The Grateful Vine

A broad statement I know. To sweep a whole massive continent with this probably seems a bit presumptuous. I suppose I should narrow it down to my particular experiences: and that is southern and east Africa. If anyone reading this has had the privilege of living in those parts of the world or just connecting with them as a visitor, then they will understand when I say that once Africa takes a hold of your heart, it never lets it go. 

There are many problems and politics that I won’t even pretend to comprehend so please know that I am only talking of my fleeting encounters, which is with privilege, so I do not mean to compare, diminish or understand the position of many. I can only speak of my experience. 

Landing for the first time in South Africa in 2010, was a confusing scenario of a brand new Durban King Shaka airport with fresh tarmac, back dropped by a lush green jungle (no lions) as opposed to the (stereotypical) dusty dirt, pot-holed roads and desert that I had had in my head. Followed by going to a beautiful house and relaxing in the perfect sunshine in an outdoor swimming pool. With the weather that I grew up with In the UK, if you had an outdoor swimming pool, you were either rich or mad, or most likely, both.

Once I arrived in Kwazulu Natal and discovered that a winter’s day here was warmer than the standard British summer, I could see why no one ever wanted to leave. And I found that I didn’t either. Kwazulu Natal is an incredible place where the sea, mountains and game reserves meet. 

But it was the wildness that really captured my heart and soul. I loved the rugged bush, the ‘make a plan’ attitude, but most of all, the animals; that had long been around before us humans had got involved. I always thought that this is where I would end up. Where normal suburban life would be punctuated by vervet monkeys stealing food from the kitchen and the occasional hippo wandering down the street at night. 

I learnt to accept the snakes. Whether it was a night adder in the garden or a brown house snake in the house. I looked where I trod and was careful in the long grass. Although I still managed to step on a skaapsteker or two. In Kenya, I was even more cautious, especially after a 2m black mamba was found on the property (yikes!). 

Despite having a pretty severe phobia of snakes from a young age, (I think I blame Indiana Jones for this one) I tried to educate myself and learn how to deal with more dangerous species. I spent a lot of time in the game reserves and mountains, so being informed about stepping on a puff adder or being spat at by a Mozambique spitting cobra could literally be the knowledge between life and death, and, both of which I came within spitting and stepping distance of during my time on the continent. 

But one part of living in a country where so many things are trying to kill you, it makes it so much easier moving to a country where the only creatures that you really have to worry about are jellyfish and pickpockets.

Look, there are snakes here in Italy, and I have had the good fortune of seeing some of them at my house (sign of a good ecosystem). But, with the amount of trash, wood & rocky debris in my garden, there is no way that If I was in South Africa or Kenya that I would be confidently clearing these waste sites with such haste. In fact, if my current garden was in Africa I would have taken one look at it and said ‘ nope – you can have it’, and given it back to Jumanji. 

Instead, I put on my gloves and dive straight into piles of leaves, tiles and rubble that in a previous life of mine would have been a death sentence; dancing with at least one of the mambas and that’s if you were lucky enough not to meet a spitting cobra. But here in Italy, it’s as if wearing a layer of neoprene suddenly makes me bulletproof from all snakes, spiders and other creepy crawlies. After the wilderness of Africa, Italy seems oddly calm in comparison. And even though I am grateful for the safety there is still a part of me that misses the uncertainty and sense of untamed freedom.

So, after all this, if that’s how I go, then please please can someone make up something cooler for my headstone than: ‘Gardening’.