We take a walk.
It's already hot. Not even mid morning but African sun hot.
It's mostly downhill and, as we round a corner, I'm stunned by the view as the trees open up ahead of us. Large, modern, immaculate homes adorn the cliffs of a majestic mountain.
The neighborhood has transformed from decent suburban into elite in one abrupt turn.
The ocean is visible between the houses on the opposite side of the road and I drop a comment about the view of the sunset the people inhabiting them must be fortunate enough to have.
Our conversation drifts into sunsets and walks up to higher places where we might catch one in person. Not completely visible from the suburban guest house we’ve accidentally landed in, I've still seen the topmost glow of them above the trees in the next-door garden.
Florescent orange and an almost blood red that's made me more than determined to scale a nearby peak to view the full deal before we move on from here.
I stop to take pictures of the surprisingly affluent mountain-side homes and my thoughts drift to the inequality still so obviously prevalent in South Africa.
Such opulence compared to the environment we've recently visited less than a month or so ago near the Cape Flats of Cape Town.
Beyond even that suburb is a sprawling township.
Only one of many. An even starker contrast to what I'm standing beneath today. Still. Thirty odd years later and around eighty percent of our population are living in squalor, while they travel hours on sketchy public transport that eats up half their meager wages, to clean the toilets of the folks up there on the hill.
The new South Africa. Not much different after all.
We're headed steeply downhill now and, despite me trying to remain in the present these days, I'm already imagining the walk back up. Also the lost productivity because of the now apathetically accepted six hours a day of load shedding and the necessity to somehow work around it.
When did we stop complaining? When did we stop fighting? I mean, I have a strong belief in radical acceptance but this level of silent acquiescence is disturbing.
There's a difference between acceptance and hopelessness.
I take photos as I walk along for the next time I manage to put something together for the Wednesday Walk initiative on Hive.
"You look like a Karen." states Nathan bluntly.
His way of telling me to quit it.
A car has passed by and he's worried they'll genuinely think I am a Karen. Taking photos of the exteriors of peoples’ homes to complain to council about irregular bricks or overgrown weeds perhaps.
We put on our best Karen voices and complain loudly.
We talk a lot of sh!t while we walk, Nathan and I. Sometimes I have to stop and bend over to catch my breath because I'm laughing so hard. It's why I love our walks together the most. The conversation. Hearing his thoughts and perspective.
He's hilarious.
Once we built a whole van, for our van life wannabe thing, while we walked to a shopping center to buy groceries.
It was something, that van. It ended up having an automated skylight so we could star gaze at night and more. The walk was around 45 minutes and we built it in our heads the whole way.
His comment that I look like a Karen is tinged with subtle embarrassment nonetheless. "I don't give a f*ck what people think anymore." I declare mildly, while I take another photo of an interesting looking flower.
I use the f-word for emphasis to get his attention, because he knows I don’t like him to swear and I try to not do it around him. This highlights the importance of this statement. This also gets him engaged because he still finds swearing funny.
I find it funny that some people find swearing more offensive than violence and human right's violations. Not really
Nathan nods and says ”Oh...yeah!”
A reminder. He does the same for me when I forget and yield to the pressure of other people's expectations and fear these days in return.
We both learned, the hard way, that people think and believe what suits them best.
Not worth the cost of buying into really.
I'm not talkin' 'bout the money here either.
Much further down the hill and we're lost now.
I find it pretty cool that I'm getting lost so often these days. New territory in more ways than one after an under 15km school run from home to work to home and, eventually, a home office set up, for the last thirty plus years.
I relish getting lost now.
It's a hard won privilege after a lot of sacrifice and I'll never relinquish this freedom again.
I'd rather live in a tent, quite frankly, than give up these moments of living, experiencing and adventuring with my son.
We will have this exact discussion on the way back up the very hill we’re almost at the bottom of now, on our return to the guest house. The "money versus the freedom and time" talk. But right now we're a little lost.
I pull the phone out and hand it to the soon to be twelve year old, who just did co-ordinates in home school. "you just did this." I say grinning. "You figure it out." I'm dead set on empowering Nathan as fast as possible these days. Trying to teach him how to navigate the world with confidence.
Also, it's too much of a mission to get my glasses out of my pocket to see the map.
Nathan hands the phone back and gestures down the road.
"It should be nearby now." he says with certainty. We walk on, talking all the while, until we round a corner and see the park up ahead. It's not only a park, but an old school playground as well. We're excited.
