Cry My Beloved Country

 

img_5087
Beautiful Cape Town
img_5089
My University
img_5091
The drought bites hard
img_5090
Fees must Fall protests
img_5093
Protests become violent
img_5092
Share the Joy- Desmond Tutu : admired and loved by many

Cry my beloved Country – Alan Paton 1948

I have found it difficult, this time, to write about this Home. It was easy to write impressions and feelings of the other countries – I had no emotional history with or high hopes of them.

But South Africa – the country of my birth, the place I still think of as home.

This visit is painful –

Of course there is the usual ‘craziness’ of this country- driving off the freeway at Turfontein on a Sunday morning I am confronted by Bakkie (read ute) stopped diagonally across the exit – no wheels ; just sitting there (not sure for how long past or into future 😂) so that if one wasn’t concentrating (well actually if you weren’t concentrating you wouldn’t have made it this far on a Jhb road 😂) you too would find yourself stopped on the exit; with your nose (bonnet) well dented.

The story of trying to leave the airport where lifts fail, ticket machines won’t take your money and at each attempt to pay increases the amount due by R20😜
until my parking ticket was R175 instead of R25 and still it refused my money or card and finding someone interested enough to help!

The garage attendant still offers me a broad grin and happy conversation; the beggars still crowd round my car each time I stop anywhere and now the faces are truly our rainbow nation whereas in the past they were monochromely dark.

Woolworths still tempts the eye as it has always done with an array of food like I have never seen in Oz.

You still have to stand in line at the post office and bank forever and you don’t ever want to have to query a rates or lights and water bill – none of us will live long enough to get it resolved 😜

But now there is something more. As I sat in church today Alan Paton came to mind. I haven’t read that book since I was at school – don’t really recall the details – but again I hear people
‘Crying for their Beloved Country’
2016.

This is a country in pain –

a country whose leader will let his people sink, drown ,die; All his people to preserve himself.

A country that seems to be turning on itself – youth destroying universities -their vehicle to economic freedom

Black students attacking the very white students who fought for their equality : the most violent threats that I won’t repeat, made to fellow students.

Respected public figures being muzzled, charged on vague accusations.

There is a groaning and a feeling of ‘end times’ that is immensely sad and frightening.

And then there is the ‘normality’ of life which continues, as it must, I suppose. The conversations around our tables go back and forth, concern, shoulder shrugging, hope, despair.

And, as an ‘outsider’, sitting in on this I remember a very old movie : Ship of Fools (1965) and a line from it ; Rhulman, “There are one million Jews in Germany, are they going to kill us all?”

And I’m not sure why it comes to mind, but like Alan Paton’s Cry the Beloved Country – something in me has shifted being here this time, and I can’t find the optimism and joy I used to see.

Add to that the severe drought –

this country feels like it is in pain –
real gut wrenching pain

img_5088

“Home”

Adieu to an interesting part of Africa

And so the end of an amazing and exhausting adventure and Home beckons

‘Home’ to friends who mean the world to me and know me to my core and still chose me. I thank you all from the bottom of my heart.

“Home is where the heart is”, is for me, too simplistic.

Perhaps there comes a time when one must just accept – ‘Home’ isn’t always there for everyone. Fate conspires for many, and quite arbitrarily it seems, to confound the idea of ‘Home’ – whether through physical loss or rejection .

When we look at returning to the old ‘Home’ or staying in the new, Lady Macbeth comes to mind : ‘Returning were as tedious as go o’er’; so we end up with a foot in each camp – a wobbly somewhere.

Precious memories and links to our old ‘Home’ that keep us chained by a golden thread and special loving kind friends in our new ‘Home’ where we try to create memories that are spun too of golden thread – all very fragile.

I see it in my girls, in quiet moments when the earth is still – a certain look, a longing to ‘belong’, to be part of the rituals of a ‘Home’ – celebrations, mournings, laughing, weeping. I see it and I know it – it’s been my search too.

The joy of seeing my special ‘old friends’ will always be tempered by the knowledge that I must say good bye to them again

And That sadness will be softened by the knowledge that I will see my daughters and my new dear friends

And still we’re luckier than some – I met some Rwandans who have no threads at all – who got married with strangers celebrating with them – who could not go back to visit old friends and who have to start new traditions – alone
And that’s just for starters ….. Syrians, Somalis, Iraqis, Afghanis, seems
Home is certainly not available to everyone 😥 so perhaps in this life it must be after all wherever the heart is, pending the next place of rest ❤️

Thanks Uganda , Rwanda and Kenya for a great experience

Always a ‘last visit’

img_5109

img_5110
Livingstone- my companion for a week
img_5111
The open air snake pit 😃
img_5112
Poor soul – tried to mount her(?) several times, always falling off, always in slow motion

Last visit in Kenya – could have spent more than three hours here – very interesting;
Early man – “Lucy” Leakey etc

Colonialism – so interesting to read the story from someone else’s perspective – treatment of locals after they joined our forces in WW1 beggars belief

Joy Adamson is referred here – a remarkable artist apart from lions

Natural history – so interesting

Snake park – very sadly neglected
Two highlights of it in photos 😜  7/10/2016