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Crossing stories
One senseless murder too many
It was 29 September 2000. A Friday.
How do I remember the date so clearly? I was driving the hour long drive
to Cape Town to meet a close friend for lunch. It was his birthday.
The mountain loomed in the distance. I mused about my forthcoming meeting
with our bank manager and decided to call a friend who could offer advice
about the meeting (how to wangle a lower mortgage rate!). The innocuous
call from my cell phone, during a boring drive, would precipitate a series
of events that would change my life, and those of my family, forever.
I marched into my husband's office. The mid-morning sun had not yet
penetrated the coolness of the room. "We're leaving!" I said. My husband,
accustomed to my histrionics and general A-type behavior, looked up mildly
and said, "Really! Where? Are we going away for the weekend again?"
"No, we are leaving this godforsaken, #&*!#x@ country!", I said. "Oh,
really, what on earth has happened now?"
I repeated the awful contents of my phone conversation (my friend's nanny
had been brutally murdered, shot at point blank range in her own home,
during that same week) and repeated that I had made my decision. After the
1994 change of government, I had spent years trying to persuade my friends
not to leave - stay and build the country, be a part of the future, the
crime rate will drop, don't desert South Africa. My husband knew that my
decision indicated a great deal more than simply 'leaving' - I was giving
up.
He also knows me well enough to know that sometimes it's best to leave
well enough alone and allow me to sleep with my decisions for a few days.
Many of them dissipate like remnants of a bad dream. He had time, he could
wait - he wasn't ready to get onto an airplane and leave that afternoon.
His parting words as I left his office were "And how do you intend to
arrange for us to leave the country?" "Don't worry. I will sort it out. We
are leaving!" was my response.
I spent the next 18 months researching every possible opportunity,
country, continent, researching ancestral links in various countries all
over the globe - we considered Canada, New Zealand, United Kingdom,
Australia and even Argentina - or should I say that I actually considered
and then bounced ideas off James. At the same time, friends and family
were querying me, "Are you really serious? Haven't you changed your mind
yet? Do you know what you are giving up? Do you know what it is going to
do to your family?" I weathered it all! It took a lot of time and
research, but finally the opportunity that opened up was in the USA.
And here we are, nearly seven years later. It’s been the hardest thing I
have ever done. Everything else pales by comparison. I have learned that
pride and arrogance doesn't count, but self-reliance and confidence (act
it, even if you don't feel it) go a very long way. I know that nothing
that happens will ever seem that hard to me again. During the initial
years of hardship (emotional and financial), I likened our situation to
those war-torn people who left Europe after WWII. They had to settle in a
new land, often with large families and no belongings. I read their
stories and I decided that if they could do it, then so could we. We were
in a far better situation in many ways. America had opened her doors to us
and we had to seize the opportunity. We had crossed our Atlantic Ocean.
Bronwyn McIntosh
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story: In-between jobs or crossing careers?
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