A life not witnessed

As he switches off the light Fears Not acknowledges the passing of another day. The sweet memories of last night’s dream still lingers in his consciousness, a dream where he was wanted. Recognised. Sought out. Cherished.

During the day he though of his sense of not belonging.

The small triumphs of the day was stuck in his throat with nothing but an empty apartment to turn to and say: “Look…” or “Listen…”

He longed for those casual conversations one has with a companion about the happenings of an ordinary day. Those mundane building blocks of our existence not worthy of  a fuss but yet part of our hopes and dreams, our fears and disappointments; the very fibre of our being.

As he drifts off to sleep he wonders; to what degree is a life not witnessed a life at all?

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Fear the Hippo

Fear the Hippo

A wonderful Hippo picture grâce à Getaway Magazine!

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TIA, or is it?

Fears Not chuckles by himself as yet another one of the animals, taken aback, asks him is he is going to miss the World Cup.

Is it possible that the entire world thinks this is the single most important thing that can happen in 2010? Make no mistake, he is South African and proudly so but his entire world does not revolve around a football.

So in the last days before his imminent departure around the world, Fears Not stumbles across a football shirt with the very adorable Fifa mascot on and, in his excitement to find something so right, do not quality check the garment.

At home he excitedly pulls the shirt over his head and to his dismay, finds that there is a hole in it.Fears Not ponders the possibilities – he did not keep the invoice and doesn’t really feel like making a fuss, but a hole in a shirt is one thing on the sleek and svelte giraffe but a completely different story on a pot-bellied hippo! After all, the world looks with unforgiving eyes at the well-rounded.

But TIA – this is Africa – and nothing may scream ‘home’ quite like a hole in a shirt so Fears Not shrugs, pulls his shirt down over his pot belly, hitch his backpack a little higher and say thank you for the cool breeze that surprises his skin from time to time.

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Pre-travel preparations

Fears Not watched from a corner of the bookcase while Ri frantically packed years of her live into too many boxes to store it away for one day in the future. A future that no one can fathom at the moment.

It always amazed him how these humans can collect so much stuff and they get so possessive over things that break and rust and burn. Isn’t our memories the only things that count? So why do they need so many things to remind them of people and places. If they cannot remember the people and places anymore, what value does things have in any case?

He is even more perplexed that humans buy stuff and then put it in away in a special place because they don’t want to use it in case it breaks just to take it out once every six years when they move house and then someone else may just break it for them. Strange behaviour indeed…

The movers have come and gone and a strange silence have settled over the place called home. Now even breaths have an echo and you walk hesitantly where you once strode with the confidence of one who belonged. The hush in between coming and going hangs over everything. That peculiar place where one has neither said goodbye nor hello.

Now Fears Not waits… for the morrow and what it may bring; for the adventure yet un-lived; for the possibilities of the future, for memories yet unmade and for the pure joy of discovering the world.

His eyes are wide open to wonder!

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