A Tribute to an Autumn Dawn

What an amazing sight!
The morning star glowing in the dark blue sky
A building silhouetted black against a golden glow of the sun
Deep oranage; low on the horizon, shining through the still dark trees.
The hush of dawn; the world asleep
And I look on in wonder - how beautiful is our world?

To my brother – My Hero

You and I always wanted to soar high on wings, fly to the stars, have adventures galore but you became a sailor, a police inspector and filled your dream by becoming a glider pilot and as was your wont, you became the best.

You married this tiny young beautiful child and you were enraptured for life. Then you both produced three adorable young people, Brenda, Brian and Bev. I am with you all in spirit my darlings through this sad time.

You, my brother, shared your experiences with me, and told me all about the thermals that lifted you ever higher and higher. I was thrilled listening to your hair raising experiences and when you took Mervyn, our jet ace pilot, up in your glider, you told me that he said to you. ‘Where is the b……y engine’ and you said ‘there isn’t one’ and he insisted you get him down quick! Lack of power did not suit him. My own little sky flight was that I flew a Tiger Moth with Manny, did a few loops and flew it upside down and then eventually became a mother which clipped my wings for ever in that direction. I still fly in big planes; they fly but with no help from me. Both of us wanted to be pilots and were crazy about aeroplanes. Merv beat us to it. Our Gwen, she likes her feet on the ground – slow and steady.

What I miss most of all, Der, is the communication we had – that deep sharing of minds, dreams and aspirations from the time we were little.

So few know and understand how much this impending loss is affecting me. I can only bare it by writing what is in my heart – even if you never read it I know you will know about it. I believe this piece of writing with my heart in it will transcend time and space and get to you somehow, somewhere sometime. This belief releases my feelings of total despair because we are so far apart.

When Dad died, you were only 8 or 9 years old, yet you took over and were the ‘man’ of the family. I remember you consoling Mum and singing her this song:

Mother I love you
I will work for you
Don’t let the tears roll down your cheeks
I’ll bring my wages to you every week
Mother I love you
What wouldn’t your loving son do?
You’ve worked for me a long, long time
Now I will work for you.

No one else knows how deep your love was for all of us. I do. I remember when we walked out anywhere you always took the outside position to protect us. You were the only person I held in awe and whose mind I admired - the great depth of it, the understanding and awareness. You were so like our Dad.

You protected me in school when I was 8 and you were 6 - in the Station School in Rawalpindi. You were ready to take on people twice your size to protect me – you were always my protector, my very special friend and my hero.

In Murree when I was in St Deny’s and you in Lawrence College, 5 miles downhill, I will never forget you visiting me once a month. I so longed for those visits and would sit on the school bench gazing up the driveway, waiting for you and then this little figure would appear and I would watch you until you were within ‘seeing’ range and we would beam at each other. I will never forget your smile – it had a twinkle and a sparkle. You grasping that little bar of peanut brittle that I loved and you so lovingly bought for me out of your meagre pocket money. You would never share it with me because you said it was for me.

We used to sit on that school bench, gazing at the valley below and just be happy together, sharing stories and dreams. Until you were about 14 and you ran away from boarding school. Braving the forests, wild animals and avoiding the road (in case you got caught) but keeping it in sight to guide you, you walked all the way to Rawalpindi, the long way round, got chased by a camel and eventually boarded a train without a ticket. You were exhausted and hungry but somehow you managed to make it home to Sialkot hundreds of miles from your school and shocked Mum. You refused to go back to Lawrence College.

You joined the navy and sailed the seas for a couple of years - I can’t remember how long for but for me it was too long. We were all very happy when you left the Navy and came home to us. You were still very young. I don’t remember seeing you in that uniform but our cousin does and she said that you were very smart and handsome.

Then were the happy, tumultuous years of our youth, Noel, you and I. What good times we had and what bad times when you and I were thrown out of the house and you took care of me and found us a place to live. We were so young. It was a Hindu house, deserted with food still on the table just before partition. It was a mansion with many rooms. Noel came and stayed for odd days. Whenever he was in trouble (which was pretty often) you looked after him too, even though he turned on you sometimes because you stopped him doing whatever it was he wanted to, you steadfastly maintained your cool and got him under control. You were such a loyal friend to him.

