Paradise Road

This must surely be one of the most amazing songs to come out of South Africa, ever. Their voices are so beautiful. I have to share!

Joy – Paradise Road

Come with me down paradise road
This way please, I’ll carry your load
This you won’t believe.
Come with me to paradise skies
Look outside and open your eyes
This you must believe.

There are better days before us
And a burning bridge behind, fire smokin’ the sky is blazing,
There’s a woman waiting weeping
And a young man nearly beaten all for love.
Paradise was almost closin’ down.

Come with me to paradise days
It’ll change your life, it’ll sure change your ways
This you won’t believe.
Take my hand down paradise lane
Away from heartache with out any pain
I know ’cause I have been.

There are better days before us
And a burning bridge behind, fire smokin’, the sky is blazing,
There’s a woman waiting weeping
And a young man nearly beaten all for love.
Paradise was almost closin’ down.

There are better days before us
And a burning bridge behind, fire smokin’, the sky is blazing,
There’s a woman waiting weeping
And a young man nearly beaten all for love

You must believe – you must believe this
You must believe – you must believe this
You must believe – you must believe this…
There are better days…

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/voice/

Black Forest Cake

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It was my father’s birthday yesterday. I felt it quite strongly as I am so far away, and no idea when I will see him again. I called to wish him, and he was standing in  his local supermarket. He no longer works, and his age is starting to show. The manager at the supermarket offered him a complimentary cake to celebrate his birthday. My father took great pleasure in standing at the counter, and being able to choose a birthday cake for himself. There is often so much negativity that emanates from South Africa, the corruption and crime. But yesterday an old man was blessed with the gift of a birthday cake from a stranger who cared.

Chasm

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It has been nearly two years since I last returned ‘home’. A loved one said to me that he dreams about me at night. Distance separates so that others dream of me, as I dream of my mother who has long passed away. And yet I am still alive. Often we hear or even say, the world nowadays is connected and has become so small. But yet, when souls are separated, the world doesn’t feel small at all. It feels as if there are great chasms that exist, insurmountable to pass.

I am here
You are there
We are apart though
Never in heart

Thirst

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Ripped from the Headlines!.”

My thirst overwhelms
I crawl to a well
But the water is dried
I long for a drop of
Moisture on my tongue
But there is none
If water is life
Then we are dead

http://m.news24.com/news24/SouthAfrica/News/level-2-water-restrictions-imposed-in-joburg-20151109

Coming Back For More

“Seems like yesterday
Not far away
When she first came to him
She took him by surprise
He closed his eyes
And sinking tried to swim
She never closed the door
So he came back for more”

Ed Jordan, Proudly South African 1997

Omigosh, this triggers memory and emotion in me.

What Would You Do?

Sharing one of my South African favorites, I used to listen to it while driving around Johannesburg ❤

Freshlyground – Proudly South African

This Song is Forever

I listened to this song nearly every day on the way to work three years ago. The Parlotones are one of the bands that remind me of ‘home’. I listened to it again this evening, and the words take me right back to 2012 and my life experience at the time. I hope you enjoy it! ❤

Growing up in South Africa

Yesterday I updated a post to include a school photograph taken when I was eight. I was taken aback at the few things that stood out for me. I have written before about how unhappy I was at moving to a new school, and right before me was the evidence. It looks like I was scowling, and turned away from the camera as if I didn’t want to be there (which I didn’t).
Also, the other thing that seemed so normal to me at the time was the demographics of the class. I was brought up in the height of apartheid-era South Africa, and captured in the photograph was a testament to that. My children in Australia attend the local public school, and in their class they have children of all races.
I became especially aware of the politics of the country when I went to a convent at the age of 13, which was allowed by the State to include children of all races. My best friend turned out to be of dark skin, and we became the best of friends. This was from the year 1987, when apartheid was still strictly enforced. My friend was not allowed to catch the same bus as me. We were not allowed to have coffee in a coffee-shop together. But we looked past all that, and enjoyed the friendship that we had. It was just how it was. We are still friends today, even though I am so far away. What it taught me is that friendship is color-blind. Policies can dictate, but love overrules.

The truth behind my lion selfie

Excellent article on canned hunting. A tourist was mauled today at a lion park near my previous home in Johannesburg.

Jess's avatarFrom The Roots

As I apprehensively shuffled into the caged box, my gut clenched and my heart stopped…I immediately knew that I was in a bad place, and I desperately wanted to run straight back out and find comfort in my friends hiding out in the car.

But something stronger told me to carry on, something told me that by enduring the next hour in this awful place I could find hope to make a positive change to the hell that I currently found myself encased in.

After an hour of enduring the heartbreaking pain of filming undercover, I spent the next hour crying and shaking at what I had seen. I was both so angry and upset that I couldn’t decide between having an emotional breakdown and marching straight back into the building to punch the guy in the face. And that’s when I decided that I could try my absolute hardest…

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Broken Road

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A broken road
Stops my journey
Causes me to stop
And observe
Changing direction
I choose a road
Less broken

In response to The Daily Post’s weekly photo challenge: “Broken.”