Homecoming

In 1998, I moved to London after two disturbing incidences here. I was a young white female living in what I thought was a black-hole. Was I surprised! I arrived in London on my newly acquired British passport (my father was born in the UK). I was greeted rudely at Heathrow whilst my cousin travelling on an SA passport was interrogated for an hour. He even had to produce chest x-rays. They didn't even stamp my passport - and I wasn't welcomed home like the other people in my queue.

I lived in the East of London in a hovel called Clapton for 11 months. I put on 17 kilograms (the 'Heathrow injection) and was miserable. I shared a house with a French girl, two British guys and a British girl. And of course my SA cousin. No-one ate their meals together or congregated in front of the telly to watch prime time viewing. Everyone ate separately in their rooms, no-one socialised and I was alone!

Only my French house mate thought it social to cook Sunday lunch with whatever she could scrounge up in the fridge and she and I would sit in our 2x2metre back yard and eat together. We work ourselves silly, I would drag my tired legs home after a 12 hour day, working in an office with no windows, staring at a computer all day with only the reprieve of a familiar name in my email inbox!

One day, I woke up and thought "no bloody more!" What on earth am I doing here, in a place I clearly don't belong. Enough was enough. I ran downstairs and phoned the travel agent. "I want to go back to South Africa, book me on your soonest flight out of here" The soonest flight was three weeks away, that left me enough time to get someone to rent my room, hand in my notice and say my goodbyes. There wasn't a doubt in my mind that I was doing the right thing. I was just scared of what would become of me back home. I had no job, I was fat, I would have to move back in with my folks and would things have changed?

When we touched down at JHB International Airport, I climbed down the aeroplane stairs and bent down to touch the runway. It was hot, not just warm, but hot from the morning African sun beating down on it. "Thank-you God for getting me home" was all I could say. My family welcomed me with open arms and I cried when I held my six year old sister again. "I will never leave again" I told her. And I haven't, and I won't.

This is my country, I am proud to be South African, I will fly my flag high and praise our achievers. South Africa is the land of opportunities, it is time to grasp those opportunities with both hands and stop running away. To live in the warmth of love from family and friends and African sunshine, why do so many still opt to live elsewhere? It seems to me that they are still wearing their blinkers. Take off your blinkers, make the most of life and hold your heads up high. You are and will always be South African!
- Cathy