When Mum and Dad (Walter) barred Noel from seeing me, you were our messenger and ally and when I defied all and married him, it was you who gave me away. I remember that day as if it was yesterday. You were like the proud father of the bride. You were always so gentlemanly and courteous – a shining example to our young brothers. No wonder they are all so sad today. The three little Ducks as you called them.

Only you could teach a young man (Patrick) to drive in a few weeks so that he could accomplish a journey from South Asia to England in a van. He has often told us of your ‘teaching’ methods – encouragement and harsh discipline - till he was often in tears, but you got him proficient enough to make that long arduous journey. He did it and it was all due to you and the example you set him. Patrick will ‘never give in’ – your school motto. You must have taught him that.

You were so smart in your Police Inspector’s uniform, riding your power motor bike. That was always how you looked, Der, in any gear – immaculate. You still look immaculate in your pyjamas – even to the handkerchief in the top pocket! I noticed that in the pictures Brenda sends me by text. You will never look anything but immaculately dressed no matter what you wear. It is all part of you - your incredible exactitude.

I am writing this for me Der, because I can’t stand this empty space, this silence between us; you on the other side of the world suffering and me here suffering in a different way. If only we had our imaginary wings now!

I am remembering when you, Noel and I used to gaze up at the stars and you taught him and me all the constellations and talked astronomy until we were mesmerised. Noel was really more interested in what was in the ground and you and I what was in the heavens yet we three bonded. You were a navigator and a radar expert he was in groundwater exploration – a big thing at that time in Pakistan. I remember you making a radio out of some metal and wires and Gwen and I thinking you were some kind of magician who made music out of a bunch of junk! I remember those days in Kohinoor Buildings.

I have to write because this way you are right here in my heart and not thousands of miles across the world. I can bring you to life in my mind. You are still alive, only just, but in my mind you are very much alive, you are young and vigorous, riding your motor bike like a dare devil. How we three musketeers loved speed – you, Noel and I.

When the two of you had that accident on Doug Viegas’s motor bike and you were thrown yards away, Noel’s concern was for you because he was terrified that he would have to answer to me if you were injured. As it happened it was him who nearly died and you got away with a few scratches. Poor lovely Doug’s motor bike was ruined, but he didn’t even care! He was more concerned about Noel and you. He should never have lent the bike to Noel, but that was him – one really great guy.

Do you remember us riding our bikes up the bridge in Lahore Cantonments, now Defence, where all the rich live? I rode very fast in front of you two uphill and you would catch me up – by then I was breathless and you or Noel would hold my bike and push me the rest of the way. I was still always out in front!

You will meet him again, as Diane said - if he hasn’t been banished from heaven for bad behaviour! But let’s not go there yet, hey? You are still earth bound.

I pray that you are not suffering and that your brilliant mind is still able to function and that you will be there for Brenda when she comes. You and I always had mental telepathy Der. I am willing you now to be there for her. Please stay for her and give her the peace she needs to say goodbye to you. Stay just a while for her. Wait too for Brian – they are travelling the miles to be with you. You must be there for them.

You are so loved my darling brother by so many. It is not fair, you are younger than me – how dare you think of leaving me behind in this world without you. You were always my hero. How can anyone understand the ties that bind us – a life time of togetherness?

I love you my darling brother but I won’t say goodbye – there will never be a goodbye for us because you will live forever in my heart.

Panic Buying then Christmas festivities

It is all over now for another year - the Christmas holiday rush of panic buying. I can never understand it. The shops are closed for 2 days, why does everyone need 12 or so loaves of bread and trolleys stacked to capacity with other items and queues at every counter as I stand there with my two small loaves of bread and whatever other bits I manage to get. By Christmas Eve the food stores are nearly empty! Why? Why?

Good for the stores perhaps, but where do people store all this food?

I went out with my daughter to do my last minute Christmas present shopping and because it was almost Christmas and we shopped in the morning/afternoon, it was fairly quiet and the decorations and Christmas music was delightful and made for a beautiful seasonal astmosphere and for once I enjoyed Christmas shopping. So that's it - wait till it is nearly Christmas and then shop. It was relaxing and there was still lots to buy - at reduced prices too! But food shopping is something else. One just has to join the crowds for food, even if your needs are modest and reasonable - if you don't buy in time you don't get! The panic buyers have raided the shops.

