Friends ask me if I am excited to be going home to South Africa. I explain that I am excited about making the trip, although not too happy about the length of the flight to get there. I am excited to see family and to introduce my family to cousins they have never met. I look forward to eating my favorite chocolates, peppermint crisps and candy sherbet sweets. I look forward to once again enjoying the beauty of Cape Town and seeing animals in the Game Park, But I am not going home.
Yes, I was born and raised there and it was certainly the home of my early years, but I have spent my adulthood in America. The country I was raised in is a different place and I am a different person, so on this trip I am more of a visitor than a citizen.
I had a very happy childhood and good memories of living there and through these posts I would like to share those memories. While I am there I will post the new memories that I am creating.
What I loved most about Messina (Musina) were the evenings. Once supper was over we would leave the non-air conditioned house, turn of all the lights, and sit on deck chairs on the lawn.
I would sink into the chair and feel like I was in a kaleidoscope, surrounded by black with a roof of silver above me. I would hang my head back and gaze up at the Milky Way, that path of stars, like Dorothy’s yellow brick road, sweeping across the sky. I would pick out the Southern Cross and the Three Sisters and watch for a shooting star. When I saw one I believed that a fairy was born.
Some nights we would see sheet lightning in the distance. It seldom meant rain but occasionally it would change to fork lightning and thunder and blessed rain, that would pound on the tin roof and blow in through the open windows.
Every night at about 7.30 I would see a steady light move across the sky. I knew it was the nightly flight from Johannesburg to London. I never had dreams of being on that flight or longed to travel. I was content to sit on the chair with my feet tucked under me in case of stinging scorpions, and be soothed by the quiet murmur of my parents voices.
I do not know if flights still pass over my hometown but I think I will ask the pilot and then watch for it on this trip back to South Africa.