Why JeSSam?

Every name tells a story, no less the name of this historical homestead -JeSSam - now an eclectic smallholding on the outskirts of Grahamstown in the rural heart of the Eastern Cape.

At some point, for most people, life deals up an unwelcome devastation, unexpected and unannounced. These moments become pivotal points around which we turn as on a fulcrum. In due course, they may become harbours that we sail into from time to time to regroup, catch our breath and check our maps. Either that, or they remain tortured territory with unimaginable horrors too painful and bleak to bare revisiting.

So it was in the course of the tale of JeSSam. It was exactly a year to the day after the deaths of two little people, siblings, one named Jessica and the other Sam (short for Simon), that a brave and hopeful move to Grahamstown became possible, promising a new life in the wake of untold loss. 

Grahamstown was even more of a charming quasi-academic-rural settlement in the early 90's. Fresh from the big Cape city, the wild bushy surrounds held much appeal and it did not take much persuasion to fall for a rundown, rough but much loved smallholding outside the village soup bowl. 

Names were bandied about, and it took a dear uncle who had a way with words (especially anagrams) to come up with JeSSam, embodying the names of the deceased children. In time a healthy muddle evolved as the new arrivals received names with their own particular significance:  Adam - the reminder that every new life holds hands with eventual death, and Tessa - from Theresa, meaning 4th child, and boasting a wonderful anagram - Asset. Better still, people often confused Tess with Jess, and all 4 children are somehow represented and remembered in the name, JeSSam.  

Remember this :  Anniversaries      

Once       

I lurched crazily, drunkenly

    from one anniversary to the next birthday,

deranged eyes stretched with

          the madness of grief.

Each occasion offered a million reasons

          to evoke cataclysmic pain

          re-lived,   from belly-up

to a blow all over again in the solar plexus,

          reducing me to the foetal posture of a child.

Now I sail into them with surprise –

          What- here again?

A place to meet a long lost friend;

A chance to breathe and re-connect:

          A welcome harbour for re-stocking.

As life goes on, more landmarks score the route;

Pepper on life's map, like punctuation marks:

Remember this!

Liz Campbell is the sole writer and composer of all the published material on this blogsite, unless otherwise stated.

She has further blogsites:

   songs for children http://connectsongdance.blogspot.com/

   a collection of songs, poems and prose on the experience of loss, grief and recovery 

                       https://epitaph-lost-found.blogspot.com/