Chritmas day was a delight at D & J's. Christmas is family time. We had each other. We had the most enormous, fresh, succulent turkey and all the trimmings and Christmas pudding that flamed for longer and bluer than I have ever known, mince pies and many other delights. Champagne, wine, crackers and funny games all helped to make the day enjoyable and memorable even though I missed my absent children and grandchildren but we were in touch with mobile text messaging and phone calls. Distance does not really matter when there is love and togetherness of mind.

Well done D & J and thanks for a wonderful day.


NEW YEAR'S EVE PARTY WITH TIARAS AND TUXEDOS again at my family's invitation.
Same venue as Christmas Day - only we all had to dress up and nearly all the guests played up to it. There were many sparkly tiaras, ball gowns and cocktail dresses and lots of penguins in their bow ties and dress shirts. It was a party with a difference. About 20 or so compatible guests, lots of wonderful food provided by our hosts, conversation flowed (almost a lost art now), music too, suitable and not too loud. Hilarious games, competitive with the men and fun with the gals. A wonderful night was had by one and all. Some of us left at a respectable - 1am, January 1, 2008 but I understand that more guests arrived later from other parties and the festivities continued till 5 am!

Well done again D & J and thanks for a wonderful time.

The Highlight of my day

Even though it was my husband's birthday and we had a lovely lunch with Champagne, the highlight of my day was meeting a child of four years or there about.

My sister and I were out shopping in the afternoon and we visited an exotic African store where it is possible to buy fruits and vegetables, spices etc. that are not available elsewhere.

Whilst we were checking in our groceries, being served by an African woman, quite traditionally dressed, a little boy came rushing in from the Arcade. Looking up at the lady serving us, he called, 'What is the time please?' As she was busy at the til concentrating on our groceries, she perhaps did not hear him and so I answered him, 'It is 3 pm.' He smiled and said, 'I still have time to play before I start work.'

He was cute in his dress and manner. One could see that he was a well brought up little boy and was perhaps of mixed parentage. His complexion was quite light and his eyes were brown and bright and he had the usual very short cropped hair. His whole demeanor was animated and full of enthusiasm. He was an attractive child.

I was amazed that this little mite of four years of age could possibly be concerned about time and work.

'Where and what work do you do?'
'I work here in the shop.'
'And what do you do in this shop?'
'I help my grandmother.' (The lady serving us obviously).
'Well now - that is great and what kind of work do you do?' I was totally curious at this little child's attitude and was captivated by him.
'I tidy the shop.'
'That is fantastic! Do you get paid for working or do you work just for love?'

He looked at me, slightly puzzled and spent a few seconds in thoughtful consideration, probably not having been confronted with this type of question before. He pursed his lips, cocked his head and looked upwards, contemplating my question - one could almost hear his little mind ticking, then he beamed, glanced at his grandmother and said, 'I work for love.'

I could not resist him and asked, 'Would you give me a hug, please?' He spread his little arms and I bent down and was duly embraced with a tight hug. The spontaneity of his gesture and the joy in his face sustained me all day and I continue to thank God for little children.

Helen Renaux

Why Write?

A famous writer was asked why he wrote and his answer was that he wished to 'share' his thoughts with others. He then corrected himself and said it was because he wished to be 'loved'. Is this not the desire of every human being? In this day and age when the art of conversation seems to be dead, one is inclined to bury thoughts rather than share them? It is seldom that one has the opportunity to verbally share words and ideas with others. Television seems to have killed real conversation. Nobody talks any more. Everyone is rushing around trying to keep up with life as they see it. Work, school runs, fast food or cooking, kid’s homework, house work and then feet up and television. Television - the great relaxer or just a means to fall asleep!

It is sad because conversational discussion is so much more stimulating. Flippancy seems to be the rule of the day. To me it is like hiding reality behind a mask of frivolous comments. Humour is great at most times and there is nothing like a good belly laugh to keep the adrenalin flowing, but when an interesting discussion is in full spate, an out of place flippant remark kills the debate.

