Enter the Samil

   I stood on the edge of a growing group of people. Naude encouraged me to talk to someone, but I hung back not quite ready to commit myself to the adventure I had signed up for. A black and white striped truck stood central to the waiting cluster of people. Two men stowed the adventurer to be’s bags in cubbies under the seating area; one a young white man heavily tanned from many days spent in the sun and the other quiet individual, black as night. My eyes moved from these two strikingly different men to our mode of transport. The vehicle was nothing like I had ever seen let alone ridden in. My home for the next two weeks was a Samil truck or overland cruiser. I suppose it was akin to an army transport truck for human cargo. It was big. There were bench seats facing each other in the back, with nothing but air and the height of the monstrous tires to protect us. Bulging rolls at the top of the windows appeared to be flaps for protection from the elements, if necessary. While I hoped it wouldn’t be, I wondered if those plastic flaps would give any protection from the animals that the brochures promised we would spy. Not likely.

   The truck appeared to be able to hold twenty people, but thankfully there were not that many milling about. I wanted to meet people, but was not keen on being over-whelmed right off the hop. By the looks of our guide and his assistant, plus the smiles on some of the faces around me I suspected that true adventure was upon me. The group was made up of a couple in their late forties, another in their early fifties, two young women (sisters) that appeared to be in their late teens or early twenties, another couple in their twenties, a tall blonde man in his late twenties or early thirties, a single young man, a single young woman and myself. We picked up another woman in her late twenties farther down the road to complete our band of adventuresome amblers. We were a diverse group collected from Austria, Germany, South Africa, Switzerland, USA, and of course Canada. With a final farewell bade to watching friends and family we all clambered up into whichever seat took our fancy. Our guides Karel and Masters swung into the front cab and with a rumble the truck was alive. With my passport tucked close to my body and a smile playing across my lips I waved Johannesburg goodbye. The next stop, Nata Lodge, Botswana.

Butterfly kisses

Today sunshine filled my heart and I overflowed.

I needed to give back to my little ones.

I choose a piece of the summer that hints at arriving back in our world sometime soon.

We followed winged flight to water's roar

all to my girlie's delight

and to mine.

Delicate ruffles on flitting wings of fire's sky

Eyes demand attention

as they feed on nectar of summer's gold.

Around another bend your russet wings charmed me

and her also.

 Tattered souls were given time to rest,

but ours pushed on

to see a wonder of the world

in our own back yard.

Before setting sights on home

and bed

for it has been a long,

long day.

Fate

   I woke up to a sun-filled day in a new part of the world. I had briefly touched down in Johannesburg for a short layover before continuing on to Cape Town upon my arrival in South Africa. I had been awed by the purple landscape that grew in front of me, as jacaranda trees in full bloom seemed to cover the city. It was beautiful from the bird’s eye view of my little airplane window. I would only be in the city for a few nights now, before heading out for my overland tour though, so whatever images I could retain were fleeting.

   The plan for the day was to go pick up Naude’s wife at the airport, before heading out to Sun City. She had been in Italy on a business trip and was returning early this fine morning. I received a perfunctory bowl of cereal and then we were out to the car. It was not exactly a glamorous start to the riches that Jo’burg offered, but more kin would be added to the growing list of relatives. I soaked in all that the speeding vehicle’s window offered before we pulled into the parking lot at the airport. We headed inside and stood milling about with a large group awaiting their own arrivals. Naude chatted away about his wife and step-children, Johannesburg and his version on the politics of the country. I too added stories from home, but then paused.

   Naude saw me staring into the crowd and said, “ what are you looking at?”

“There is a person over there that looks like someone I went to highschool with,” I commented.

“Go and talk to her,” he exclaimed peering into the crowd.

   The odds of standing in the middle of the Johannesburg airport and spotting a familiar face from a home thousands of miles away were very slim.

   I shook my head and said, “It can’t be her. What would she be doing in South Africa?”, but I did continue to peer in her direction. I could not get over how familiar this woman looked. It couldn’t be her though. I turned back to my uncle and we continued our conversation.

“Katherine?” I heard called out.

   Oh my God! Familiarity was true.

“Miki?!” I shouted with excitement and surprise.

   We rushed over to each other and hugged each other with disbelief.

“What are you doing here?” I asked.

“My brother is flying in to meet me,” she explained. “He has been in England, but we made a plan for him to come here and travel around South Africa together.”

   I was floored. She was waiting for her brother. He was flying in from England. I was waiting for my cousin’s wife. She was flying in from Italy. They were on two separate flights, but yet coincidence had both flights arriving at around the same time. I bumped into a high school acquaintance on the other side of the world by the sheer luck of timing. The coincidence did not stop there though. Miki introduced me to her travelling companion. It was a young Africaaner she had met while touring around Europe.

“Where are you going?” he inquired of me.

