PURSUED – PART ONE
Old identities dissolving; new ones not yet fully formed.
In Chapter 1, childhood memories—hilarious, sad, and painful—blend with the imprint of Oudtshoorn and the fast-paced transition from the 20th to the 21st century.
Chapter 2 recounts a vivid encounter with Yeshua at age 24, with more visions and an epic rescue shaping my understanding of God, even as my marriage unravels by age 50.
In Chapter 3, the anguish of divorce exposes Dissociative Identity Disorder, revealing eleven personas, each carrying pain and survival strategies. Honest conversations with these fractured selves and with Yeshua lead to deep healing and integration. Faith emerges as both anchor and catalyst.
Chapter 4 reflects on affirming encounters with God, and a growing sense of wholeness. I embrace the paradox of living on cultural fringes—between languages, races, and spiritual dimensions—yet finding strength in the uncertainty of old identities dissolving but new ones not yet fully formed.
From the pages
CHAPTER 1
I am 16. Time to go through catechism and be confirmed in church (‘katkisasie’ in the Afrikaans NG Church). But, oh dear, I’ve missed child baptism!
My mom became disillusioned with the NG Church when I was a baby, and joined the Seventh Day Adventists who ‘did’ adult baptism. Then, disillusioned with them, she gravitated back to the NG Church…. The point is, I missed out on baptism, either way.
So here I find myself, on my knees on the sitting room linoleum floor, and the minister (‘dominee’) is three times tapping water on my forehead, saying: “In die naam van die Vader, die Seun, en die Heilige Gees” (In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost). And I’m thinking, what the heck, may I lick the water dribbling down my face? This is ridiculous, may I get up now?
CHAPTER 2
1999 unstoppably became 2000.
And while fun-loving humans devised wildly creative plans to spend those special midnight minutes ticking over to a New Year, a New Century, and a New Millenium, the digital world faced a scary possibility—the Millenium Bug.
Most computers at that time only used two end-digits to designate the year. But now, with the turn over to a new century, computers might read 2000 as 1900. And chaos could erupt across the world. Statistics, records, transactions, birthdates, banking systems, power plants, factories, airline bookings, every possible aspect and system that has a time measurement could malfunction—which has the financial and political world shaking in their boots. Frantically, IT boffs devise patches and workarounds to crush the Bug.
The crossover from 11:59, 31 December 1999 to 01:00, 1 January 2000 goes without a noticeable IT ripple. However, I have a more turbulent experience.
Chapter 3
“Mommy, my legs are long and I can run fast.” And suddenly, as Lanette and I are sitting on the couch, this one stands before me—a leggy 12-year-old, with long, red hair, flaring wildly around a vivid face. This one is vibrantly Alive!
Marjorie: Ookaay! Who are you?
Margarita: Jesus and I run together on the beach. He plays ball with me. I’m not afraid of anything. When something wants to hurt me, I just run. Nothing can hold me. I climb high, or I fly, or swim…
Margarita: Mom, there’s someone you need to meet. She’s called Hiding-with-Dread. We’re twins but very different. Her feet are set in cement; mine don’t touch the earth.
Marjorie: Does she want to talk? Will she talk to me?
Margarita: I’ll ask her, Mom. She’s been mute for very long. Maybe she’ll write. She wasn’t always mute. Long ago she cried. But she was silenced. And then she didn’t make any noise anymore. She tries to be invisible. For ages only I knew about her. She thinks that if she is invisible, YOU won’t get hurt. But she keeps getting hurt.
Chapter 4
My friend, Bonita, has a jute mat; it’s coiled and woven in concentric circles, extending wider and wider. It’s an image of something that I got to understand—how society dances.
My epiphany: How had my husband and I managed to connect from different sides of the spectrum? It dawns on me slowly. So, back to Bonita’s circular jute carpet:
At the close center of any social, ethnic or national group, are the ‘high priests’ of that group-culture. They are passionate, blinkered, and choose not to see beyond their own group identity. For them, nothing else exists—to the point of extreme rejection and animosity of the ‘other’.
In ever-widening concentric circles from that inner sanctum, people orbit, with a corresponding loosening of the cultural identity and loyalty. On the outer fringes, are the Fringe-Dwellers.
watch & listen
