Mike Mate

I noticed it first when the plane landed in Johannesburg; something in the white light. But when I stepped out the sliding door to Durban Airport, I could smell it. I could smell the very white in the light – it sparkled of home. I am in the land of sunny skies and Tri-nations rugby. It is winter, the mornings are cool and I wear Merino from New Zealand – but by midday the temperature has risen to 30 C and I take it off again. Out of my black suitcase I have drawn silks and cottons, a Buddha made of stone and a wooden elephant. From these treasures I have made gifts to my most beloved.

The sacred ibis calls out ‘ha-ha-hardida’ as it wings over the top of Villa Valencia, the security complex in which mom and dad live amongst their collectable antiques. I sip tea from a fine bone-china cup and monkeys scamper across red-tiled roofs of the yellow-bricked apartments, and then continue in single file along the tops of the walls. They stop to look in through windows – hoping for an open opportunity – for fruit. The smell of jasmine is rich in the garden.

In the international news today; the government of Indonesia has declared a moratorium on the conversion of forest to Palm Plantations in Sumatra. On my lap-top I process photos of Rainbow Warrior in Indonesia – blocking a Palm Oil Tanker – in November, last year. I feel we may have accomplished something of enormous magnitude – a miracle.