Get me to 21. Gabi Lowe
my brother, was by now happily married to the wonderful Margo, whom he had met in Johannesburg while I was living with him. They, too, had two young kids and our families spent a lot of time together. The cousins adored each other. Tayla, a year younger, hero-worshipped Jen. She followed her around everywhere; it was too sweet to watch. Nic and Kristi, on the other hand, were born only 10 days apart, and soon the pair were dubbed “Double Trouble”. They were mischievous and infuriatingly cute, particularly when together. Mud pies ended up in the washing machine, lipstick on the duvet cover and tadpoles in the bath, while Jenna and Tayla played “fairy, fairy” in the garden and Margo and I resorted to a glass of wine while we made supper. When Craig and Margo sat us down to tell us they were emigrating to Australia, it was devastating news.
I was so grateful that by then both Stuart’s sisters had returned to Cape Town. Ali with her son Matt (six years older than Jen) had just moved back from Durban, and a few years later Shirley, with her daughter Natalie and son Kola, returned from Johannesburg. The entire Lowe family was now together in Cape Town. Three decades of marriage later I no longer call them “in-laws”; they are my siblings.
Jenna and Kristi spent loads of time with their cousins Matt, Kola and Natalie and family braais or large gatherings were regular events. Every day, when Stu came home from work, he played for hours with his girls. In summer the favourite game was “dolphins”, which really just meant hours and hours spent swimming with Jen and Kristi riding Stu’s back as he dived like a dolphin to the bottom of the pool. Sometimes they rode bikes until past sunset while the dinner turned cold on the table. Stu was the Pied Piper … all the kids, friends and cousins loved to spend time at our house and play with him. They still do!
Eating together as a family every night became an important ritual for us. We encouraged the girls to participate, to practise and develop the art of conversation. There was always open dialogue in our house about a wide range of topics; nothing was taboo.
Birthdays were a big deal in our home. I’ve always been a believer that if you don’t celebrate life, it won’t celebrate you. So, following on from my family’s traditions, birthday mornings in our home began with singing and cuddles. I would carry a tea-tray, decorated with flowers and cards, to the birthday girl’s room, where we would all jump onto the bed together singing “Happy Birthday” and then open prezzies together. Ali is also a big lover of birthdays, and so in the evenings there would always be a family gathering with an exquisitely set table, thanks to Ali, and time spent with all our loved ones. The girls loved it, but even so, it was an odd quirk of Jen’s that she always seemed, for no apparent reason, to experience some sadness on her birthday. She didn’t like getting older and had a sense of loss that another year had gone past. That didn’t make any sense to me at the time, but remembering it now makes my heart ache.
Medically, Kristi was now far less at risk, and I started to slowly grow my business. I had a much larger office outside the house but was still able to be totally present for my girls. I worked hard to keep the balance between the two just right. Stuart, really focused and motivated, was approached by a much larger publishing house and started as their circulation marketing manager, before moving up the ranks to become publisher of their biggest title, CAR Magazine. A few years later, he was appointed CEO of the business. Stu was really flying. I was watching him tackle complex business challenges with great leadership and a strong strategic vision. He was stepping into his full potential both in business and as a husband and father.
Through the uncertainty of Kristi’s condition, Stu and I had remained and become even more of a solid and loving team.
CHAPTER 5
The Magic Bissie Tree
One afternoon in 2002, when Jenna was eight years old and Kristi five, the girls spent the afternoon 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.