Edge of the World

The exact memory bounces excitedly on the edge of my consciousness today. I remember my excited squeals, bounding up and down the sand dunes in my new bathing suit [how 90s is that word, lol] running against the sea breeze like I’d take flight if I ran fast enough, chasing the sea gulls who would fly off onto their perches on the cliffs and stare out at the ocean like something was crawling out of the horizon into their view.

Growing up in rural KwaZulu-Natal and then to a small town I’d always been surrounded by rivers, pumps, ponds and dams so I was no stranger to large and dangerous bodies of water. I must have been 4 or 5 [my mother never had the best memory], we drove to Port St John’s, the pride of the Pondoland region on the Wild Coast. I imagine it hasn’t changed much since except there are less sea shells and more pollution. The sun shone so much brighter by the sea, the air was cleaner and the breeze so much happier [I could eat ice cream all day] suffice it to say my 4 or 5 year old life was made! My mother told me to choose a spot and stand still, I remember the sand rapidly moving beneath my feet tickling me while the sea seemed to draw me in, I ran off screaming scared that it would carry me off [parents really shouldn’t tell their kids these things, they tend to haunt for life].

 It was all so scary and exciting at the same time and I revelled in that feeling and I think that’s the feeling we all live for, that new thrill, unexplainable yet all consuming, caution to the salty wind and a day adventure for the ages. It’s true that you are the same person you were when you were 5, older and perhaps wiser but still that kid asking too many questions for your parents to answer; in awe of the ocean in a shell and overwhelmed by the vastness of the world just outside your door.

Watching all those spy movies there’s always a satellite scene, zooming and zoning in onto some location roaming for the bad guy’s whereabouts [he’s usually somewhere in the Caribbean] and in that instant the bad guy is found lounging at the beach; Mojito in hand surrounded by gorgeous bikini clad locals vying for his attention. And that’s how I’ve always felt about the ocean, the edge of the world where I can always be found [if you happen to have a high power government satellite].

When you stand at the edge of the sea, you’re at the edge of a continent with a sprawling ocean before you, life and death beneath going on as it has for eons. When I stand at the edge of the ocean I’m a blip on the face of the visible world, I like to think God can see me clearly.

I like to believe I can jump in and be carried off into another universe like a black hole does in outer space, I like to believe I’m at the start of something so that when I step back I’m in a new day, all the previous washed away by the sea, carried off the edge into some endless abyss.