I am a Foreigner

Today was the first day in three months that I was brave enough to sit outside with a short sleeved shirt. Well, it did not even last 40 seconds. For two reasons: It is still winter, and apparently the hole in the ozone is located above New Zealand and can scorch your skin! But truth be told, it was a wonderful, bright shining sunshine day in Hamilton. I decided to, after an hour workout at the gym, to get a cuppachino and lunch at Hamilton Gardens. We are quickly getting used to paying $4 for a hot drink, but eating out is still a no-no. Today was different though…

The view was extraordinary: ducks dancing in the lake whilst a choir of birds cheered them on. And did I say, the sun was shining! As much as I enjoyed what I was seeing, I noticed that others did not… instead, their eyes were fixated on my shocking pink pattern pants, holding hands with a bright turquoise shirt, and to top it off, a plain grey and dark blue knee length jersey. Oh well, I did not care, as long as I avoided going home…

See, if you rent a house in New Zealand, your housing agent comes to do an inspection every two to three months… and today, this bright, glorious day, was our lucky day. In social work I learned that I am a ‘skurtle’. A skunk mixed with a turtle. If there is an issue, I will make it known (drop the bomb! booya!), but then quickly withdraw to a safe, hiding place. And today, I skurtled! We had many hick-ups with our housing agent and I could not bear the thought of facing her. Maybe she is the eagle type that catches and releases turtles from high heights… and I was not ready to find out. Therefore, today, eating out was totally affordable!

Talking about housing agents. When we arrived in Hamilton, I endlessly searched for us for a home. At one house viewing, an agent bluntly referred to me as a ‘foreigner’ who needs a ‘guarantor’ because ‘us foreigners just relocate and we leave our belongings behind for them to sort out’. By the shocked expression on the other people’s faces, and their skin colour turning from deep brown to white ash, I knew they noticed the discrimination. Somehow for me, I guess because we get desensitized in South Africa, I only smiled and told her I understood. I did not actually understand. Why would people leave their belongings behind or why do you need to pay a deposit if you then require a guarantor! We, well I, thought it best not to rent that house…

Only after this ‘incident’ did I think that the housing agent was actually quite right. Maybe even a little prophetic. I am a foreigner on earth as I am a citizen of heaven. I am just passing through. And yes, one day, when I relocate to my eternal home, I will leave my earthly belongings behind. I know Jesus is my guarantor and that I have made a deposit into the Kingdom.

Cheers, for now,

Lorraine