‘amper tuis, amper tuis, my hartlam’
One of my favorite South African singers is Amanda Strydom. I love her passion for music
and can, so often, relate to the lyrics of her songs. Several songs over the
years away from home have become favorites of which one is called ‘journey home’
in which she describes her thoughts, feelings, emotions and observations as she
drives homes. From the words one gathers that she feels beaten up: whether
emotionally or physically, I don’t know, but regardless of feeling beaten up she
still focuses on her goal of reaching home. The words are:
(‘vuisvoos, maar gefokus) focused, though feeling beaten up
(Ek ry en ry en ry deur die Lang Karoo) I drive and drive and drive through…
(Met‘n suitcase vol gedagtes) with a suitcase stuffed with thoughts
(Ek kyk die ding maar so) I watch what’s happening
(En ek ruik my ma se beddegoed) I smell my mom’s linen
(Radio Algoa sing
John Denver uit die dood) On the radio John Denver sings from the grave
‘Take me home country rose’
(Al die ou bekende name groet my langs die pad) familiar names greet me on the road
(Bakens wat nog sterk staan, wat my altyd huis toe vat) strong beacons always taking me
home
(Skielik sien ek water) Suddenly I see water
(Ek voel die baai se wind) I feel the Bay’s wind
(En ek verbeel my ek hoor pappa vra) I imagine hearing my dad say to my mom
(Vrou waar bly die kind) “Where is the child?”
(amper
tuis, amper tuis, my hartlam) almost home, almost
there…
For weeks I’ve repeated the last phrase, ‘almost there, almost there, almost home…’, but I never realized the depth of emotions churning inside of me once the time came to cross the border. This is what I wrote in one of the last day-to-day journal entries:
‘amper tuis, amper tuis, my hartlam’
I could not sleep last night and was awake till 3:30. I am so excited and it feels like the day before I got married, or had a baby or did something spectacularly exciting. I am actually going home after 17 years…and I did not realize the depth of the emotions churning around in me:
nervous – the long-awaited day has finally come
overcome with thankfulness for so many things that I’m afraid I might leave something out:
·
protection through almost 6 months of traveling– we never felt unsafe or in danger, but for what happened in Harare; health: minor problems here and there, but nothing
significant; no serious problems with ‘Old Faithful’ after almost 27 000 km
which is remarkable, especially after hearing what could go wrong and did with
other over landers;
·
no accidents on treacherous roads shared by almost anything and anyone you can think of –
wheels, people, livestock and much more you cannot think of
·
faithfulness of friends and family over the world who ‘traveled’ with us in thoughts, prayers and messages of love and care;
·
although we are running tight - financial provision to bring us here in spite of unexpected and
unplanned extra expenses with visa problems and border crossings;
·
growing closer and knitting together of 4 hearts for life through shared joys, hardships,
difficulties, emotional ups and downs– and this is a big one, because we know of
splits, fractured and very strained relationships during and at the end of the journey;
·
basic, but good food most of the time – we never went to bed hungry;
·
amazing opportunities
where we could fellowship, and share in the lives of friends in ministry that we
worked with for many years; countless experiences of meeting new friends planned
and unplanned –sometimes in the most unexpected and strange circumstances and
always with a strong sense of: this is no coincidence
and…and…endless…
·
I want to cry and I’m not sure what to cry about? I’m not unhappy or sad – filled with wonder about what we’ve seen and experienced; filled with awe for grace bestowed on us;
filled with the unspeakable for the mystery of life.
It is a cool crisp morning and we pack and strap in record time.
Our excitement is palpable – we enter the last stretch like marathon runners who
can finally see the end.
I wait outside and there across the Otto Beit Bridge, a stone
throw, Namibia. The crisp air has warmed up and as I look across to our final
destination it almost feels as if time has frozen; even the atmosphere is
holding her breath for the last crossing!
Across the bridge with Willie Nelson singing in my mind,‘Good
morning, Namibia, how are you? Say don’t you know me, I’m your native daughter…’
17 ½ years of leaving, visiting, leaving, visiting, but always having to leave
again. This time is different though: we are back with no leaving lurking in the
distance.
We take pictures outside the border post – we’ve made it! It is
hard to curb the emotions racing, chasing and crashing into one another.
The 4 of us share an unspoken, strange and unfamiliar sense of
accomplishment; filled with humble thankfulness I want to shout it out to the
world, “we did it, 21 border-crossings, 27 000 km: Namibia!”
