Day 16 - Stable

Tuesday, October 22

Sandvlei Farm to Nuwefontein

16k/10mi

Sunny, Breezy, Hot

 

 

I was awake a lot in the night. A.’s snoring and the wind banging around in the yard were hard to ignore. At one point there was a bright light outside that left me unsettled, but it went out and I drifted back to sleep. When it was clear no more sleep was available, I crept into the kitchen, using my phone light, and turned the kettle on. I found a lamp in the sitting area which I turned on. As quietly as possible, I made my coffee and settled in to journal, trying to process all the day before had stirred up.

 

From my journal that morning:

 

“Not good sleep. A. snoring. The wind. My back more sore than it’s been in a while. I’ll need to do stretches this morning. I’m feeling a bit lost. A. for sure. I feel my eating filling space that would be best left to expand and explore. It’s likely N. will leave us and I’ll miss her smile, her accent, her adventurous spirit. I’m not sure now how I feel about trying to do a pilgrimage in a group of strangers. I have to trust this is all what I need for my own greatest good because I set the intention that this is a pilgrimage and I am seeking healing and growth. Clarity and insight. 

 

Can I be fully the self I’m trying to discover in the midst of drama and ego and acting out? How do I accept behaviors that have a strong impact on my walking and on my solitude when not walking? How do I overcome my own tendency toward the drama, toward gossip, toward wanting to help – to be a part of things? How do I be a friend, a friendly person, a good person, and still take care of myself? 

 

N. saying being alone in the group would be awkward was more true than I considered yesterday. There is not one person here I can really talk to about anything that matters to me. I can reach out to Caroline, who will understand better than anyone, but I’m not sure I’m meant to. Maybe this is the exact situation I need to begin to go seriously inward, to learn to trust that quiet voice more, to discover who I really am. 

 

I am not important here. No one is taking my picture or inviting confidences. I think this is a necessary thing for me to find my way past my ego and my addictions into my soul. Both ego and addiction are not quieting easily. Thus the food hunger, the inclination (mostly resisted) to make myself important. Not being important in this group doesn’t mean I don’t matter or that I’m not worthy. This group is only important to me as a teacher and as individuals I can care about as my companions on this journey. Can I learn here how to be in solitude and service at the same time?”

 

 

I felt better at the end of the writing, clarity and calmness always following the clearing of my heart. People had begun to stir before I finished, so the lights came on as I was getting ready to really start the day. I dressed and packed and ate the breakfast, yogurt and fresh fruits, Isobel had left the night before. She arrived at 6:45 with our packed lunches and stayed visiting as we finished preparing for the day.

 

 

We were walking without a chaperone, meant to follow the signs that had been posted along the route. No chaperone meant we didn’t all have to leave at the same time. N. had said the night before she wanted to walk alone, and intended to be first out. Isobel and I were chatting out front when N. headed out. The others were still finishing up their morning routines, so I took advantage of the space and left when I could still see N. in the distance. 

 

 

It was a glorious walk. All my favorites. Early morning light and air. Beautiful farm land extending forever in every direction. Farmyards with striking gardens and architecture. N. ahead of me so I didn’t feel lost or alone. As long as I could see her, even in the far distance, I knew I was okay. But alone. With all that time and space to process all that was bubbling to the surface. I didn’t see the others again until they arrived at the stables where we were staying. I stopped to pee at the side of the road, enjoying the wild privacy. I stopped once to snack, more out of a need to savor the morning than out of real hunger. 

 

 

My memories of walking this road two years before were strong. I could feel Jane beside me, and Ina and Frikkie close by. I remembered our laughter, and the stop we made at the graveyard just off the road, marveling at the history there. I held those friendships and that companionship close as a reminder that what was happening on this walk wasn’t inevitable. 

 

I was startled at my arrival in the farmyard of Nuwefontein. One minute I was following the wide dirt farm road, the next I turned a corner and there it was, instantly familiar and welcoming. It was a little before 11:00 – the walk had been really fast.

 

I found N. and Marina, our host, standing in front of the converted stables where we were to sleep. I got a big hug from Marina, and the three of us stood and chatted amiably for a long time. Marina remembered the two women from two years before who had been challenging. One could not be pleased no matter what. The other spent the evening paying very close and inappropriate attention to Melvan, Marina’s husband. I’d forgotten how smart and funny Marina is and our conversation made me happy. 

