, maar die kans op herstel is maar skraal.
Na verloop van ‘n week het die stert letterlik afgevrot. Sulke afsterte groei nooit weer langer nie. Vir die res van hulle saamwees, sal Hink en Pink met hom die spot dryf wanneer die twee met hulle mooi lang sterte voor hom pronk. Flitsblits se kommentaar was kort en bondig, dit betaal nie om stout en ongehoorsaam te wees nie.
Toe die somer aanbreek moes al drie die jong luiperds elkeen sy eie koers kies. Dit was die begin van ‘n baie moeilike tyd vir Knor. Om met ‘n stomp stert te jag is baie moeilik want die stert word gebruik as ‘n soort stuur. Om skerp draaie verloorl Knor elke keer sy balans en verloor hy spoed omdat sy remme en stuur met die stompie nie so doeltreffend werk nie.
Noodgedwonge moes Knor vining vir hom ‘n maat soek sodat hulle saam kon jag, hy het die aankeerwerk gedoen en sy maat die vangwerk. Die lewe het darem weer sy blinkkant na Knor gedraai, maar een les het hy baie deeglik geleer, om stout en ongehoorsaam te wees en om dinge met opset verkeerd te doen, is alles die kool die sous nie werd nie. Vir sy lewe lank sl hy nou die bynaam van Stompie moet aanhoor. Hy is tevrede dat hy sy les op die harde manier geleer het maar die goeie nuus is darem dat sy maat drie kleintjies gekry het en nie een van die drie het ‘n stomp stert nie.
Groenmannetjie besluit om vir ‘n wandeling te gaan. Hy neem sy wandelstok en kies koers na ‘n gedeelte van die Bos wat baie dig begroei is met groot bome waar die sonstrale omtrent nooit skyn nie. ‘n Baie snaakse voël wat lyk soos ‘n tarentaal, maar tog nie een is nie, het vir ‘n paar oomblikke in die skadu onder ‘n boom verskyn. Groenmannetjie het glad nie geweet dat daar so ‘n voël bestaan nie en besluit dat hy navraag daaroor gaan doen totdat die geheim opgelos is.
‘n Ander bosbewoner wat graag in die donker hoekies woon, is Bosbok. Hy weet wat daar diep in die woud aangaan en die verhale word van pa na seun oorvertel tot vandag. Bosbok weet nie eers meer die hoeveelste bok hy is wat Bosbok genoem word nie.
Bosbok belowe dat hy die legende van die vreemde tarentaal-soort aan Groenmannetjie sal vertel. Hulle ontspan onder ‘n baie groot wildevyboom, terwyl Bosbok begin vertel van die tarentale. Bankrot, so genoem omdat hy gedurig roep: Bankrot! Bankrot! Bankrot!, was die leier van die swerm tarentale.
Bankrot is ‘n grys voel met wit spikkels oor sy hele lyf. Op sy kop groei ‘n horing wat baie lyk soos die van ‘n renoster , hulle kan ook baie raas, veral as hulle skrik. Hulle broei in die vroeë somer in lang gras en loop dan twee-twee, in pare rond.
In die winter vorm tarentale groot swerms. Hulle leef van insekte, sade en klein plantbolletjies wat uit los grond geskop word.
Die jong mannetjies is gedurig met kamma-tweegevegte besig, terwyl die wyfies die gepronk stil dophou. Omdat hulle selde in die bosse kom en die oop grasvlaktes verkies, is hulle aan baie gevare blootgestel.
Jakkalse en wilde katte kan die meeste pla. Snags kan hulle nie mooi sien nie en as hulle dan op die grond slaap, kan die jakkalse wat daar rond snuffel en die tarentaal se reuk kry, vir hom ‘n heerlike maatlyd vang.
Om hulleself te probeer beskerm, slaap die tarentale liewer in hoë bome en beweeg bedags in swerms om mekaar makliker te waarsku as gevaar op hulle wil toesak.
Katte kan wel boomklim, maar skrik gewoonlik wanneer die tarentale in die stil nag hulle benoude waarskuwings uiter.
Een van die jong mannetjies met die naam van Agie, het gedurig probleme gehad. Soos sy naam aandui, het sy nuuskierigheid hom meer as een keer in die sop laat beland. Hy was nie net nuuskierig nie, maar was ook ‘n regte waaghals, wat gedurig op soek was na avontuur.
Eendag kom hy op ‘n luislang af wat doodstil onder ‘n boom gelê het. Vir Agie het dit gelyk of die slang dood is. Hy stap nader om ondersoek te gaan instel. Die slang lyk leweloos en Agie trap toe ook sommer op sy kop. Soos blits probeer die slang om Agie krul om hom dood te druk. Gelukkig vir Agie is hy ‘n baie rats voël want, behalwe vir ‘n paar stertvere wat hy verloor het, het hy heelhuis daaarvan afgekom.
