When traveling for a month or more, there comes a time when you feel some emotional tugs on your heart, a longing for the familiar comfort of home. I believe home and family can be interchangeable. There’s an old saying, “home is where the heart is.” That heart, I think, is wherever you feel a loving connection to others.
In a way… it isn’t home we miss at all, but rather our closest human connections.
Over a month into our road trip through southern Africa, we found ourselves celebrating Thanksgiving, away from family, for the second year in a row. There amid the rural mountainous wine country, we felt a sneaking feeling of loneliness.
We celebrated the holiday quietly in a little vineyard cottage. Our feast was modest, and we passed the evening sipping on pinotage while soaking in a wood-fired hot tub.
The next day we left our cozy cottage and drove to the town of Franschhoek, there we had arrangements to spend the next couple nights in a homestay.
Family Homestay
We arrived at a charming beige two-story home. It appeared meticulously cared for with blooming flower beds surrounding the property.
From the moment we met Mercia (mer-shah), we couldn’t help but smile in her presence. Kindness, joy, humor, and a compulsion to help wherever possible emanated from her heart.
Her husband, Vessal (ves-sol), was a gentle and deliberate man of shorter stature who was humble, kind, and thoughtful.
Their home was as lovely on the inside as it was on the outside. It was clean, tastefully decorated, and free of clutter. There was something about it that just felt inviting. The moment we crossed the threshold, the energy in their house felt like home.
After our first night, we woke to the smell of bacon and the sound of chickens greeting the new day’s sun. Downstairs Mercia was fixing up a mouthwatering bouquet of aromas. Vessal sat at the end of their long table, sipping coffee, and reading the morning paper.
The scene felt strangely familiar. A setting reminiscent of a Saturday straight out of childhood. I couldn’t help but feel… at home.
They invited us to have a seat, a cup of coffee, and some fresh squeezed OJ.
Vessal folded his newspaper when we sat and began the usual small talk.
We told him we were on a road trip through the country, working our way towards Namibia.
He lit up at our answer and started sharing stories of his own travels. Vessal had a profound affection for the wild of Africa and appreciated we were there to explore it ourselves.
Conversation with Vessal flowed effortlessly. He enjoyed our company and us his. In our discussions, he’d occasionally pause to insert a life lesson as he saw fit. Mercia would chime in by and by with humorous quips when she thought necessary.
At the end of our long breakfast, they invited us to join their family braai that evening. Their daughter, Ilona (low-nuh), would be there, and they wanted us to meet her.
We hadn’t experienced a proper braai yet, and Vessal insisted, saying, “It’s a quintessential part of life in South Africa.”
We happily obliged and left to explore some of Franschhoek Valley for the afternoon.
The whole day though, we were anxious to get back for the braai. So peculiar… surrounded by beautiful mountains, forested trails, and numerous vineyards, yet all we wanted was to be with the ‘family.’
Family Braai
We returned plenty early for the braai.
Walking through the door, it felt like we arrived at the perfect time! Mercia was in the kitchen with her daughter, Ilona (low-nah). Jessica quickly fell into chatter and laughter with them.
Vessal, in the backyard, was setting up chairs around a fire ring, accompanied by Ilona’s husband. I joined the ‘boys.’
Over our first cold beer of the evening, Vessal explained the significance of a braai. Turns out, it’s not all that different from what we, in the states, call a barbecue. However, for a braai, food is cooked directly over hot coals from a fire.
Fundamentally though, they’re both about bringing people together.
Vessal assumed the role of braai-master while we sat around the fire. Meaningful conversation seemed to flow effortlessly.
Once the last bit of food was cooked, Mercia ushered us into the dining room. Waiting was a smorgasbord of sides to accompany dinner. Best of all, her potato salad, which she said many times, is famous among those who’ve tried it.
Where Vessal was the braai-master Mercia was the dinner-party-master. Conversations took a more humorous turn at her hand, and she wasn’t the least bit shy to share several funny family stories.
One that had us all laughing to tears was how her daughter’s name ‘ILONA’ (low-nuh) came about.
While pregnant, Mercia had a coworker whose name she found particularly pleasing. When this coworker wrote her name, it appeared to Mercia as: llona. Which, Mercia mistook as I-L-O-N-A instead of L-L-O-N-A.
Many years after her daughter’s birth Mercia eventually realized her error but never had the heart to tell her daughter. When she was old enough and asked why her name started with an ‘I’ but sounded like an ‘L’ Mercia played it cool and told her it was a silent ‘I.’
I can still hear Mercia’s roaring hearty laugh as she told the story. Her sweetness and innocence in mistakenly spelling her daughter’s name is just a sample of her splendidly unique character.
Sitting around that table, we felt like we belonged there. We were thousands of miles away from home, but had found the feeling of ‘home.’
The following morning marked the end of our stay. When we came down for breakfast, our host’s expressed how they enjoyed having us stay and thought the braai was terrific fun.
We agreed and regretted we had to leave.
Mercia raised an eyebrow above her glasses and said, “you know… you guys are welcome to stay another night, free of charge, if you wish.”
We couldn’t believe it!
I woke that morning focused on the best route to Namibia. In one sentence, all that was gone, and without hesitation, we both said, “we’d love to!”
We spent that day mostly with Mercia and Vessal. Mercia shared with Jessica the secret to her famous salad-sauce, and I helped Vessal with some projects around the house.
Something changed after that braai. No longer were we paying guests; now, we were family. That braai was our adoption.
The next morning we woke dolefully knowing we’d be leaving. It was time, though. The short break from being on the road was splendid. Our stay recharged our spirits, and the new connections filled our hearts with belonging.
Before leaving, Mercia packed up some freshly made car snacks for our drive – her potato salad included. The gesture had me wanting to say, “gee thanks Mom” in a slightly sarcastic tone. But of course, I refrained.
After many hugs and repeated good-byes, we hit the road and left Mercia and Vessal on the sidewalk. They stayed waving for as long as I could see them in the rearview mirror.
We’ll always have family in Franschhoek!
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