Raf's Travel Diaries

Attachment. Detachment. The wakening of feelings of belonging. It gets stronger as I come back yet again. I try to ignore them. This is not my place. This can't be my place. A place in which I suffered and hated so much. It can't be. Yet I can't wait to come back again. Good memories of my childhood. This might be my place. Known faces greet me . It's my choice. Or is it? It can't be. I try to remind myself of the impotence I used to feel. I don't choose it. Those feelings seem so far away and unsignificant. I don't want to choose it. Yet somehow I do. Basic feelings of belonging. Raf (Can't control the desire to be everywhere). *In Tsonga, Changana Dialect it means white and refers to white people.

She knows no one; walks in, timidly, knowing all eyes are on her. The foreigner, the newcomer; they can tell, they can see. She tries to look confident, goes over to a corner and leans on a stool. An excuse, that's all she needs. She doesn't smoke, she doesn't drink, but no one knows that. She scans the place and people, finds the leader, her target. She needs to give him courage, reassurance. She catches his eye and smiles shyly. He starts walking towards her. She relaxes and feels more comfortable, she knows it's easier from now on. She will soon be introduced to the rest of the group, re tell stories she's told hundreds of times, be surprised and laugh at new anecdotes and, at least for tonight, she will belong. Raf