MALAIKA MAHLATSI | Despite crippling crime in SA, there’s still no place quite like home

On Monday night, as my KLM flight began its descent into OR Tambo International Airport from Amsterdam, I couldn’t help but smile at the sight of the bright lights across Ekurhuleni and Johannesburg.

I would have been just as happy even if the two cities had been plunged into darkness by load shedding because when you live in a foreign country, the sight of home, whatever problems home might have, always fills the heart with warmth.

Six months ago, I emigrated to Germany. I live in the Hannover region of the northern state of Niedersachsen. It is a beautiful city, one that I intend to place my roots in for the next few years. But it is not home. Germany is not SA.

Most people imagine that emigrating is all roses. This is especially the case when someone emigrates to a developed country like Germany. And indeed, there is a lot about Germany that I appreciate. Safety is at the top of the list.

In 2022, I went on vacation across several countries in Europe, and I knew that I would soon move to that region of the world. The decision was made when, on a warm night in the Netherlands capital of Amsterdam, my partner and I decided to walk to an ice cream shop nearly 20 minutes away from our hotel.

It was almost midnight and we had to walk through a bushy area by a canal. As we did so, we passed other couples sitting on benches overlooking the blistering water and individuals, men and women, talking midnight strolls. Under the starry night in that foreign country, surrounded by strangers, I have never felt safer.

Having lived in SA my entire life, I was stunned by what was possible in some parts of the world. There’s no way that I would’ve ever taken a stroll at midnight – not even in my neighbourhood where cameras and panic buttons line the streets and private security vehicles patrol throughout the day.

The fact of the matter is that crime in our country is crippling, especially for women. You don’t know the meaning of living in a constant state of fear and anxiety until you’ve been a woman in SA. But even as I now live in a region of the world where I go on midnight strolls and where I’m not constantly fearful of a stranger lurking in the shadows waiting to pounce on me, I miss SA every waking day of my life.

There is a lot that isn’t working in our country – but there’s also a lot that is. When you’re driving on potholes, navigating load shedding, reading about corruption and gender-based violence on a daily basis and dealing with racist bigotry from some white South Africans who are resistant to change, it is easy to think nothing works. It’s easy to not see the magnificent beauty of our country, the great banking system, the exceptional skills and dedication of our healthcare workers, the great quality of food, the diversity of our society and many other things.

More than all else, it is easy to not see the kindness of ordinary people. I have never known a people more kind than South Africans. And it’s in the smallest of things – like how we always greet people and ask about their wellbeing.

This is an anomaly in Germany. People don’t greet. Someone could come and sit next to you in a train and never utter a mere “Good morning”. Such behaviour, seen as normal, is taboo in our culture as South Africans. And make no mistake, we have a beautiful and humane collective culture as a people. All these things make me realise what I didn’t before I left – that there truly is no place like home.