Passion's Edge

What a magnificent two days it was - time flew by faster than an espresso in an Italian bar! As I drove northeast from Thabazimbi, I was captivated by the breathtaking, mountainous landscape unfolding around me. Suddenly, my thoughts turned back to the young children I had seen along the road near an African village, mostly girls - walking barefoot, their small frames balancing heavy loads of water on their heads, reminiscent of those near Botswana.

Intrigued, I stopped to ask a man nearby how far these girls had to carry the water.

“Fife to eight kilometres,” he replied.

I could not help but marvel at the resilience of those young children, cheerfully transporting 10 to 20 litres of water from the source to the village. I took a deep breath, recalling the bright, curious eyes of those girls who had looked at me, filled with a mixture of hope and determination. Their expression seemed to say:

“Every action I take makes me stronger not to fail at my duty. Tomorrow, when I am big, I can say: ‘I cannot guarantee your blessed relief through my failure!’”

This realisation suddenly flooded my senses, sending goosebumps down my spine. In response, I thought, “Never shall they fail; bless all these children.” It was a simple experience that touched my heart, prompting me to reflect sincerely on my privileged childhood back home.

I also spotted a village elder; a figure of quiet dignity, standing proudly in vibrant traditional clothing, with a beautifully crafted timber walking stick in hand. He looked almost like a lord mayor - in the African way. I felt a strong urge to explore more; the encounter had left a lasting imprint on my soul. Also, my initial vision of the continent had been lusher and greener, but I soon realised that true beauty lies in the heart of Africa; it is genuine and unadorned. “That was simply the way it was.”

As my thoughts began to shed their unnecessary clutter, I found myself connecting with something profound: the essence of nature, which I came to think of as "True Mother Nature." This awakening was powerful and strange, transforming my perception entirely. Where I once saw emptiness, I now noticed intricate details surrounding me - subtle colours, delicate textures, and the gentle rhythms of life. Initially, we often focus on the loud, prominent aspects of our environment, such as the bustling noise of the city or the vibrant sights that demand our attention. We are plastered by the ‘noise’ of social media. However, as our senses begin to attune to the quieter elements, we uncover a rich mosaic of existence, previously unnoticed.

I felt a significant shift within myself; the influence of Battiato’s lyrics and music acted as a catalyst, prompting me to reconsider my understanding of the world from a human perspective. His music encouraged me to explore deeper questions about reality, existence, and our human connection to nature. This shift ignited a newfound curiosity in my reading, guiding me toward works that explore fundamental reality and the intricate relationship between consciousness and the world around us. Eager to deepen my understanding at a later stage, I began seeking out books on these captivating subjects. And if you thought I was ‘something else’: then NO, that was me in my purest form. My senses had not abandoned me; instead, I discovered the things that truly mattered.

The transition was truly astonishing, believe me. Some of you may understand what I mean from this experience, while others are left wondering.

Northern South Africa and Rhodesia, known today as Zimbabwe, are indeed home to some impressive Baobab trees; these are among the largest and oldest trees in the world. These iconic trees - with their distinctive, massive trunks and sprawling branches - have a rich cultural significance. The Baobab tree is often referred to as the "Tree of Life," due to its ability to store water and provide sustenance.

Meanwhile, on my travels, I stopped only once before reaching the town of Louis Trichardt. A paper map showed the necessary roads, and I noticed a shopping centre on the right side of the road. I pulled in at the station to refuel and asked for directions to the Standard Bank. It was a smooth experience, even though many people spoke Afrikaans, a language that felt familiar to me due to its similarities to Dutch, Swiss, and German.

Once I reached the bank, I cashed an American Express check, converting it to 20% local currency and 80% Zimbabwean currency. I was left with a staggering number of Zimbabwean notes; back then, 1 USD equalled 25-30 Zimbabwean dollars. The bank asked if I had a bag, and of course, I did not. They offered me a plastic bag, which I declined. Instead, I rolled up a few notes before realising that I certainly did need a bag – so I went next door to find a slightly sturdier bag that looked like an exercise bag. Afterwards, I walked around and grabbed a Coke and my first pie from the local bakery (who recommended it). I lifted the dough lid to see what was inside (having not had a pie before) and it smelled delightful! I added a teaspoon of white pepper, and within a minute, both the pie and the Coke were gone.

