From one expat to another

My friends husband is in hospital and I'm thousands of miles away.

Skype, mobiles, World Call cards, emails, facebook and twitter have made such a difference for expats living abroad, it makes the world feel smaller, but in reality it just highlights how far away you are from family and friends in times of need.

If you've read my blog or followed me on twitter, you'll know that despite the help we were offered to relocate our family to South Africa that the help never actually materilised. One year on there is a chance we have to move house. No big problem is it really? and I was going to blog about it anyway, but since recieving the news from my friend this morning, there has been many (selfish) mixed thoughts and emotions.

8 days into our arrival in South Africa, we got the call all parents dread, not the first time, but when a call starts with 'there's no need to panic, the paramedics are here' you panic. We were alone, a few parents, a teacher and some of sons mates turned up at the hospital before we got there, but all sorts ran through my mind when the ambulance called on route to the hospital and requested permission to carry out a tracheotomy.

We'd been in the country 8 weeks, I spent the night with a mobile phone on 3G that kept switching itself on and off, using the message system on facebook to rely on updates from my 16yo niece for information on my sister who was in labour and things had got complicated. We had no phone in the apartment, we'd asked for one to be put in, but as the apartment was rented in the company name we had no proof of residency so couldn't get one installed for ourselves. I then spent the following day back and forth to the phone box on the corner, cutting calls short when the lightening and rain came.

Since then there has been a broken arm, a child in the UK rushed into hospital (cause still unknown) a death in the family.

So not really different from many other people is it? and for everyone else a few words are exchanged and life carries on.

This morning I've taken son to school for his cricket match, sorted out the washing, the ants in the dishwasher, drank tea and had a smoke or two. And while I carry on with my normal day, my friend's is suspended. If I was in the UK I would've driven to the hospital at 1am, she knows I would. But I'm here and a 12 hour flight away.

So again what's different from everyone else?

We are both expats, I'm in country far away from family and friends and so is she, in a foreign country away from her family.

It takes a long time to build a support network, you sort of just assume it happens, but it doesn't. We all have people that can pick our kids up from school, rally around with cups of tea, provide a glass of wine and a shoulder to cry on. But when you're in a foreign country it's not quite the same as just moving to a new town, where your family and old friends are just a few hours away, where you can pick up the phone and speak freely (it's not the cost, it's the bloody reception and sometimes it just doesn't work here).

So back to moving house, my first thought was 'in the grand scheme of things' it's not that bad, so what we can move, we don't have to pay for the move, I'm not working it's not really a big deal. But...

...actually it is a big deal, I've spent a year building a support network, lift shares, friends, people to share a worry and a glass of wine with, people who send an sms and ask if everything is OK, who offer to help if needed.

I can't give that all up, I won't. Moving to another estate is NOT an option, my network will go, I won't be able to just turn up at a friends house to set the world to rights. I'll need to be booked into the estate, I won't be able to wander in as my finger print will be deactivated and I'll have to start my network from scratch again.

There's a new movie out with George Clooney (swoon) called The Descendants. The trailer on DSTV is 'just because with live in paradise, doesn't mean to say we don't have the same problems to deal with' I guess that's true and as we've found out, life isn't greener on the other side, same shit, different day, different country, and 24 hours and cost of journey for us to be there for you, or you to be there for us.

At the airport (part 2)

Had hoped for 'Plane' sailing, but nothing in my life is simple. Checked in with Air France to be told we boarded at 6.30pm. I said 'that's a bit early for a 8.30pm flight, to be informed the flight was 7.30pm. A quick goodbye with hubby (no time for tears) arrived at Passport control and OMFG!!!!!!

My passport was fine, scanned and a few questions about when I arrived, my visa status, was I returning to SA?...I was a bit concerned about leaving the country and being allowed back in, but all was OK...Alex's passport was another matter...it had been date stamped but he hadn't been entered onto the system. Why the different surname, any proof he was my son? I informed the woman that we had all arrived on January the 19th with Peter and my other son, she made the connection on the system, entered his details and off we went at speed to the gate.

