Live Through Your Heart – The Global Entity

Zoë Modiga at Luju Festival 2023

julia.sarantes.andersson — Fri, 09 Aug 2024 19:29:04 +0000

The Global Entity

Part 4 of 4: Interview with Zoë Modiga at Luju 2023

00:00 / 13:00

Did you know that in the middle of the Eswatini mountains there is a high couture fashion, exquisite food and music festival? Each year at the beginning of August, the Standard Bank Luju Food and Lifestyle Festival opens its gates for two days of cultural abundance. When I get to the festival area on Friday evening the sunlight is just about to disappear and I can feel the wind whisper promises of a cold, magical night.

Who is the magical performer Zoë Modiga?

As soon as Zoë Modiga enters Lujus main stage, the energy shifts in the audience. With her flowing gown and absolute presence she appears otherworldly, yes divine even. The audience holds its breath in reverence. With energy from above she greets us and the whole audience erupts in cheers. For this particular concert, Zoë could have given her chorus and band a night off since she was properly backed up by the singing audience.

It was a very special performance, one of the kind I never experienced before, where the audience’s attention was 100% on the artist and she in turn, held us all with her spirit. It created an energy of connection and co-creation that moves me to this day, one year later.

Zoë Modiga has loved singing since she was a child and pursued musical ambitions and higher education from an early age. She emerged nationally in 2016 when she participated in the talent show The Voice South Africa. In 2017 she debuted with her first album Yellow: the novel and has since then built an internationally renowned career. She is celebrated both as a singer and activist, and is often caught creating music that will move you with their depth.

It will not take long before scholars start mentioning the Modiga-sound when they teach music and expression, as she has the skill of making the music entirely her own. Her classical background makes itself known but she herself calls her style Afrofuturistic.

It was the first time I saw her live and I was completely floored. With all of her awards and acknowledgements, national as international, nobody can deny that this artist can sing. But what she did on stage was more than that. It almost gave me the feeling of being in church: where Zoë was the pastor and we, the crowd, her devoted, singing congregation. When we sit down together after the performance, she is radiating.

Interviewing Zoë Modiga

*The written interview may have some differences to the podcast as the text has been edited for readability.

First, that was an amazing performance! What an experience!

“It was so beautiful to be here in Eswatini. It’s not the first time I’m here and it does feel like a second home. It was so beautiful to come back and be a part of Luju festival for the first time, alongside an incredible line-up of beautiful musicians who have such beautiful messages to share. So to be able to be here and to be of one spirit with everyone was so incredible!”

Being one of South Africa’s present day youngest, most renowned, international artists known for creating an immortal cultural legacy, I must ask, what is it that drives you to create and impact the way you do?

“I think that just being able to know that I’m a part of something bigger. I’m not just an artist by myself but I take the baton from the greats like Thandiswa Mazwai, Hugh Masekela, Miriam Makeba, Salif Keita. There are so many incredible icons that I have been able to learn from and I’ve been able to take from that. I think it is a special thing that we are as a people. So I’m happy to have a little part of that, a little story in that, in the beauty that we are. That is what drives me.”

You are known for speaking up and creating around social issues, you don’t seem afraid to walk to the beat of your own drum. Is that something that has always been close to your heart?

“I think I really agree with the fact of artists being there to reflect the times. It is a saying I’ve heard so often and I think it is the case. We are here to reflect what is happening in society and to document that with our art forms and with our music. I know with my first album, it was a lot about self realization. Then the second album was really about celebrating black bodies and just human beings at large. There are so many things that make us separate but also that pull us together. Social issues, social victories are something that I like to share and be a part of.”

Today you have more awards than I can count on my hand, but it didn’t start out that way. What is the biggest difference for you, being where you are today as an artist, as a person, as a woman, and where you were when you started this journey?

“Oh my goodness, I think when I started the journey I was hopeful. I wanted to have something that is impactful to share. I wanted to evoke emotion through music, just merely because of the power that music has. Looking back, I am very surprised at where I am now. It is not without its challenges, it is not without its hardship but there is so much fulfilment that comes from being here! From meeting people like yourself, like minded people who I am able to just relate with, who I’m able to see – music is what brings us together. I’ve been able to really appreciate that journey and take one day at the time. Sometimes it makes absolutely no sense but I think, evenings like tonight, remind me of why I do what I do. That is beautiful, that is a gift I got from being here.”

