Whilst I was trying to recover from the loss of a friend, re-connecting to my partner (a piece of paper connects us forever) dying and relocating my life, the call for Lost Connections came. Ellis Schoonhoven from the Netherlands, Nijmegen in Gelderland send this creative call for global participation, on the 25 Million Stitches Facebook page. The question what have we lost and how have we lost each other came at a time when I was unpacking 60 boxes, repacking a 100 and dishing out fabrics, wool and more to people in Touwsriver who needed fabric.
Although I connected fast with Ellis via Facebook or so I thought it was interesting that Afrikaans and English were taken already and then when in crisis choose German, but it was also selected. Well, here we live in South Africa and I can choose from so many other languages, which pleased me no end. I chose Sestwana and Sesotho. But then I needed to find meanings, symbols and what our country means to me. In this journey of learning discovering and engaging with what it is we really are all about, we were already deep into lockdown. As in days of no people visiting, bits of emergency shopping and isolation.
The Lost Connections took on such a powerful construct in my life and then the night came that my dear and very sick life partner left. I was very lost, trying to console those who needed it and then realised that life is so hard crashing into us as a family. The tears just could not come as it was not tangible, we decided that we were going to do this together, he will go and I will be with him but all the permissions needed was just not playing along. And off course it is complicated, but that was our promise to each other and I really wanted to be there with him.
So weeks followed doing all the important things, decisions choices, wills, letters and more. Not what I wanted to work with, not what I was hoping to achieve with my time. Searching for languages is powerful, and has so much meaning and the circle of 32 cm was easy to embroider so was the languages, Zulu, Xhosa, Sestwana, Sesotho found themselves on the cloth in no time, but then it was Shona, Yoruba, Hindi, Chinese or one of the many dialects, Swahili and it filled my days with letters wonder and much meaning. As I stitched in gold thread which I found in my mothers cupboard, my own boxes unpacking again, the threads acted so differently not at all what my hands and needles were used to. Gold thread is hard, it breaks, and it tears, stretches and pulls the linen cloth. Like life.
I found our symbols on the coat of arms, something I have never engaged with…nationalism worries my no end…but the elephant tusks found their way onto the cloth, a symbol of strength, the golden wheat symbolises growth and fertility, the triangles which acknowledges craft whilst in most circles despite our protest is a direct nod to women, and the ‘Unity in Diversity’ in San language. The protea was already taken by the Afrikaans cloth (and already beautifully delivered to Nijmegen) and I decided that I do not need the diamonds in my live.
The red pencil I used to write and draw with decided to bleed into the white linen, and days of soaking just changed it into pink. It was like my own wounds just washed from my hands and needle into the cloth. I re-stitched every single letter again to hide the pink. I found new golden thread and searched for beads around De Doorns. In a small town it is remarkable how people reach out to each other and I forgave my heart and head all the previous stories and wrong words of small places. In the end a small piece of netting beaded like a doillie from so many cultures and tradition in our country found a space in the middle of the cloth.
With much trepidation I stitched the last stitches and then the sense of loss returns like a tide and sweeps your feet out under you. No words and songs from Eric Clapton helps. I listen to my father’s music on his computer in his office when I need to write and he has from Jazz to Eric Clapton, Ry Cooder and Handel. It helps to connect the lost notes, it helps to make the spaces in-between less painful.
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