Where My Heart Lives

by Carla Lottering (South Africa)

I didn't expect to find South Africa

There is something ethereal about the absolute stillness that blankets the Karoo. The semi-arid desert is known for playing tricks on the minds of innocent travellers - it makes you believe that its nothingness continues into eternity. The sun is hot; the ground is thirsty. Nothing about the lonely Karoo screams ‘best travel destination in the world’. Yet, my heart aches for it almost every day. It’s been two years since I last saw the sun rise over the dusty piles of rocks and shrubs with no intended purpose other than to fill the silence of the scenery. It’s been two years since I last greeted tired sheep farmers in khaki shirts stained with sweat and weary smiles on their faces, always hasty to count the dead of the day. It’s also been two years since most of the community has seen a droplet of rain; the ritualistic cleansing of the earth has skipped the Karoo for many a winter, taunting it with heavy rain clouds but never blessing the red soils with water, or its people. I started travelling through the vast world of rocks and shrubs pursuing a romance. I followed a lover into the great unknown from my safe and moisture-laden beach residence. I had a pre-conceptualised idea of what a small Karoo town would be like: warm, dry, dreadful. And although the weather conditions certainly matched these expectations, I found myself falling in love with the place. The people showed kindness and warmth, much like the sun, for every traveller that ventured into their tiny general store, butchery, church or farm home. They always had a question to ask about city life, or an old recipe to share, or a sweet compliment to give. The dry humor of old-timers in the farming world softened the harsh reality they faced every day - anything from nicknames (the farmer who fixed the community’s tractors was simply known as ‘Tuis Trekker’” - that’s Afrikaans for ‘Tuis Tractor’) to extraordinary storytelling that left you crying of laughter over your hearty meal of meat and potatoes accompanied by a double whiskey or cold beer. The dreadful, however, was not found in the mundane existence I thought the community lived - it was found it the drought they had been facing for more than four years. But the Karoo has a magic about it. Some believe it was placed upon the land by its first inhabitants - the San people - and others believed it developed over the years as the winds, and a scorned Mother Nature, changed the firm ground on which many a farmer, sheep, wild animal and traveller have tread. Scientists concur that the Karoo used to be a boundless basin of water, but that thought has not lingered in the minds of its current occupants. Still, small miracles are often witnessed in this land of the unexpected. I, personally, did not expect to find or leave my heart in the Karoo, but I did so after my third trip to my lover’s small hometown. It was a typically hot day in the summer, with heat waves crinkling on the dirt roads where donkey carriages still leave a cloud of dust when they pass. We were in the midst of sheep counting and wishing the sun away when a cloud appeared from nowhere - and decided to bless our tiny existence with rain. It was truly, and unexpectedly, beautiful. Our surroundings opened up and bloomed like I’ve never seen before, and a showcase of wonder ensued - shrubs came to life and littered the dusty plain with bright green specks, the rocks transformed into golden gems and the sheep, although not audible, were cheering in celebration. I lifted my eyes to the heavens, thanked it for showing me its magic, and stared in wonder at the place I so wrongly misjudged. As soon as it started, it stopped. A single, celestial ray of sunshine shone through the mystical cloud, and I knew then that I never wanted my heart to reside anywhere else. It still lives there, two years on. I have not gone to collect it, because there is magic there, and know that it’s safe in the hands of that dry, dusty and dreadful place.