My dad bounces along with Jackson on the back of an open Land rover. We’ve spent the day with elephants, meerkats, cheetahs and an assortment of snakes. The wind blows our chapped cheeks in this dry winter sunshine and our hair will be hard to untangle tonight.
We are dirty, disheveled and so full of the glory of this day.
My dad leans over and wraps a long Rous arm around his first grandchild and pulls him close. Jackson leans into his Oupa and the two of them inhale the veld. My dad leans down to his ear and whispers over the growl of the engine, “Do you see that blue sky, Jackson – with the white clouds so high up and the sun spinning through all the blue – that’s the African sky.
“And do you smell that? That’s the dry dust stuck in your nostrils and making your eyes water. That’s African dirt.”
“Do you feel that cold wind burning your cheeks? That’s African wind blowing in your ears.”
And then he wraps up the afternoon into a mental snapshot for my son. He says, “When you are back in America, remember this Jackson. Remember how the wind felt and the dust roads smelled and the blue sky pierced your eyes on a winter afternoon in South Africa.”
Jackson leans into his Oupa and the two of them turn their faces up toward the sun and the Landrover rocks them back and forth and into a freeze frame Jack will pack up with his video game and coloring books when he boards the plane back to Virginia next week.
My dad repeats the conversation to me as we’re watching the sun set later that evening and my throat aches with the knowing that my son’s love for this country has crossed over from the imagined to the experienced.
There is no going back.
There is simply a lifetime of missing.
Missing either America or South Africa. Living in the in between is a sweet agony. So much to love. So much to miss. One has to focus on the present. Be wholly in one place at a time. Try to block out the thoughts of imminent leaving. This is a hard thing to do.
His path was marked
By the stars in the Southern Hemisphere
And he walked his days
Under African skies
This is the story of how we begin to remember
This is the powerful pulsing of love in the vein
After the dream of falling and calling your name out
These are the roots of rhythm
And the roots of rhythm remain ~ Paul Simon/Ladysmith Black Mambazo/ Under African Skies
We walk these days under African skies and store up memories with each of our five senses. We will pocket this place by the pixel load. We eat for the famine that lies ahead.
And we begin to prepare, his father and I, for how to help him say good bye.
Lisa-Jo, let me share an amazing thing from my house this evening. While working in the kitchen with my 13 year old grandson, I handed him an egg in a gadget that you shake to scramble the egg. He looked at it, took it and burst into a grin. ‘I remember when Uncle J used to hand this to me and sing-Shake your eggie-when he was scrambling eggs for me. To eat., My son, J, lived with us for a year in 2000-01 when Malcolm was only 3. I had no idea that Mac remembered anything about that time, but it was right there. Your Jackson’s heart and memory will retain what is important. And someday, when there is a hint of a mustache on his lip and an unfamiliar depth to his voice, his eyes will twinkle and he’ll comment bon the African sky and your heart will soar. I just know it!
Oh that just gave me goose bumps – thank you for that! That is truly our hope and prayer too.
“Living in the in between is a sweet agony. So much to love. So much to miss. One has to focus on the present. Be wholly in one place at a time. Try to block out the thoughts of imminent leaving. This is a hard thing to do.”
Wow…beautiful post and the quote from it above really resonated with me tonight…thank you.
“They are the scatterlings of Africa
Each uprooted one
On the road to Phelamanga
Beneath the copper sun
And I love the scatterlings of Africa
Each and every one
In their hearts a burning hunger
Beneath the copper sun”
Johnny Clegg and Jaluka/Savuka
This sums up my whole life !
Yes, we listen to that song on repeat a lot too :)
Tears of recognition. Having lived far from “home” we allways went “home” for vacation. When vacation was over … we went “home”. Sometimes it felt like Home was wherever we were not, and then, sometimes, we were at home everywhere and the whole world was ours to enjoy …
To have homes to be homesick for is, mostly, a treasure!
Thank you for writing beautifuly!
Yes, exactly – leaving home to go on vacation to home and then coming back home again – it’s hard and wonderful at the same time!
Although I didn’t see African sky or soil until I was nearly forty, I DO know about missing. We moved often during our youth and I learned early on that feeling of always missing someone, someplace. It’s a heart-weakening feeling at times, but I grew to understand the blessing of having people and places to love. The places are symbols of the people our hearts call home. p.s. I’m enjoying reading about South Africa here! One of the most gracious women I’ve ever met grew up in South Africa. I met her her in the States and then got to visit her on my trip to Ethiopia where she’s lived and worked in mission and orphan care. She introduced me to the many benefits of rooibus tea…. Are all South Africans such gracious hosts?
