Camouflage No Regrets Please

It’s something you get used to, subconsciously. We are born in a particular soil color. Someone who lives in the Equator is used to black soil, nurtured by ever present rain. It was bad news in southern Africa, especially if we had washing on the clothesline. Clothes turned yellow when it was too dusty. That color is also the color of emaciated corn during the drought, the color of grass in winter and the color of species that live there. Lions. They are golden. That camouflage is their shopping basket. That is how they catch unsuspecting prey.

You probably don’t know the color of your soil if you were born on concrete, grew up on concrete and barely surviving on concrete. That survival is manageable because there is no camouflage. You try to beat a red light, you end up in hospital or kill pedestrians that had a right of way. No lion in the grass there. Not only the road, but life in general. Granted, there are mountains we cannot climb because of historical barriers, government policy, religion, lack of money or cultural taboo, but when all is said and done, we choose the building material.

A friend in Toronto never learned how to drive because she enjoyed being driven by her husband. Canada has always preferred immigrants with money, who can start their own business or find well-paying jobs because of their education. We were a perfect fit so we came here as government sponsored immigrants. What is on paper, is a far cry from what is on ground. That is all water under the bridge now. What is important is that it was our decision to change continents.

Despite unforeseen hurdles, I still maintain that life is like that. No lions in camouflage, just decisions we make, decisions we regret or decisions that turn out to be picture perfect.

Nonqaba waka Msimang

Executive Blogger