Van daardie dag af het Agie draaie om ‘n slang geloop, maar hy was nog net so nuuskierig soos altyd.
Soms gebeur dit dat wilde katte helder oor dag probeer om van die tarentale te vang, veral die jong voëls wat nog nie kan vlieg nie. Agie merk ‘n kat wat daar rond sluip en omdat hy goed kon vlieg, besluit hy om die kat te gaan terg. Hy het hom misreken want die kat was honger en het besluit om vir Agie te jag. Gou was Agie baie moeg en slaag net daarin om in ‘n bos te vlieg. Die kat begin in die boom klim. Hoe nader die kat aan Agie kom, hoe verder skuif hy weg op die dun tak waarop hy sit. Die oomblik toe die kat hom wou bespring, verloor hy sy balans en val van die tak af. Amper was dit klaarpraat met Agie.
‘n Breëkoparend sirkel hoog in die lug op soek na ‘n prooi tussen die gras. Die tarentale sien hom, gee elkeen ‘n waarskuwingsroep en kruip vining in die gras weg. Agie steur hom nie aan die gevaar nie en verwonder hom aan die arend wat so hoog kan vlieg.
Skielik duik die arend met sy wrede kloue gereed om te gryp op Agie af. Amper te laat koets Agie agter ‘n klip in, maar hierdie keer doen hy ‘n wond aan een van sy vlerke op.
Omdat dit gevaarlik is op die oop vlakte besluit Agie om te gaan kyk hoe dit dieper in die bos lyk. Die hoë bome, dig opmekaar , en die digte blarekleed vorm ‘n donker, vreemde wêreld vir Agie. Hy weet glad nie watter soort vreemde vyand hy te wagte kan wees nie en ook nie watter soort kos daar te ete is nie. Die roofdiere in die bos is vir hom onbekend.
Agie sien ‘n gevaarlike luiperd vir die eerste keer in sy lewe. Hy besluit om nie iets onverantwoordeliks in die vreemde aan te vang nie.
Stadig maar seker begin hy aan bobbejane en luiperds gewoond raak en in die mooi maar vreemde omgewing begin Agie dit te geniet.
Agie het later eensaam geword in die vreemde, hy besluit om vir hom ‘n wyfie uit die swerm te gaan haal en dan saam met haar diep in die bos te gaan woon. Hy raak betrokke in ‘n tweegeveg met ‘n ander mannetjie maar sy ondervinding wa thy in die bos opgedoen het, help hom om ‘n oorwinning te behaal.
‘n Pragtige wyfie het besluit om saam met hom in die vreemde te gaan woon. Gou het hulle ‘n kol in die bos ontdek waar genoeg gras groei om ‘n nes te maak. Terwyl sy wyfie broei het hy bedags die wêreld naby die nes verken en snags in die boom naby die nes wag gehou. As daar die geringste roering plaasvind, het hy luidkeels sy wyfie gewaarsku dat daar iewers ‘n gevaar dreig.
Baie dooie boomstompe lê in die bos rond. Een van die stompe was hol, en daar het Ratel sy woonplek gemaak. Ratel het die snaakse gewoonte dat, as hy aan iets byt, dan byt hy vir lewe en dood en laat nie los nie. Om uit sy kake te kom as hy eers vasgebyt het, is baie moeilik. Agie kyk in die hol stomp in en merk ‘n paar krieke om te vang. Versigtig kruip hy in die stam in, onbewus van Ratel wat waghou oor sy kleintjies.
Ratel dink dit is gevaar, spring vorentoe en hap in die half donker na die indringer. Hy voel dat hy iets raak gehap het en byt vas. Die horing op Agie se kop het in die slag gebly. Dit kraak en breek en bloed vloei daaruit. Agie probeer hom losruk, maar verniet, los wil Ratel nie. Agie begin al in die rondte draai. Die horing breek stomp op sy kop af. Hy vlug so vinniog as moontlik daar weg. Sy vere is besmeer met nat, vrot hout.
Na ‘n paar weke het hy van sy wonde herstel, die horing het nie weer terug gegroei nie, maar wonder bo wonder, in die plek daarvan het ‘n kuif van krullerige vere gegroei. Sy vere se kleur was byna swart en sy oe het so rooi en bloedbelope gebly.