One of my favorite South African singers is Amanda Strydom. I love her passion for music
and can, so often, relate to the lyrics of her songs. Several songs over the
years away from home have become favorites of which one is called ‘journey home’
in which she describes her thoughts, feelings, emotions and observations as she
drives homes. From the words one gathers that she feels beaten up: whether
emotionally or physically, I don’t know, but regardless of feeling beaten up she
still focuses on her goal of reaching home. The words are:
(‘vuisvoos, maar gefokus) focused, though feeling beaten up
(Ek ry en ry en ry deur die Lang Karoo) I drive and drive and drive through…
(Met‘n suitcase vol gedagtes) with a suitcase stuffed with thoughts
(Ek kyk die ding maar so) I watch what’s happening
(En ek ruik my ma se beddegoed) I smell my mom’s linen
(Radio Algoa sing
John Denver uit die dood) On the radio John Denver sings from the grave
‘Take me home country rose’
(Al die ou bekende name groet my langs die pad) familiar names greet me on the road
(Bakens wat nog sterk staan, wat my altyd huis toe vat) strong beacons always taking me
home
(Skielik sien ek water) Suddenly I see water
(Ek voel die baai se wind) I feel the Bay’s wind
(En ek verbeel my ek hoor pappa vra) I imagine hearing my dad say to my mom
(Vrou waar bly die kind) “Where is the child?”
(amper
tuis, amper tuis, my hartlam) almost home, almost
there…
For weeks I’ve repeated the last phrase, ‘almost there, almost there, almost home…’, but I never realized the depth of emotions churning inside of me once the time came to cross the border. This is what I wrote in one of the last day-to-day journal entries:
‘amper tuis, amper tuis, my hartlam’
I could not sleep last night and was awake till 3:30. I am so excited and it feels like the day before I got married, or had a baby or did something spectacularly exciting. I am actually going home after 17 years…and I did not realize the depth of the emotions churning around in me:
nervous – the long-awaited day has finally come
overcome with thankfulness for so many things that I’m afraid I might leave something out:
·
protection through almost 6 months of traveling– we never felt unsafe or in danger, but for what happened in Harare; health: minor problems here and there, but nothing
significant; no serious problems with ‘Old Faithful’ after almost 27 000 km
which is remarkable, especially after hearing what could go wrong and did with
other over landers;
·
no accidents on treacherous roads shared by almost anything and anyone you can think of –
wheels, people, livestock and much more you cannot think of
·
faithfulness of friends and family over the world who ‘traveled’ with us in thoughts, prayers and messages of love and care;
·
although we are running tight - financial provision to bring us here in spite of unexpected and
unplanned extra expenses with visa problems and border crossings;
·
growing closer and knitting together of 4 hearts for life through shared joys, hardships,
difficulties, emotional ups and downs– and this is a big one, because we know of
splits, fractured and very strained relationships during and at the end of the journey;
·
basic, but good food most of the time – we never went to bed hungry;
·
amazing opportunities
where we could fellowship, and share in the lives of friends in ministry that we
worked with for many years; countless experiences of meeting new friends planned
and unplanned –sometimes in the most unexpected and strange circumstances and
always with a strong sense of: this is no coincidence
and…and…endless…
·
I want to cry and I’m not sure what to cry about? I’m not unhappy or sad – filled with wonder about what we’ve seen and experienced; filled with awe for grace bestowed on us;
filled with the unspeakable for the mystery of life.
It is a cool crisp morning and we pack and strap in record time.
Our excitement is palpable – we enter the last stretch like marathon runners who
can finally see the end.
I wait outside and there across the Otto Beit Bridge, a stone
throw, Namibia. The crisp air has warmed up and as I look across to our final
destination it almost feels as if time has frozen; even the atmosphere is
holding her breath for the last crossing!
Across the bridge with Willie Nelson singing in my mind,‘Good
morning, Namibia, how are you? Say don’t you know me, I’m your native daughter…’
17 ½ years of leaving, visiting, leaving, visiting, but always having to leave
again. This time is different though: we are back with no leaving lurking in the
distance.
We take pictures outside the border post – we’ve made it! It is
hard to curb the emotions racing, chasing and crashing into one another.
The 4 of us share an unspoken, strange and unfamiliar sense of
accomplishment; filled with humble thankfulness I want to shout it out to the
world, “we did it, 21 border-crossings, 27 000 km: Namibia!”
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