 

Because of her conversation with Peggy the day before, Cape Camino decided a way to help N. was to give her a private room whenever possible going forward. So she had a room to herself at the stable. I teased her about how the group was going to respond. She responded by offering me the room. I declined and went off to choose a room that I would end up, happily, sharing with Cynthia. 

 

 

Even though it was simple and very rustic, I loved the stable. Its cool and shadowed interior was cozy and surprisingly comfortable. There was a kitchen area at the end of the building that was nicely stocked with pilgrim essentials, including snacks to buy. The only discomfort was the outside seating area where the seats were hard, the shade unreliable, and the flies abundant. 

 

 

The afternoon passed slowly and mostly pleasantly. I ate the lunch Isobel had packed for us, and enjoyed ice cold coke and then water. With the increased heat, staying hydrated was becoming more of a challenge. Cold drinks at the end of a walk were heaven. The flies were annoying to the point we all eventually went to our rooms to rest and read and visit. Cynthia and N. set out for a long walk while I was in the shower. I followed them, thinking I might catch up, but stayed instead at the marshy area full of weaver nests and watched the birds building their nests. 

 

 

I had a conversation with N. that I found to be helpful and insightful. I was able to thank her for sharing so openly. She reminded me with her own story that I didn’t have to bend myself to please. I didn’t have to perform to be liked. And sometimes I wasn’t going to be liked no matter what I did, or no matter what. She talked about not wanting to be treated special in the group, but desperately wanting solitude, and away from the toxicity. One of the things I most appreciated about her was her honesty and her willingness to fight for what mattered to her. Ironically, in supporting her choice to leave us, I was losing one of the bright lights of my days. It was also clearer to me from that conversation that I was meant to stay and work my way through whatever was happening. 

 

 

At one point, when everyone was in their rooms, A. was on the phone on the other side of the wall from us. Her friend was on speaker, and we all heard, very loudly, ourselves being described as bitches whom A. just needed to ignore. It was clear we were meant to hear. 

 

Oddly, I was able to laugh at that situation. I was feeling much better about things after a day of walking alone and time to ponder. Marina’s warm welcome helped as well. I messaged Caroline, deciding that I needed to connect with someone I trusted and who I knew loved me and who understood pilgrimage. Our WhatsApp conversation felt like medicine and sunshine, water in a dessert. It was a mutual sharing and deepened our friendship and left me feeling so much lighter. I also talked to Walt and although our video connection didn’t hold, we were able to chat long enough that my homesickness receded. 

 

I felt more grounded and more determined than ever that I was exactly where I was meant to be, and that I had the courage and strength to learn the lessons this Camino had to teach me. 

 

In the late afternoon, Cynthia offered to walk N. through a yoga routine. Cynthia, in addition to her work with whistleblowers, is a trained yoga instructor (and a baker of artisanal breads). They offered to let me join, but I preferred to observe and to take pictures for them. The beauty of the energy between them on their mats in front of our rooms was inspiring to witness. Cynthia’s gentle instruction and N.’s fluid following felt like a dance that left them both, and me, feeling more peaceful and whole as a result. Cynthia practiced in the mornings whenever time and space allowed. We had planned before we met that I would join her, but I was consistently choosing journaling instead. 

 

 

Dinner was a delight. We walked down to the farmhouse where we sat and chatted for a while with both Marina and Melvan. Melvan is a great storyteller and had us all laughing easily. Wine was served and flowed abundantly. Their two children joined us at the table for dinner. The daughter at twelve was articulate and chatty and funny, much like her mom. The younger son was very quiet, but clearly enjoyed the chatter going on around him. I loved being in the company of that younger energy, and felt some envy at the life I was getting to witness for a short time. 

 

Earlier in the day Marina had talked about not being sure what to serve for dinner. She was going to do lamb, but had learned we had that that night before. We said we didn’t care, but she did. She mentioned bobotie, a South African dish of Cape Malay origins, involving curried minced beef (think hamburger) and an egg topping. It had been one of my favorite foods from before, so I was very happy she decided to go with it for our dinner. 

 

Marina and Melvan walked us back toward the stables after dinner. It was dark, the sky sparkling with stars, the air much cooler. We were very full and very tired, and I was feeling hopeful again. Earlier in the day, as I was passing the time with a book that would turn out to be a gentle and perfect companion in the days ahead, a passage stopped me. I read and re-read it, and copied it out, and felt its truth at the end of that day.

 

“And beauty – because yes, she was understanding beauty was an emotion, too. She’d gotten that wrong. Thought it was a thing, but it wasn’t. It was this motion, this wandering. This finding.” No Two Persons, Erica Bauermeister