The SHIFT

The time arrives when you have to leave that two bed roomed house in Kabulonga.

It has potted plants on the verandah that you imagine as a forest, the sitting room is small and intimate; small enough for your father to knock the back of your head when you chatter during the news and intimate enough for you to smell his aftershave when he enters the room. Bunk beds are crammed into the one room your brothers and your sisters call your bedroom and in that room there is hide and seek, musical concerts with your dolls, battle fields and landmines with your brothers. In that room your elder sister teaches you how to pray before bed and soothes you when you have a nightmare. There is everything in that room but there is no privacy
The neighbourhood is familiar and safe, you are never lonely because everyone is your friend. You have good friends, funny friends, liar friends, friends that are engraved in the DNA, friends that know the story behind every scar, friends that have mulberry stains on their clothes, stains identical to yours.
Then you realise its not a joke and you actually have to move from the place you call home. Tears well up in your eyes. You can’t imagine saying bye to the mulberry tree, your friends and the closeness and familiarity that resides in the only home you know. But deep inside you sense the logic. Your room is becoming too small for all of you. Sometimes you want silence when the boys want to make noise, sometimes you want to talk about something other than sport, sometimes you want freedom, freedom to just be.
Then you move to a new place with space and endless possibility. It is intimidating and nothing is familiar but at the sacred corner where novelty and potential  meet you accept that maybe, just maybe moving to a new place is good. Shifting isn’t so bad after all.
Welcome to the new face of Kandi's Notes.
The same excellence, honesty and fresh perspective you have come to know and love.