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.

22 and life

   Once upon a time, a young woman sat waiting for the call. Eyes downcast, she poured her heart into the journal on her lap. Tear drops dried on the page as she wrote. Hugs received moments before still wrapped themselves around her soul; arms warm with their remembrance. Bittersweet moments to carry into days to come. Adventure traded for letting go of tarnished love.

"First boarding call for flight # ^<~> to Frankfurt, Germany..."

   Her bag was stuffed under her chair and looped around her ankle. While travelling, always be more cautious. You never know who you are going to run into. Strangers might steal your purse, bags or heart. My Father learned that the hard way. Canada was the last stop on his tour before heading home. My Mom put an end to his travelling days. Heart stolen by love, they were married within the year. That story is for another day though.

   This afternoon, the young woman was jetting off to find her father's roots that so long ago had been settled far from his first home. Germany was a transit place for her. The main destination was Africa. A place of her dreams and wonder. What would she see and do? Would she reconnect with the lost pieces of her childhood? The excitement could have been palpable. She wrote of what she should be excited about. The hugs that were fading around her held sorrow in their wake though. A difficult love to leave behind. One that was necessary. Tears still fell and would continue. It was time.

   When her section was called she joined the queue. People shuffled forward pushing boarding passes in front of them. She was leaving behind her home; her life. She wanted to; had to, but ice stabbed into a swollen heart. She found her seat and settled in for the journey. People bustled about on the tarmac. She watched, but saw a lover's eyes staring through her. All night those eyes watched her as she flew through inky skies away from him. Sleep teased and gave her comfort for a few scant hours. Mostly she watched the midnight sky. A full  moon was her guide to a new life. Adventure had begun and she could not close her eyes to the experiences that were bright in front of her. Africa awaited ...

The wind blows through the pages of my map book; destination unknown

Hmmm, a road trip whispers. Different time. Different Places. Different van. Same gaggle o' galoots. I am interested. A small smile creeps into the corner of my thoughts. Good timing. Good people. Good vibes. Yes. Now to make the thought take flesh and fly. Something to work on...

The Eyes in the Mirror

Look into the mirror.
Look.
Do you know what you are looking at?
Do you know what you are looking for?
  If you dare, stare into the eyes that stare back at you
Can you do that?

I ask me.

Deep, deep into pools of yesterday
Deep, deep into soul
  deep into me

I have looked and seen
   failure
     mistakes
        guilt

I have looked away

tears sliding down dark cheeks
too many demons there
no eyes
just memory

Today a woman stares back at me
some days she is familiar
she smiles
she is pretty.

some days I wonder how she can be there at all
How did she not float away?
ride on a wave of grief
out of the world,
off the edge of the mirror
into someone else's memory.
How?
Indeed.

And yet this morning I got up
and she was there
every day she is there
Phenomenal
yes.
she is there.