Agie besluit om permanent in die donker bos te bly, want hy was skaam vir sy maats, omdat hy nou so anders as hulle gelyk het. Hy het ‘n mooi nes gebou en sy wyfie het op ‘n hele broeisel eiers gesit. Toe die kuikens uitkom en vol vere was, het hulle net soos hulle pa gelyk, rooi oe, amper swart en ‘n fraai kuif op die kop.
Die kuikens was ook net so skaam soos Agie, hulle het net soos hulle pa diep in die bos gewoon en word baie selde gesien. Tot vandag toe lyk hulle nageslag soos Agie en leef hulle in afsondering. Die mense noem hulle vandag Kuifkoptarentale
What exactly do you mean by “watching the thinker”?
When someone goes to the doctor and says, “I hear a voice in my head “, he or she will most likely be sent to a psychiatrist. The fact is that, in a very similar way, virtually everyone hears a voice, or several voices, in their head all the time: the involuntary thought processes that you don’t realize you have the power to stop. Continuous monologues or dialogues. You have probably come across “mad “people in the street incessantly talking or muttering to themselves. Well, that’s not much different from what you and all other “normal “people do, except that you don’t do it out loud. The voice comments, speculates, judges, compares, complains, likes, dislikes, and so on. The voice isn’t necessarily relevant to the situation you find yourself in at the time; it may be reviving the recent or distant past or rehearsing or imagining possible future situations. Here it often imagines things going wrong and negative outcomes; this is called worry. Sometimes this soundtrack is accompanied by visual images or “mental movie”. Even if the voice is relevant to the situation at hand, it will interpret it in terms of the past. This is because the voice belongs to your conditioned mind, which is the result of all your past history as well as of the collective cultural mind-set you inherited. So, you see and judge the present through the eyes of the past and get a totally distorted view of it. It is not uncommon for the voice to be a person’s own worst enemy. Many people live with a tormentor in their head that continuously attacks and punishes them and drains them of vital energy. It is the cause of untold misery and unhappiness, as well as of disease.
The good news is that you can free yourself from your mind. This is the only true liberation. You can take the first step right now. Start listening to the voice in your head as often as you can. Pay particular attention to any repetitive thought patterns, those old gramophone records that have been playing in your head perhaps for many years. This is what I mean by “watching the thinker” which is another way of saying: listen to the voice in your head, be there as the witnessing presence.
When you listen to that voice, listen to it impartially. That is to say, do not judge. Do not judge or condemn what you hear, for doing so would mean that the same voice has come in again through the back door. You’ll soon realize: there is the voice, and here I am listening to it, watching it. This I am realization, this sense of your own presence, is not a thought. It arises from beyond the mind.
So, when you listen to a thought, you are aware not only of the thought but also of yourself as the witness of the thought. A new dimension of consciousness has come in. As you listen to the thought, you feel a conscious presence —your deeper self —behind or underneath the thought, as it were. The thought then loses its power over you and quickly subsides, because you are no longer energizing the mind through identification with it. This is the beginning of the end of involuntary and compulsive thinking.
When a thought subsides, you experience a discontinuity in the mental stream —a gap of “no-mind’. At first, the gaps will be short, a few seconds perhaps, but gradually they will become longer. When these gaps occur, you feel a certain stillness and peace inside you. This is the beginning of your natural state of felt oneness with Being, which is usually obscured by the mind. With practice, the sense of stillness and peace will deepen. In fact, there is no end to its depth. You will also feel a subtle emanation of joy arising from deep within: the joy of Being.
It is not a trance-like state. Not at all. There is no loss of consciousness here. The opposite is the case. If the price of peace were a lowering of your consciousness, and the price of stillness a lack of vitality and alertness, then they would not be worth having. In this state of inner connectedness, you are much more alert, more awake than in the mind-identified state. You are fully present. It also raises the vibrational frequency of the energy field that gives life to the physical body.
As you go more deeply into this realm of no-mind, as it is sometimes called in the East, you realize the state of pure consciousness. In that state, you feel your own presence with such intensity and such joy that all thinking, all emotions, your physical body, as well as the whole external world become relatively insignificant in comparison to it. And yet this is not a selfish but a selfless state. It takes you beyond what you previously thought of as “your self”. That presence is essentially you and at the same time inconceivably greater than you. What I am trying to convey here may sound paradoxical or even contradictory, but there is no other way that I can express it.
Instead of “watching the thinker”, you can also create a gap in the mind stream simply by directing the focus of your attention into the Now. Just become intensely conscious of the present moment. This is a deeply satisfying thing to do. In this way, you draw consciousness away from mind activity and create a gap of no-mind in which you are highly alert and aware but not thinking. This is the essence of meditation.