You said you started out as hopeful, do you feel you have a different confidence today in the space that you take and the space that you create?

“Man I think that confidence is constantly being challenged but it’s also constantly growing at the same time. I can really be quiet humble to the experience of just being able to bring myself to the moment. To present myself in order to be used, cuz I do feel I’m a vessel of something that is bigger than myself. I just like to humble myself to the moment, take it one day at the time with everything that it comes with. It really is special, it’s very powerful.”

How is it being a woman in this male dominated space? Do you feel that affects you or how you are perceived?

“Oh man, I think being a woman is such an important part of my journey. There is this ability that we have to take in masculinity and to take in femininity and the way that we express ourselves. There is a nurturing spirit that comes with being a woman, a creating spirit. I do work with a lot of males in my work but I also do work with different communities: women, people that are part of the lgbtqai+ community. I love to really experience people but also step forward in my womanhood. There is something so charming, so warm, so seductive, so enchanting, so inspiring about being that. With all of the challenges that it comes with, I think it, it is who I am and I wear it like a badge.”

What is next for you?
“I have no idea what is next! I am open to the opportunity, I am open to the possibility. I just want to be a decent human being, first and foremost. I want to be able to play all the roles that I play outside of the music world. Whether that is being a friend, a sister, a daughter. You know, my sister and my mom are here tonight, so I’m wanting to love into those spaces. I think that then impacts the music and the way that people receive it. If you are a decent human being, there are some things that shine through. So that is what is next for me! I’m open for life to exceed my expectations. I don’t think I want to have expectations anymore, I’m open for those to be exceeded.”

To those who are just about to take that leap to follow their heart, what words of wisdom would you share?

“I would like to tell them to listen to that quiet voice. The voice that leads you into places that you fear. The voice that leads you into places that make you uncomfortable, because that is when life is able to open itself out to you. The thing about looking and listening to that voice is that it will always lead you to exactly where you need to be. That’s where authenticity comes from, that’s where honesty comes from. That’s where the doubts and the victories come from. It won’t always be comfortable but it will be beautiful.”

It won't always be comfortable but it will always be beautiful

Zoë Modiga

Reflections from one year later

I remember this interview like it was yesterday and yet I don’t. At the moment I was so starstruck, so in awe, that everything seems like a fog. I remember being so nervous about taking the space, the media tent was buzzing with activity and then suddenly she is in front of us in all her might. And yet so very human. When I started the interview the whole tent became still, the attention completely on her, almost like at the concert. Zoë Modiga has the capacity to steer the energy of a whole stadium and once my five minutes with her were over, I stumbled groggily away knowing that my life had changed.

At the time of the interview, almost exactly one year ago, I had no idea how her words were narrating what was to come for me, I just knew I was deeply moved. But turns out, just as Zoë said, you have to be right with yourself first, work from the inside out! And sometimes… most times actually, it is in the silence and stillness, through the uncomfortable and through the fear, that you reach just the place of where you are supposed to be.

Today I have just gotten back from yet another BEAUTIFUL Luju Festival. This time with a year of experience in my back, a team of my own and a proper winter jacket! But the journey from last year to present day has been far from a dance on roses. It’s been quiet. It’s been in the absolute in between of taking the jump and not know if, when or where I was going to land. That is why we start season 2 here, right where Zoë left me feeling more seen than ever. That is the message I want you to take with you today: living through the heart is certainly not always comfortable, but it definitely is worth it!

MTN Bushfire 2023, day three

julia.sarantes.andersson — Mon, 18 Mar 2024 10:21:11 +0000

The Global Entity

Part 3 of 3: MTN Bushfire 2023, Day Three

00:00 / 13:02

The grand finale of Bushfire festival

On Sunday morning I wake up FRESH and with an intense urge to dance! I get ready and catch a kombi (public transport in Eswatini) right outside the Gables, the huge mall close by. There’s supposed to be specific shuttles going back and forth to the festival area but I have no clue where or when they go. After a lot of looks from the local kombi users at my glittering face, and many stops and pauses, we arrive! We are ready for Bushfire day three.

