Day 15

Half way through 30 days.


Maybe I need to think about this post more seriously. If I am 15 ‘days’ from the beginning where am I now? Where am I now?

I am here. Windhoek, learner’s license, a vermicompost site, 3 plants in a pot, chilli plants on the side walk, lettuce seeds in the ground, onion stalks sticking out of the ground. I am here.  4 maybe 5 Korean soapies completed. Read a few books, finishing the Lord of the Rings, finally finally read Cloud Atlas (thank you Phillip). I am here. Smoked no cigarettes for 3 months, then smoked a pack in 2 weeks. Ran a 10 km in a marathon, spent 1 hour on the treadmill every so often. Made it through winter. Had 1 argument. I sent my application to UKZN yesterday. I have written 3 articles and a few blog posts. Spoken to my ex twice. Speak to my guy every day. I have seen 1 beautiful sunset while running. I am here.


Yeah, I guess that’s where I am.

Maybe it’ll come to me.


Day 14

that day you asked for boundaries.

I’m in my feelings today. Didn’t get any sleep last night. I was brooding. Lelo said “you need to acknowledge your feelings, even to yourself”.

I feel sore. My chest is sore. I want to hide from myself and what comes with me being me.

Today is not a good day and I could do with a hug.

So if you’re gonna hurt me, why don’t you hurt me a little bit more. Song lyrics.

And it’s times like this and it’s days like this. It’s been a long time coming but I’m falling short. Song lyrics.

The word sadness seems to have passed through meaning “heavy” and “weary, tired of” before emerging as unhappy.

I am a weight today. On myself and him. I am weary. Weary of feeling from so far away.

We’re on hold. Long distance takes its toll. Song lyrics.

Hahaha – Lapsley (Long Way Home) – this album is fucking with me.

You can only beat what’s in front of you. What about all the little things that crop up in between. You can only beat what’s in front of you. The small steps don’t seem to carry us far.

I’m in my feels today.

Hey kiddo.


It’ll pass.

Does anything last? Happy moments, followed by nothing moments, followed by unhappy moments, followed by scared moments. Washing machine cycle – when it ends are we really any different? Cause we just get thrown back in.

2551 km. Uncertainty. Weariness. Longing. Certainty. Sureness. Laughter. Sharing. Space. Distance. Sharing distance. The one thing we have in common.

Distance. Distress. Downcast.The Dumps. The Blues. Bummed.


Day 13


Hi there.

What have I to say for myself?

I ran 10km in a marathon yesterday..

I passed that pesky learner’s test, so I can learn to drive. I wanted a motorcycle …but if it’s meant to be it’ll happen.

I asked my boyfriend a “who are you with” type question. I’m unnerved that I may be that girl. That person.

It’s nearing the end July. I haven’t done much writing… I’m applying for university again. Helping kids with homework. Smoking the occasional cigarette. Growing pretty buds in the back yard. Still at it with the worms.The weather’s turning. Warmer in the days. Halfway through reading the Lord of the Rings.

My skin is clearer, from washing it daily and the face brush 2x a week – still getting some breakouts though. Sleeping in a fair bit lately – I wake up and force myself to go back to bed.

I should get back on the writing bend. There’s something there if I follow through with it enough times. And I enjoy it very much.

Running in the mornings? How about making it a regular thing; I know I started doing it to prepare for the race but it’s so good to do and keep doing. A hobby for body and mind.

Progress with worms. Going to start planting carrots and tomatoes pretty soon. Potatoes and onions too.



Alright. Okay. That’s me done for now,

Day 12

I need to move! I need to move! I need to move!!!

Move, shake, shift, leap, traipse, gallivant, proceed, relocate, affect, touch, strike, impress, advance, develop,  mooooooove.

G’damn. Something’s got to give. I need to move. AGH!

I need to move.

So many places I want to see. So many airs to breathe. So many experiences to write about.

So much, so many. I want to move.

Push me over the edge and in to the unknown.

Day 11

Not much to report here.

I’ll be writing a driving test in 2 weeks.

Applied for a job at a newspaper.

Tilled some more.

Read Cloud Atlas (thank you Phillip :*)

Drank a lovely Pinotage.

Smoked 3 cigarettes, maybe 4.


Day 10

The palm of my right hand is aching. From shoveling. The technical term is “tilling”.  I think I’ve started something. Something real. I wonder what I’ll have to say for myself 6 months from now.

What’s happening Nambahu? Use your words.

Well, ever since I moved back home, it’s been playing on my mind that this house could do with a garden. We have an abundance of open space and it’s more than a little bit ugly (in my opinion). I spent most of 2016 feeling like a caged rodent. Unable to furry back to my humid den where everything made sense and nothing was so serious it couldn’t be smoked away.

I graduated from college, moved back home and felt trapped. From being an independent free thing to a tethered to the ground thing.

Anyway, my bones have settled to the ground. I still don’t belong here, not really. But I’m not cutting my legs off in an attempt to escape.

There is a point to all of this and when I leave again, this piece of internet will be the record of my time here. That’s progress. I feel accountable to myself, I don’t want to sulk anymore.

So – what do all frustrated right brained people do? They make stuff. I assume. Cause that’s I’m doing. Hence the aching palm.

This attempt at “doing something worthwhile” has been met with predictable opposition. Daddy. He says it won’t work and that whatever I’m doing will be fruitless. Ouch, considering the guava plant I’m rehabilitating. No guavas.

If I take it to heart, as he wishes I would that would mean taking it for a fact that the guava tree will not grow. That there cannot be a row of onions, tomatoes and cucumbers. That cabbage and spinach and lettuce have no place in our soil. That green things cannot flourish, no matter how hard I try. That I may as well quit now.


Sorry Daddy. There will be guavas.

Why though?

Why, why, why. I don’t know why. Not with words.

That’s a lie. I do know why.

Why? Because it doesn’t have to be the way it is. That’s why. The front yard doesn’t have to be barren. That’s why. It’s not necessary. It’s not a law, or an edict or the natural state of things. There can be more so why not let it?

Why not?


It’s the middle of winter. She’s settled down to the idea of him. His smile. His scent. His touch. The taste and sound of him.

Her boyfriend.

Funny, being blind can make one deaf as well. If not, why doesn’t she hear the whispers?

“Some girls just don’t care.”

“It’s a pity, she’s such a pretty girl.”

“… she doesn’t know.”


It starts on a Monday.  He cancels on their dinner plans.  Of course, it’s cool – she’s understanding. That’s what he likes most about her. They’ll get together when things calm down.

Tuesday and Wednesday confuse her, what’s with his silence?

Thursday morning he calls and her heart flutters. Yes, she’s free. Gone are thoughts of playing it cool. He misses her. Can they spend the night indoors? Yes, of course.

She wakes up first. Gets a feeling but shakes it off. He wakes and says he’ll be busy, might not be around for a few days.  She understands right? He rushes out the door, declining her offer of an omelette.

Saturday. Sunday. Monday. Tuesday. Wednesday. Thursday.


Friday. There’s a truth nagging at her. It’s nipping at her heels, demanding to be acknowledged. A truth about too busy, too tired, other plans, shifty eyes and short tempers.


Saturday night she visits. Ignores his question and walks passed him.

Sees something to make her heart sore and her mind sure.

She turns and leaves.


It’s now spring. She’s settled down to the truth of him.  He’s not her boyfriend, he never was.