Eish! London 1 - 2 April

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APRIL

Wednesday, 1 April 2009

The new tenants have now moved into my old flat. It was a mission to find them. You wouldn’t believe the odd and entertaining characters that came to check out the place. My Mom and I settled on a clean, healthy looking young couple who seemed like they wouldn’t be having any wild parties and weren’t too obese to climb the set of stairs to the top of the block. Thankfully they also know the area and understand that they need to be aware of their security. It’s part of the African experience! (I was having nightmares that they would phone and complain about the paint fumes, but they didn’t. Thank goodness!)

Thursday, 2 April

The stress! Two big bags that won’t fit everything in! Clothes scattered all over my Mom’s lounge. Scale on the floor. 20kgs? My entire life into 20kgs? Impossible! Pack, weigh, unpack. Repack, weigh, unpack. Repack. Re-adjust. Cry. Stress. Breathe.

Scale. Enough! Toss. Open bags and toss stuff out. Empty more and more. Breathe.

Walk away. Go and have a cup of tea!

Whilst sipping, I check my diary for what I need to do when I get to London.

I glance at the mess on the floor and the tiniest half full bags in the world. Sip tea. Breathe. Put down the diary. Breathe again and head back to try and pack… repack. Weigh. Unpack. Repack. Exasperated and Over it!

The bare minimum seems to end up in the still overweight bags, and if I have to pay excess, then I have to pay excess. Finish and klaar! The left over stuff gets squashed into the spare room cupboard’s last empty square millimeter of space; and that’s the end of it.

I check all my travel documents:

Insurance – check, plane ticket – check, passports – check, forex – check, documents for the sale of my car – check, and documents for teaching agency interviews – check.

ID for voting – check.

I take a long bath and go to bed.

Friday, 3 April… The morning

The most difficult farewell of all: Mom.

The car was packed with all my stuff and a spare bag for my night in Johannesburg.

I had my portable CD player for music, padkos (travelling food) and cash for tolls and petrol. Time to say good-bye. Time to leave.

So difficult. So very very difficult. Everything safe, all my comforts, all the easiness of history and understanding, all the support of family and friends, everything I was leaving behind became apparent in that moment of take-care. Which words could I use? If there were any, they were only getting stuck somewhere between thought and emotional chaos and the dry rock that had lodged itself in my throat.

A long hug. A knowing nod. A brief, sad, supportive, smile from the lady who has always told me: “You can do it.”

Holding back tears, I need to go, I don’t want to…

“Don’t you dare cry.” She says as her voice and eyes a brimful of emotion that begin to overflow. How could I not cry? How could I not release the love and emotion that was overwhelming me? Our tears, our love, overflowed.

“I love you Mom.”

“I love you too.”

We let go.

I drive away.