I recently invited my friend Dianne Russell to write a series of blog posts about her South African experiences in Cape Town. Dianne has been taking her role as a blogger seriously and her adventures at Yeah, but… are one of the best reads available online. She has also stepped up on her photography and has a very interesting page at JPEGmag.com. I am really happy that Dianne said yes to MadameHeringer.com and will write a series of posts direct from Cape Town for us. Enjoy!

I’m a Canadian English teacher with over 10 years experience, currently living and volunteering in Cape Town, South Africa.  I teach English to African refugees from the Democratic Republic of Congo, Burundi, Somalia, Sudan, etc.  I also have an African heart.

Yesterday my class was given a survey that asked them to report any known threats of xenophobic violence against refugees in South Africa after World Cup 2010 ends.   After completing the survey, a female student looked at me carefully and said, “You like to work with refugees, don’t you?”  “Yes”, I replied.  She then said, “I know you. You came to Africa because of your heart.”

I couldn’t have said it any more clearly than that myself.

For years I had been dreaming and scheming of a way to come to Africa.  Perhaps this yearning was prompted by the endless National Geographic specials that I watched on TV as a kid or maybe the infomercials for Foster Parents Plan that made me cry every Saturday afternoon.  Whatever it was, my heart has been facing Africa for a long time.

Even a fortune teller knew about my heart’s African dream.  Not long ago, she predicted that I would live in Africa with “a house like the United Nations” – meaning I would adopt a number of foreign children and live happily ever after.  Just like Angelina Jolie, I suppose.

Two years ago I tutored a Kenyan student in Vancouver whose father runs an aid distribution company in Kenya.  The family travels back and forth, and as my relationship grew with the family, we started planning a month-long Kenyan dream trip for me in December 2008. I was to stay with family and friends across the county and in Tanzania and have opportunities to volunteer in the refugee camps, but alas, the political situation grew tense due to elections.  Sadly, the trip fell through – my heart wept.

Long Way Back Home

Then I met Adam, the man later to be known as the ‘life partner’ on my South African Life Partner Temporary Residence Permit.

When I found out that Adam is a South African citizen with dual Canadian citizenship, my stomach flipped.  So did my heart.  But determined not to throw myself unwittingly into anymore unsuccessful relationships, I played it cool and revealed nothing of my African heart.

A couple of months had passed when Adam looked at me and asked, “Do you want to go to South Africa with me for a few months this winter?”  “Are you serious?!” I shot back almost defensively, ready to protect my heart from another disappointment.  “Yes, I’m serious”, he replied. My heart passed out.

I approached the planning of our trip with trepidation, knowing that the bottom could fall out at any time.  But it didn’t.  We researched apartments, car, flights, jobs, day trips, etc.  My heart was experiencing the double whammy of being in love AND knowing it was finally going to Africa.  The excitement grew.

Unfortunately, the road to South Africa was a bit bumpy.

One of the potential obstacles was my job. I am always wearing too many hats at work and as a result, I’m a bit hard to replace.  I am lucky that my organization granted four months unpaid leave to live this dream.

We also had to sell property and move at the same time. Our life was frantic.  As we couldn’t afford movers because of our trip, we moved ourselves in the middle of winter. “It’s ok”, we chanted as we balanced the couches on our heads and humped box after box down the stairs on Christmas Eve, “we’re going to be in Africa soon”.

We booked our flight for January 27, 2010.  In our panic to prepare the house for rental before leaving, we made it to the airport with five minutes to spare.  After almost collapsing at the ticket counter, my African heart was finally on her way home.

Photo credit: Dianne Russell on JPEGmag.com