Penny Haw
Penny Haw was born in Pietermaritzburg in 1963 and grew up on a dairy farm in the Lufafa valley (as featured in Alan Paton’s novel, Cry The Beloved Country) near Ixopo. She attended Ixopo Primary School and Ixopo High School before studying at Rhodes University and the University of KwaZulu-Natal (Pietermaritzburg). After graduating, she moved to Cape Town where she has lived and worked as a journalist and editor ever since. As a freelancer, Penny focuses primarily on business writing with most of her work appearing in Business Day newspaper, where she was also a columnist for several years.
Set in the Lufafa valley and based on the true story of her maternal grandmother’s life with a vervet monkey and a menagerie of other animals, Penny’s first book was published by Penguin Random House South Africa in August 2017. Nicko – The Tale of a Vervet Monkey on an African Farm is an illustrated (by Petra Langner) chapter book, which, while written for children (eight to 12 years old), has established a firm following among animal lovers of all ages. It has already been reprinted.
Independent reviewer of youth literature via the Bookchat Newsletter, Children’s Book Network and Book Choice on Fine Music Radio, Jay Heale reviewed Nicko – The Tale of a Vervet Monkey on an African Farm as follows:
“Oh, what a pleasure! Light animal anecdotes, told originally by Alice Kirk about the very mixed family on her farm in the KwaZulu-Natal Midlands, recalled and retold by her granddaughter. Nicko the monkey grows up amidst assorted dogs, kitten-littering cats, a duiker, joined later by a wildcat and a baby polecat (they do – and he didn’t). Full of common sense and understanding: ‘Animals are always loyal and loving … The only things animals require are love, food, exercise and adventure.’ Adorned by soft pencil drawings, which catch character and expression deliciously. A gentle delight to read in this modern world of violence, racism and lack of friendship.”
Based in Hout Bay, Penny continues to work as a freelance journalist and editor, and is also working on a novel – again set in KwaZulu-Natal – which she hopes will be published in the not-too-distant-future.
Website: https://pennyhaw.wordpress.com/about/
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/NickoMonkey/
Twitter: @PennyHaw
Extract from Nicko – The Tale of a Vervet Monkey on an African Farm
Having befriended Bobcat when he first arrived at Rivermead, Nicko was very comfortable around cats. He loved them, particularly when they were kittens. Whenever Bobcat had a new litter (she was a prolific breeder), he was the first to announce the news. Several times over the years, I awoke to find Nicko in my bed with a newborn kitten, still damp from the womb. I’d return it to Bobcat to lick clean and Nicko would sit impatiently by, waiting for the opportunity to pick it up again. He spent hours sitting with the mother cat and her offspring, lifting the newborns one-by-one to cuddle and kiss them. His adoration was tireless.
‘Tugh, tugh, tugh,’ he’d coo, as he nuzzled their tiny heads with his lips, nestling the balls of mewing fur under his chin. Later, as they grew older and more agile, he’d tickle their tummies with his fingers as they rolled playfully about on their bed.
Bobcat was unperturbed by the attention Nicko showed her kittens – sometimes even grateful for it. Occasionally, she’d take advantage of his watchful and cosseting ways, and leave him to nanny her babies while she enjoyed a much-needed break from motherhood. One day, however, the monkey broke her trust.
Bobcat’s final litter comprised just three kittens. She was getting older and we decided her mothering days were behind her. She deserved a full-time rest. When the kittens were two months old, no longer suckling and ready to go to their new homes, my sister, Lillian, who lived on the neighbouring farm, arrived to fetch the two I’d offered her. It’s always sad to say goodbye to babies born on the farm, but I knew they’d live a long and happy life with Lillian and her family.
As I waved them off, I noticed Nicko peeking around the corner of the kitchen with a look of concern on his black face. When I turned to walk back into the house, he scampered ahead of me into the kitchen to the box where the remaining kitten – due to be collected by a neighbour the next day – was snoozing on a blanket with her mother. I didn’t think much of it at the time and went off to collect my hat before heading out to work in the vegetable garden. When I walked back through the kitchen, I noticed both Nicko and the remaining kitten were gone. Still, I was unconcerned. It was quite possible they were playing elsewhere in the house or even outside. I left the house untroubled.
It was only when I returned to the kitchen about two hours later that it dawned on me things were not as they should be. It was unusual not to see Nicko for so long. Inevitably, he popped up wherever Stompie, Mary and Smiler were and, usually, they were with me. Indeed, they’d been in the vegetable garden with me for the past couple of hours. What’s more, the kitten was also nowhere to be seen. I looked around and began calling. Bobcat appeared, but there was still no sign of Nicko or the kitten. I went outside.
‘Nicko. Nicko, where are you,’ I shouted, standing on the lawn in front of the house. ‘Come on, Nicko. Where are you guys?’
