Clara Wiggins - Expat Partner’s Survival Guide .+Add.Feed Info1000FOLLOWERS
From how to organise an overseas move to what to do in the event of an earthquake, the Expat Partner’s Survival Guide is a light-hearted yet in-depth guide for anyone accompanying their partner on an overseas assignment.
I can’t believe we have been home for nearly half a year. It feels surreal how quickly that time has gone. But weirder than that, I realise we have now almost been through every season since we returned to the UK. Ok I realise we are pushing it a bit to say we have been here during spring but on my morning’s dog walk today I noticed crocuses pushing through the grass and lately the birds have certainly been singing with extra gusto. It won’t be long and there will be lambs in the fields and buds on the trees…
I have been noticing the turning of the seasons on my daily walks with Cooper. I think it is one of the things you miss the most when you are away from the UK, where the seasons are so clearly defined. In Pretoria it went from cool and sunny to hot and sunny with some rain. That was about it. In Cape Town of course, as I am sure many of you have seen, they are desperate for rain. If they don’t get a good amount of it this year I don’t know what is going to happen. It is a good warning for us all.
But here in the UK it is rain that keeps this country so beautiful. Although this season we were lucky enough to get snow as well. So just to prove my point here are some pictures from my walks over the past few months:
And finally, taken this morning, the first signs of SPRING:
So there we go. Although we are a way off having been back for a year, it does feel like we are properly back and settled now. Of course we are not really – my husband is still in Pretoria (until the day-after-tomorrow when he will finally join us here) and the house isn’t fully unpacked yet. I also still miss South Africa a lot, I think I have recently been going through a bit of a six month repatriation slump. But by and large this now feels like home.
What now? You may have noticed this blog has been very quiet. As I have been solo-parenting since last August I haven’t had much time on my hands. I have also given up the remote-working job I took with me to Pretoria and am now trying my hand at full-time freelance writing. I plan to set up a separate website for that but will link to it here. In the meantime I will try and add to this site as often as possible, plus I am playing with an idea of writing the Repats Survival Guide and would love to hear your thoughts on that. Do you think it is a good idea? Would you read it? Or is there anything else you would like to know or read more about? Please comment below – I value each and every one of your thoughts!
We were in a crowd. A huge, jolly, Christmassy crowd. Kids running to get on a merry-go-round, mothers enjoying a sneaky glass of mulled wine. Gaggles of pensioners on a coach trip from across the water in Wales, poking at wooden ornaments on brightly decorated stalls, then suggesting a trip to the nearest warm coffee shop to get away from the winter weather.
It was raining – not hard, just that usual British drizzle. But it was cold rain, cold and damp, the sort that gets under your skin and you can’t warm up from.
Crowds and rain, shouting, noise, cars streaming down the road we were trying to cross. I held on to my daughter’s hand – she is nearly ten but I still fear traffic. People coming up behind us, pushing and shoving, joking amongst themselves. No-one in a bad mood, no malice or anger, just a typical busy British pre-Christmas shopping day at one of those festive markets that are almost obligatory in every town in the country these days. Everyone else was having a good time but I couldn’t bear it.
This is culture shock. Or, in my case, reverse culture shock.
I remember this feeling from before, although it was different then. I think the things that affect us most when we return from living overseas reflects very much the situation in the country where we have been living. After coming back from Jamaica and St Lucia, I remember going into a shop and not knowing where to look. There was so much…stuff. My eyes darting around, up behind the cashiers shoulders, looking at all these bright, exciting goods. It was overwhelming and I didn’t usually buy anything. But I had just returned from countries where although there was plenty of goods in the shop, the overt over-the-top commercialism wasn’t so blatent. Perhaps they had what they needed and nothing else, unlike our ridiculously stuffed-to-the-gills stores where you really can buy just about anything your heart desires.
South Africa shops are similarly well-stocked, at least the ones we used. But what they have more of in SA is space. And although there were places you could go that were crowded, it was rare to find yourself in the sort of stifling, fear-enducing crush that you can get in this country.
It just makes me miserable, especially when I look around and everyone else seems to be enjoying themselves. But recognising it for what it is – reverse culture shock, getting used to being back here, readjusting to a different way of life, helps. It will take time and eventually I will again feel comfortable in a crowd, accept that I am only allowed a square inch of pavement to move on, get used to the noise and shouting, the cars on the road, the people in my way.
It’ll take a while but I will get there. At least, I will on the crowds. I am not sure I will ever get used to the dismal British weather.
