The white thing that falls from heaven finally did and I was there to witness it. And it wasn’t the biblical manna from heaven. No guys, my shady self finally experienced snow!
It was a very beautiful Sunday when I decided to go to the gym but before then I engaged in some guilty pleasures and when I looked outside the window, it was all white. I thought to myself if Swedish people can walk on it then I will survive it.
First the snowflakes fell on my eyelashes and blinded me. Then I walked into a pond of water and the water got through my boots. My legs froze while my cheekbones could only be compared to a stuffed cat’s facial expression.
Guys, I cried. Yes, I walked into the gym, locked myself inside a toilet and cried.
Let’s not even talk about my journey home. And that my friends is how I left Sweden. Am now in London and who knows where I will end up next. I have three weeks to spare before going back to work and I hope when I do, that white stuff will have melted away!
This post is dedicated to my loyal follower, Nkatha Bae, who missed me so much that she had to find out if I’m still alive or dead and buried at in the imaginary deep caves underneath Ramberget (Raven hill) mountain in Hisingen Island in Gothenburg, Sweden.
I really don’t have a solid excuse as to why I have not been blogging for the past few weeks. I just hit a writer’s block and lacked motivation. But can you blame me?
I’m still getting used to this dark side of the continent and so is my throat during this cold, dark and mysterious season of European weather seasons.
I recently suffered a sore throat so rough it could be used to clean a pair of Savco jeans. Infact if it continues this way, my throat will be rough enough to be used on rough wooden surfaces instead of sandpaper.
Have I mentioned how I slid on the tarmac while walking home and almost popped my brains open? I think Africans like myself need special training on how to walk on ice. Anyway, it’s now seven months since I moved here and no matter how much I try I will never understand Swedish people.
When I came here during spring, I got mixed signals. Some people were happy while others seemed deeply sad. The sad lot improved during summer and survived the beginning of autumn a bit maybe because of the beautiful flowers. Then I decided to leave Gothenburg briefly and visit a friend in Denmark.
Spent a splendid weekend there with journalists from all over the world and when I came back everything had changed. The Swedes were sad again.
They are all behaving in a uniform manner. When they are not looking down while running from buildings towards their cars, they are staring deeply into their coffee mugs in restaurants. It’s dark and they are wearing black. I suspect I’m the only one still doning colour because most immigrants have now adopted the ‘Swedish uniform’.
“What happened? Who died while I was away? How long with they be mourning? Is it something I did? Is it because I imported flu from Denmark? Are they sad because I left? Or is it because I’m back?” Are some of the questions I have been asking myself lately.