The ugly truth. The hard, real fact is that despite the political and economic chaos that is our country, almost all of us will say “I love my country. I love it to the core of my soul. I miss that land, the sand, the sky and the nature.”
Having not returned to SA in near on 4.5 years and having focused so much on making our life in Ireland a good one, I sit some days in quiet contemplation, and remember what we have chosen to leave behind. Being born in SA was a privilege. Growing up in that mad crazy time of change came with mixed emotions. I knew I was always going to leave Her, from young I knew. I finished school, I finished University and I left. Went to the UK for 7 years, but she called me back, I re-married my ex-husband, and we finally were blessed after many years of difficulty to have our two incredible children. I knew again, when I first saw my miracle boy, all red faced and partly red-haired, feisty, but sensitive, I knew I was going to leave Her again. When I saw a few years later my precious girl, that we could not stay. I had to protect them and had to give them a better future, no matter the cost on our own lives. SA is Her. She is in me and my thoughts more often that I wish her to be.
Moving to another country in your 40’s when life has just got comfortable, is NOT easy. Moving when you have 2 little ones in tow, is NOT easy. Starting from the bottom of the ladder again, is NOT easy. But we did it. And I count my blessings every day for everything we have here in Ireland. I love Her too. I will do a Part 2 of this Blog. But this one is about the woman I miss. Africa.
So, we sit in our wonderful life in Ireland, and this evening as I write this, having watched a promo video from my husband’s old high school, with aerial shots not only of the school, but of our home town, Pietermaritzburg, panning across the sky I’ve known almost all my life, my heart breaks. I tease my husband relentlessly about being a “college boy” having gone to an ordinary school myself, I don’t understand his pride in that school he went to. However, his school is where his grandfather, his father and his uncles, his brother and his nephew all went to/ go to. He wanted nothing more when our son was born to go to the same school. He has sacrificed one of his dreams for our kids. Yes, we can argue back and forth all night over a bottle of wine the future of SA schools, no matter what type of school, and no matter the education system. But there is something to be said about comradery. The ethos and the spirit that almost all of us had to some degree in sport or academics growing up in a SA school. Almost, not everyone, I am aware. Quirky bunch aren’t we?
As I sit here watching summer come to a close in Ireland, I remember it spring in SA. I smell the flowers in my memory. I hear the arrival of new birds in the garden as the spring brings the migratory birds back. We had a mating pair of Purple-crested Louries that would come back each year and nest in the massive Stinkwood tree that sat dead centre of the lawn.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZfAwFPanPdg
As I hear this call sound, the tears roll down my face. I’m back there. I’m on my verandah and I can see and hear them. My heart breaks. As spring just turns up the gas oven in PMB and that valley would roast, and I mean roast, as summer came in. I hated that heat. The sweat rolling off you. Shower and 5 minutes later you would need another shower. Doing all your daily tasks taking into account the time it takes to sit in your car and wait for the aircon to work so you could touch the steering wheel!
But that heat had a pay-off, you knew, 2 or 3pm if you looked across the horizon, the big clouds would be rolling in. Dark and scary and full of danger. Your phone would ping, the insurance company warning you to park your car in safety, hailstorm coming.
Most storms would just be a welcoming relief. Sit on the verandah with a drink and wait for the smell as those first big plops of rain; they hiss as they hit the hot tar. You could see the steam rise as it happened. The big arching lightning illuminating a dark ominous sky, and then BOOOOOOOM! Thunder loud enough to make you “kak jou broek!” The orchestra of sounds and smells and wind and light and swirling and water and flooding across the verandah and rivers would form in the garden and then mud rolling into the swimming pool and you knew… you were alive! Every sense was awake to the full chaos of the storm. Beautiful! But hey! When Mother Nature gets sufficiently annoyed, she could rip your roof off and leave dents in your car from hail the size of golf/tennis balls. And of course, the electricity would go off for several hours as some old transformer blew and who knows when we will get phone signal back! But, nothing, no words can explain to someone, no matter how many YouTube videos you watch, or amazing photos can actually beat sitting there in that, experiencing it all in its glory! And when I see Irish hail... I giggle... oh so cute!
And then there’s the events. The family braais, long smoky afternoons with kids in pools, bright red sunburn and alcoholic beverages flowing and music and chatter and laughter and the serious rugby chats and the political debates… all just us. Us and our people. The people we love. Them next door or down the road, the people we skinnered about, it was always a little gossipy or “keeping up with the Jones’s” comparing cars and bakkies and Tv sizes! But hey, that was us. The inevitable dancing when the alcohol had flowed too much, and the braai had still not fed us and those Simba’s had not soaked it all up! You know what I mean. I know you do. Because not matter where in SA you came from, we all did the same thing. Cricket, Rugby, Soccer, Comrades, Duzi, Two Oceans, Swimming, Surfing (and I show my age if I label that the Gunston!) Athletics, Olympics… oh jeepers… I can be here all-night listing them all… did we need an excuse? To see the sport, drink beer with pals and have a braai?