With so much happening in the world this year, it takes something really special to break through the Trump/Brexit/EU/Germany/Syria/North Korea bubble. But something did and it dominated the news here in the UK for days this week: Zimbabwe.
We in the UK are probably seeing more of it than elsewhere because Zim is a Commonwealth country and one we have always had an interest in. But also I think it was so high up the news agenda simply because, for once, it was good news. Good news that was reflected in the cheering and dancing and smiles and partying of what looked like the entire nation. It was hard not to cheer and dance along with them, and who didn’t wish they could have been on the streets of Harare last night (21st November) for what looked like the party of the century?
But as the dancing slows and the clean-up begins, as people start to go back to work, get on with the normal day-to-day life of living in a country that has been bankrupted by corruption, the big question on everyones minds is: what happens now?
I of course have a special interest in Zimbabwe because as well as meeting lots of Zimbabweans living in South Africa, I have relatives living there – who I was lucky enough to visit earlier this year. It was a very special visit, different from all our other adventures in Southern Africa, and one I will always remember. Because I was staying with my relatives I was able to really experience life as a local (locals who are better off than most in that country but nevertheless living with the same shortages as everyone, the same questionable future, the same problems getting money from the bank or finding work). It was only a short stay but I really felt like I was able to get under the skin of the country and the one thing I understood, loud and clear, was how desperately the people of Zimbabwe, whatever their background, wanted change.
Here I am trying not to get crushed in Zimbabwe earlier this year
And now it seems change is coming. I am sure that the euphoria of the last few days will soon give way to something more reflective, as people start to wonder who will replace Mugabe in both the short and the longer term. Will something better come in his place? Will the elections next year be free and fair? Will the much-needed investment in the country come?
All they – and I – can hope is that at last the time has come for the people of Zimbabwe to be able to hope again. Hope for a better future. Hope that democracy can be replaced. That the land can flourish again. Tourism can return. It’s a big hope in this day and age where everywhere we look things fall apart. But right now we all need some hope.
I don’t often include affiliated articles on this blog but every so often something comes along that clicks with what I offer and what I think would be a really useful service for expat partners around the world, and this is one of them. Having contributed to two books that focus on being pregnant and giving birth while living overseas – the Knocked Up Abroad series- I am fully aware how difficult a time this can be for women, especially when you live in a country where the birth culture is very different to the one back home. So I think the idea of having a virtual midwife is a great one, someone who can offer you all the knowledge, support and assistance you need, wherever you are in the world. Please let me know what you think of this idea and whether you would use the service in the comments section.
It is difficult to imagine how a “virtual midwife” could be of any assistance during pregnancy and birth, after all the word Midwife refers to being “with woman” and in french a midwife is known as a “sage femme” or wise woman. The essence of midwifery is compassion, empathy and intuition: elements that are difficult to transfer online. So how does Karen Wilmot aka The Virtual Midwife conquer these challenges and what led her to offer her services virtually?
“In many ways it was a bit of an accident really,” says Karen. “I was working in L& D at a busy private hospital in the Middle East and my first contact with my patients was in the labor room when they were already in established labor, frightened and unprepared. It was too late to start teaching them breathing techniques and coping strategies at such a late stage, and I saw a huge gap in the market for effective preparation. I started off by offering informal classes in my home but they soon became so popular that I left the hospital to do it full time and expanded my practice to include prenatal yoga and post natal support.”
Ten years later, she was instrumental in opening the first Mother & Baby center in the Gulf region (www.nine.om) while continuing to grow her online platform The Virtual Midwife. “The decision to go online was fuelled by the amount of time I found myself debunking misinformation that my clients had read online. They turned to Google for everything – often before they turned to me. A lot of my time was spent doing damage control which was frustrating, but it made me realise how powerful and prevalent the internet is.”
“I couldn’t fight it, so I chose to embrace it. I set about learning everything I could about how to create a program that would as closely as possible replicate what I was doing in real life but able to reach millions of people around the world. I chose to focus on expats because I understand the challenges they face – even though nothing about pregnancy or birth is inherently different when you are an expat. I wanted to be able to reach people in remote areas with limited or no access to prenatal support and information.
The Virtual Midwife is a multimedia online platform packed with essential tools, tips and techniques that address the specific needs and challenges of giving birth far from the comfort and safety of home. Along with basic and essential information, this is a comprehensive guide to help navigate a foreign health care system. The course is designed to give couples the confidence to get the right care at the right time with proven and effective techniques to cope with the intensity of the sensations of labor and the importance of physical, mental and emotional preparation for birth. The program includes video, audio and eBooks and Karen hosts monthly live sessions to be able to offer the empathy, compassion and intuitive guidance that is so essential from a midwife.
