The Democratic Republic of Congo is a very different world, even very different to the South Africa, Namibia, and Zimbabwe that I had established myself in for over 25 years.   I didn’t enjoy it.  I found myself being part of the systematic struggle of lead a normal life, a business, the rule (or lack thereof) of law, and the inability to make a difference or get forward financially.   Good money after bad several times.   I hit a wall. With my tail firmly folded between my legs I sold the business for what I could and collapsed back into my foxhole in South Africa, the home of my heart but not birth.

 

Having an amazing German/South African wife and two young children, crime is a constant concern in South Africa.  But it is a concern that is pushed to the side as ‘controllable’ or ‘normal’.  That is, until it hits you personally.  Suddenly personal safety goes from irrelevant to the most important issue in your life.  Multiple problems later and I made a simple choice for my wife and children – a choice that until the moment I got on the plane I didn’t think I would go through with.  I bought a 1-way ticket, returned to Canada, and started – yet again – from scratch.

 

I can’t summarize the diversity of my life in a few short paragraphs – it’s simply too much.  I’ve owned 36,000 chickens.  I’ve been through 3 civil wars.  I’ve had the life of a rockstar, but also lived with four people in a small room without money.   Some people say their relationship “is complicated”.  My familial relationships are amazing, but my relationship with life itself “is complicated”.   It’s a blessing to be honest.

 

So here I am, a little over two years after boarding the plane happily settled with my family in Ottawa.  I have re-written my regulatory exams, leveraged my cultural and financial experience of 30 years, and now work full time as probably the most over-qualified financial advisor in Canada.   I love it.   I love the stability and the way things work here.  All of that said – I am African.   I sound like a Canadian, but my brain is African.   I can slowly feel it shifting closer to Canada by the month if I am honest.  Is that good?  Bad? 

 

Is home where the heart is?  Or is home where you hang your hat?  I’m not sure.  Perhaps home can be both places.