Somewhere Between Leaving and Belonging
There’s that ridiculous saying that moving is one of the five most stressful things in life, apparently up there with death. That feels a bit dramatic. After all, no one dies in a move. Technically, it should be a positive thing.
But I suppose there is an element of grief. Grief for an old life. A passage of time you have to move through before you can fully embrace the new. And it does take an emotional toll. It’s hard.
I feel a flicker of envy when I see those drifting the world in their Landy, untethered, no need for a home base. But I do wonder… does it catch up with you? Does the constant pursuit of newness eventually drain you? Does the magic start to fade?
I crave a space to call my own. Hanging pictures on the wall, the comfort of familiar sounds, a favourite chair, my things. Small anchors that make a place feel like home.
Absolutely nothing felt like home in Zambia when we moved. The shops are different, the groceries are different, the restaurants are different. The languages are different. Even the driving is different.
On arrival, Lusaka feels chaotic and challenging. Information isn’t always easy to find. You can’t go to one shop and get everything you need, but there is one that comes pretty close. Our shipment of household items was still somewhere en route, so I needed the basics to make the house feel “comfortable” - a knife and fork, a bowl, a kettle… and a fridge.
I managed to buy a fridge, and of course, it now needed delivering. “Just chat to Zulu over there.” “Don’t worry, madam, I’ll call Peter.”
Peter and I chat on the phone. I confirm a time and a delivery address: “The dirt road before Star Road. No sign. I’ll meet you there.” I give him my number, bracing myself for chaos.
Feeling exceptionally chuffed with myself, I phone my husband to announce that the fridge has been bought and Peter will handle delivery. He asks the pertinent questions: “Have you got the slip? What’s the guy’s telephone number?”
Obviously, in my state of pure chuffed-ness, I had ticked off none of the practicalities. I was simply hoping - quite blindly that the fridge would be collected and delivered as promised… all on the strength of a Game sales assistant and a barely audible phone call.
I did vaguely threaten the sales assistant that I knew his name and would come find him if he made off with my fridge. I was met with a look of pure shock.
I then spent the next 24 hours waiting (equal parts anxious and hopeful) that this blind faith in a stranger would somehow pay off.
And it did.
The relief I felt when Peter came bundling down the road in an old, beat-up truck, my brand-new fridge precariously “strapped” on with the help of two assistants, was a thing of absolute glory.
Maybe that’s what starting over really is - blind faith, a bit of luck, and a man named Peter with a very optimistic approach to strapping a fridge.
If you are in need of appliances, household items, etc. Then Game Manda Hill is a good start. It might not be the cheapest but was certainly the easiest.