Writing for me personally is a compulsion, not necessarily in order to communicate my thoughts and feelings to others but something that just flows through a pen or a keyboard. I do however want my words to be read and shared - otherwise there is no point in writing them. It is extremely gratifying to receive feed back on the written word for any writer even if it is just criticism – at least one knows someone took the time to read! Feedback is the only criterion one has to go by.

Writing for me, opens my mind and my memory. As I write, I remember things that I had forgotten and which the act of writing brings back to the forefront of my mind. With these facts now available, I can use my creativity to embellish the memories that my mind has opened up for me and make a story that is worth reading.

It is amazing how much of one’s past is clouded. Writing about life parts the clouds and one can look back in wonder at what happened to one as a child, a teenager, a young adult. Memories come flooding back, like a chain, one connects to another, opening up the past and these can then be put into words.

Writing for me opens the door to a life time of living and the many 'characters' that I have met along that path. There is so much material for stories, fictional or life writing – and so I write.

A Sunset

The sun slips down to meet the horizon,
And on its way it meets some smoky clouds…

This meeting becomes a vision of delight
As the sky and clouds take on a different hue
With colours pink, orange, gold, yellow, blue,
That flash and change turning ever bright
As the sky line glows with an ethereal light.

A sudden dimming turns our side of earth into night.
The sun has gone from this side of our globe,
To light another part of Earth, another road;
To amaze some other nature loving being
Who gazes in appreciation and sees what I am seeing?

Helen Renaux

My Impressions of Dubai

27th October 2007
A post card of Burj Al Arab and Jumeira Hotel, Dubai.

I have been to Dubai before, 25 years ago and several times passing through. This time we arrive at midnight and descending over Dubai, we see a 'city' of lights. Myriads of sparkling stars shine in every colour. So very different from 25 years ago. I think it must change every week. Its growth is fast and furious in order to keep up with the ever growing populace and demand.

R met us in the terminal building and we walk to the car park where we load our bags into the Porsche (R & E's other car is a Porsche too - 911 sports model). We drive through this 'city' of amazing architecture. Towering buildings (or burjs) in many different shapes and designs line either side of the road. The roads are wide, clean and covered with new cars. This strikes me instantly - everywhere there are new, clean and extravagant cars, mostly in white, less cleaning required because Dubai is a desert built over. Dubai reeks of money, power, success! Gold and diamonds are cheaper than anywhere else in the world.

The shopping Malls are full of the latest designer labels from every country of fashion. Every taste and pocket book is catered for. The rich can indulge themselves and the less rich too have their opportunity to buy the most popular purchases here -gold and diamonds! The Gold and Diamond Market caters for every purse - from millionairs to the rest of Dubai's visitors. The gold is all 18ct or 22ct. in yellow or white, even mixed together with rose gold, yellow gold and white gold.

We visit the Mall of the Emirates most, because it has everything one could possibly need. It also has a huge hypermarket - food and home goods.

Personally, I love Madinat, another mall - a village almost, built in pinkish stone - a wonderland of shaded lanes and outdoor souks, where one can wander at leisure through little alcoves of tiny shops and stalls, some covered, some exposed to the desert sun. One can buy just about everything here too, and I find the outdoor souk quite comfortable to shop despite the sun. In addition one can eat in fabulous restaurants at little cost, compared to UK. The food is such that it caters for all nationalities. Dubai is certainly cosmopolitan.

I love being with R & E - I find it relaxing and totally enjoyable. I have two of my granddaughters with me, though one is leaving for the UK soon, but the little one, my angel and my jewel, lives here. I am going to miss B when she leaves on Sunday.

Life is great, the sun shines every day and the weather is perfect, I am with those I love, what more can one want? It is a bit hot in the middle of the day but fine in the morning and evening. I miss my family in UK, but I will be seeing them soon and until then, I am going to enjoy every minute of my life here.

