As a child I dreamt about farming one day – from chasing sheep with a blade of grass in my mouth to surveying the farmyard from the back of my horse. I almost thought my dream would come true when I met a boy from Tzaneen, but then I got married to an Englishman from Pretoria and was blessed to live in Dunfermline in the beautiful Scotland for six years.
There, we lived literally five minutes from everything precious to me: five minutes from the beach in Aberdour, five minutes from a scenic pond where my curly-haired daughter could throw bread to the swans, and five minutes from the spot where a gentle horse came to chew carrots at the fence.
That tranquillity, wholesomeness, earthy scent and freedom don’t seem to be on the cards for me. Early mornings, I sit on my front porch in a suburb of Pretoria, holding hands with my lifelong friend, the city dweller, and together we listen to the hadedas proclaim their dominion over the city. We bask in the sun, the same sun that’s also shining on my maybeone-day farm.