Sorry again for the long silences. Life has been hectic and then last week we went back to South Africa for half term.
And boy that was surreal!
It was lovely to see everyone again and nice to enjoy some sunshine (sadly, not enough: the weather was NOT on our side). But returning to our old house where my husband is still living just felt….wrong. Because it wasn’t my house anymore, nor was it my life.
For a start, none of our stuff is in the house anymore. So it felt like a shell. In some ways, it was like the early days when we first arrived – bare walls, borrowed bed clothes and crockery, none of our books or games or other distractions. But this time I knew my way around and wasn’t so worried about things like security.
Luckily our zebras were still on the otherwise bare walls
Then even when I met up with friends (which was lovely), I knew I didn’t belong there anymore. So when they were making plans for the weeks ahead and I (of course) wasn’t included, it really hit me that this was no longer my life.
It was hard, but I also think it was a good thing. Because when we got on the plane to come home, apart from the obvious sadness of saying goodbye to everyone – not least, my husband – I was looking forward to getting back here. Back to my warm house, with all our stuff. Back to what has become my life. And it really made me realise how far we had come. On Monday morning there was swim training and school and picking up the dog and shopping for food and basically just getting on with things. It felt normal. It felt good.
I know we have a way to go yet, I’m not out of the woods. Things are still hard, loneliness in particular is still very real (to be expected when you have been away for two years – both me and the children need to re-make our lives and friendships here). But three months into repatriation and I am perhaps in a better place than I feared I would be.
I will always have a place for South Africa in my heart and I will definitely go back – there is still so much of the country to explore. But for now I feel better about leaving and happier about being here.
At least I would be if it were just a little bit warmer. And sunnier….
The last few weeks – months even – have been insane.
Everyone tells you that repatriation is hard but it isn’t easy to explain the impact of a physical move WITHOUT ANY SUPPORT AT ALL combined with the emotions of leaving somewhere you love and returning to a life where you don’t really feel you belong any more.
I am surrounded by boxes. Most of them are empty now. Well, when I say empty, many of them are still filled with packing paper. That wretched paper is the bane of my life. It is taking over. I have thrown piles of it into our downstairs toilet, ostensibly to get it out of the way but in reality it insists on spilling out the door, into our hallway. I should just close the door and pretend it’s not there but then I panic about the fire hazard of having a downstairs loo filled with paper…
That’s what repatriation does to you. It makes you wake up in the middle of the night and worry about the most ridiculous things. Packing paper is one, but I seem to spend half my life fretting over the silliest of things. It certainly doesn’t help that I am on my own for a few months while my husband finishes his job in Pretoria and that my children have chosen to join the local swim team so I now have to drive them to training up to nine times a week. Including at least twice a week at 6am…
But I suspect that whatever your personal circumstances, this period is hard. Even if you wanted to come home, even if you longed for it. You still have to get used to the fact that you have been away and that others haven’t and now you have to find your new place in your old world.
One of my favourite pieces of advice picked up over the years I have written about expat issues is to treat moving back to your home as if it is a new assignment. Of course it isn’t as easy as all that when you already have friends and the children are going back to their old school and you are moving back into your old house. Everyone sort of expects you just to pick up where you left off (and as I already said in my previous post about repatriation, I have changed). But even if you just pick one of two things that are new or different to how you lived before, you can build on the fact that you HAVE been away and that you are not the same person as you were.
In my case I have already joined a Meet Up group for dog walkers. This is a small thing – I only meet with them once a fortnight or so and it’s more for the dog to socialise than me. But it is important because this is something I never would have done before we moved to South Africa. It marks the fact that I am now someone who can meet with a group of strangers that I contacted over the internet.
It’s obviously early days yet and my priority is still unpacking those flipping boxes as well as my freelance writing, working, running the household, making sure the kids are fed and clean, walking the dog etc. But I am starting to think about a project. Something I can do that is new, that marks this new stage in my life. I am someone who always needs to have something to look forward to, to work on. And I think when you repatriate – especially if you are not sure you will move again – this is especially important. Otherwise it can feel a little like you have moved home just to wait to die.
I don’t know what this project will be yet – I am hopeful that something will present itself. It may be that I won’t know for months or even years to come. It could be that it’s already there, staring me in the face.
