It’s been a very strange time in Jozi for me and I’m trying to make sense of this part of my drift. I had this idea that once I arrived in JHB I’d have the time and energy to settle and reflect and decide on my next steps. I felt this was a place where I’d be safe and could catch my breath after a month on the road. But there’s been some unexpected drama and I’m having to look at that and what I’m being guided to do going forward. I’ll be fine though.
I’d been here a few days when I started to feel unwelcome at my friend’s place, so I decided to take myself off for a drive to calm my unsettled nerves. As per usual it was destination unknown and I just let Zukes take the wheel and drive us around the city. And no surprises, she took us back to my old home deep in the burbs. I’ve often wondered if I should have stayed and kept my house and had a stable life, instead of selling up and doing all the crazy things that followed. Regrets and “what ifs”. I know it’s a waste of time to go down that road, but it’s so embedded in me and my human experience that I can’t seem to help myself. Sitting outside the house though I remembered one of the reasons why I’d sold and moved on. In all the time that I lived in that house there were constant renovations going on in the suburb. It was as if the neighbours had a baton that they passed from one to the next as each renovation finished, which meant constant noise. A nightmare for my inner ancient rock self. And even now, more than a decade later, I saw that the neighbours were building a double story extension that would block out the sun and destroy the privacy of the patio and garden and pool. I had saved myself the drama of having the top of my head blow off in middle-class, entitled-homeowner indignation and outrage. Instead there I sat, homeless sure, but with a bag of adventure tales to remember and share… and happy.
I was happy to see that many of my Dad’s plants were still growing in the garden and being nurtured. The conifer tree was also still there. My neighbour at the time had told me that aliens used the conifer as a landing pad when they came to visit and to heal her, and I could see that that was possible, because the top of the conifer was always charred and black for reasons unknown. I had been a bit put out that they were just landing their spacecraft on my tree without asking and had felt strongly that they should be paying me some kind of airport or spaceport tax for its use. I was so Jozi in my ways back then. Now I’d probably setup a coffee kiosk and probe repair station for them, and try to hitch a ride to the far corners of the galaxy. It was the same conifer that my partner (at the time) and I would use to climb onto the roof of our house, with cups of coffee, and watch the sunrise, when we couldn’t sleep.
It was the same conifer that Chamby, my kitten, would climb to catch the nesting birds and then jump through the window and proudly drop the bird into my lap as a gift. She did this so many times, and I had to race these birds to FreeMe (a wildlife rehab centre) so many times, that eventually I felt I had to volunteer, to give back in some way. I became an animal ambulance for them and would speed around the city fetching distressed animals. Once I was asked to fetch a baby hadeda. The poor little bird was in the corner of someone’s garden, hiding in a plant bed which was covered in a blanket of leaves. When the baby saw me coming towards her she was so scared that she decided to hide her head under the leaves, believing that I then wouldn’t be able to see her. It broke my heart. I put her in my car and sang to her all the way to FreeMe, which I thought at the time would soothe her, but maybe that wasn’t the best idea. Everyone thinks they have a good singing voice until that brutal Idols audition. She was fine in the end though. Well taken care of. My favourite moment at FreeMe was when three baby hedgehogs were brought in, and we had to feed them with tiny bottles and do a nappy, which is basically just dabbing their little behinds with cotton wool. There is nothing cuter than doing a nappy on a squeaking, wriggly baby hedgehog. I thought my heart would burst with joy that day. And they were also fine in the end.
The rest of the day was spent revisiting so many emotional or significant node points. Driving past the SPCA, the vet’s practice, the Postnet, FreeMe, this robot and that park. Places where I’d met my kittens for the first time, said goodbye to my dogs for the last time, fetched the fax that would reconnect me with an old and dear friend, crossed the finish line of my first 10km race, been protected late one night by angels from hostile energies. The memories went on and on as I drove, and I was reminded of the rich and textured life that I’d lived here. This city has seen me broken many times over, and seen me fighting my way back again. I began to get a sneaky peak at why I’d been brought all the way up to Joburg on this drift. It wasn’t about being here to celebrate the 60th birthday of a good friend, because in the end she isn’t and I didn’t. It’s about revisiting and then letting go. Of old narratives. Of a version of myself that has long faded into the background. Of hurts and wounds that I’ve been nursing and nurturing like little hedgehogs and hadedas. They are just fine. It’s definitely time to set them free.