City dream­ing

go! Platteland - - CHITCHAT -

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.

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