The tiny Suzuki Alto is crammed with clothing, birds in a cage and a rabbit in a pet carrier. K had been freaking out because she felt it couldn’t be done. The journey is about to begin. We get a late start. Climbing the hill towards Hilton’s verdant green, I begin to feel the relief of leaving Durban behind. Something seems to fall from my shoulders like a veil slipping from my face. I can see more clearly, feel more intensely, dream more bigly, and hope more fervently. I am leaving behind KwaZulu-Natal and going forward and toward the Western Cape, literally and figuratively. As we progress towards the Free State, the skies become more blue and seem to occupy the windshield space with a hugeness not known in KZN. This big sky blue and white take my breath away. There are fields that have been planted and harvested both left and right of my vision. They glitter gold in the late afternoon sun. The golden glitter of the fields of the Free State I will not easily not remember. As I walked on the beach in the Cape Southern Peninsula, I thought of this and felt the need to write down some parts of the journey that have brought me to this destination, by the sea, with the view, with the loveliness of pink late setting suns, of whipping winds and cold sea air.
Images Carol Knox. The beach I walk on, approach five minutes from where I live, the sand fine like talcum powder, large strands of kelp almost the size of an arm strewn across the beach, white, windy, a wildness not quite tamed.
An earlier post: The Felt Weight where the relief from the weight can be likened to the slipping of the veil.
“She had not known the weight until she felt the freedom.”
I have a short term plan to move to Cape Town from Durban and engage in a three-year study period. None of this is final yet and I am still in the early stages of planning a radical life-shift. I am hoping that I will be able to add to the body of knowledge in South Africa around the lived experience of people who have known trauma and how they can benefit from coaching in mindfulness and making meaning or unfolding meaning. The study would take three years. I have not yet been accepted to the universities I have applied to, so right now there is a wait. I would also need funding and that is also up in the air. So in many real senses I am in a corridor phase of my life. Looking for a way to actualise my own purpose and meaning, by helping others.
In order to get there with money being no object, I would go on the thirteen day Durban to Cape Town trip via Lesotho. The map below shows the direct route so that you can get an idea of the distance. However, the tour would follow a rather different route. This tour would be through African Budget Safaris. An overview of the journey is included below and you could visit African Safaris at the link above to get an idea of the trip details.
In an article written by Samora Chapman today, he records with photographs, a crisis in the streets of Durban, South Africa.
“We’re in the midst of a crisis. Last night I witnessed a mob nearly murder a man in the street. I then wandered across the city in the half darkness and found that the same mob had swept across town in a fit of rage… beating scores of people with knobkerries, bricks and hockey sticks. The source of the madness? Whoonga Park. And it’s burning to the ground. Here’s how…”
Daily Prompt Writing Task: Which good memories are better — the recent and vivid ones, or those that time has covered in a sweet haze?
Gourmet Delights | Quintessence of Taste
The Koeksister: Sweet, divine and twisted, oozing drippiness delight, guaranteed to create a haze of sweetness | Walking on a balmy day, smiling, almost skipping, picking mulberries along the Dusi, flowing skirts, long hair, the sweet purpley twistedness staining our mouths and baskets.
Image below and recipe link from Justeasyrecipies.
The Sago Pudding: Hazy warmth and hugs, boerekos from the kitchen that couldn’t turn around | Tiny plump loving pouring forth from Ouma’s long past days.
Sago Pudding image and recipe from MyCookBook South Africa.
The Pickled Onion: Sharp sourness, guaranteed to create involuntary face contortions as the cheeks suck in | Sharp, now, unlikliness of encounter created, unfolded by the dream and firefly sight.