In your everyday life, you can practice this by taking any routine activity that normally is only a means to an end and giving it your fullest attention, so that it becomes an end in itself. For example, every time you walk up and down the stairs in your house or place of work, pay close attention to every step, every movement, even your breathing. Be totally present. Or when you wash your hands, pay attention to all the sense perceptions associated with the activity: the sound and feel of the water, the movement of your hands, the scent of the soap, and so on. Or when you get into your car, after you close the door, pause for a few seconds and observe the flow of your breath. Become aware of a silent but powerful sense of presence. There is one certain criterion by which you can measure your success in this practice: the degree of peace that you feel within.
So, the single most vital step on your journey toward enlightenment is this: learn to disidentify from your mind. Every time you create a gap in the stream of mind, the light of your consciousness grows stronger.
One day you may catch yourself smiling at the voice in your head, as you would smile at the antics of a child. This means that you no longer take the content of your mind all that seriously, as your sense of self does not depend on it.
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Eckhart Tolle in his book; The Power of Now is to modern man, what Jesus Christ was to the early church.
I have tried to rewrite the chapter I’m quoting in my perspective, but have failed miserably several times.
The simplicity and powerful truths is handled by phenomenal insight, beautifully written and can only belong to an enlightened soul.
Question; What about emotions? I get caught up in my emotions more than I do in my mind.
“Mind, in the way I use the word, is not just thoughts. It includes your emotions as well as all unconscious mental or emotional reactive patterns. Emotion arises at the place where mind and body meet. It is the body’s reaction to your – mind or you might say, a reflection of your mind in the body. For example, an attack thought or a hostile thought will create a buildup of energy in the body that we call anger. The body is getting ready to fight. The thought that you are being threatened, physically or psychologically, causes the body to contract, and this is the physical side of what we call fear.
These biochemical changes represent the physical or material aspect of the emotion. Of course, you are not usually conscious of all your thought patterns, and it is often the only through watching your emotions that you can bring them into awareness.
The more you are identified with your thinking, your likes and dislikes, judgments and interpretations, which is to say the less present you are as the watching consciousness, the stronger the emotional energy charge will be, whether you are aware of it or not. If you cannot feel your emotions, if you are cut off from them, you will eventually experience them on a purely physical level, as a physical problem or symptom. A great deal has been written about this in recent years, so we don’t need to get into it here. A strong unconscious emotional pattern may even manifest as an external event that appears to just happen to you. For example, I have observed that people who carry a lot of anger inside without being aware of it and without expressing it are more likely to be attacked, verbally or even physically, by other angry people, and often for no apparent reason. They have a strong emanation of anger that certain people pick up subliminally and that triggers their own latent anger.
If you have difficulty feeling your emotions, start by focusing attention on the inner energy field of your body. Feel the body from within. This will also put you in touch with your emotions.
You say that an emotion is the mind’s reflection in the body. But sometimes there is a conflict between the two: the mind says “no” while the emotions say “yes”, or the other way around.
If you really want to know your mind, the body will always give you a truthful reflection, so look at the emotion, or rather feel it in your body. If there is an apparent conflict between them, the thought will be the lie, the emotion will be the truth. Not the ultimate truth of who you are, but the relative truth of your state of mind at the time.
Conflict between surface thoughts and unconscious mental process is certainly common. You may not yet be able to bring your unconscious mind activity into awareness as thoughts, but it will always be reflected in the body as an emotion, and of this you can become aware. To watch an emotion in this way is basically the same is listening to or watching the thought. The only difference is that, while a thought is in your head, an emotion has a strong physical component and so is primarily felt in the body. You can then allow the emotion to be there without being controlled by it. You no longer are the emotion; you are the watcher, the observing presence. If you practice this, all that is unconscious in you will be brought into the light off consciousness.
So, observing our emotions is as important as observing our thoughts?
Yes. Make it a habit to ask yourself: What’s going on inside me at this moment? That question will point you in the right direction. But don’t analyze, just watch. Focus your attention within. Feel the energy of the emotion. If there is no emotion present, take your attention more deeply into the inner energy field of your body. It is the doorway into Being.
An emotion usually represents an amplified and energized thought pattern, and because of its often-overpowering energetic charge, it is not easy initially to stay present enough to be able to watch it. It wants to take you over, and it usually succeeds – unless there is enough presence in you. If you are pulled into unconscious identification with the emotion through lack of presence, which is normal, the emotion temporarily becomes “you”. Often a vicious circle builds up between your thinking and the emotion: they feed each other. The thought pattern creates a magnified reflection of itself in the form of an emotion, and the vibrational frequency of the emotion keeps feeding the original thought pattern. By dwelling mentally on the situation, event, or person that is the perceived cause of the emotion, the thought feeds energy to the emotion, which in turn energizes the thought pattern, and so on”.
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