I've been a bit down over the last couple of days. My mom has been sending me news of SA, mostly detailing crimes involving people we know. I'm not going into detail here - every single South African by now personally knows people who have been hijacked, held up in their homes or assaulted, or worse. The stories are so commonplace by now that the first thing we ask is, was anyone hurt? If the answer is no, we shrug it off. If it is yes, then we ask: how bad? If not too bad, we again thank our lucky stars and say how much worse it could have been. We've accepted it as part of daily life. We've become so desensitized, I often wonder how we must appear to people of other countries who don't have to deal with it everyday. But as with any extreme situation, we've simply done what we have to do to survive. If we constantly freaked out about the smallest criminal activity, we'd be in a permanent state of mania.So the news from my mom, coupled with my frequent thoughts about the shortcomings of my country over the last few days, have served to heighten my sensitivities and put my nerves on edge. Mostly I am afraid in a way that I never used to be. My whole family is back in SA. It feels to me like the crime and general social and economic problems are slowly creeping up to swallow the country, like lava edging down the side of a volcano. So far my immediate family have not been victims. I pray I will always be able to say this is the case. The fear is no longer a niggling thing in the back of my mind - it is well and truly in the forefront and with me every second of the day.
There has been much written on how we should not be prisoners of our own fear. That's all fine, but these authors were talking about those living in SA. And to be honest, when I'm back there, I don't allow the what ifs to dictate the way I live my life. I live it, I'm as careful as I can be and I enjoy every second of being in the beautiful country that I love with all my heart. It is just very different to be this fearful for others and be half a world away. The fear I have for my family is greater than any fear I could feel for myself.
Then, as if she sensed how on edge I was (although she knew nothing about it), this morning Phillygirl e-mailed me this article:
http://www.sundayherald.com/display.var.2032947.0.0.php?act=complaint&cid=1216370
Just to balance it, because I'm a great believer in always looking at both sides of the story, I also visited this site for some updates about what is right in SA:
http://www.sagoodnews.co.za/
For the very first time since I got to the UK, I am having doubts about coming home. It takes a lot for me to admit that, because I love South Africa passionately and anyone who knows me knows I am always the staunchest of defenders against her critics. I will argue til the cows come home with anyone who wants to challenge me on it. But I'm not blind or stupid, and I realise that hoping that I will remain untouched by her troubles forever is naive. Don't worry, you don't need to rush to convince me to come home. At the moment I still plan to. But this is the first time I have had doubts and it is something I have to take into account in a few years time when I'd be making the move.
In other far more joyful news, my best friend is engaged! I'm a little late in reporting this, as everytime I start a post it seems a random thing to tack on the end. Also, it happened when I was at the Commercial Conference, and she couldn't get hold of me to tell me as I was drunk and AWOL - I felt terrible about it the next day!!!Schmokkle and her boyfriend, Man-Bok, have been together for 9 years now. The two of us have known each other since we were 5 years old, when I thought she was retarded because she spoke German (how did you raise me, parents?). Initially there was one other little girl involved in our playgroup, and she and I ended up ganging up on Schmokkle to the point where our mothers wouldn't let us all play together anymore. One of my most vivid memories is of Elke and I sitting up on the roof of Schmokkle's house under her (Schmokkle's) mother's duvet with her jar of sugar, refusing to let Schmokkle come up and join us in eating our sweet treat (and you thought kids wouldn't eat straight up sugar!). We were little bitches. After that, Schmokkle and I didn't see each other that often until our first year of high school, where we discovered we were in the same class. Since we lived less than 5 minutes down the road from each other our whole lives, we started walking to school together and our friendship naturally progressed from there. We've been pretty much inseparable ever since. She's like a sister to me, only without the catfights and stealing of clothes. The name Schmokkle is a derivative of the nickname that we have always used for each other - Bokkie (little buck in English, but generally used as a term of endearment).
I am so unbelievably happy for her, and my only regret is that I can't be there to help her plan the wedding. We'll have to do it the 21st century way, via e-mail! Congrats again Schmokkle, my heart is bursting with pride for you guys. :-)
