My background
I was born in the late 1970s in South Africa. Whenever I mention that country I feel the stigma of race is lurking on people's minds. I am white. I had a mother and father and a sister. We were not wealthy, but we always had pets. Rabbits, dogs, cats, birds, fish. I even had a pet rat for a month or so. It belonged to my cousin, but I like to think I was brave enough to keep it in my room and pet it occasionally. I kept it alive so that counts as a pet, right...?
It was strange growing up in a country fuelled by racism and fear. We were taught to fear black people. I had a friend in primary school who was mixed race, but would vehemently deny having any black heritage. She was adamant she was white. Her and her brothers were the only children of colour at that school at the time. I liked her a lot, she had a great sense of humour and I truly felt sorry for her that she felt she had to tell people she was something she was not. I didn't understand it, all I knew was she was my friend and I liked her.
My secondary school was very different. It was open to all races and harmonious. I loved that school, but my family could not afford the school fees, so after two years I had to change schools.
By this time Nelson Mandela was our president, and things were looking up for the country. People integrated more. It felt strange; welcome relief to know that we were not actively suppressing other human beings because of their race, but the older generations (of all races) would continue to instil caution and fear.
Sadly, the race issues have never settled. People tolerate each other generally, but there is always an underlying hatred of other cultures. It's very sad. It is such a beautiful country, but the fear and hatred make it difficult to navigate a daily path peacefully.
There is much violence, crime and corruption too. Ultimately, I left South Africa for this reason. I yearn for my homeland, but I could never go back.
I have lived in Israel. Also, a beautiful place filled with fear and hatred of others. I was young when I lived here, and I travelled alone, so despite feeling the excitement of independence, I did feel lonely. And the uncertainty of war was always on my mind. I returned home after some time but felt the need to travel again. I lived briefly in Australia. Now, this was an amazing place indeed! Perfect, perhaps. But alas, I could not stay. I eventually moved to England, permanently. I have English ancestry, so it made sense to end my travels where my known roots began.
So, in summary: I am a traveller. An emigrant. At home, but not home.