Comments on: Alive in South Africa: When an expat goes ‘home’ http://www.wandahennig.com/2009/09/alive-in-south-africa-when-an-expat-goes-%e2%80%98home%e2%80%99/ A webzine featuring good reads & services in writing, coaching & communicating effectively. Thu, 08 Jul 2010 15:08:50 +0000 hourly 1 http://wordpress.org/?v=3.0 By: Gail Perry http://www.wandahennig.com/2009/09/alive-in-south-africa-when-an-expat-goes-%e2%80%98home%e2%80%99/comment-page-1/#comment-1073 Gail Perry Sun, 13 Sep 2009 10:09:22 +0000 http://www.wandahennig.com/?p=1710#comment-1073 Thank you for your story, my daughter studies in Brisbane and she lives to be home on holidays. Brave you are to have done the emigration! Thank you for your story, my daughter studies in Brisbane and she lives to be home on holidays. Brave you are to have done the emigration!

]]> By: Cindy Vine http://www.wandahennig.com/2009/09/alive-in-south-africa-when-an-expat-goes-%e2%80%98home%e2%80%99/comment-page-1/#comment-1071 Cindy Vine Sun, 13 Sep 2009 05:52:03 +0000 http://www.wandahennig.com/?p=1710#comment-1071 After 10 years away I returned to South Africa and felt exactly what you so brilliantly described. The vibrancy of the people, the sense of belonging. Often ridiculed as a Jaapie in New Zealand, I never felt as if I belonged. I experienced more crime in New Zealand than I ever did in South Africa. Sometimes, the grass is greener at home! After 10 years away I returned to South Africa and felt exactly what you so brilliantly described. The vibrancy of the people, the sense of belonging. Often ridiculed as a Jaapie in New Zealand, I never felt as if I belonged. I experienced more crime in New Zealand than I ever did in South Africa. Sometimes, the grass is greener at home!

]]> By: MARIETJIE NIEBUHR http://www.wandahennig.com/2009/09/alive-in-south-africa-when-an-expat-goes-%e2%80%98home%e2%80%99/comment-page-1/#comment-1069 MARIETJIE NIEBUHR Fri, 11 Sep 2009 20:14:53 +0000 http://www.wandahennig.com/?p=1710#comment-1069 DO YOU KNOW THIS ONE? SENT TO ME BY MY SON LIVING IN INDONESIA. Homeland Within my soul, within my mind, There lies a place I cannot find. Home of my heart. Land of my birth. Smoke-coloured stone and flame-coloured earth. Electric skies. Shivering heat. Blood-red clay beneath my feet. At night when finally alone, I close my eyes - and I am home. I kneel and touch the blood-warm sand And feel the pulse beneath my hand Of an ancient life too old to name, In an ancient land too wild to tame. How can I show you what I feel? How can I make this essence real? I search for words in dumb frustration To try and form some explanation, But how can heart and soul be caught In one-dimensional written thought? If love and longing are a "fire" And man "consumed" by his desire, Then this love is no simple flame That mortal thought can hold or tame. As deep within the earth's own core The love of home burns evermore. But what is home? I hear them say, This never was yours anyway. You have no birthright to this place, Descendant from another race. An immigrant? A pioneer? You are no longer welcome here. Whoever said that love made sense? "I love" is an "imperfect" tense. To love in vain has been man's fate From history to present date. I have no grounds for dispensation, I know I have no home or nation. For just one moment in the night I am complete, my soul takes flight. For just one moment.... then it's gone and I am once again undone. Never complete. Never whole. White Skin and an African soul. by Michelle Frost E-Mail: Michelle Frost DO YOU KNOW THIS ONE? SENT TO ME BY MY SON LIVING IN INDONESIA.

Homeland

Within my soul, within my mind,
There lies a place I cannot find.
Home of my heart. Land of my birth.
Smoke-coloured stone and flame-coloured earth.
Electric skies. Shivering heat.
Blood-red clay beneath my feet.

At night when finally alone,
I close my eyes – and I am home.
I kneel and touch the blood-warm sand
And feel the pulse beneath my hand
Of an ancient life too old to name,
In an ancient land too wild to tame.

How can I show you what I feel?
How can I make this essence real?
I search for words in dumb frustration
To try and form some explanation,
But how can heart and soul be caught
In one-dimensional written thought?

If love and longing are a “fire”
And man “consumed” by his desire,
Then this love is no simple flame
That mortal thought can hold or tame.
As deep within the earth’s own core
The love of home burns evermore.

But what is home? I hear them say,
This never was yours anyway.
You have no birthright to this place,
Descendant from another race.
An immigrant? A pioneer?
You are no longer welcome here.

Whoever said that love made sense?
“I love” is an “imperfect” tense.
To love in vain has been man’s fate
From history to present date.
I have no grounds for dispensation,
I know I have no home or nation.

For just one moment in the night
I am complete, my soul takes flight.
For just one moment…. then it’s gone
and I am once again undone.
Never complete. Never whole.
White Skin and an African soul.

by Michelle Frost
E-Mail: Michelle Frost

]]> By: Barbara http://www.wandahennig.com/2009/09/alive-in-south-africa-when-an-expat-goes-%e2%80%98home%e2%80%99/comment-page-1/#comment-1068 Barbara Fri, 11 Sep 2009 14:42:20 +0000 http://www.wandahennig.com/?p=1710#comment-1068 Thank you for this beautiful heartfelt piece. I lived and worked in England for 2 years and as much as I loved it there, my heart always longed for home. I have been back in Johannesburg for just over a year now and I am in love with it. There are times I have fearful thoughts about the future and where I tell myself scary stories in my head and then I come back to the here and now - living and loving life exactly as it is. I really loved your writing style - thank you again:-) Thank you for this beautiful heartfelt piece. I lived and worked in England for 2 years and as much as I loved it there, my heart always longed for home. I have been back in Johannesburg for just over a year now and I am in love with it. There are times I have fearful thoughts about the future and where I tell myself scary stories in my head and then I come back to the here and now – living and loving life exactly as it is.
I really loved your writing style – thank you again:-)

]]> By: Ian http://www.wandahennig.com/2009/09/alive-in-south-africa-when-an-expat-goes-%e2%80%98home%e2%80%99/comment-page-1/#comment-1066 Ian Fri, 11 Sep 2009 05:22:10 +0000 http://www.wandahennig.com/?p=1710#comment-1066 One of the most beautiful, honest, refreshing accounts I have read in a long time. Thank you. One of the most beautiful, honest, refreshing accounts I have read in a long time. Thank you.

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