Embracing Change (2 page)

It didn’t take long to organise and the attendant crouched down for a few minutes as Sarah swallowed the pill and thanked them both. “I feel so foolish. Sitting here, crying in front of two complete strangers. It’s not the type of thing I normally do. It’s just that I feel so overwhelmed. So afraid of the future and so alone.” She couldn’t tell them the whole truth but she shared this small part of it.

Shiraz placed a comforting hand on her arm. “Are you moving to Australia?”

“No, New Zealand.”

The flight attendant smiled. “We get many immigrants travelling with us and I’ve seen the pain they go through. Most of them leave loved ones behind and find it really difficult. The great thing is that a year or so later, I see some of them again as they travel back to South Africa for a holiday. Most of them settle in really well and don’t regret their decision.”

Shiraz continued the conversation as a bell pinged softly, summoning the flight attendant to another part of the plane. “My uncle and his family moved to Sydney two years ago. It took them a few months to settle but they love it now.” She smiled gently. “You’ll be alright. I know you will.”

To her surprise, Sarah managed to drift off to sleep again, the tablet having quieted the pounding in her head. This time she slept for two hours before the cabin crew roused them for breakfast.

Kingsford Smith Airport in Sydney was Sarah’s first glimpse of a country outside of Africa. Although tired and emotionally drained, the terror of the night had subsided and she used the hour-long stopover to explore, absorbing the Australian accents and unfamiliar sights. The strangest thing was seeing white people doing menial jobs done by “blacks” in South Africa.
How different
, she thought as a middle-aged white woman walked past with a trolley of cleaning materials.
I see I’ll have to adapt to a whole new way of life.

By the time the boarding call came for her connecting flight, Sarah was eager to see the country she had studied so carefully and learned so much about. The anticipation took the edge off her tiredness and she settled into the soft embrace of leather. Outside, the Tasman Sea appeared to be a shiny blue cloth, interwoven with sequins and sparkles of silver. It looked so small on the map, but the reality was massive, a vast expanse that rolled endlessly from Australia to New Zealand, from one shore to another. It was a welcome distraction, this unexpected beauty. She knew the pain was still there, lurking deep within, but this was an adventure. She’d taken the first step to living their dream. “Oh, Luke,” she murmured, “how you would have loved this.”

An announcement from the pilot disturbed her thoughts. “If you’re sitting on the left side of the plane, you’ll see New Zealand in the far distance.” She pressed her face up against the window and caught a glimpse of her new home, watching intently as the grey shadow started to take form. Greenery appeared, and then a fringe of yellow beaches. The sea lightened in colour and took on varying shades of turquoise, emerald and sapphire. This was a different world to the one she knew. A different kind of beauty, and she was captivated.

Her eyes moistened twenty minutes later as they crossed the Southern Alps; immense formations of grey rock, powdered in places with drifts of snow. This was where Luke had told her to bring him. She thought of the days ahead, the journey into the mountains. She thought of fulfilling his last wish; of taking his ashes and scattering them into mountain breezes. Of sprinkling them into raging waterfalls and majestic, braided rivers. Of making Luke a part of the land he yearned to come to. For the first time in months, a glimmer of hope shone into her heart.

Thank you, Luke. Thank you for making sure I would come here; that I would give New Zealand a chance.

Chapter Two

I have never felt so alone in all my life. There is no one here who knows me, no one who can give a smile of recognition. I never realised that moving means a total loss of identity and reputation.

From the journal of Sarah Johnson

Monday, 3rd March

She woke to a feeling of strangeness and disorientation; a bed that was too firm, shadows that were unfamiliar. A digital display told her it was noon. Uncomfortable and stiff, she turned and stretched, flexing her toes, calves and thighs, lifting her arms and splaying her hands into starfish. Eventually she pushed the bedcovers back and moved across to the window, separating the curtains to gaze out at Christchurch.

Her impressions of the day before jumbled in a mixture of neatness and beauty, strangeness and detachment. She knew the houses were wooden and wondered if the motel was too. Curious, she knocked on the wall with her knuckles, producing a hollow echo. She had only lived in brick homes and often wondered what wooden houses looked like on the inside. Could you tell they were made of wood? She thought of the homes she passed after leaving the airport. They were all situated on narrow pieces of land, and seemed to be an arm’s length from their neighbour’s.

What really caught her attention, though, was the openness. Many had knee high fences in white picket or natural wood. They were obviously there for the effect and not for security. Others had no barricades at all. Just smooth lawns that unfurled to stop neatly at the tarred foot path. All these impressions mingled together giving a sense of freedom that contrasted sharply with the barricaded suburbs of Johannesburg.

She pressed the power button on her laptop and the blue light flashed, signalling that life was flowing through its circuits. The motel had been booked over the internet, a full month with discounted rates and wireless internet access. She knew her family would be thinking of her, wondering how her trip had been.

She left the computer whirring and beeping and turned on the taps in the shower, twisting the silver knobs until warm water sprinkled the glass sides, running, sliding, making watery tracks. It felt good to rinse off the grime of the journey, and she inhaled the fragrance of herbal shampoo and soap as the bubbles swirled down the drain. After a long scrub, she wrapped a snowy towel around herself and sat down to connect to the internet. As she had hoped, there was a message from her parents.

Dear Sarah,

We are thinking of you, honey, and missing you terribly already. Hope the trip was uneventful and New Zealand turns out to be everything you hoped for and more besides. Let us know if you arrived safely and never forget—we love you very, very much.

