Between bags, children and cherry blossoms: Life after emigration

A year ago, Natasha Agenbag shared her honest experience of emigration in an open letter with AfriForum Worldwide readers – the uncertainty, the farewells, and the long road to finding her feet in a new country.

Read the article here: Our new life overseas: The things no-one tells you

Now, a year later, she shares her next chapter: Moving in the new country itself. It’s no longer about luggage and passports, but about roots and growth – about how “home” slowly takes on a new meaning.

A year ago, I wrote to you about the turbulent waters of immigration – the uncertainty, the separation from people and places, and how we as South Africans tried to find our feet in a new country. That storm has subsided, and now it’s time for the next adventure: Moving to another town in the new country. And good gracious, what a journey it is!

On a cold morning, I’m sitting with a woman chatting in a sunny office where the winter sun is peeking cheerfully through the blinds. She laughs and says, “Moving to another town almost feels worse than emigrating!” I nod in agreement, because uprooting your newfound comfort, saying goodbye to friends, and moving your children to new places is a big deal. It’s different from the big leap of leaving your country, because here you’ve already woven a secure network and life with sweat and hard work.

Then it is time for the move itself: You dig out those old PEP bags again, fill them with your essential belongings, and when the furniture van leaves, you stand in amazement and watch how ten bags of stuff have suddenly grown into a whole house full of stuff! But we South Africans take it with a smile. As the Afrikaans idiom says: ‟’n Boer maak ’n plan!” (An Afrikaner makes a plan)

Spring blossoms and green fields are calling, and after that last braai, we scatter, each to a new place to stay, new uniforms, and new paths to explore.

Immigration brings longing and loneliness as well as much uncertainty and sometimes depression, but it also brings a cool morning with a fresh spring breeze smelling of cherry blossoms. It brings waves on black beaches and opportunities that we could only dream of in Africa. It gives our families, especially our children, the chance to see and experience the world from an incredible perspective – to see fresh snow fall and help children roll snowballs with their little hands. It is a gift that fills our hearts with wonder.

I often see comments on social media platforms like “Go back to South Africa!” and it hurts because I have become a sounding board for others who feel the same way. Many of us will not be returning to South Africa. Here, “home” takes on a new meaning – it is not just a place, but the people, the new memories, and the life we build here.

A few months ago, I came across the page ‟Saffa Kiwi Mamma” on Facebook, and I saw thousands of us connected to her stories. Each video makes us, as women and mothers, laugh, learn, and experience the journey of parenthood and immigration together. Her stories are like a warm blanket – they wrap around the challenges of raising children in a new country, celebrate the small victories, and carry the shared love for South Africa. It shows me how our community, even far across the ocean, stays together like family.

In the more than a year since my last letter, I have learned a few lessons about cheerfulness that I would like to share:

Be yourself and your people will find you. Whether they are fellow South Africans or immigrants from elsewhere, the best friends come from unexpected corners. They understand your journey and enrich your life with their culture.

Walk, walk, walk! The outdoors here is an absolute gift. In South Africa, we sometimes went for a walk with a touch of fear, but here it feeds the soul. Especially now, during Mental Health Week, I am excited to walk with others and cheer each other on.

Our stories carry scars, but also strength. We sometimes joke and laugh about the three times we were robbed, the knife to the throat, the stolen car. But those wounds are now treated with care, not just laughed off. It warms my heart to see South Africans here seeking help and embracing their healing.

We carry our heritage with humour. I always giggle at the names we South Africans come up with for places: Perthfontein, Perthville, Rollesville, Christfontein. We carry our heritage with a wink!

This new country brings fresh challenges, but also a world of possibilities. We remain resilient, remain ourselves, and build new lives with the same spirit that shaped us in South Africa.

With a heart filled with hope and adventure
Natasha Agenbag

Natasha’s words remind us that emigration is not a single leap, but a continuous journey of adaptation, growth and rediscovery. It’s the little things – a spring breeze, a friendly face, a recognisable scent – that slowly transform new places into homes. Natasha’s story reminds us that ‟‛house’ is not a place, but the people and memories we take with us.” – Sue-Ann de Wet

Also read: We remain friends, even if you just send a meme