Perfectly imperfect South Africa: Mother’s letter 4 years after leaving SA

A South African mother’s heartbreaking poem, written on the plane as she left South Africa to move abroad – went viral in February 2022.

Lindi-Mae Humphreys’ words about the pain of leaving behind everything she knew and loved struck a chord with every South African who has left their beloved country to seek a safer home for their children.

Lindi-Mae’s decision had followed an attack at gunpoint in her kombi.

This week, Lindi-Mae’s family celebrated four years in The Netherlands.

The following post details how life has changed 48 months after making that momentous move …

15th February 2022

We arrived in the Netherlands (having never traveled to Europe before).

And I’ll never forget landing at Schiphol for the first time, with nothing but a suitcase in each freezing hand, and a heart full of hope. 

We left behind our African homeland in South Africa. 

Our family. 

Our friends. 

Our beautiful home. 

Everything familiar. 

Everything comfortable. 

Everything we knew and loved.

Every. One. 

Today, four years later – we’re still here; Learning, trusting, traveling, growing and adapting to our new normal while trying to raise kind hearted, independent young humans that appreciate the beautiful country we call home, while never forgetting the perfectly imperfect one we come from.

I am so incredibly proud of our children. 

They didn’t choose this drastic change, yet they have embraced it with courage and resilience beyond their years. 

They have handled the wild weather with grace; cycling to school, work and activities come rain, shine, blizzard or snow. 

From the African Sunshine and open spaces to red bike lanes, trams, and layered thermals… they have adapted well and love their independence. (As do we)

Kady turns 18 next month and matriculates in a little over 3 months (Whaaaaat). 

She is drowning in her IB work at the moment; lab reports and hundreds of essays and submissions over the last few weeks, but we are super proud of how independently she has and is getting it done (not without some struggles,) but 6 more weeks to knuckle down and then she’s off to Croatia with 10 of her besties for their “Grad-trip” in June. 

Keely has achieved academic excellence all the while getting educated in Dutch, writing exams (Science, Bio, Geography, Maths etc in Dutch) while achieving 3 A’s (including French) and 5 subjects well over 70%! This also came with a letter from her academic head this week, complimenting us on the star student and polite young lady she is! We couldn’t be more proud.

And Cruzi… oh Cruzi boy.

While settled and enjoying his life here, thriving in hockey and coping well in the Dutch education system, he still misses everyone in South Africa (and our “big house.”) 

He had a very sad week last week and while having a DMC with him after school, he says he understands why we moved to the Netherlands but he doesnt remember us asking him if he actually wanted to come here (all of 4 years old then I’ll have you know), and he doesn’t want to live in South Africa, but people treat him differently because he’s not from here. 

My heart broke because this is another tough reality we will always face. 

No matter how hard we try to fit in, we will always be expats.

He then asked (very seriously) if I can promise him that he can marry a South African one day because he does NOT want to have to marry a Dutch wife! 

I could only laugh. 

And he seemed genuinely relieved when I piped up that there are 300 000 South Africans living in the Netherlands (He also couldn’t believe this and asked why I’ve never told him this before). 

We live in what I jokingly call our “Lego House” in one of the most beautiful neighbourhoods in Rotterdam. Very small lego house (teeny tiny) by South African standards, but it is ours. 

And there is something deeply grounding and empowering about owning a little piece of this beautiful country. 

And then there’s us.

They say moving countries is one of the toughest things a marriage can endure. Uprooting your entire life, your children, starting from zero, carrying the weight of uncertainty, responsibility, fear and hope, it could so easily have broken us.

Instead, it made us unbreakable.

We have stood rock solid, shoulder to shoulder through every doubt, every challenge, every “WTF are we doing?” moment, and we are so much stronger for it.

I look up to my husband every single day. 

I admire his strength, his commitment, his tenacity, and the quiet determination with which he carries our family forward. 

We don’t just talk about building a life, we are here, working our butts off doing it!

Relentlessly. 

Selflessly. 

Courageously.

Four years later, I don’t just feel grateful for the country that chose us, I feel grateful for the man I chose too. And I would choose him again, and again, and again.

We are grateful for our safety.

For friends who’ve become family

For systems that work.

For a society that (mostly) functions 

Where the parks are spotless and green

Where the beaches are left in the same way they are found 

Where the summers are EXQUISITE and where we’ve learnt to fall in love with the winter months too (Just not all 7 of them).

Thankfully, nothing is permanent in this life. 

I am most grateful for the opportunities our children have today; and even more for the ones they will have tomorrow.

Of course there is also a quiet sadness that comes with distance.

Moving across the world has meant losing friendships and contact, not always in dramatic ways, but in the slow fading that time zones and busy lives can bring. That part has hurt more than I expected. When you leave, you assume the bonds will stay exactly the same… but distance has a way of revealing what’s truly rooted deeply. 

And so, it has also been incredibly enlightening.

You learn very quickly who checks in. 

Who sends the message. 

Who tries to understand and makes the effort despite the kilometers. 

Who shows up, especially when it matters most. 

Those people? They are gold. 

Distance hasn’t weakened those friendships; it has refined them.

In many ways, this journey hasn’t just changed where we live, it has changed everything about us, right down to our core. 

And for that clarity, even in the sadness, I am grateful

One more year and we can apply for Dutch citizenship and our EU passports! 

This dream is finally becoming a reality and the biggest gift we can give and leave our children. This gift is also a gentle reminder that the decision we made 4 years ago will be worth its weight in gold, despite the many sacrifices! 

What a bittersweet gift it is to have lived in two very different worlds. 

To grow strong enough to love them both, even while knowing your heart will always be divided between the people and places you miss. 

By Lindi-Mae Humphreys (published on SAPeople.com with Lindi-Mae’s kind permission)

If you missed Lindi-Mae’s previous poem, read it here: Goodbye my beautiful country, South Africa.