contracted

this week is my last week of being formally employed. for now.

these last three months of contract work have been a time of concerted effort, and computer-chair sitting, in a 2010 spent mostly looking for jobs, frustratedly.

so i am grateful for that.

i've learnt more about me, and had some humbling lessons.

i've learnt more about south african history than i ever thought i would know, or understand.

i've learnt that sometimes it's okay to go back to what you know.

and now i know that it is time to focus on different things, to grow and learn while doing something else.

it's been a year in total of editing/researching at south african history online, and although there will be things that i will miss, i feel ready to move on.

to other challenges, including the potential agony of prolonged unemployment. but also the possibility of self-employment.

and self-fulfillment.

all i really want to do is write, learn and earn. with a long term "be-location-independent" plan.

it's a plan that will require intense hard work, and more computer-sitting time, but i think i just might be ready for it.

after spending most of 2010 relying on support and understanding, i have realized that being employed, whether or not by a company, or someone else, is not only a financial necessity, but a mental one as well.

when i was unemployed i felt drained, like i couldn't focus on anything with the constant threat of possible poverty, and the idea that i was losing out on time, productive time that i needed in order to get somewhere.

this sometimes lead to tears, but more often, deep breaths and consistent mental talkings-to.

for the past three months, absorbed in writing and researching south african history, i've had less of those moments, supported by routine, skype meetings and a regular workday structure.

with noisy morning alarms.

and dazed morning packing of packed lunches.

i have enjoyed aspects of the familiarity, the morning suburban scenery while driving, accompanied sometimes by music, but often only the clicky-clack of a portable mug of tea in my drinks holder.

over the past few months i've noticed the jaracarandas go from leafy to bare, and now to a light purple, almost fluorescent bloom.

i've noticed the gradual transition from tree-lined suburbs to gritty city, from the quiet streets of brooklyn, to face-brick sunnyside apartment buildings to CBD high rises, interspersed with colonial architectural remnants.

like the white walls of the melrose house stables, and the green gates that allow for just a quick two-second glimpse into the well manicured victorian-style lawns.

or the sir herbert baker designed station building, which has recently been refurbished, post-fire.

i always notice the victoria hotel too, with its unmistakeable burgundy spire, formerly the hollandia, pre-british annexation.

i've seen the faces of the various vendors on the street sides, heard the boombox taxi blasts and the tried to remember the names of all the prolific street side cafes.

i've seen withered looking pot plants in the windows of slighlty delapidated apartment buildings while stationary at street lights, noticing their name lettering fonts.

in contrast to concrete, functional wall slab buildings.

as i approach the final stretch, a block before my office in the morning, i often take a quick look up church street to church square on my right, the bronze figure of paul kruger just out of sight as i pass the metallic, grid-like office block on the corner, and the renaissance-style public works building opposite.

finally, i turn into the parking lot of the old groote kerk on bosman street, after dodging the flashing hazard lights of parked softdrink-loading trucks and wanton taxi drivers. as i lock my car, and walk along the concrete parking lot floor, i see the scruffy, street-living sparrows swarm, chirp and hide in the church eaves.

over the past few months i've also noticed a shift in the big jacaranda on the other side of the green wrought iron gate. it's gone from green and shady, to shedding, and is now leafless and blossoming. i'm still waiting for the frangipani tree though, which is just starting to go green, and will soon flower into white, yellow-tinged, neatly arranged twirled blossoms.

i've driven this route, and seen these things every day, in various degrees of inspiration, and fatigue.

i've walked the same route to work from the parking lot, past the church, the clinic and christian outreach centre. past the parking guard who never says hello to anyone.

past the lady deep frying vetkoek, or amagwinya in her makeshift stall, made from large cardboard boxes, plastic and practice.

i always watch as she carefully places paper over the oily dough balls, which lie in a bowl while their fattiness is soaked up by newspaper lining, as she sits, patiently.

after passing amagwinya lady i enter the tiled, almost bare foyer of charter house office building, the rotund oom always at his front desk, reading the newspaper or chatting in afrikaans to the newly appointed security guard.

then, it's 8 flights of stairs. something i have done compulsively since my first term of employment.

unfortunately i don't have keys, so breathless, with mug in hand, i then have to knock and wait for either jonas or kedibone to open for me.

after this, the standard greetings take place and it's desk time once again, with a hazy morning window view of the wonderboom hills, in the direction of the zoo.

i'll miss the routine, the meditative early morning process, and the regular hours of focused activity. i'll also miss the accumulation of historical information, sometimes biased, but always interesting.

i'll miss it, but i know that some other routine, with different people, faces and desks will soon present itself, and become an intrinsic part of my life.

i'm sure that whatever the job may be, it will also be educational, frustrating, humbling, and inspiring.

but to find out i have to try, and surrender myself to the ifs, whats and whys.

and to do that, i have to leave.