Moving to Joburg and leaving Cape Town
The year is coming to an end. I have a few
weeks left in Cape Town before I do the unthinkable: move to Joburg. People
have been asking me how I feel about moving to Jozi. I’m not sure. My standard
answer has been “I’m just trying to get to the end of the year, pack and move
things across the country and then think about what it all means”. It sounds as
though I’m in survival mode and trying to get through to the end of the year
with all my wits intact. Some days are better than others. My wits keep leaving me from time to time and I have a sleeplessness night plagued by endless worries.
I’ve had a few teary moments when thinking
about the trek up North. Not because I have any major attachments to Cape
Town (I wish I did). Sometimes I feel like I’ve let myself down by
not giving this place a chance to seep into my bones and psyche (when I moved here in 2012 I knew I wouldn't think of Cape Town as home. I wasn't settling here). I’m sad to be
leaving my school. I’m sad there are some kids I won’t be able to see grow a
little older. There’s creative writing from my favourite writers I’ll never get
to see (I keep saying I would love to edit their work even when I’m away, but I
doubt they will email me and keep in touch). And another teacher is going to
reap the rewards of some of the work I’ve put into the students I’ve taught and
struggled with since 2012.
The move to Joburg has made me question
myself and my intentions a lot. The idea for the great move first came to mind
last year July. But near the end of the year I decided to be selfless (and
practical) and stay for another year so that my Grade 11 class (in 2013)
wouldn’t have to deal with a new teacher in their final year. Somehow, it
mattered more for them then my current Grade 11s (story for another day). The desire for change also posed some
questions about whether I would continue teaching or study further. Initially I
applied and registered for a Ph. D. But things didn’t quite fit. I had lots of
admin and the registration process became a chore. If I was a little more
esoteric, I would have read the disruptions differently; as signs, omens of
things to come. But I pushed through and attempted to do the Ph. D while
teaching as well. “Big mistake! Huge!”[1]
(another story for another day).
The omen did come in the form of my mother
having a stroke in July. It shouldn’t have rattled me as much as it did. I’m
used to things going wrong as much as I’m surprised when things don’t go wrong.
So when my mother had a stroke I had to rethink my plans: to teach or to push
through with the Ph. D and be a poor student for a few years? I opted for the
former and decided to find other options for my new life in Joburg. I was
surprised when I saw a teaching post at a girls school in Joburg, another
sign, or omen or serendipity (I'm still deciding). I applied and they gave me the job as the English
teacher starting next year.
As the year creeps closer to the end and my
spell in Cape Town has been narrowed down to calendar days, I am partly relieved
and partly haunted by the consequences of my decisions. What does Joburg hold
in store for me? I’ve heard of people moving continents in pursuit of their
dreams and that makes me feel like a wimp. I’m not there yet. I’m just moving
provinces because something (or more honestly, being with someone) compels me to get out of
my comfort zone (yes, clichés are often the default) and take the leap of faith
and trust my instincts (creativity be damned).
I’m waiting for some emotion to overtake me
so I can finally have a definite answer for the questions about what I feel
about moving to Joburg and leaving Cape Town. I want to be more excited. But
after all the paper work I’ve had to deal with in the most recent weeks, I’m
hardly excited. I’m mellow, almost simmering with something that could be
excitement. I want to be excited but the thought of what lies ahead of me
before the mid-December 14 hour drive keeps reigning me in. I have to mark
hundreds of exam scripts. I’m going to spend my hours in a chair with red pen
in hand and invigilating exams. I hate exam time (another story, perhaps for
the next post). What a way to go out!
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