“The real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new landscapes but in having new eyes” Marcel Proust.

Many years ago, I was on one of my fun solo travel adventures in South Africa when this phrase jumped out at me. I don't remember where I saw it but it stuck and still does today.

 Ron retired several years ago and we decided it was now time to take the time and start working on our “Bucket List” with realistic thought. I couldn't believe I was actually planning our trips based on our age and physical capability and looking at that list we knew a romantic trip to Paris could be at any age but perhaps an East African Safari should be on top of our list now.

 As we started planning, the call to return to my homeland got stronger by the day and what will follow in my blogs is in response to that African Tug of Home. I may not be seeking many new landscapes that are places as they are mostly not new to me but they may well have changed as it has been 16 years ago since I was “back home.”  This trip my “landscapes” will be people and their life experiences, past and present, then and now.

I will however hear these stories and see them all through “new eyes.” I will share my experiences so that “you” on your vicarious travels with me will also feel my new eyes as you will “see it” for your first time with me “now.”  

I am a firm believer that messages, quotes, thoughts and ideas are planted in our path that are particularly meant for us to see. If it was not specifically “sent” to us we would not even pay it a moment of attention. The tug of home was one such message. As I am preparing and packing, I remembered one of my previous travel experiences that made this tug of home become stronger. That was “Then” and now I go forward into “Now” and write all my stories as seen with the new eyes of a 76-year-old.

 I was 61 years old and looking way up the magnificent Table Mountain ready to hike to the top. I grew up in South Africa and had been at the top many many times before and every time I was in awe at view from the top and how high up we were. As a child we had pretended we were birds flying way up in the clouds as we felt the wind in our faces as we ran all over the top with outstretched arms, probably scaring my parents as we kept hearing “be careful, keep your eyes open, look where you are going, it is a long way to fall”. These trips “into the wind and the clouds” were such fun but I had never given it a thought that this possibility was a privilege.  

I hired Derek, a wonderful African young guide through the backpacker hostel I was staying in and we set off onto the trail leading up 4000 ft to the top. I made mention right away that despite my American accent, I too am South African and with that, he did a double take. “Yislaaik, you sound like you are American, really, you are a South African?” Reverting to my South African accent I replied “Yup, I was born and raised near Joburg but have lived in the States for 53 years but I will always be a South African” That did it as he nodded saying, “ja, now I hear that you are“

 We started up the much-worn trail and I was determined to enjoy every moment but knew I would need to stop to catch my breath regularly, after all, I was 61.! “Derek. could we make a few stops along the way?” I asked, “I would love to know more about you and I can share more about me.”  Derek looked at me in surprise saying, “I would like that and I am surprised that “an older South African white woman” could be interested.”  I knew then we would have some good conversations.

 I stopped to feel the wind on my cheeks and to smell the fragrance of the Fynbos vegetation around me and take photos of the magnificent view. Looking across at Derek I realized I needed to start the conversation. 

 “Derek, being the dreamer I am, I recognize dreamers in others” I said and this first stop I made became so much more than to catch my breath. “Derek, both of us are looking way out into the distance and I am thinking I am here for one of my recent dreams, to show I am adventurous enough for a TV show Survivor, I want to be on. However, I sense you are not just looking at the view, perhaps you are looking back and thinking about the dream you have, can you share?”

 We both chose a rock to sit on and he began.

 “I grew up in one of the townships at the base of this beautiful mountain” he started with a faraway look “and I always dreamed about climbing way to the top and taking many others with me, but knew at this time that was only a dream.”  He added “Despite my family, who kept reminding me of our reality, they encouraged me to keep my dream alive.” 

 Sitting on my rock I found my eyes tearing up thinking about the injustice of our country that only allowed a silent dream because of skin color.  

“I am so sorry Derek, when I was growing up, I too had many dreams and all of them were a possibility only because I was white.” This made me really sad and I had to look away as tears welled up in my eyes.

 “Anyway," he said, shaking his head “That dream always stayed alive and because I believed one day, things would be different, I am now the proud owner of my own hiking business, guiding people like you to the top.” He stopped and we both looked at the magnificent view, I think for both of us to regroup our emotions. 

He continued “That was then and this is now. Thank you for hiring me to guide you up this natural treasure in our country and being part of making my dream become a reality.”      

 Four hours later we reached the top and I was in awe, not at my accomplishment but how my eyes had truly been opened and not only by the beauty of the surroundings but by listening to Derek on the way up.  He and I had grown up under the Apartheid regime and I had enjoyed all the privileges of being white, including the beauty from the top of Table Mountain. Now with new eyes wide open, I felt ashamed I had always taken the view for granted. Thank you, Derek.          

The next part of this adventure would open my new eyes even wider. I was putting on the repelling equipment at the top and looking down 4000 ft where I was about to repel 400ft for the first time and at 61, for a video application for Survivor. As I was reciting “fear is temporary but regret is permanent”, I noticed a large group of African men and women staring in awe at the magnificent view. They were all about my age dressed in their Sunday best, with tongues clicking the African exclamation of joy “hau.” I had to know more and addressed the gentleman closest to me in the African greeting I had not forgotten.

  “Dumela Nkosi, I see you and your group are enjoying this view as I am, is this your first time up here?”

 “Dumela Nkosazana” he replied . As he spoke my new eyes got even wider

. “We are a church choir from way up beyond Johannesburg,” said one of the lovely gentlemen with a broad smile. “We have saved our money, been on a plane for the first time and here we are for the first time ever, seeing our magnificent country because we were never allowed up here before and here we are now.”  I held the gentleman’s hand and explained that despite having an American accent I too had grown up in South Africa. 

“I am honored to meet all of you and I feel privileged to share this long overdue experience with you that you had been denied because of our hate-filled government.” 

The man chuckled and said looking at my harness “Thank you, but we will not share your crazy experience jumping off this mountain” 

With that, I waved ‘Sala Khale’, stay well and took off hearing ‘Hamba Khale’ that I knew was “go well” in Zulu.

 The thrill of my first repel only added to this amazing adventure but when I reached the parking lot at the base of the mountain, the experience continued.  I heard beautiful African singing so I looked for the source. I found my new found ‘African Friends’ singing their hearts out and they beckoned me to come and join them which I did. 

In the true African belief of Ubuntu they said “we sing because we are so happy and we want to share this happiness with others.”

They invited me to sing along with them and I surprised them by singing along with them, several of their Xhosa songs I had learned from Mabel, my African nanny, so we all sang even louder. 

For all my new friends I made on that serendipitous adventure, they sought new landscapes which they saw through new eyes and I go ahead into the now with “new eyes” opened wide by my day of experiences.  

 My ‘now’ will once again include a trip into the wind and the clouds way up on the top of Table Mountain knowing this is still a privilege. I will remember my previous experience and recall how my new eyes were opened.

 I will look around at the diversity of all the people enjoying their trip to the top and know that many will never understand what it took back “then” for this mountain to be open for all of us. If We must be careful, if we do not keep our eyes open, look where we are going and keep going forward in all ways it will be a long way to fall.    

 As I travel, I will greet all I meet with the Zulu word “ Sawabona” I see you and recognize the importance and the worth and dignity of each and every person.

 “Sawabona” to all. I hope you enjoy your vicarious travels with us.