Where do all the animals belong?

  Surely you must have guessed by now that this is my story. These were my experiences from many years ago. I lived them then, but remember them now. A new tale to tell for you my readers. 

***** 

    My first taste of the darker underbelly of the Africa of my dreams slowly faded and was replaced by suburbia. Dry scrub gave way to shopping plazas and gated communities. Manicured lawns and familiar fast food restaurants set my vision on its head yet again. Surely lions and elephants did not graze  through KFC's parking lot? Would ostriches bury their heads beside a mall's receiving area? And one could not imagine vultures perched atop walls with broken glass embedded into them to discourage scavenging trespassers. Where was I? Barbed wire seemed to be everywhere. It's presence bespoke anger, mistrust and violence. I wondered how much anger I would encounter in this land that held a past checkered with racial intolerances buried so deep into it's psyche. While mild, I sensed these tensions in my new-found relatives. My uncle kept his opinion in check, perhaps knowing that I might find the ingrown racism distasteful. I sensed it and appreciated it. It was such a far cry from the multicultural world I had left mere hours ago. While I chided myself to think that there were no prejudices back home, I knew that they were not as outwardly apparent or severe as here. What would I find and how would I process the differences in act and thought that I would come across? I watched the world glide by my window. Home seemed like an eternity away.

The View

As the car pulled out onto the highway, vehicles zoomed directly at them. With a sharp inhale, she clutched at the door. Heart beating madly, she blinked as the anticipated impact was somehow averted. Her battered eyes looked out the back window, then back to the road in front of them. Her uncle continued chattering without missing a beat. Breath slowly seeped back into her straining lungs. She realized that she really was in a different country now; a different world. Driving on the other side of the road was just a first for her. It was the first of many experiences to come.


While her tired brain tried to adjust to the onslaught of new stimuli, she desperately tried to follow her uncle’s anecdotes. She watched his profile as they zipped along. He had visited Canada when she had been but a very young child. She did not truly remember the visit, or him for that matter, but fairly glowed at the connection that was already there. This man was her uncle. He was her father’s brother; a link to a past that she did not know. She thrilled at his recollections of familiar places and people. She soaked in pictures of the father that had been but a word to her for most of her life. Now fresh images were forming in her consciousness. Her father was filling out in her mind and gaining flesh and blood. It was magical. It was surreal. It was just too much. A quiet tear was brushed away before it sullied her lopsided smile. She was in Africa. It was a dream she had held for more years than she could remember. Right now she was zipping through the Cape Province. She closed her eyes and listened to her uncle prattle, the noise of the car and the whizz of the surrounding traffic. It was real.

*****

When she opened her eyes again the landscape had changed. Table Mountain was still visible in the rear window, but the city had been left behind. The first of the terrain that would become so familiar started to creep in. What was surprising, was the buildings that began to dot the landscape. The red soil gave way to decrepit lean-tos with tin roofs. A few merged into many and then many more. They drove and drove and the shanties took over the world.

“What is this place?” she asked with a wave of her hand.

“Khayelitsche.” Was the curt reply.

It was indeed a shanty town. The kilometers of scabbed together “homes” were made from whatever materials could be salvaged. Barbed wire was liberally scattered everywhere. It was shocking. Poverty was not unknown back home, but not visible on such a level. There were thousands of structures, that all looked like a gust of wind or drop of rain would level them to the ground. These were people’s homes. A clarification from her uncle reminded her of South Africa’s sordid past. This community was home to a black population. Poverty was widespread. Running water was not available to most. Electricity was sketchy. Violence was a given. This was people’s homes. This was their reality. It was shocking.

The Arrival (Home)

   Blinking in the glaring sunshine, our young woman looked out at this new world. The moisture that escaped through slitted eyes now had more to do with a need for shade. Home, on the other side of the world, was leaving the sunshine for the cold embrace of winter. Here the spring rays drove arrows into already tender lids. Already there was a need for adjustment, for change.

   Sleep had continued to elude her in her jaunts. Arriving in Germany, she had tried to explore this new city a little, but lack of sleep and time changes left her thoroughly uninterested. She eventually gave up and tried to find a quiet spot to catch a little sleep. Just as she was drifting off a security guard came and shook her. He spoke abruptly in what she assumed was the German language and scowled at her. Desperately trying to bring a German word or two to mind, she tried to apologize  or ask if there was somewhere she could rest her eyes until her flight several hours later. Her stupor left her dull and she shuffled off to find another space to occupy. The flight from Germany to South Africa brought even less sleep. She had managed to  find a few hours rest in a tucked away corner that she added to the small handful from her first flight. The second flight followed moonlight and she was enthralled by the trail of the full moon as it followed her down the continent. She imagined deserts, nomads, villages held close in slumber's grasp. She was truly in a different world and it was getting closer. In a matter of scant hours she would be touching down in the land of her Father's birth. She would be meeting his brother, her uncle, and numerous family members that had been no more than fantasy a short while ago. Excitement began to seep in.

   Now she walked off the plane and down a ramp to the tarmac below. A novel experience alone, as back in her part of the world there were too many months that held inclement weather to discourage outside ventures for those not yet acclimatized. Back in Canada, she would have drifted through a tunnel attached to the stopped plane that led to the airport building proper. Not here. She followed a flight attendant who had called her name and was plunked in front of a smiling man.

   "Welcome!", he fairly shouted as he scooped the bag from her arm. Introductions were proffered with smiles and warmth. Mirth fairly sparkled in her cousin's eyes. This was in fact her cousin's husband and he worked for the airport. This was the first of her kin. Her father's kin.

   He whisked her through security with laughter and pleasantries. She blinked trying to keep up with his jovial banter. Despite her muted brain, she liked this man already. She continued to squint through bleary eyes, but was happy to be there. Before her sleep-deprived brain could catch up, they stopped again. This time it was in front of her uncle. A crooked smile pattered across her creased face. She was home.