It’s been a while since we played at one of these. Both of us maybe thinking we’re too old for this kind of thing now. The playground is totally empty and I find this bizarre on such a sunny Sunday morning. I think it's probably because the homes around here have such enormous gardens, that it hardly seems necessary to leave them.
There's a small ravine between the path on the roadside and the park. I walk a bit further on to avoid the climb. Nathan scrambles down into the ditch and up the other side, beating me to the punch. "Just go down and up the other side.” he shouts, but I'm still trying to find an easier way across.
I've also seen an Eagle circling above us and am trying to get a clear photo.
My favourite bird to watch in flight and I stop everything mid conversation when I see one.
Nathan's less enamoured with them but lets me gaze unblinkingly, while he mostly studiously ignores my attempts to share my sense of wonder. Perhaps it's because it interrupts our conversation abruptly when I spot one.
Eagles always make me stop for a moment and shift my perspective. It's the effortlessness of their flight, I guess. They make it look so easy. And it can be... if I remember to simply let go when things get a bit rough. But not like that, I don't think. Not that easy. Not that fluid. Not that effortless.
Perhaps one day with more time and practice...
I look up in awe.
It's moments like this that I cherish the most. Surprise meetings with creatures, and humans, that seem magical because of their complete unexpectedness. I wouldn't exchange this for anything either these days.
The freedom and simplicity of being able to stop and be here right now for a while. I used to feel as though I was running against the clock from waking until f*ck I can’t sleep again. Time. That’s always what I asked for more of. Some folks would say money.
I always, always only ever said time.
We play.
At one point we climb onto the see-saw.
Nathan’s almost the same size and weight as me now and the sensation of floating for a few seconds is wonderful.
I raise my legs as though I’m flying on each upward swing and a conversation ensues about a video game we played together while we see-saw up and down for a while, because I've reminded Nathan now of the space monkey in it.
Effortless. Smooth.
Our connection, I mean. Not me or the motion of the see-saw.
I wouldn’t lose this for anything in the world now either.
Our connection.
On to the exercise machines but I don’t want us to be in the sun for much longer.
I forgot to put sunscreen on either of us. I didn't expect for us to walk this far and be outside for so long. It’s burning hot out now. Nathan sticks a cap on and hits the outdoor gym machines regardless. I try to do my own thing in the shade, but I can’t resist and have to join in.
After a short spell, I retreat back into the shade to do my now second day of just starting Yoga again. More inspiration from more good humans on Hive. More healing. Thank you @millycf1976 for checking in and asking if I got off my ass and started again.
Now I have. 👍
Nathan is on the exercise machines long enough to build up a sweat and we end up lying in the nearby shade on our backs. Feet flopped out to the side. Palms up.
When last did you lie on the ground watching the clouds go by?
We just lie there looking up at the sky and we breathe for a while. In a bit we both start to sit up. “Shall we go back?” I ask and he answers yes before I’ve finished the sentence. We move and decide to return to our temporary home at exactly the same time somehow.
As we approach the small ravine, Nathan picks up speed and says, "I think I can..."
"Don't!" I instinctively say, with just enough sharpness in my voice for him to stop before he leaps across.
It looks so wide.
He stands there looking across the ravine and says he thinks he can make it again. I reprimand myself and start to walk off. "Go for it!" I call, over my shoulder. The worse thing that might happen are some scrapes and bruises."
I should rather have just shut my mouth, straight up.
Although I'm trying to change gears and take my fear back from him, it's already too late and he starts to follow me to an easier way across the ravine.
I stop and make a motion towards the ravine with my hands, calling out again to go for it. As I walk away I mutter under my breath, "Do it, Nathan. You can do it!"
I can't not turn around to watch and as I do he leaps fluidly and easily, landing effortlessly on the other side.
We grin at each other as I throw my arms above my head and give him a "Whoop!"
The sun is fierce and the walk back up is long and steep.
I try to take short breaks in the shade, but it’s Nathan’s way to push forward and we do until we’ve reached the guest house.
Despite the still unusual situation I find myself in, I’m honestly happy.
I've let go of trying to fight the flow for now.
And when I do this, life becomes this easy Sunday again.
Effortless, really.
Written on a Sunday a week ago. Names changed for privacy
Hardened Dreamer
Mother
Warrior
Determined Dancer
and Stargazer
still...
Beyond fear is freedom
And there is nothing to be afraid of.
To Life, with Love... and always for Truth!
Nicky Dee