Peach, Grape & the Global Motherhood Village

This morning, I found myself laughing out loud while chatting to two of my dearest friends—friends who’ve long since crossed the line from friendship into family. We’ve known each other for years, having studied together and shared every messy, magical stage of life: boyfriends, breakups, weddings, milestone birthdays, and—most defining of all—motherhood.

It’s been years since the three of us were all in the same place, but our bond hasn’t faded. One day we’ll finally take that long-dreamed-of tropical island holiday. But for now, we survive off voice notes, WhatsApp threads, and an endless stream of mom memes that somehow always hit the mark.

Through the highs and lows of parenting, Peach and Grape (yes, there’s a story there!) have been my guiding light. Between us, we have kids of similar ages—plus a couple of older ones who’ve blazed the trail. We’ve talked about everything: sleepless nights, toddler tantrums, fussy eating phases, fevers, teething, potty training, and the less-than-glamorous reality of pregnancy and childbirth. Together, we’ve navigated nappies, nose wipes, night feeds, and now, new adventures.

Life has pulled us to different corners of the world. What once separated us by provinces now separates us by oceans and time zones. We’ve each stepped into fresh chapters—me here in Tanzania, living our family’s African adventure, one bajaj ride and rainy season at a time; Peach, embracing the cool calm of New Zealand; and Grape, finding her rhythm in the sun-scorched deserts of Saudi Arabia.

Though our settings are wildly different, our conversations often come back to the same core questions:
How do you build a village when you’re so far from the one you imagined?
How do you raise children without the comfort and backup of nearby family?
How do we stay ourselves in the middle of it all?

And, of course, the daily realities. Today’s laugh? Grocery shopping. My grocery trips are the stuff of sitcoms—a full-day affair hopping between shops for tins, meat, yoghurt, fresh veg, and the ever-elusive decent bread. Nothing is in one place. One store has dried goods, another has fruit on the side of the road, another has chicken… and still, somehow, I forget something.

Convenience here has a different meaning. There’s no Checkers or Woolies or one-click online order. Shopping in the third world is unpredictable and sometimes frustrating—but it makes for great story material, and my friends never fail to laugh with (and at) me.

Despite the distance and daily chaos, these friendships remain one of the most grounding parts of my life. Through the moans, groans, and endless voice notes, we remind each other to laugh. To find the humour in the mundane. To keep going, even when it feels like the laundry will never end and the fridge is somehow always empty again.

This journey of motherhood was never meant to be walked alone. And even though we’re spread across deserts, rainforests, and faraway time zones, I’m so grateful to still have my Peach and Grape walking it with me—one meme, one message, and one moment at a time.

Africa Is Not for Sissies

Growing up, my dad had a favourite saying: “Africa is not for sissies.” And he was right. Life on these continent demands grit, resilience, and a skin thick enough to weather both the expected and the unimaginable.

Living and growing up in South Africa, we faced constant challenges—financial pressure, safety concerns, and the ever-present unpredictability of our roads. These weren’t occasional issues; they were woven into everyday life. I remember how we learned to adapt—to carry on with a sense of humour, to push forward even when things felt impossibly hard.

We lived in the Midlands, a little more sheltered from the chaos of the big cities. But even there, the anxiety lingered: the constant need to look over your shoulder, the fear sparked by truck accidents on the N3 at Town Hill, the devastating farm attacks, the unrest, the looting, and the monthly question of whether our salaries would stretch far enough. And yet, through it all, South Africans remain strong. We’re a tough bunch, and I’ll always be proud to call myself South African.

But resilience sometimes means knowing when it’s time to make a change.

After many long discussions and soul-searching debates about whether the grass was greener elsewhere, my husband and I came to a decision. We needed to protect our young family, but we weren’t ready to turn our backs on Africa. Our hearts—and our roots—are deeply planted in this soil. We knew that if we were to move, it would have to be within the continent.

The search didn’t take long. Within a few months, my husband was packed and headed to Tanzania, and the kids and I followed shortly after. We’ve now made our home in Moshi, nestled at the base of Mount Kilimanjaro. It’s a place of raw natural beauty—mountains, coffee farms, wild animals, flowers, warm people… and, let’s be honest, some of the worst drivers I’ve ever encountered!

Life in Moshi has a different rhythm. Things move slowly here, on “African time.” There’s no rush. Being early doesn’t mean the other person is late—it just means you’ve got time for another cup of coffee. It’s a gentler pace, one that forces you to let go of the hustle and surrender to the flow.

But don’t be fooled. This Africa is also not for sissies. Especially when it comes to driving! There are still plenty of challenges, and as an expat, I’ve learned quickly that trust is everything. You need a reliable circle of locals to help you navigate the maze of systems, customs, and daily life.

No matter where in the world you are, life will throw curveballs. It’s how you handle them—how you duck, dive, and keep moving—that shapes you. Living in Africa, in all its beauty and chaos, teaches you that strength. And once you’ve lived it, you carry that strength with you, wherever you

The Journey Begins

Thanks for joining me on my journey.

Many people know my journey and for those that don’t, it is not a journey that is unique to me it is a journey that many women in South Africa and the world are on, have been on and will be on. Sharing my story is my way of dealing with my journey and if it can help one special lady out there on her journey, then it is all worth it.

As a newly married couple (5 years ago) the first question you get asked is, when are you going to have kids? With friends and family popping them out all around us there was no need for us to rush, we loved being able to give the cute bundles back when they needed a clean nappy or started to cry. We would have no trouble conceiving, we were young, relatively fit and healthy, other people have fertility issues… not us. So our standard response to the constant third degree was 2 years.

This is my journey and the paths we have taken along the way to hopefully one day start our family.

Good company in a journey makes the way seem shorter. — Izaak Walton

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