R & E are extremely generous to us and solicitous of our well being. E is a very loving and giving human being and I think the world of her. As for my son - what does one say about a little boy with a banjo (his then pride and joy) leaving the East to fly to UK with his family at the age of seven? And later on in teen age years his treasures were flared jeans and now to this successful business man of today with his new treasure - a Porsche 911? Am I proud of him - I should say so but not for his material achievements but for his dedication to his work, to his family, his integrity and honesty. To me these are his real treasures. However, he has not changed in himself much. With all he has, he is still the down to earth, sensible and sensitive person he always was. His personality has remained quite stable. Let's hope as the years go, the pressures of work, the vicissitudes of life will still maintain his sense of balance.

On our flight here, I met a lovely woman travelling with her mother, to shop in Dubai for wedding clothes for another daughter. We get to talking and I feel an empathy with her, and she comes from Lahore (my city) but lives now in Florida. As usual we discuss age, amongst other things and as usual she cannot believe I am 81, soon to be 82. I tell her what I was led to believe, that people who live in the East have more collagen in their skin and so they don't age! She laughs and says, 'Look at my mother, she is from the East and she is ten years your junior, and she looks twenty years older than you!' A bit of exaggeration, but I know what she means. Her opinion is that my youthfulness is due to a pure heart. I like this explanation better!

To make a desert bloom and prosper is a miracle in my way of thinking. The Sheiks have put their wealth, which is in oil, to good use in building Dubai, Abu Dhabi and Sharja into success cities for the wealthy but also for the workers who come here to labour. They are employed to build more tower buildings that reach ever higher into the sky. Dubai's building skyline has to be the highest in the world. The 'Burj Dubai', still in its completion stages, is the highest building in the world. Apparently it is going to be apartments! The Burj Al Arab (like the sails of a ship) is the most extravagant hotel in the world. Its helipad, high at the top of the building, was used for a professional tennis tournament. I would have loved to have been up there to see it for myself, because from the ground the helipad looks tiny.

The sea is just a few minutes away from where R&E live and the magic of the desert too is within a short distance, where one can chill in its quiet peaceful solitude and watch the desert moon glow huge and close - seemingly - and the sun setting on the horizon. These two heavenly bodies look bigger in a desert area. The desert is a magical place. It is quite extraordinary. No wonder my N loved the desert so much. He never stopped telling me about its wonders and brought home many ancient tools, arrow heads, flint knives and fossils. All given away to my children's schools. I have kept one petrified stone - it was a branch of a tree that is very heavy, I use it as a paperweight for my desk. Some fossils that he brought home were fish, insects and leaves in petrified stone, showing that the Sahara was once a sea, then a forest which finally dried up to be the largest desert on earth. Apart from drilling for oil (which was N's job) his love was to excavate fossils and flint stone tools and play golf in the sand dunes during his free time.

My visits to the Emirates has shown me why he loved the desert and tried to share it with me - now I have experienced it for myself - perhaps not the vast and wonderful Sahara of his love, but a smaller desert, the Arabian desert. This helps me to see what he found so wonderful. He always told me that the desert (his desert) was cold at night, whereas Dubai gets cooler and comfortable and enables one to sit outdoors in the morning and evening. If there were no buildings, perhaps here too it would be cold at night.

A Trip to Oman - B, C, R and I set off early one morning to visit a snorkelling resort in Oman. We arrive at the check point for Oman and find we have not brought passports! Just forgot them. We drive back towards Sharja and find another spot in the Emirates which is a good second choice.

I am amazed at the change of scene as we drive on our way there and back. Suddenly, on the horizon emerge what appears to be mountains but as we come closer and eventually drive on the road that has been blasted and built through these hills, we see that they are comprised of rock. Mountains of rock that are used for building - a never ending supply! No wonder Arabia's buildings progress so much!

Another miracle in Dubai is its ski resort. Yes, with real snow and ski slopes with lifts, log cabins and where the temperature is minus 5oC! What's more it is attached to the largest shopping mall in Dubai. One can sit in an air conditioned restaurant in a sleeveless T-shirt and look through the glass at skiers wrapped up in winter clothes not five feet away.

On the minus side, the rich manipulate the poor. There is great injustice here. What can one do to equalise the difference - nothing it appears?

Well, it is said that money can buy anything. May be so, but it cannot buy justice for the poor nor can it buy love.

Helen Renaux