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My parents have retired in Port St John's, South Africa. A village constantly overrun by international backpackers and adventurers. My father's birthplace sits on the center of forests and mountains on the mouth of Umzimvubu river which pours out into the warmth of the Indian Ocean. PSJ as we locals call it is the hemp capital of the country where fat cows eat guavas of the tree and monkeys terrorise our bananas in our gardens. The first thing I do whenever I visit my folks is to call the local fisherman to order some crayfish, mussels and oysters. This time though, his wife came. She was a typical Pondo woman, a towering figure of big hips and thighs yet she was not made of loose fat. She had scars allover her body, thick and compact. She gave me my bounty and told me of her life. Having learnt to dive from a young from her mother before and how this tradition had been passed on from one generation to the next. How she would dive deep into the rocks and stay under the sea. How those rocks protected her when a random shark made its way.How she read the tide and the moon to know when was the time to go get the crayfish. She was of the sea. Could not imagine any life beyond that. She was so free and fulfilled although money was few and far between. She was freer than me stuck in the mindless rat race working in Johannesburg. I truly envied her.