Love

For most people their stories start with a song – a lyric that make them think of a particular event or story.  A friend of mine told me, that in every part of his life – he’s got music, most of it filled with Smashing Pumpkins.

For me, all my happy memories start with one song: Yori Yori by Bracket. 

It was in 2011 when I stepped off a plane at 03h30 in the morning – when the wave of heat hit me, I realized I didn’t really know what I was getting myself into.  I was in Tanzania, a place I later fell in love with.  The people, the history, the palm trees next to the highway...  I’d taken a leap of faith with the trip, it was my first trip and inspired by a friend of mine who told me about Zanzibar, one Saturday morning at work (who knew working over weekends could be this good to you?) She ended her story with: “Why not just go?”

It took me 9 months to save up and plan my trip. But any place new, at 03h30 in the morning, is kinda scary.

Days later, Id met a couple of young men, all of them fairly new in the country – they’d all moved from India to Tanzania for work.  For them, the other side of the world.  We went to the beach one night, all 6 of us squeezing into one taxi.  Yori Yori started playing. And continued. Turns out the taxi driver also really liked the song.

I remember I looked out the window as we were passing the ocean, thinking that I couldn’t be any happier.  This was my adventure: carefully planned, saved for over months and as I found out later, the traveling bug had bitten me. 

The party on the beach was great: had beer, watched a glorious African sunset, danced.  Laughed at the guys. 

I remember my first trip like it was yesterday, because to me it’s the place I fell in love with.  I fell in love with the laughter, the sincerity of its people, the way each day was grasped & filled with energy and dreams and life.  The spirit of people I think of as my own. 

I fell in love with Africa and will spend my days exploring every inch of it, because of how amazingly resilient the people are.

Wish

I wish I could make you understand that I've put in everything
I gave
I learned about you:
             Your culture
             Your language
I grew to love you
I grew to hate:
               my whiteness
               my religion
Because you didn't want it.
But I get to live under an African sky
Filled with hope
My friends
My God
And me,
As you left me

Today

Today I am hopeful. Hopeful for my dream to come true, hopeful to see the world one day and hopeful for everyone who isn’t.  Earlier in the week I wasn’t hopeful, I was thinking about what it would be like when I’d finally be able to walk away: on my sitting couch, with incense in the background – I must admit, I’ve thought about it so often, I have it all planned out: with lists, action plans & budgets. 

But that night I received a message from a close friend of mine, a picture of her & her husband with a blackboard which had the message: ‘now it’s the three of us’.  My heart skipped a beat.

They’ve been trying to conceive for a long time, like a really really long time.  She gave up her favourite dessert wine from Stellenbosch – which is fantastic and can only be brought on the wine farm - to give her body the best chance to become a mother.  It didn’t happen, even after tests, doctor visits and fertility treatment.  I called my mother right away, as my mother & I have been praying for her.  My mother prays.  She prays every morning, on her knees, like the picture we all know from the children’s Bible.  She prays with dedication, love and honesty. She never stops praying.  And we prayed for Lisa to become a mother.  It happened.

I realised that miracles happen, long after we expect them to.  Long after we’ve made our plans.  For Lisa & her husband it’s a miracle, but for me it’s a sign to not give up hope.  To still believe.

To be hopeful that when I get to walk away it will be to something great: for happiness, for adventure, for my heart and with the enthusiasm of an 8 year old.