Wave

Knysna High  must have one of the best views of any Hostel in the world.

View from the hostelThe sweeping panorama, down over the rooftops to the wide blueness of the lagoon.

To the left, the standing gateway between the Knysna Heads sentinels, East and West, and beyond the ridge of the reserve, the huge, open sea.

I stand at my kitchen window in the Hostel often, contemplating, and taking it all in.

Sometimes, a flutter of a small boats’ sail catches my eye, perhaps moving daringly towards the treacherous crossing, over the sandbanks at the Heads, towards the open sea.

Often these days I think of a girl and her mother, friends of ours, who died last month, on the road  back to their home here in Knysna.

The girl was only fourteen, and attended another Knysna school, and stayed in another hostel.

Her name was Gali, a Hebrew name, meaning ‘Wave’.

The Great Wave off KanagawaIt was a fitting name – given by a sailor mother, to her free spirited daughter.

As a lover of the sea I have spent many hours, watching sets of those white, foamy tipped wonders, rolling in to shore.‘Wave’.

As a name for a beautiful, tumultuous teenager, there are few better.

Our hostel houses over forty of those.

They are extraordinary creations, I find myself observing, as I sit in the dining hall, watching them over breakfast, sipping my tea.

Waves, every one of them, is what I often think, as my mind grapples with life, and death, and the deeper meaning of it all.

Mainly, I feel the privilege of just being here, amongst them all, for this moment.

They feel like wild white horses, racing to shore, quite out of control sometimes.

We certainly cannot hold them really. Or rein them in.

But waves can be read and understood and ridden, as I know from my surfing and sailing days.

My soul knows one other thing very well, as the East has taught the world in different ways.

My soul knows, that as people, we are all connected, as the water of our lagoon connects to the bigger, endless ocean.

And watching these vibrant young people, all so different, wonderful and precious, chattering together as they eat, I feel joy at being able to see them for this moment.

It will just be a moment before, like waves, they change again.

And then they will  appear and vanish, again and again, throughout their lives, until they return finally, back from whence they came, like Gali did.

Supper in the hostel

 

 

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Writer, author, script writer

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2 comments on “Wave
  1. Sheena Wootton says:

    A Beautiful posting Michelle, poetry…

  2. Tania Lombard says:

    Michelle … I read many of your entries and will continue to do so!! It is brilliant! You are a blessing to our hostel kids xxx

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