But for now, I will carry on as before with my work and looking after the kids and dog and basically, well, surviving.
So here we are back in our house in our home town. And, as people keep telling me, it must be like we’ve never been away.
Except no, it can never be like you have never been away.
In some respects, things do look very similar. I look our of the window from my kitchen table, where I sat for hours and pounded out my book on this very same lap top in 2015, and yes – things do look very familiar. The view is what it was two years ago. Just up the road is the school were both my daughter’s went before we moved to Pretoria and where my youngest will go again. Across the street still live our good friends.
But looks can be deceptive. On the outside things might appear the same but once you have had the sort of experience you have as an expat, you will always be changed.
It’s hard to explain to people who haven’t ever done this, because as far as they can tell we are the same people moving back into the same street doing the same jobs and going to the same schools (apart from my older daughter who starts secondary school in a few weeks – but as do her contemporaries). From the outside, we looks like the same family moving back into the same house.
The view from our house and no, it has not always been this sunny since we returned…..
But given a chance to look inside our house and you will see that it is still pretty empty. We won’t get our shipment for another month or so and so are still living out of the suitcases we brought back with us plus a couple of extra trunks of bedding etc. It may seem that we are getting on with normality but that sort of routine, day-to-day living is still months away. Our life is a long way from being settled.
And the emptiness of our home is a good metaphor for the emptiness inside us as we adjust to our new lives away from the place we have called home for the last two years. Of course there are many, many great things about returning to this country (that will be my next blog) but you can’t just walk away from a life where you were happy and forget about it. That goes for all of us – me and the kids, and yes even the dog!
So if you happen to come across me (in real life or in virtual life) just be conscious that while I may look fine on the outside, I may be a little delicate still on the inside. And while I am still the same person as I was before we left, in many ways I have changed – some of them easy to explain and understand (I have started writing properly for pay and edging towards being able to call myself a writer; I know a lot more about rhino poaching in Africa etc), others are undefinable. I am still discovering these differences myself but I think some of them include having a different outlook on life from having lived in such a complicated culture, being more laid back about things, having a totally different view of my own country having watched it from afar during these turbulent times.
The flip side to this is that I also have to understand that others around me will have changed too. In some ways we think of people back home as being “frozen” while we are away. This is particularly hard for our children who hope to be able to simply pick up where they left off with their friends, only to find that those friends have moved on. It’s a hard lesson to learn and even as an adult we have to be aware that many of our friends won’t be where we left them.
So as we enter this strange limbo period of re-adjustment and re-entry I will need to keep reminding myself that repatriation takes time, and that just because things look the same they usually aren’t. I need to help my children through this time too – and am ready to deal with the inevitable fallout from friendship realignments. We will have some rocky times ahead, I am sure of it – but to be aware that this is coming and is normal can at least prepare me mentally.
Now I just need to try and explain to the dog where the sunshine has gone!
Here we are then. The last day. I am trying to look forward and not back but it’s hard. Everywhere you go it’s like “the last time we….” walk the dog in the dog park, shop in Woolworths, take the kids to Bounce, visit the school….
But forward I must look because that is where we are heading. It has been a fantastic two years – although I have to remind myself that I didn’t always love it. When I visited our dentist the other day (the last time we visit that dentist!) he asked whether I was happy here now. I must have looked a little confused because he then admitted he had made a note from my first appointment that I wasn’t particularly enjoying my time in South Africa.
It’s hard to pick a favourite photo of South Africa because I have so many but this one is so beautiful……
To me now, that sounds very strange but then other memories come back: getting a rush of home-sickness at the supermarket check out one day; sitting alone having an ice cream to cheer myself up because I didn’t have any friends; crying into my pillow at night because I was missing my old life so much and this new life was so different and disorientating. It is only memories of feeling unhappy that I have left rather than the unhappiness itself but I know it existed.
Time. That is all it takes. Time, some friends and a bit of routine. And a little dog called Cooper.
South Africa, Pretoria, friends that I have met here – I will miss you all. The sunshine, the wine, the braai’s, the dog walks, the lions and leopards and cheetahs, the penguins, whales and turtles, the hadedas, mouse birds and go-away birds, the mountains of the Drakensbergs, the sea of the Cape, my helper, the school, even the bloody pizzas (there were a LOT of pizzas!).
