Pinot, Bretzels, and Cathedrals

Have you, as you have become older, noticed yourself changing? I’m not referring to your appearance- grey hair, crows feet and sagging bellies are almost inevitable. No, I’m talking about who you are, the things that make you tick, your reading list, your opinions, your goals and aspirations.

As I write this, I realise the daft-ness of my question. Of course we change. Education changes how we interact with one another. It changes our opinions- we no longer think the the be all and end all to life is maths and science (mostly in my case because it never was).  Careers help to mould us, as we don’t necessarily work with like-minded friends, and we open ourselves to conflicting personalities that we might never have chosen to socialise with.  Marriage and parenthood changes us. We basically stop wearing tight fitting shirt t-shirts bought from music concerts listing the tour dates and venues in favour of linen dresses that are cool and classic because you know you’re going to have to carry a bag and can’t be shoving your wallet and phone into your jean pockets anymore. Nor can you blast twangy indie rock music from the speakers in your car or have a mid morning lie in, only to reach for your book and wile the afternoon away with your nose buried in lazy smut, or challenging Booker Prize list genres.

Travel for pleasure or purpose changes us. Moving away from everything we have ever known and by experiencing life from a whole other perspective also changes us.

I started writing to you here in this form less than 5 years ago. The first 2 years were easygoing- I had new experiences every day, and writing was a lovely way in which I could release the fear of being away from everything that was familiar. I loved being able to be lyrical. I was able to make light of the situation here- trying to explain to a pharmacist that I needed medicine for a chronic bladder infection or speaking in 3 languages in a shop because my head was somewhat confused about where I was (border frontier life was still new and exhilarating) or simply photographing the food and buildings and things that I imagined the French were patriotic about (not necessarily to become one with, but to force myself to see what was going on around me).

Then Mom passed away and I think my writing became full of grief and it has begun to lack something to captivate people. In terms of writing to portray our lives in a new country, I would say that the reason for my writing has also changed. Aside from seasonal newsletters, there is nothing new here anymore. Just more of the same day to day-ness.

I have a handful of half written blog-posts not published which are written about home and South Africa that I feel it is no longer my place, or rather more specifically, wasn’t ever my place, to write.  I believe that you don’t  get to have an opinion about the country that you’ve turned your back on, even if we haven’t really turned our back on it, but have chosen to broaden our horizons.  It’s because of this that I haven’t posted up every “I lament the state of South African racism/politics/hatred”  piece I’ve typed up, but neither those rejoicing the unity and positivity and hope that really and truly bleeds from her bergs and beaches.  (I have friends here- French, German, Americans, who have travelled to SA and have returned with the most admiration for the country that they don’t understand why we’re here).

Getting back to my original question, how does this all tie up? Have I changed, and how have I?

With the current manner in which we read our news, it is obvious that this is an area of the biggest change. Each and every person who interacts on social media these days has in a sense become a journalist. Granted, I use that term with talcum powder loose abandon, but the truth of the matter is anyone who wants to, is able to write vitriolic filth and for most of the time, they get away with it. Hah. It’s occasions like these where I wonder truly about freedom of speech and the press.

I, for one, have landed myself in a sticky situation for being derogatory, for being labeled classist, for having racial tendencies. When you’re acting as you would normally have any other occasion, it’s no wonder we get offended, when we really believe we’re not any of those, but what we don’t realise is how our actions are seen from somebody else’s perspective.

Europe seems to be, for the most part anyway, mostly devoid of racism, and while it is a thing here, the class barrier is by far and large the bigger division noticeable. The world across has divisions in the same vein, class, wealth, religion (sadly), and race. South Africa, naturally, falls into the latter.

There is a veritable field of discussions that can be had, how the current minority feel hard done by, and how the majority also still feel hard done by.  I personally can’t deny that we may have felt on the other side of what we thought we had a right to.  Maybe we wanted surety of a guaranteed university entrance in time, or to simply have the ability to just take an overseas holiday without forking out bucks for visas, and having to prove your worth to some exclusive First World country?

Meanwhile, from another perspective, the idea of even arriving at a primary school for basic education without having to walk 15 kilometers precedes my whimsical wish for guaranteed uni-entrance. Not to mention overseas holidays.  For some, in fact for most of South Africans, the chance to even get to the beach for a day is an elusive dream.  While for you and I, we discuss months in advance which idyllic beach-house we’ve managed to rent for our December holidays.

We, as the minority need to make some changes.   A few weeks ago I read a book called “Americanah” by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie.  It was the most inspiring read I have had in a very long time.  You need to read it.  I reluctantly have looked into reading books outside of my comfort zone, books that make you feel sea-sick with guilt and shame for simply being a European colonialist, for which we have no reason to feel, but just what else do we do?  It all goes towards changing my perspective.  This book is just what I needed. I won’t go into the reasons why, but I highly recommend you read it and if you want, tell me if I’m right or wrong. (It’s not an uncomfortable read.)

Sorry, I don’t mean to lecture you, I know none of you are guilty of racism.  You’re also charitable, and continue to give to under-privileged, and you’re all stretched financially, and you’re not governments who should be sorting this kind of s**t out. I am not sure why I am even writing this.  I think I just want to start trying to be more aware of stuff that I have previously not considered.  Once I am more familiar, I can start expressing myself with more clarity, and by talking about it, we can hopefully begin a cycle where we don’t tolerate racism, sexism, classism.  Anywhere in the world.

Join the revolution where we don’t judge, or be judged for just being who we are.

And in next weeks edition, I shall continue my rantings and ravings in the vein of saving Mother Earth.  Down with straws and cling-wrap.  Down with mass produced commercial groceries.  Down with eating meat and any animal products.

I joke.  Even though I know I shouldn’t, but lets just take one 21st century crisis at a time shall we?

Love and hugs to you all.  Miss you muchly.

Me.

Xxx