All our love, Mom and Dad

She allowed a few tears to fall as she leaned back in the chair, wiping rivulets from her neck with a corner of the towel. It smelt faintly of washing powder and bleach and reminded her of laundry days at home. Their housekeeper, Patience, would start the washing early in the morning and by midday, the scent of soap and clean fabric filled the house as she washed and ironed, folded and put away.

With a struggle, Sarah forced her mind back to the e-mail she wanted to write.

Dear Mom and Dad,

I’m here in Christchurch, in the motel we studied on the internet. It looks quite different to the pictures, but then, they always do. It’s comfortable enough, however, and I’ll be happy here while I look for something more permanent
.

She wondered how much she should tell them. Did they need to know how difficult the journey had been and how much she was missing home?

The flight was mostly smooth and although I was tempted to turn round and come straight back, I didn’t. I know I have an amazing opportunity in my hands and I’ll give New Zealand a fair chance. It’s coming up to 1pm here and I only got up an hour ago. I underestimated the effects of jet lag and the length of the flight, but feel better after having a shower. I’m going to go out after sending this and have a look around the city. I’m longing to see if it’s as beautiful as the brochures made out. I’ll write again soon and send some photos.

Much love, Sarah

The motel receptionist was barely out of her teens; a young blonde with braided hair and a short skirt. She pulled out a map and wrote down the information Sarah needed to get into town. “The bus stop is directly outside the motel. The buses run every half hour and any of these numbers will take you into the city. Get off at the bus exchange and you’ll be in the centre of town.” She drew a lopsided circle on the map. “This is the motel. If you follow the map on the trip back, you shouldn’t have any problem finding us.”

Sarah thanked her and went outside to sit in the shelter. The motel was situated on a main road and traffic was heavy, a blur of chrome and colour. Sarah was surprised at the variety of cars and recognised only a few models here and there. All the rest were foreign to her. She gripped her bag closely as she watched, wondering if it was safe to be sitting there on her own. The bus service in Johannesburg had folded years ago, giving way to the minibus taxi industry. These were used mostly by the black people and Sarah had never been on one. Many were poorly maintained and if accidents didn’t pull them off the road, violence between taxi bosses often did. Patience told Sarah horror stories about the taxis she rode to get to work, and Sarah had felt sorry for her but thankful she didn’t have to use them.

Her thoughts dissolved as a red bus pulled up, doors whooshing open as a group of teenagers disembarked, emerging like colourful butterflies bursting from their cocoons. They epitomised gaiety and freedom as they fluttered down the street, laughter drifting behind them.

Sarah climbed into the bus and smiled at the driver, handing over a $5 note. “I’d like to go to town please.”

He punched out some change and handed her a ticket. “You visiting Christchurch?”

“It’s my first day.” Sarah guessed her accent marked her as a tourist.

“If you get back on the bus within two hours, you don’t pay for the return journey. And look out for bus 19 if you want to come back to this stop.”

She smiled thanking him for his kindness, and walked to the back of the bus. She sat in the second to last row, watching the suburbs unroll before her eyes. Everything looked the same, row after row of neat houses, stretches of lawn and an abundance of flowers.

After ten minutes, the driver turned left and entered a more commercialised area. Here the main road was dotted with businesses and motels, and the traffic much heavier. The driver stopped frequently and she noticed a large mall on the right. A little later they passed through a large park and she spotted Christchurch Hospital on the left before the bus entered the city centre.

The Bus Exchange turned out to be a cavernous building with glass waiting rooms, holding dozens of people. She followed the people out of the bus, stopping briefly by the driver. “Is this the town stop?”

“Yep. If you go up the stairs over there, you’ll come to the main office where you can get maps and directions. Remember to come back here to this platform for bus 19.”

She thanked him and headed over to the stairs. Inwardly, she was feeling quite panicky. She wouldn’t recognise the hotel stop. What if she missed it, or caught the wrong bus? “Stop it,” she admonished herself. “You knew it wasn’t going to be easy.” She picked up a couple of maps and followed the signs leading out of the exchange.

Christchurch lay before her, a charming city with a mixture of old and new architecture. Tiny shops huddled next to big department stores, and brass and chrome mingled with the warmth of old-fashioned wood. She turned to her right and started walking towards Cathedral Square. From what she had read, this was the central point of town. It was only a couple of blocks away and she found it with no problem. The cathedral itself was impressive, a grey stone structure with a high tower and metal railed balconies. The square sprawled out from its base and was throbbing with activity.

A flea market spread across the far left and buskers entertained people as they wandered around. Near to Sarah, a group of young girls took turns performing Irish river dancing. A sign informed the public that they were raising funds for a trip to the championships in Ireland. Sarah watched for a long while, mesmerised by the soulful music and their shoes tapping on the wooden platform. A sudden surge of loneliness caught her by surprise.
Oh, Luke, if only you were here with me.

She gazed across the square, knowing there were no familiar faces out there. She was alone, completely alone, in a strange land. There was no one to share the experience with. No one to exclaim over the discoveries and wonders of a new country. No one to talk to about her fears and uncertainties. For a moment she was tempted to pack her things and catch the next flight home, but that wasn’t the answer. Instead, she pulled out her camera and started snapping shots of the city.

After an hour of wandering through the shops and catching the free shuttle round the city centre, she was hungry and stopped in at a coffee shop for a snack. The displays were appetising and it took her a few minutes to decide. “I’ll have a cappuccino and a slice of vegetable pizza, please.”