It's too Late When you're Dead

For 12 years we sat in captivity discussing life on the other side. We talked about knights on noble steeds, of frolicking in fields of flowers and envisioned ourselves saving the world. We all plotted how we’d make our millions and suffered endless nights dreaming about what we’d do with our freedom.

We really all ought to be frolicers....

When it (freedom) finally came we suddenly forgot our plans. We fled across the world – to Kuwait and England and the states and Naboomspruit and Pretoria. Some of us never found that noble knight. Some never frolicked in fields.  Most of us never made our millions. And most of us still dream about what we will do with our freedom… even though it’s already here.

Ten years ago, as I sat in school (yes, that was a whole 10 years ago), I had no idea what exactly I wanted to do with my life. I had no idea where I was headed or even who I was. If you’d ask me about travel or jobs or friends, there’s no way I would have foreseen myself gypsying about four continents, or meeting so many many exceptionally awesome people, or eating strange delicacies, or accomplishing so many things that seemed impossible at the time, or sailing across an ocean, or finishing degrees, or running companies or being who I am today.

I never dreamed it possible to cycle across countries...

Strange delicacies  the first

Somewhere in Australia...

One night in a trolley... I never thought I'd choose to hang out with kiwis

I never thought that donating blood could actually be fun (actually, I need to donate again, anyone want to join??)

I even survived dangerous encounters with wild creatures

I've seen more beautiful places than school me ever dreamed of seeing 

I fail to be surprised by the people I meet...

Strange delicacy the second

I've even had the privaledge of getting to know all the sesame street characters personally

But the past 10 years have by far been the best years of my life.  And each year blows my mind more than the previous one (I do hope this carries on forever – although I may have had too much goodness too early in life). And 10 years later, I still don’t know what I want to do with my life or where I am headed, or even who I am.  But I’m actually okay with that.

I took the train to work on Monday and was bombarded with offers for penis enlargements and cheap abortions and marriage spells. A preacher on the train shouted that the answer was God and a sangoma (witch doctor) assured us it was in fact inyanga – both supposedly cure everything – but the latter is only available at select back-alley pharmacies and costs money. God can be found anywhere and is available 24/7.

So many of us focus on the negative. We forget that we have freedom. We forget how far we have come. We sit and worry about our problems (just one train ride assured me that they are very easy to resolve, no matter how big or small) and limit ourselves because we forget that all things are possible. We forget that we can only change the present. We accept life the way it is either because it’s comfortable or because we worry that if we change something we will make it worse.

Life is short and it is meant to be awesome. It doesn’t matter who you are, where you’ve been or what your problems are – the only person who can start to turn your life about is you. Remember that dreamer you were in younger years and then go and make those dreams a reality.   

It's too late when you're dead.

Rotted Milk

There are two types of choices: good ones; and bad ones.  Life’s a whole lot better when you make the good ones…

I should have realized this last week already. But I didn't  No, instead I didn't smell the milk before I used it on my cereal and coffee… At first I thought it just tasted bad because I had brushed my teeth first… Half way through I thought it might just be a new brand…

I thought I’d be a nice sister and cook dinner. But apparently chilli sauces aren't all the same.  Side-of-the-road-Mozambiquan-chilli-sauce is a force to be reckoned with. Dinner was severely diluted with milk. I forgot the milk was off…

3 hours into the document search....

SUCCESS!

And then came moving to Cape Town.  In an attempt to find one very
very very horrendously very important document, I took a trip to Benoni (Think mullets and wife beaters and children who are older than their parents). While it was lovely seeing family and having my first braai since 2010, I knew my mission. It took the better part of five hours, and courage I never thought I could cough up (I also coughed out a lot of dust and cobweb) – but I fought through four households of stored ‘stuff’ (our family being the first to have invaded the cousin’s garage) and came out with not only the document, but a lot more of my earthly belongings than I ever thought I owned. I’m pretty sure they bred and had offspring in my years of absence.

All my worldly possessions...

and the bicycle...

This made relocating home a lot harder than it should have been. Flying was out of the question. I had a full car load of ‘stuff’ so driving was out – not only do I not possess a car – but there was no way I’d drive the 1400 km alone. There are too many luggage limitations on the bus and well, I’d never taken the train…

Sunday morning I rocked up at the train station hoping there would still be tickets. “Sorry” said the friendly Malawian behind the counter “sold out till mid-Feb”. But I pleaded – “there’s no tickets at all??” and that’s how I bought my R340 third class hard seat on board the Shoshaloza Meyl to Cape Town. Like I said, it was a week of bad decisions.

The Zimbabwean next to me was under the impression that it was a 5 hour trip. I probably shouldn't have said anything about the ETA – I’ve never seen a black person turn that white.

Look at all the happy faces!

For every grown up on board there were 37.5 infants and for every seat between Klerksdorp and Kimberly, there were 3 grownups…

The toddlers joined their vocal chords to create a sound track to stay awake to and the plastic non-reclining seats made sure we did. But it could always be worse…  By 3am our carriage was full of police to break up the fights bought on by excessive quantities of alcohol and seat/ floor space reclaimage.

I made friends with 6 year old Kabelo who taught me all about fairies and princesses and marveled at the giftings her 3 year old sister possessed in finding and eating second hand chewing gum. I discussed business plans with people from 4 different African countries and finished reading a book I’ve carried for the last 3 months. But ask any person on that train and none of them will ever take it again. Not economy at least….

A very hot and smelly toilet overflowingly 29.5 hours later – past some breathtaking scenery and some sheep and 3 ostriches and a plethora of other stuff - we pulled into Cape Town. I felt like I’d just single-handedly fought the Vietnam war or run the comrades marathon… and won… and to make it even better, all of my belongings survived too.  

I suppose bad decisions are all part of life and they help you learn and become a better person… but they also get you upset stomachs and sleepless nights and possible diseases… From now on I aim to make only good ones. Life’s too short for 29.5 hour train rides….