   I explained that I was headed to Botswana for an Overland tour in the morning. Then it was my turn to ask of their destinations. They were headed down the coast and planning to arrive back in Cape Town closer to Christmas.

“I will be back in Cape Town at Christmas as well,” I said.

“Whereabouts?” he inquired.

“My Aunt and Uncle live in Brackenfell,” I replied.

“Oh ja, whereabouts?” he inquired again.

   I was impressed. He knew the suburbs of Cape Town.

“They live in Protea Heights”, I said.

“Oh ja, whereabouts?” he asked.

   Ok, now I was getting freaked out. He knew the town, subdivision and now was asking for their street! And you know what? He knew exactly their street was as well. It had gone past coincidence in my mind. Now it was fate, kismet, destiny even! I was flabbergasted.

   As Miki’s brother had arrived, followed shortly thereafter by my cousin’s wife, we quickly hurried up our conversation. We exchanged phone numbers and addresses amongst the throng of people now jostling towards luggage carousels and gave a final hug goodbye. It was incredible to have met Miki so far from home and I knew that our destinies were to mesh again. For now though, other excursions were planned. A smile followed me out the door as we headed back out into the Johannesburg air once more.

of course!

"you turn me into somebody loved..."

   The lyrics fade away (hear below: The Weepies) and I smile. A tender smile that sneaks into my heart. I believe that. Today sunshine's rays have crept behind my eyes. I see the world through Spring's hinted arrival. It may be a literal arrival, but I am arriving too; a little. Somehow today I feel loved. Anyone in particular, you ask. Not really. A tender friend that called last night just to say I haven't seen you in a while and I miss you. Silly Facebook games that let me know that people think I am worthy of two seconds of their time. Sometimes more. I cross people's minds and I see that. It may just be a random thought for many, but it takes on bigger status in my world today. For so long, I have only been able to see through my eyes and I only see me, my pain, my struggles. I go through periods and epiphanies, but knowing that people care means I matter.

   Shhh, shhh, shh, let me talk! I can  hear the "of course!"s from here. The point is that I have not seen through other people's eyes, only my own. This of course is not solely today's epiphany. I have been travelling the road of my redemption for a while. It is a big task to save myself from me and I have struggled with it. You may not understand, but I have been my own worst enemy. Not today though. You want to know why? As the lyrics faded in my ears, the smile was for me. As I sat with someone who has listened to many of my turmoils over the last two years, she looked me in the eye and said I was fixed, better, normal. She likes me and respects me and it means more because I believe her, this woman who I met in a professional setting. She called me strong, but not in the patronizing way that comes across from those who don't really know the meaning of strong. I met her eyes and smiled. For me a huge feat, as eye contact has been excruciating at times; windows to the soul and all. And why did I smile? Because I agreed and because the person who turned me into somebody loved...

was me

Jo'Burg Jaunt

   Despite suggestions by Weppie of flying to Johannesburg, I loaded up my backpack and headed to the bus stop. He made promises of cheap flights with the connections from his job at the airport, but I wanted to see the countryside, if only from the flight of an Intercape Mainliner. I waved goodbye to Uncle Jock and Aunt Elsa and settled into the posh seats of the double decker luxury bus. We were offered beverages shortly after we left and I was introduced to coffee the African way; sweet and white. No questions of how you took it (I was used to black at that point, so almost choked on first sips). The chicory blend had nothing on Tim Hortons, Canada’s national coffee emporium. If I wanted a coffee, I had to suck it up though and learn to get over it. It was a 15-hour bus ride and Timmies was nowhere in sight. The South African landscape was what was on offer and I had no choice but to sit back and enjoy the ride.

   While I did thrill in the adventure of finally being single, mobile and free, the bus ride quickly lost its appeal. The red soil of the surrounding countryside fascinated me, as I could not mesh the idea of crops growing in it, versus the rich brown humus of home. Soon enough my mind’s eye was focused on the future though. I shifted my weight from butt check to butt check and imagined what Botswana would hold. Flyers of Victoria falls in Zimbabwe lay across my lap, as I gazed into the pictured possibilities in my head. Eventually my tortured posterior gave up caring about tomorrow and the adventures that would unfold and screamed at me to get over the adventure of today. With Johannesburg finally coming into sight, I breathed a sigh of relief for cramped muscles. The bus ground out a final goodbye and with the applying of brakes gave blissful release into my cousin Naude’s waiting care. I would spend the next few days with him toodling around and even getting a chance to explore Sun City. Sadly, I  found even more barbed wire in Johannesburg and many heavily gated communities. I did discover their savoury pies though. They came in a multitude of flavours, like our chicken pies back home, but also spinach and feta, cheese, pork pasties and a delicious assortment of others. The most important event of my time with him though was a trip to the airport to pick up his wife. A surprise that I never would have anticipated was to greet me with unforeseen consequences.