When I wrote my book the Expat Partner’s Survival Guide I put a lot of thought into how to make an overseas move with the least amount of stress possible. I talked about sending your partner ahead without you, not moving at the start of the summer holidays and other ways to smooth your passage at a difficult time. I had learned the hard way and as we were preparing at the time for our move here to South Africa, it was all clear in my head how to do it.
Well now we are doing it in reverse and I am wondering if we are leaving in a way that I would recommend to others.
First of all, let me tell you how we planned it this time: Instead of moving soon after the school year ended in June, we decided to stick around for most of the summer. This way we could stay together as a family for as long as possible as well as make the most of our last days in the southern hemisphere sun. We have had to say a lot of separate goodbyes over the last few weeks as one-by-one friends have left for the summer or gone off on their holidays. I call this the death by one thousand cuts.
The alternative, which friends of ours chose as their preferred leaving method, was to get out of town as soon as school ended. One big emotional hurrah and poof! Gone. I call this the ripping off the band aid method.
So has our way worked? Well so far I would say on the whole yes. Although we have had a lot of goodbyes, it has meant we have been able to focus on each and every friend separately. We have had dinners and lunches and evening drinks and get-togethers for coffee – but spread out over the past few weeks so every occasion has been fun and personal.
With less going on I have also been able to sort the house out slowly, one room at a time, so when the packers arrived yesterday we were ready for them. It felt relatively calm compared to other moves.
The down side to hanging around in Pretoria for so long is that with (almost) all our friends gone it has got a bit, well, boring. But even with this, there is a silver lining: as each slightly tedious day passes, we all look forward more and more to leaving and getting back to our UK home. It is definitely still going to be emotional but leaving a bare city as well as a bare house is a lot easier than leaving somewhere still full of your friends all having a good time without you.
On a practical side we have also managed to organise ourselves well this time. My husband will return to Pretoria later in the summer for a few months which means we don’t have to worry about things like selling the car or closing our bank account. That is an awful lot of additional stress taken away right there. I wouldn’t recommend splitting your family up for this reason alone but if you are in this situation look at the positives!
And finally one last thing that we are trying this time: with my husband still being here until probably January, we are returning for a short holiday later in the year. This means that many of our goodbyes haven’t been final ones, that the girls know they will see their friends again and that we will all get to come back to South Africa one last time.
It will still be hard but hopefully by the time we come out here in October our lives back home will be a bit more sorted than they will be when we get home in a couple of weeks time, so returning after our holiday will be both physically and emotionally easier.
This is kind of off-topic but I am interested in hearing from as wide a range of people as possible on this scenario:
A question for you. If you belonged to a small company, let’s say a flourishing flower selling business with franchises around the country. Once a year or so all franchise owners get together to strategise for the year ahead. At this year’s meeting, a group of you meet in the kitchen ahead of the main meeting. While getting your coffees, someone mentions that they have just seen a new type of flower on offer – let’s call them Leavonias. Apparently these Leavonias were stunning and smelt beautiful. At present, your particular company doesn’t sell Leavonias – they are so new to the market that no-one knows much about them. But this person who saw them keeps on and on about how incredible they were. When pushed he doesn’t have many answers about how much they cost to buy or grow but he manages to pursuade most people in the kitchen that the company should start selling them. A few people even get on their phone and start ordering them from the wholesaler. Remember – this is before the annual meeting has started.
Anyway you all go into the main meeting and start discussing strategies. Someone brings up the Leavonia idea. All those who were in the kitchen support the idea whole-heartedly and start to talk about how good it will be for their business. But someone who wasn’t in the kitchen is a little more cautious. “I know someone who tried selling them and it didn’t work very well,” she says. Apparently they cost a lot more to grow than you get back when you sell them. Nevertheless the enthusiasm for the venture in the room is still strong. As a group you decide to go away and think about it. Two or three people are designated to look into the pro’s and con’s – to draw up a risk strategy if you like.
Over the next few weeks, those designated people can’t find a single reason as to why selling Leavonias would be a good strategy for your company. They can’t find any evidence they would make money and in fact in many scenarios they would lose money. The only plus would be to save the blushes of those franchisees who have already started negotiating to buy their Leavonias from a wholesaler (who has already said it’s fine, they don’t have to go through with the deal).
Oh and they also find out that if you do decide to start selling Leavonias there is no going back.The only people that sell them make you sign a contract for life (or until the demise of the company). Even at a loss. It doesn’t make business sense but everyone can still smell that lingering scent of the beautiful flowers.
So – question: do you still go ahead and start to sell the Leavonias or do you bin the idea and carry on selling the flowers that are already making you a profit?
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