Got to our seats, leg room, bliss, plane moves to runway, taxi's and takes off on time. The screens in front of us are activated and the arse hole in front leans round (there's no seat in front of me for the emergency exit) and says 'your son won't be using the touch screen as I don't want disturbing on the flight' I was stunned, in fact so shocked I didn't even swear at him, he proceeded to recline his seat, making sure he rocked it several times. During the flight he lolled over with his arm and head into my floor space and I nudged him gently with my foot, waking him, he glared at me...I said 'touch screen, now please move out of my space that I've paid for' nudged him several more times till he got the message. The sad thing is, he wasn't interfering with 'my space'. Alex was using the remote control for the touch screen and the bloke wasn't actually disturbing us, but point made.

The seats on Air France have a gap between the arm rests and the side of the plane, making leaning against the wall impossible, the arm rests didn't lift up and when Alex slept in the floor space I was unable to lay across his seat and get any sleep. The cabin crew drew the curtain around their little bit and carried on talking throughout the flight and everyone stood to stretch during their flight in front of us, talking and waiting for the toilet, who's door was opened and closed all night.

On arrival in Paris we had to clear security, our bags went straight through, I was tired, uncomfortable, a little smelly and asked for help from the airport staff with 2 laptops, a child with his arm in a cast, the hand luggage, locating passports and told NO. I was furious when they made Alex remove his cardi, over his cast. I found the toilets, the smoking room, an area for Alex to have a little sleep and then headed to the cafe for coffee, fruit juice and croissants, to be informed we only take notes, not coins. So I find a nice English man, explain I only have British coins, the UK banks stopped my cards months ago for irregular activity, despite telling them I'm in SA and he changes my coins into notes for me.

An smooth flight to Heathrow, where Alex's Dad is waiting for us. Alex ran out the door, leapt up into his Dads arms, having last seen him in December and made the woman, stood by the side, cry.

Living in Utopia...Part Two

There’s been a spate of burglaries in the security estate, an inside job, someone renting a property just to ‘case’ the joint or a member of the golf club...They stole the next door neighbours safe...it was concreted into the wall, they must have brought heavy equipment...we never heard a bloody thing...they broke into one house and stole 1,000s of £££’s of designer clothing, handbags and shoes and 7 other houses. The Home Owner Association sent out regular emails in regards to these ‘incidents’ warning us to take extra security measures.
Two days after my parents arrived, I received another email telling me of another ‘incident’...so popping off to the neighbours house at the end of the street, I discover 3 Protea coin security guards stood outside their house, I enter, there’s a birthday party going on, Alex is there playing pool and being fed, as happens every weekend and the owners are drinking wine. I’m offered a drink, I decline...pleasantries are exchanged, I’ve not met them before...phone numbers swopped...questions about why we are in SA and are we liking it...then...
...I’m told how the maid answered the door at 11am, she was pushed down the stairs, she grabbed the phone, she was hit on the head with the butt of a gun, rolled up in a carpet and held at gun point for 90mins till the burglars had emptied the safes...it took them that long to force them out of the concrete walls and break them open...they stole the keys for the Ferrari and Lamborghini, weren’t able to actually steal them as there was a BMW X5 blocking the way out of the garage (I’m serious)..The maid had kept hold of the phone and hit redial, managing to say what had happened, the owner hearing this call, knew something was wrong, drove 15kms home, he called Estate security on his way, but arrived before security bothered to turn up...the gates hadn’t been closed so the armed robbers were able to get away...the maid was treated in hospital at the expense of the owner and is being taken to trauma counselling...the security firm were replaced the following day for their negligence and the number plate of the vehicle was taken and the police caught them two days later and were able to link them to the other ‘incidents’ that took place...he had obtained/found/bought the magnetic swipe for the estate from a golfing member who has since been banned from the estate for their negligence also...
But what alarms me the most...there was no crime tape, and the owners, although very upset about what had happened to the maid, weren’t upset, not in the way you’d expect them to be in the UK...this would be a major news story, there wasn’t a sign of a media van..just the three additional security guards hired for the rest of the owners life at their own expense...
Do you know what my neighbour said when I told him this, when I explained what the reaction would be in the UK?
Suzanne...This is Africa