From there, to nature. Take yourself in your head to your favourite wild-life spot. That place that makes your heart sing. The views, the sounds, the animals, the smells… if I say to you explain the smell of a Lapa… you can’t… but I bet you can smell it in your head? A thatch hut out in the bush. A crackling fire. A dawn game drive to see which of them you can spot! Everyone becomes a photographer then! I was a photographer and was blessed to have spent time with some of the best wildlife photographers in the country. I got to spend time in nature with the silence. Only the peep, click of the camera. Watching Lammergeier on the wing in the Berg. Breath-taking. Humbling. Early morning mist off a frozen lake in Kamberg. Autumn colours of the fields of the berg. Watching crocs hatch peeping out of their shells. Catching bees gently hover over a sunflower or cosmos. Catching a Zebra mouth wide open haw-hawing or the intensely South African sound of a Fish Eagle
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i4Y22KyyvAw
Ah, the beauty of our land. The sweet memories of crashing waves on a beach and the long sweet yellow grass on the hills.
But now with Covid, we have been jolted. Many of us who are already in Ireland have experienced more than ever the real distance between Ireland and SA. In fighting those dark silent moments of depression that many of us felt in the heart of Covid, the fear of what has happened to our world. Our small world in our homes trying to explain this to our kids, the bigger world of our changing little cute Irish villages where we can’t go for a pint and globally the whole planet in economic turmoil and madness! Many thousands of miles away from familiarity and comfort, we cried alone. Many of us shared the fear on Zoom and Skype with our isolated lock-down families abroad. Where normally an overnight flight unites us. We have experienced life shattering things.
Apart.
Far away.
Mothers and daughters unable to say goodbye properly before it’s all over. Sons and Mothers parted by death unable to have a Eulogy or to throw soil into graves or ashes to the wind. Fathers and sons, brothers and sisters, Aunts and Uncles, best friends… gone without our usual ceremonies. Some of us have suffered diseases alone without the hug of a Mom and Dad to keep us strong. Some of us have suffered agony and pain. And the distance has made it way harder. The hard, ugly truth of immigration. The separation.
And there, there is the realization of the cost of all of this thing called Immigration.
Another cost, is our kids, particularly the little ones who move before they knew Her, Our Africa.
They won’t know why a national anthem can reduce a big 6-4 foot giant of a man to tears as he stands in pride for his team.
They won’t know why having a Shongololo roll up in your hand isn’t gross, its as cool as heck and if it poops it’s a bonus! And why flying ants can be eaten!
Our kids have different lives ahead. They have lives of safety ahead. They have lives of education, acceptance, opportunity, and equality ahead of them. They have no excuse not to thrive when we tell them of the hardship of our old lives, how we lived behind 6 foot walls and razor wire, why having a car-guard was a thing, why you avoided the cash in transit van if it appeared at the petrol station, why women don't drive alone after sunset, why approaching a traffic light was like throwing a dice... just a teeny few reasons we left!
I hope, more than anything they learn through us. That in their blood, that same country’s soil flows. They learn the pride; we share the experiences and we hope to travel back to see it.
There are benefits and joys of immigration. They far outweigh my sad tale here.
But tonight, the quiet reflection of Covid and the end of Summer has brought me to count my own costs. This week saying goodbye to someone I couldn’t say goodbye to. And realizing my kids didn’t know someone so lovely, because I took them so far away.
I hope this doesn’t hinder people moving, that is not the intention. The reality is, that this is the romantic view of SA, and that the hardship and fear outweigh the beauty most often in our lives there.
Perhaps those of you there can take this as a reminder to take stock. To make sure you appreciate those last rays of SA sun as it dips behind the horizon in all its unreal splendor. To hug your Momma. To pay special attention to that Aunty you hate phoning cos she drones on and on and on. To take a deep breath of your Oupa when you kiss him on the cheek. To mentally photograph that sunset and record its sounds and smells in your head. You will want to replay all of it soon enough.
Night SA. Night Ireland.
Important links:
#MapMyMove- Our coaching Services - Confused or lost and need some direction, book a session with us to help untangle the confusion and work out your route of immigration
Steps to take in the Immigration process
Checklist of things to do before you leave South Africa
Bringing Non EU family to stay if you have an Irish or non EU passport
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