It was then I heard the kitten crying, ‘Mew, mew, mew.’ The woeful call was coming from … the roof! I looked up and there they were. Nicko was perched on the gutter with the kitten firmly wedged under an armpit. He glared at me angrily as the tiny cat wriggled unhappily. The penny dropped. Nicko was furious with me for giving the other two kittens away. He wasn’t going to let me do the same with his remaining kitten. He was determined to keep it away from me.
Bibliography
2017. Nicko – The Tale of a Vervet Monkey on an African Farm. Cape Town: Penguin Random House South Africa
Independent reviewer of youth literature via the Bookchat Newsletter, Children’s Book Network and Book Choice on Fine Music Radio, Jay Heale reviewed Nicko – The Tale of a Vervet Monkey on an African Farm as follows:
“Oh, what a pleasure! Light animal anecdotes, told originally by Alice Kirk about the very mixed family on her farm in the KwaZulu-Natal Midlands, recalled and retold by her granddaughter. Nicko the monkey grows up amidst assorted dogs, kitten-littering cats, a duiker, joined later by a wildcat and a baby polecat (they do – and he didn’t). Full of common sense and understanding: ‘Animals are always loyal and loving … The only things animals require are love, food, exercise and adventure.’ Adorned by soft pencil drawings, which catch character and expression deliciously. A gentle delight to read in this modern world of violence, racism and lack of friendship.”
Based in Hout Bay, Penny continues to work as a freelance journalist and editor, and is also working on a novel – again set in KwaZulu-Natal – which she hopes will be published in the not-too-distant-future.
Website: https://pennyhaw.wordpress.com/about/
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/NickoMonkey/
Twitter: @PennyHaw
Extract from Nicko – The Tale of a Vervet Monkey on an African Farm
Having befriended Bobcat when he first arrived at Rivermead, Nicko was very comfortable around cats. He loved them, particularly when they were kittens. Whenever Bobcat had a new litter (she was a prolific breeder), he was the first to announce the news. Several times over the years, I awoke to find Nicko in my bed with a newborn kitten, still damp from the womb. I’d return it to Bobcat to lick clean and Nicko would sit impatiently by, waiting for the opportunity to pick it up again. He spent hours sitting with the mother cat and her offspring, lifting the newborns one-by-one to cuddle and kiss them. His adoration was tireless.
‘Tugh, tugh, tugh,’ he’d coo, as he nuzzled their tiny heads with his lips, nestling the balls of mewing fur under his chin. Later, as they grew older and more agile, he’d tickle their tummies with his fingers as they rolled playfully about on their bed.
Bobcat was unperturbed by the attention Nicko showed her kittens – sometimes even grateful for it. Occasionally, she’d take advantage of his watchful and cosseting ways, and leave him to nanny her babies while she enjoyed a much-needed break from motherhood. One day, however, the monkey broke her trust.
Bobcat’s final litter comprised just three kittens. She was getting older and we decided her mothering days were behind her. She deserved a full-time rest. When the kittens were two months old, no longer suckling and ready to go to their new homes, my sister, Lillian, who lived on the neighbouring farm, arrived to fetch the two I’d offered her. It’s always sad to say goodbye to babies born on the farm, but I knew they’d live a long and happy life with Lillian and her family.
As I waved them off, I noticed Nicko peeking around the corner of the kitchen with a look of concern on his black face. When I turned to walk back into the house, he scampered ahead of me into the kitchen to the box where the remaining kitten – due to be collected by a neighbour the next day – was snoozing on a blanket with her mother. I didn’t think much of it at the time and went off to collect my hat before heading out to work in the vegetable garden. When I walked back through the kitchen, I noticed both Nicko and the remaining kitten were gone. Still, I was unconcerned. It was quite possible they were playing elsewhere in the house or even outside. I left the house untroubled.
It was only when I returned to the kitchen about two hours later that it dawned on me things were not as they should be. It was unusual not to see Nicko for so long. Inevitably, he popped up wherever Stompie, Mary and Smiler were and, usually, they were with me. Indeed, they’d been in the vegetable garden with me for the past couple of hours. What’s more, the kitten was also nowhere to be seen. I looked around and began calling. Bobcat appeared, but there was still no sign of Nicko or the kitten. I went outside.
‘Nicko. Nicko, where are you,’ I shouted, standing on the lawn in front of the house. ‘Come on, Nicko. Where are you guys?’
It was then I heard the kitten crying, ‘Mew, mew, mew.’ The woeful call was coming from … the roof! I looked up and there they were. Nicko was perched on the gutter with the kitten firmly wedged under an armpit. He glared at me angrily as the tiny cat wriggled unhappily. The penny dropped. Nicko was furious with me for giving the other two kittens away. He wasn’t going to let me do the same with his remaining kitten. He was determined to keep it away from me.
Bibliography
2017. Nicko – The Tale of a Vervet Monkey on an African Farm. Cape Town: Penguin Random House South Africa