Yearning

Picture: Imhoff Farm, near Ocean View in the more southern mountains of Cape Town.

I find myself yearning for tranquility, a powerful pull towards nature, space, a slower pace than the city allows me. Trying to find the balance, as usual, between my need for solitude and its flipside, companionship. Most of the time, I'm able to organise my life so that I achieve whatever it is I need to get through the day, the week, the month, the year. Dealing with the uncertainty of my standing in the employment market brings about a level of disquiet, unease, which I understand is inevitable. I am a proud person, like most of us are, and thrive on my independence. Having to rely on others to get me through this period is difficult, and yet I know that once I'm employed again, I'll honour all my commitments. Actually enjoying pushing myself to come up with different income-generating activities, so that I'm not passively waiting for others to make my life happen.

Many years ago, when decisions made in the wake of my divorce left me reeling financially, I approached a close friend for a loan of R2000, promising to repay her as soon as I'd found my feet again. This was someone I saw almost every day, with whom I shared some of my most intimate feelings and issues, someone I'd had many experiences with. Calling her up and asking for the loan was a last resort and took a lot of courage; I asked in a way that didn't assume anything and that gave her the space to decline. I encouraged her to discuss it with her husband, and I waited for her response. When it did come, the words she chose cut me like a knife: "We have a policy that we don't lend money to people."

Without going into detail about their opulent circumstances, I have to say that the use of the word "people" was what hurt me the most. This was a very close friend, who knew all the facts about my life. What also hurt was the fact that there was absolutely no understanding of how few choices I had, and just how hard it was to get up every day and carry on. I discussed it with a mutual friend, who said she could help me with R200 if I needed it. By that time, I had made the decision never to put myself through that again, and I'd started pawning whatever I could, including my wedding rings and my back-up musical equipment. Material things have meaning to me only insofar as they serve some purpose. I had two small children and I had to survive.

After a period of inconsistent income and quite a bit of turbulence, I settled into my new job, happy to be able to consolidate and work towards greater financial freedom. But my own struggles had heightened my awareness of the plight of others, and I soon identified someone who desperately needed help but was too proud to ask. I took a serious look at my budget and decided I could allocate a small amount every month to help ease her load. One of the hardest things for me, related to my retrenchment, was breaking the news to her that our arrangement had to end.

When I am employed again, I will make sure I don't live my life selfishly, with blinkers on. But for now, life has presented me with huge challenges, some of which terrify me, but most of which I've decided to channel into a learning experience. I WILL come out of this and I WILL go on to be happy and productive again. Most importantly, I WILL be a better person for having been forced out of my comfort zone and into a different headspace, where my appreciation of simple things is at an all-time high.

Which is why, with so much going on in my head, so many things to reflect on, I yearn, on a daily basis, for peaceful surroundings. I'm deeply grateful that some of my social activities have taken me to breathtaking spots in our beautiful Mother City, Cape Town. I think I've also come to terms with the fact that my aspirations lean towards tranquil surroundings. So maybe one day people will say, "Have you heard? Trudy's really bought the farm!"