Our Mother City adventure
The year was 2002
We had just travelled back from spending Christmas and New Year in South Africa. It had been the perfect trip and we had been bowled over by Cape Town.
We wondered, could we go back and make a life there?
Working in a bush town, in Zambia, we had no access to internet. We had a landline phone but that was taken out by a thunderstorm. It took 5 months for the phone line to be repaired. There was nothing we could do to research the possibility of a move to the Mother City.
And so we waited.
Have you ever travelled somewhere and left thinking, could I move there?
It was eight months before we got to travel back. We checked in for the flight from Lusaka to JoBurg.
The man at check in took our two rucksacks, as well as suitcases, boxes and laundry bags full of items collected during our two years in Zambia.
“Madam, you are heavy”. 93 kilos. Excess luggage.
I smiled at him. And I politely appealed for help. “please would you…”, “we would really appreciate it if you could be so kind to…”, “please assist me”.
He smiled back. “Let me see what I can do”
Time passed. He never came back to us. The announcement came to board the plane and we were invited to join the queue. When we saw the man again, checking boarding passes, he smiled again and said “it’s all O.K, there are many business travellers going with just a briefcase. All your baggages made it”.
And that was the beginning of our move to South Africa.
On arrival at O R Tambo airport there was a lift. We had booked accommodation at a backpackers place. All our belongings were put in the car and driven to Pretoria. Over the course of a week we had time to reflect on leaving Zambia and look ahead to reaching Cape Town. We made our way around the city of Pretoria, which to be honest, we found quite boring. But we were content to be able to do regular stuff again; order a delivery pizza or a cappuccino in a cafe, creature comforts after our life in rural Zambia.
We had bookings for South Africa’s luxury Blue Train. The tickets had been a surprise for PKP’s birthday, a splurge after two years of being NGO workers. And looking back, it was such an opportunity, costing just R8,000 at the time (about GBP 500)
On our day of departure we took a taxi to Pretoria’s railway station. We both had an overnight bag packed for our cabin. Luggage tags were attached to all the cases and bags and placed on one of those gold, hotel luggage trolleys. And just like that, a porter whisked all our excess luggage away, stored in another carriage until our arrival in Cape Town.
Of course the journey was fantastic, with the most spectacular, changing landscapes that we have ever seen from any long distance train, accompanied by exceptional food and fine, Western Cape wines. And it was a memorable way to arrive in the Mother City.
Once there we checked in to a rented apartment, bags full of luggage and enthusiasm. We looked at the cases and each other and thought, how do we find a way to stay?
It was only a matter of weeks before we had found a home and were looking into jobs.
It’s twenty years since that arrival in Cape Town. The Cape Peninsula was the first place that we called home together. And the Mother City will always be part of our story.
What’s your special relocation story?
© Maggie M / Mother City Time