“Living in the in between is a sweet agony. So much to love. So much to miss. One has to focus on the present. Be wholly in one place at a time. Try to block out the thoughts of imminent leaving. This is a hard thing to do.”
That resonated with me too .. and I also need to read/hear it. In my head, I know that the kids will retain memories (and have already) that will carry them through, my heart isn’t so quick to remember.
and … by the way — those two photos are rockstars together — the one with only the clouds and then the one with the clouds and your little guy. Cool.
Thank you for this post. I can imagine, somewhere in the future, living a similar situation with my children and my sometimes home sickness. We moved from Montreal to Paris and although the children are young and happy here, I often wonder if they miss the winters and playing in the snow.
Two homes is a hard road to travel, but also a beautiful and blessed one… I’m so glad you are all having a wonderful stay.
Cxx
My word, it;s going to be tough saying goodbye… also for your folks.
((hugs)) and enjoy the time you have left here
What absolutely amazing photos! I adore the one with the elephant – wow! What an incredible memory for your family! And the meerkat shot is amazing, too! I hope Jackson long remembers these incredible sights and experiences!
cita binecuvintare sa poti avea bucuria intoarcerii acasa,sa fii primita si iubita de cei dragi…si mai ales binecuvintarea naturii care ne aduce atita fericire in inimile noastre…incerc sa traiesc impreuna cu voi acele momente de pace,de iubire,de glorie…DOMNU SA VA BINECUVINTEZE…multumesc pt minunatele ginduri scrise si mai ales pentru pozele frumose
This is all kinds of beautiful. And we learn, we children, to hold onto those pixels and those smells and sounds and sights just as tight as we hold onto you (the parents who gift us this homesickness and love). I remember England at age five, and six, counting snails in the yard with my sister and the feeling of mud on the path and in my shoes and twirling in between the chickens and the tea and the smells of Granddad’s pipe and the fires in March. And it is a gift, Lisa-Jo, to let us little ones love the places that you love, even though we don’t live there and years go by before we get to see it again. I’m sending lots of love your way.
i was the child always saying goodbye, always missing somewhere, always missing someone, and never really “home.” my parents always did a great job of acknowledging the reality of our pain and homesickness. they never tried to explain it away or use platitudes to ease the suffering. it was a path they led us down and helped us walk along.
i definitely see beauty in the childhood lived between countries and cultures. but there is pain and difficulty as well. that is just the truth of it. god has a purpose. his plan is good. he will give you wisdom and strength to guide your children.
S i g h…
“We eat for the famine that lies ahead.”
{{hugs}}
Gorgeous (but hurty) Lisa-Jo.
Love this. My home/heartsickness is for a place much closer than Africa, but practically speaking it often feels as far away. Great post.
i thought you had me undone with the conversation
then again with the picture of jackson and the meerkat
but it was the paul simon song, really.
and i have to go find it – africa. the album. the love.
What beautiful memories for you and your family! I love the pictures!
I love how this is important to you…and the realization of how he will always be missing one or the other. But isnt that how all of life is… you might not be leaving another country but you are always leaving one circumstance… It’s a good life skill to have…to balance and appreciate the gifts God gives you.
You are equipping him for the long haul.
Tee
I enjoy reading about your adventures. I also loved the picture. The one of your little on with the squirrl was awesome.
Blessing to you! Just continue to enjoy these wonderful moments.
I must admit, I’ve been a bit envious of your trip home. I know, too well do I know, the missing that is a mark of citizenship in the Land-In-Between. May every molecule of your Africa soak into the in between spaces of your heart and mind, so that when your mind wanders it easily finds it’s tuis.
That picture of your son standing in the brown African dusty dirt got me. Made my heart begin to weep in missing Africa… sigh.
you are giving me a memory in my imagination simply by sharing it with us. thank you for that… it’s a beautiful one. :)
This. This is what I don’t understand about my husband. He was born in the US, but basically spent the first 12 years of his life in Saudi Arabia. He wants to go back, but I don’t. I don’t want our kids to grow up with this always-longing-to-be-in-a-place-you’re-not thing. I’m not sure I could handle it. Me to be the only one in the family who had a sense of place. Because I am the homebody.
I spent several months travelling from Nairobi to Capetown and then along the coast in South Africa…The memories I made there….they are sigh worthy. I was born and raised in Pennsylvania but if I’m being honest, the African sky and dirt and people felt more like “home” then anywhere else.