The nearby mountains rose majestically, and I was eager to reach the Mountain Inn hotel, which I had been told was less than ten minutes away and had stunning views. After a short, scenic drive uphill, during which I paused to savour the stunning views, I spotted the sign to turn right and followed it without hesitation. I arrived just after lunch, in the warm mid-afternoon, and I drove slowly to take in the beauty of the hotel gardens and its surroundings. As I parked the car in a convenient spot, my mind raced with thoughts about how to manage the hidden contents of my trunk. Most of the items remained there, but the money and gun were essential; I needed to keep them in a safe place.

I soon discovered a small safe in the cupboard, perfectly sized for the gun, its documents, and some cash from my black bag. This discovery brought me a sense of peace, knowing those critical items were securely stored away. For the remainder of the cash, I opted to hide it under the mattress. I spread the bills out carefully to ensure the hidden money would not be obvious to anyone who might check there later. This approach satisfied my need for both security and discretion, allowing me to keep the money out of sight while ensuring it remained accessible when I needed it.

Not long after checking into my room, I decided it was hot enough to cool off in the small pool. I found myself alone, enjoying the water and the sense of carefree tranquillity. The peacefulness of the moment prompted memories of my girlfriend - we had separated just six months earlier, and it was a thought that softened my solitude as I reflected on my journey to this point. It sparked an awareness that I was a grown young man embarking on a new adventure in a completely unfamiliar place - one that was, in fact, a war-torn country. Yet, the thrill of exploration quickly overshadowed any lingering worries about what to expect.

Later, back in the quaint and charming hotel lobby, an incredibly warm and inviting young lady walked towards me. She introduced herself with a bright smile: “I am Jasmine! - the hotel manager. I was thrown from my shoes!” ?Her liveliness was contagious. Caught off guard, I stumbled over my introduction in the polite way, which felt a bit awkward: “May I present myself?” ?

Her dark hair framed her face, and her striking green eyes seemed to sparkle with kindness as she gave me another smile and soft laughter - perhaps enjoying my introduction (that probably sounded very stupid).

She replied, “Of course you may!”

I introduced myself, “I am Mark”

“Nice to meet you, Mark,” she replied.

“It is my pleasure,” I responded.

Afterward, she apologised for not meeting me at the reception, explaining she had had some administrative tasks to finish. I waved off her apology, feeling surprisingly important at that moment, despite being just a simple young lad in the heart of Africa, uncertain about what lay ahead. Why was she so apologetic to a stranger of my non-existent calibre? It struck me as a positive note to her kindness and the warmth of the people I was beginning to encounter.

Jasmine then asked how long I would be staying.

“One night only,” I replied.

“What a shame,” she said, her voice mixed with genuine regret.

I agreed, mentioning how much I liked the location. “But I have noticed there aren’t many visitors by the pool and in the hotel,” I added. ?Her expression shifted as she began to explain: “Since the end of the war in 1979, tourists have become exceedingly rare. The population has diminished significantly over the following few years.” There was a wistfulness in her tone, a hint of hope lingering beneath the surface as if she believed better days were on the horizon.

Forget the seven seconds; it was more like one second! As I listened to Jasmine and gazed at her, an unexpected wave of nostalgia washed over me about my relationship breakup at home – I told myself it was only temporary while I pursued my work travel. I did not want to admit it, but my encounter with Jasmine felt like a gentle turning point, and a reminder of everything that had come before.

She continued: “The hotel’s guests were predominantly salespeople and business travellers, with only a handful of tourists - mostly families visiting the area.” I understood this context, and wherever I went - whether chatting with black or white locals - I found I could easily strike up conversations and forge connections. Yet, I could not quite grasp why there had been tensions just a few years earlier. Of course, I was still naive and uninformed, unable to draw any real conclusions. It was all a puzzle, and I was only beginning to piece it together.

Jasmine added: “I will talk to you later.” I agreed and headed to my room to change into dinner trousers and a comfortable T-shirt.

As I slipped into the relaxed cotton fabric, I felt a sense of ease wash over me; it was the kind of comfort that invites friendly conversation and laughter. I took a moment to glance in the mirror, ensuring I was presentable for the evening ahead. I was ready for some tasty food and a nice red wine. A year earlier, I had read that South Africa's meat and wines were first-class. Now, filled with excitement, I arrived at the colonial-style restaurant, its dark timber and vintage family photos creating a charming atmosphere. Before dinner, I thought a pre-dinner drink would be nice, so I headed to the bar.

The bartender recommended a local Nederburg Shiraz from Stellenbosch near Cape Town, which I sipped while finding a cozy spot in the lounge. I struck up a conversation with a couple nearby, who shared their favourite dishes and experiences from South Africa. The couple was from Holland and their stories heightened my anticipation for culinary delights ahead.

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