Where is Home?

This is one of the questions that we as a family and especially our kids have grappled with as we packed up our “home” in Thailand, then spent the past 6 weeks “at home” in South Africa, whilst preparing to make our new home in Singapore.

It’s been really awesome to be back, connecting with family and friends and meeting new people. But along with being home comes the challenge of transitioning back into our (Trish and my) culture. A lot has changed in the 42 months that we have been away and we have been both pleasantly and unpleasantly surprised at some of those changes. But for Jonty, Emily and Nina, this is not the culture they were born into and not what they’re used to. So its been interesting watching how they have made the adjustment.

One of the first things I had to teach Jonty was how to shake hands. Then we had to teach all the kids the use of a knife and fork, how to use toilet paper (which according to Jonty is disgusting and very backward, as opposed to using a hand sprayer) and not taking off shoes every time we enter a building. We’ve spent a fortune on hand and body cream and lip balm as our skins have been subjected to the harsher, drier African climate. Not to mention getting used to temperatures below 26° C! Then there is the food. As delicious as Thai food is, other than the convenience of buying it cheaply and easily, Trish and I have not really missed it. Nina, however, when asked by her granny what she wanted for lunch, asked for “khaaw muu daeng” (which is red pork), and sticky rice, her two favourite Thai dishes. Emily came home from school one day and complained that her teacher “shouted” at the whole class. She was confused as to whether she had done wrong or not. (In Thailand, the teachers (a) don’t raise their voices and (b) address the offending child specifically and not the whole class generally). Jonty is particularly touched by the poverty he sees and insists that we give something to every beggar and vendor at every traffic light (or should I say “robot”) in Johannesburg. When we refuse to give something he carries on for the next 15 minutes about how sorry he feels for that particular guy or lady. The guilt is killing us, so we’re slowly being bankrupted as our 7 year old acts as our conscience.

So, where is home exactly? For us that’s a question we cannot really answer. But we have come to the conclusion that for now, we don’t really need a definitive answer. Our citizenship is in heaven and “home” is where we experience the love of family and friends. It also happens to be where-ever we lay our heads:-)