I wonder where we would end up if we could start again

My blog has been dark for a few weeks because I’ve been touring the province of KwaZulu-Natal. I took my daughter along to see family and friends there and to show her Ixopo, the rural town where I spent my teenage years. If you’ve read Alan Paton’s Cry, The Beloved Country, then you might be familiar with the chapter where he describes the surrounding countryside: The Ixopo countryside laid me under a kind of spell, and this was enhanced by the prevalence in summer of the mists that would descend on the village and hide it from the world.

Critics have credited Paton for some of the most vivid landscape imagery in contemporary South African fiction. He wasn’t wrong when he put pen to paper, but the agricultural stopover of his day has changed considerably over the years – even since I was last there a decade ago. Still, there is only one traffic light on the main road, and it’s almost permanently green. Pedestrians never use the buzzer at the crossing because cars and trucks crawl along as their drivers look for familiar faces on the street. The local grocery store is also a meet-and-greet zone – you cannot go in to buy bread and milk without bumping into at least six people you know. It’s a community – and a close one at that.

I have many fond memories of my time in Ixopo. I was blessed with the best teachers any young and impressionable student could ever hope for – men and women who knew how to navigate a path through the hormone-fuelled drama and teenage angst and arrive on the other side unscathed and ready to impart the lessons of life. I cannot thank them enough.

Many of my classmates called me a geek in high school. I kept my skirt at the regulation length when all the other girls were trying to turn theirs into minis; I wore garters to keep my winter socks up; I polished my shoes until I could see my reflection in them; I was a library monitor; a class captain; a prefect; a deputy head girl; a top achiever. My teachers said I was the one to watch.

Where am I now? I am still a bookworm – and proud of it. Reading leads to knowledge; knowledge leads to understanding; understanding makes me a better person. I wear whatever I like, though I’ve never developed a taste for miniskirts. Give me jeans! Give me T-shirts! I only wear garters for my husband. I take care of all my shoes because they protect my feet – and my feet still have many places to go. Libraries and book stores attract me. Libraries and book stores that are close to coffee outlets are even better! I am the captain of my life. I am the prefect of my community. I am the co-pilot of my marriage. I am a dedicated professional. I am watching over the ones I love.

The title of this post is borrowed from the lyrics of Never Bloom Again by The Perishers. Find the song on amazon.com

 

4 thoughts on “I wonder where we would end up if we could start again

  1. interesting post about looking back at childhood,
    it’s nice that you can look at the past and the present and come to a positive conclusion about yourself.

    It makes me wonder how I’ll feel when I return home to where I grew up after years away.

    Like

    1. Thanks for visiting! Yeah, it was an interesting holiday. I hadn’t seen some of my friends there for years, despite keeping in touch via the wonders of modern technology. There was something about being in the physical company of old friends that gave me a feeling of peace – and prompted the introspection that led to this post.

      Like

  2. You are also an extraordinarily caring and compassionate person and gifted writer. You country sounds absolutely beautiful and perhaps one day I will be able to see its breathtaking beauty. I appreciate you visits to my blog, they are always uplifting to me.

    Like

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s