Xanti Travels Back Home – 
June came and went in a flurry of wind and words and technology. Let me say this right now, technology has never been a good friend to me. Sitting there taunting me in delight with her 9-inch heels and red lipstick, whip in hand, she makes me feel…. Let’s just say she makes me feel inadequate. I prefer exploring ancient ruins to the files of Google or Firefox. But I cannot simply flap my hands and stomp my bare feet and give up in defeat. I’m gonna grab that bloody whip of hers and at least pretend to myself that I can do this.
I love new beginnings. They, make me feel strong. It is the sturdy, time-tested day to day stability that usually gets me off balance. That’s when rejection has a chance to infect me. A reminder from my childhood that once, I was not good enough. I didn’t fit in. My friends laughed at what I thought was important. I took care of the wrong things, wore strange clothes. I feared who I was and who I would become. But now, at the turning point of my half a century, I take every new start and I flourish.
On Wednesday, I landed back on my Island just before sundown. It had been a long round trip across countries old and known to me. I’m sure you’ll get a feel of some of these places when my book comes out so I won’t wax lyrical about them now.
As I drove the hour-long drive back to my rented home, the warm dusk air promised me a soft start to a new evening. My body started to thaw out after the Sydney and Jo’burg winters and for the first time in weeks, I could feel my toes. Jimmy Hendrix was playing loudly on the radio and I pressed my foot down on the accelerator not bothering to stick to the speed limit. I passed a woman in her wine-coloured sari walking along the road-side. She stood out against the green sugar cane fields and I imprinted the image into my long-term memory. For a moment, I was free of all thoughts of technology. With my hair wind-whipped and my thoughts at ease, I took a deep breath in. I knew that in the following days, I’d begin my battle but this time, I remembered that chaos fortifies me.
So after a little glitch and an IT guru named Naboth Semwayo, I now sit in front of my screen. MailChimp cowering in the back window. Technology still has her damn whip and tall shoes and her lips are still red but now she has a bruise coming up around her right eye. So, technology who’s your Daddy? Better still, who’s your frigging Mama?
