The streets whisper the secrets of times long past, while the winds whip through the hills like they have always done. At each corner, a new memory bubbles up into my conscious mind as I recall the adventures of my youth.
It's been 25 years since I called these streets my home, but it feels like a lifetime.
I could never have flourished under the watchful eyes of my ancestors and extended family. My soul yearned for wide open skies.
The robust control that the religion of my mother's family exerted. The choice was simple: "My way or the highway."
My heart sang a melodious tune as I took to the highway heading east. It was the 11th March, 2000.
I spent time in Canberra, the Gold Coast, and Brisbane, gaining a couple of university degrees and learning about my intellectual strengths and weaknesses. The call of the open road grew loud again, and I set of through Asia and India on my way to London. After a couple of years in the British Isles, the global economy fell apart, and even though I wanted to extend my stay, it was not possible.
The British Government said: ' You don't have to go home, but you can't stay here." My hand was forced, and I had to leave. I departed the magnificent London borough of NW2 and took the long way back to Australia through countries rich and strange. It took me almost 9 months.
In those 9 months, I wrote regularly and took the opportunity to clean house, ending a 6 year relationship because my then girlfriend was going in a direction I didn't want to go in.
I returned to Sydney, and jumped back into working life out of necessity. Because I didn't want to leave London, I was unsure what my next step was and why I was home. It didn't take me long to find out.
A girl, also from another part of the world, was living on the same road as me and we connected. We started dating, and things moved quickly... The heart does count time, and before long we were serious.. in December we were married, and I took her west to visit my family and my land. But she could not stay in Australia.
In January, she flew home to Lesotho. In May, I followed her. Over the next 3 years, I lived and loved under African skies and stars. My new family welcomed me with open arms, and I found my heart at home and connected in a powerful way with the land of Africa.
When my daughter was born, I felt the need to create a safe and secure situation, and this included a common passport for all my family. So we planned to relocate to Australia.
The return to Australia was bumpy, as the culture and lifestyle is very different to Africa. Unlike Lesotho, where we had lots of family and friends, in Sydney we were surrounded by people and still on our own. We were soon blessed by another child, and we welcomed my son to our family.
The children grow, and they are vibrant, bright and spirited. We are surrounded by open minded people from all parts of the world, and it is easy to fit in to the multi cultural society. Every 2 years we travel to Africa, flying across the south-west corner of Australia to the other side of the world. It seems like it's easier to go further and for longer, and it costs less too.
And the there is COVID.
For a while travel is restricted.
We lose family members in Western Australia and Africa, and because we cannot attend face to face, we watch from afar, commemorating their passing via teleconference.
Although they are closer, the family in Western Australia feel further away than the family in Africa, especially after some direct relatives in my family pass away.
So the connection with my family in Western Australia fades.
Nonetheless, I often tell the story of the sun, the sand and the sea to my children. Their eyes go wide with excitement as I relate the adventures of my adolescence, and I feel the faint flicker of good times.
After many stories, and with the adolescence of my children approaching, I realise it's time.
It's time to head west and re-engage with family.
It's time to taste the sun, sand and sea again, and remember.
We land in Perth on a Friday night, and on Saturday morning, we meet my mother's brother, my uncle, and his extended family, along with some other cousins and friends. The family has grown, and it is good to reminisce and reconnect.
On Sunday, we meet my mother's brother, another one, along with his extended family. The family has once again, grown, and once again, there is reconnection and reminiscing.
And then we explore the beaches and bays of the beautiful south west, soaking up the sunsets and cracking surf. It is fascinating to see the old places, and remember the old times.
It is also fascinating to realise, in a single moment that has taken 25 years to develop, that I could have never evolved to my current state of emotional intelligence and spiritual maturity while in the land of my youth.
The good times are still good times.
The streets are still good streets.
And by looking at the good times and good streets with a new perspective, the times and streets are reborn, refreshed, and reinvigorated.
As TS Eliot said:
We shall not cease from exploration.
And the end of all our exploring,
Will be to arrive where we started,
And know the place for the first time.
I'm looking around, here in the town where I grew up. The intensity of negative experiences are fading, and in their place are an upgraded point of view.
New times and new streets.
I'm wondering, as I sit here, what the next steps will be.
This is uncharted territory, leaving the 'old' place which is now new.
I'm open to whatever is coming, and this is empowering because I am not running away.
I'm stepping into the new with an open mind, knowing and expecting that what is coming is going to be good.
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