Laurika Bretherton

It was today, exactly two years ago, that I began my driving journey through South Africa.  When I think back to those six months I can hardly believe that it was me, that I was brave enough to do that. No job, no security, no planning, just wake up in the morning and decide where I’m going to go and find a place to sleep when I get there.

After my journey I went back to London back to work. I lasted nine months. And I realised that the life I wanted was the life I had on the road. The one where I can wake up in the morning and not know what will happen that day. The one where I can do exactly what I feel like and not worry if it will succeed or fail because there is no one judging.

So I did it again. I quit. It seems to be a recurring thing here right? This quitting business. I think it isn’t so much quitting in a negative way, but in a good way. Quitting things that no longer feels right in my life. Selfish? Maybe. But aren’t we all allowed to be selfish to be the masters of our lives? Isn’t that why we are here. To become who we are meant to be?

And that brings me to the now. Now I’m in Sweden. I’ve been here for six months. I rent a room from by best friend, who is also the one I love. We share our dreams and we talk about creativity and life. I travel when that itch starts and I come back again.

I write and I paint and I make magicK charms from things I find when I go for walks. Things like little stones and seashells and small sticks that had fallen from trees.

My life now is more. I feel more. It feels like I’ve never been closer to nature, to life, than I have these past two years. I believe that this is all we really need to do in life. Allow ourselves to be who we know we really are inside. Not keep it locked down and only take it out at night when no one can see us. Show the world who you are. Don’t hide it.

Because once those two things are in sync, your inside and your outside world, then even when life throws you curve balls or tornadoes, you will still feel like yourself, you will still cope, because you have accepted who you are.

My first night on my own on the road at the backpackers in Mossel Bay was fun and it was crazy. I hooked with the drifters, the ones who bum a bed wherever they can, the ones who drink beer and smoke weed – those ones. The ones who praat kak (talk shit) till the early morning hours and keep on saying “I got to go to bed now … work tomorrow” – those ones. The ones who hook for a few months and exchange stories and ideas and lives and sometimes bodily fluids – those ones. The ones who are free, totally free, the ones who don’t give a shit about society and its values or what people may think of them – those ones.

I reckon it was the tattoos that did it. You know I got some real intense ones now. You know the ones – the ones with the words just below my inner elbows. The ones I can’t hide when I wear short sleeves – those ones. The ones that say: freedom and redemption – yes those ones. The weird symbols on my wrists – those ones. The bright colours on my ankles. The continent on my shoulder the lines across my ribs – those ones. The tattoos were my opening to the free ones. 

The tattoos made me realise how much people judge you on your outside. How few people look past your ink and into your soul. The tattoos yes, they are both a barrier and a opening. I guess if they are a barrier, then the people who are on the other side of that wall are not meant to be in this life I have now. 

So yes I am learning now to say I don’t care what you think, this is me. I learned that from the free ones. My ink is a map. It tells the story of my life. Each one of the nine, marks a point in my life. Not all happy and not all good points, but they are scratched into my skin so I can remember. Remember where I came from and remember where I’m going. 

In some parts of the world these things are just like a basic human right. In others it is more of a luxury. Here where I am now in rural South Africa it is definitely more of a luxury most days. Regular Internet that you get through lines are generally okay. Regular cellular phone reception is good. But you try and use one of those USB type data connections through cellphone signals and you are royally stuck. 

Email? Forget it. 

Google? Nope 

What’s App? Only if you’re really lucky and then you can only send text no pics. 

Skype? YES! 

I’m not sure how or why but Skype is the only thing I can connect too most days. 

This lack in connection has made me real crafty at sniffing out Internet. Coffee shops that provide Internet for free for thirty minutes a day are my top destinations, but when I travel through dusty hamlets these are not an option. 

One town though i got lucky. I discovered an open connection! So every afternoon I’d loiter outside this shop on the main street with my iPhone, downloading emails and what’s app’ing my family to say that I’m still breathing. Most times though I just disappear quietly into the great unknown of this vast country called South Africa and surface again a couple of days later. 

That brings me to the other basic human right: Electricity. Over here the company that basically owns the electricity belongs to the government and the government has many more other things to focus on than making sure it increases it’s capacity for electric supplies. So they’ve introduced this thing called ‘load shedding’. *nods* yes you read that right. What a phrase. 

Anyway, load shedding works as follows, at certain times of the day, or night, certain parts of a city or town (sometimes the whole town depending on its size) will have a type of controlled power cut. This usually lasts a couple hours. People here have become very good at dealing with these power cuts. Small generators have seen a huge increase in sales. Gas stoves are and those oil burring fridges are all starting to sell. 

In each place I have stayed so far i’ve been supplied with candles and matches and torches. There is just something about having your dinner by candle light that makes even the dullest meal taste special, even dinner for one by candle light. 

There comes a time I guess in every person’s life where they look at themselves in the mirror one morning and say: who are you? Mine finally arrived one rainy morning at the end of winter in London. It came a little late in life but I figure it’s not a problem. At least I woke up. I’m making my start on the cliched journey of finding myself.

Being the extremist that I am, I quit everything. Yes really everything.

I quit my job at one of the world’s biggest technology companies. Public relations manager for Europe, Middle East, Africa and Russia looking after some or other techie things. A big title and a really nice pay check too.

I quit my flat in the heart of Wimbledon. Two minutes walk to the station, gym across the street, mall next door. For a while I had a tattoo parlour for a neighbour, which made me feel real cool, but they moved out one night.

I quit my stuff. I rented a 10 square feet box at the Shurguard down the road. What doesn’t fit in there I said to myself, has to go: to charity to friends to the recycle bin.

By next week this time my flat will be empty. I’ll be left with a medium sized suitcase, a plane ticket to Europe and Africa and insurance for six months.

There is no one word strong enough for what I feel at this moment. The closest one would be that I feel alive. I feel terror, freedom, elation, terror, anticipation, excitement, did I mention terror? But inside of me I know I am doing the right thing. For me. I’m doing the right thing.

This blog will be the place where I record my journey. I think sometimes there will be a lot of writing and then there may be times of utter silence.

This is my first post.