I should have left a lot sooner, left when I had the chance all those years ago. I should have left before my ties were broken, before nothing remained for me to love except the memories. I no longer feel tied to this land, the soil, the bush or the beaches. I no longer feel Africa in my veins. I remain here only because I cannot leave and take my daughter to build a future elsewhere.
I spent my youth traveling around the globe, yet always returning when Africa called. The land of your birth ties you to it like an umbilical cord connects you to your mother, even after birth. Now it is severed. I have not had life threatening experiences in this country nor have I endured the terrible fear that so many have had to carry with them, yet I still drop to the ground when I hear a fire cracker or when a car backfires. I still obsessively check that the house is properly locked before bed and aimlessly wander the rooms at night, switching lights on and off to show whoever is watching that, I too, am watching... and waiting.
I remember exactly when I knew it was time to leave. I was at OR Tambo International and had just entered the airport after a trip to Zanzibar. It felt like I had walked into a solid wall of stress. My shoulders automatically drew up and hunched, my head started aching, I grabbed desperately at my hand luggage and grasped my passport. I no longer felt safe. A cold snake of fear slithered down my spine and as I went through passport control, I vowed that one day I would not be coming back. This was no longer my home. That was in 2017.
The next day I started with research. Ireland was at the top of my list for two reasons. Firstly, it had always held a mystical fascination for me, and secondly, I had family there. My aunt and uncle had lived there for many years but had returned to South Africa. After my daughter was born my aunt had tried repeatedly and unsuccessfully to get my husband and I to move. Now, here I was, 49 years old, single mom of a then 10 year old, investigating which countries were open to giving us a home. I failed dismally on any country that required a point system due to my age and lack of finances. I still had no idea if my ex was going to allow me to make the move with our daughter, but, as with most challenges, I look for solutions before I present the issue. I had to have a plan that made sense and was practically possible. I whittled the list down until at last the only option left was Ireland. Easy peasy, lemon squeezy! South African passports won’t be that much of an issue. People like us Saffas. I have a Bachelors degree in law, I had 13 years of experience as a compliance officer in financial services, I was Head of Compliance for a group of eight companies… they would be clamouring to give me a critical skills employment permit. My profession was on the Highly Eligible Skills List, research showed that Ireland had a gap in being able to fill senior management positions due to the movement of young professionals looking to outside of Ireland to build their careers.
There is an old African proverb that says: “If you carry the egg basket, do not dance.”
I sent out my CV and sat back to wait for all the offers! Hahahahaha! There can be no arrogance in this journey. About two months in, no phone calls or offers, I was told about a Facebook group called South Africans moving to Ireland. I joined and started to learn my lesson in patience and humility. I also learnt that no matter how much research I did, there is always a need for a reality check and more often than not, a need for support. The group can’t do the hard work for you, they can’t get you the job but they can point you in the direction of help – with your CV, why its best to approach companies directly, why LinkedIn is important, what government departments to research, what documents you need. The list just gets longer.
What we as South Africans don’t seem to realise is the value of education in Ireland. Most people have a Master’s Degree as well as a string of other qualifications. As I started really using LinkedIn, I realised that although I was well qualified, I had to be at least equally qualified, if not more so, than the Irish job hunters. So, at 50 I had to start studying again. I started by joining the Professional Bodies – Association of Compliance Officers Ireland and Institute of Banking Ireland - and researched all the qualifications they offered. I decided on the type of job I wanted and looked at job specs to see what they were looking for. I chose the Professional Diploma in Compliance which was offered by IOB but awarded through University College Dublin. The fees took a huge bite out of my savings but I believed that the investment was worth it.
The IOB required me to write exams in Ireland which I knew would decimate what was left in my bank account but decided to use the opportunity to really explore and immerse myself in Ireland which was the best decision I have ever made. I studied for the whole of 2019, writing two exams in May and again in September. In between I explored by bus and train and hire car. My thirst for this beautiful country was huge and I drank in Ireland. Not just the Guinness but the scenery, the people, the lifestyle. I took my daughter with me in September and we spent more than three weeks having adventures. After my first September exam I took her to the Gaiety Theatre to watch Riverdance. As we sat in that beautiful theatre and she told me about her day with our cousins, she turned to me and said: “Mom, I feel like I am finally home.”
The studying was hard. I work full time, I am a single mom and my work hours are arduous. The cost of paying in ZAR took a greater toll with each payment as the currency steadily weakened. In December, as I stood on that stage to receive my Diploma, every sacrifice was worth it. My daughter and my cousin, Tracy Gravett, were there to support me.
When I started studying, I decided to discuss the situation with my ex. I didn’t want my daughter to lose her Dad but I knew I couldn’t stay in a country where there was no future for her. To my delight and surprise, he was totally in agreement. Before I finished my sentence he agreed and said he would sign any paperwork necessary for us to leave. The paperwork just to take her out of South Africa on holiday is a lot and incredibly arduous as her Dad lives not only in a different city but a different province. Every document requires his original signature. Getting her passport in 2018 took months as we could not be at the same DHA. We landed up having to do the application twice before he was able to sign in a different city. I can only imagine how difficult it would be to be in different countries when signatures of both parents are required for school applications or visas. We have decided that the best way forward will be for him to give me full custody of our daughter. This will allow me to sign authorisations and documents without his consent. I am truly grateful for the sacrifice that he is willing to make. I am currently working on getting an official court order giving me full custody. As with many relatively simple process, Covid has made this task beyond difficult with courts closing and the bureaucratic wheels turning slowly.
None of us could have anticipated this virus. None of us could have known the world would totally shut down. So much preparation was required before I could have thought about leaving. These are not however the reasons I should have left sooner. I want to feel Proudly South African. I want to feel like Megan described in her Blog. I want to be excited and sad about leaving. I am not and I don’t. I don’t feel like this is my home. I wanted my child to grow up here in South Africa, in freedom and equality. I wanted her to know the joys of riding bikes in the streets with your friends, to walk to school without an adult, to play in the front garden or to go for a walk on the beach. I wanted her to feel safe, to be a child, to walk with her friend to the corner café and come home when the street lights came on. But she cannot venture out of the house by herself, she can’t ride a bike or take a peaceful walk on the beach by herself or with me. We no longer have constant electricity, our city is out of water and has been taken over by gangs and drug dealers and traffickers. Everything I fought for 30 years ago has come full circle. I have learnt on this journey and in my travels that ‘overseas’ people do not understand. I have learnt not to ever use the situation in this country as the reason I am leaving. I have learnt never to discuss politics or opinions with anyone not from South Africa and never on the group. We stand together as a community and I will not discuss anything that may harm or flag this group of people so desperately looking to start a new life and build a future. I would pack my bags and leave tomorrow. I would never look back. I would miss friends and family but in essence Covid has already taken them from me. As I sit here writing, I am sad. Sad that I won’t miss the country of my birth, sad that I am not Proudly South African, sad that we never were the Rainbow nation.
Each time I have visited Ireland, she has dressed in her Sunday Best. She shows me sunshine with gentle rain. Each step out the door is a treasure hunt as she proudly displays her treasures and history. I know that my experiences will differ when I live under her flag but I have seen and felt and explored her magic and it will always paint the undertone of a life as a chosen Irish citizen. My journey is not yet done and is in fact not even certain. I may never get to Ireland and that CSEP may forever elude me. I may never have to feel guilty that I don’t feel sad.
Important links:
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