Excerpt from Chai, Tea & Ginger Beer

I'll never forget one such hike in the Drakensberg. After hiking 11 km alongside and up the mountain, storm clouds started to gather around us. It was obvious that a storm was brewing. Dad and Mom cut lunch short without even having their coffee. We knew something was up  - perhaps, we were in for an adventure? Martin was beside himself with excitement!

A classic Natal summer storm had rolled unexpectedly over the mountaintop and was closing in on us like an unwelcome intruder. Dad told Martin to go slower and stay with us and Cathy and me to move quicker. Big heavy drops began to fall and within minutes we were drenched. We kids thought it was wonderful fun, but I could see Mom was anxious and watched the direction of each and every lightning bolt.

Dad had grown up in the mountains of Lesotho and knew only too well that with a heavy downpour like this, a small mountain stream could transform into a raging river in minutes. We had crossed a small stream on our way up, and we had to get back across it before it became something bigger. We picked up the pace, Dad leading the way with Martin close behind him. Cath and I were in the middle and Mom brought up the rear. For the first time ever we moved together, at the same pace and in silence.

Eventually we arrived at the river. 'Whoa, check this out!' shouted Martin. The river had indeed turned from a trickling stream, where earlier we had filled our water bottles, into a gushing torrent.

It seemed the river was rising as we watched it. There beside the river we held the shortest family 'pow-wow' of all time. Only dad got to speak this time, giving quick, stern instructions. We were to form a human chain, tightly linking our hands and arms. Dad would go first, us kids in the middle and Mom behind us. No matter how strong the water got, we needed to hold onto each other. The strength was in all five of us not breaking the chain.

We linked arms and began to make our way into the river, walking slowly sideways. With each step we waited for Dad to first get his footing. At one stage the water was up to my brother's waist; I think by that stage his excitement for the whole adventure had dissipated somewhat. My sister was strong, stronger than I ever thought she could be, stronger than she believed herself to be.  She held tightly onto my one hand, and my brother held onto my other hand. Mom and Dad talked us through every step, calmly telling us that we were doing great, we were nearly there and that together we could do it.  And, we did.

That night around our small campfire, exhausted but warm and dry, we talked about our adventure. After supper, Mom brought out chocolate and handed Dad a cup of coffee. Dad, as was his way and his gift, used the time, the place and the experience to teach us. That night he talked mainly about family.

What makes a family work and how a family works. He reminded us what strength there was in our human chain of five, with arms and hands firmly clasped together. Not even the strength of that rising river to overcome us. I liked that. I thought it was a very clever way to cross a flooding river-or anything for that matter. Arm in arms, secure between your family.

This was my childhood. Simple yet highly satisfying, Dad always encouraging us onward and upwards to whatever was over the next rise, even when he didn't know. Mom behind the scenes making it all happen, down to the smallest of details. They both used every opportunity along the way to teach us life's lessons. As for Cath, Mart and I, we just did what kids do. We played in the garden tossing stones, building forts and without even realising it, growing strong roots.

(See interview: The innings behind a good partnership)