My Tattoo story

Well, this one deserves its own post.

Here I was, a pretty reserved girl coming from France to attend meetings for my career and wound up meeting someone I could almost call my soul mate from the other side of the pond : I’ll call her Jacks for the sake of this blogl

Jacks is crazy. She’s a South African with fire built in her and a knack for attracting every possible guy in any scene (night club, restaurant, professional meeting). She exudes sexuality. She’s beautiful, smart and knows what she wants. And gets it if she wants to … every time.

Long story short, I flew from Paris to Johannesburg on a 14 hour flight (not fun by the way, for those that haven’t tried that before) and arrived exhausted in Jo’burg airport. 

Jacks picked me up and brought me to her house where friends were waiting, the South African sun was beating on us, and weird bird noises I had never heard before were cackling.

I was asked to try to the Gaunga. I have no idea how to spell it but the truth is that this is pure marijuana without any type of tobacco and used frequently in SA circles. As I was not a habitual smoker, I had no idea what I was in for. By 4 pm, I was completely knocked out and crashed on the guest bed waiting for the next day to arrive : I couldn’t tell what was the ceiling versus the floor.

The next morning, I awake to Jacks tying Saran Wrap (or equivalent) around my mid waist. I was mostly naked and here , this crazy South African woman was wrapping plastic around me. WTF. I asked her what she was doing and all she said was “Dahhhhhling, we’re getting tattoos!”. 

Next thing I know, I’m in the 4 corners mall outside of Johannesburg, sitting on a table with Macedonian tattoo person in charge of creating what would become called a “tramp stamp”. In my defense, I did it far before anyone else did, and therefore cannot say I was following any type of trend!!!

So when asked what I wanted, and knowing how much I felt at home in South Africa, I said “make something South African for me so I can take Africa home with me”. And from there, the deed was done. I found myself with a tattoo i still carry to this day, from a random mall in a random city in South Africa, from a country that claims 40% AIDS, with needles and symbols that represent a country I fell in love with, the day I arrived the first time.

 

South Africa is the most beautiful country on earth. I have been to hundreds of countries but when I landed there the first time, I knew I was home. I have no idea why, but it was to the point of tears. For those that know me, I don’t cry. And I was balling though security as I arrived past security.

 

My wish is to be buried there. May it be Kruger Park, Cape Town, Durban, Johannesburg. I don’t care. But South Africa is where my roots are somewhere. A different life, different period. One day I will return. I promise.

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