In honor of it being the last day of the festival, the sun is paying us an unexpected but warmly welcomed visit. Everyone is dressed in their best festival outfits and the energy is running high. It’s not even eleven!? As I get to the Main Stage, Uncle Karly is blasting Beyonce’s Love on Top, full volume. I haven’t heard it in years and yet I know every word. It was the song that came to me as a divine affirmation when I took my first steps of self acceptance.

That was seven years ago, the rain was drizzling down over a grey and cold me, in a grey and cold Stockholm. I was dancing on the rooftop of my nine to five office job, singing and feeling every word of the love song as my grey and cold call center colleagues stared at me. In ancient Chinese medicine they say we live in cycles of seven years. Today, the song hits differently. I realise I relate to the song differently now because I am different. Its words aren’t the lifeboat it once was, now it’s part of my common decency. Towards myself. It feels symbolic to receive this song today. As I dance and sing, I am yet again reminded of the cathartic power of music.

Dancing, the medicine of my soul

In the afternoon I run into some friends from Eswatini who invite me over to have a drink at their campsite. After not just one, but two, distraction manoeuvres that should only be compared by the skills of Agent 007, I am successfully welcomed into the campsite. It offers a welcome respite for my feet to sit down for a while after days of intense dancing.

The parties are already going strong at the campsite. Apparently, there are people that come every year only to camp. They never enter the festival area! As the sun sets we start heading back towards the festival area but the view is so magnificent we have to pause. I walk away from my friends, I need a moment. I put my camera down and start to dance.

I move in a way I haven’t moved in years. The joy comes so suddenly that I miss a beat. I am dancing again! The rhythm is within me, the moment entirely my own. And my body is in movement! It’s not like I haven’t danced previously. I have. But not like this. Ever since I stopped dancing contemporary dance, over ten years ago, it has felt like dancing and the very essence of movement has left my body. It sounds dramatic, I know, but that is the best way I can describe it.

The pandemic didn’t make things easier, rather it left me with an inflammation and heaviness that further limited my ability and joy for movement. It brings tears of joy to my eyes to now feel the movement so forcefully present in my body again. When I return to my friends, I am ecstatic! “Who did you kiss?” a friend asks teasingly and giggles. We get back to the festival area just as darkness arrives, the tones of Ibeyi‘s magical songs luring me back onto the dance floor.

Navigating public spaces, night time and men

Eventually, the last DJ plays its last tones. It feels way too soon but I am dying of thirst and the only place where there is water is at the campsite. I say goodbye to Bolodoamor who has to go back to work and grab onto a 19 year old Brazilian who happened to stand next to me. He looks terrified when I ask him to get me into the campsite but is way too polite to question it. He needn’t have worried, everything went smoothly. I go straight to the camps ‘common area’ with the many fires.

I’m still sweaty but Eswatini nights are cold and I am bound to need the heat while I wait for my friends. We were supposed to reunite after the last concert but with my phone off and most of my friends running on African time, I realise it probably won’t happen. I’m torn between what I should do. Go home and sleep or stay an dance? I know there are plenty of taxis outside the festival area right now, but will there be any available later? Maybe, maybe not. On the other hand, public transport starts at dawn and I want to dance till then anyways.

I feel like my safety conundrum from yesterday makes itself known again. That as a solo traveling female, I navigate and create security, in relation to and at the mercy of the people around me. Au contrary to yesterday, tonight, I’m completely alone. Is it safe for me to stay? I hear my mothers stern warnings about festivals, traveling and being a woman. But then I also hear her encouraging words about standing your ground and taking up space. The words from my last thesis ring in my ears: the fear women have of men, inhibits them from moving freely in public spaces; less women in public spaces, make public spaces less safe for women. The safety conundrum of being female. Goddammit. I’m going to dance!

It’s around two AM and the campsite is packed! Happy people are everywhere, dancing, singing and talking. I make friends with a group that invites me to an after party. The guy who invited me wants to buy me a drink but all of the places have closed. I remember I’m actually still carrying a little bottle of alcohol from the night before and offer to share it.

When we arrive at the camp site party, we are welcomed like royalty. Mozambicans can host like nobody’s business! The music is loud and amazing. In a moment of weakness I succumb to the expectations of my surroundings and feel stuck to the guy that I came with. It is very evident that everyone expects me to be “somebody’s”. Tiresome gendered expectations… but I won’t let that chain me! The guy doesn’t seem to want to speak to me anyways so after trying to pull a whole conversation for five minutes I decide to mingle.

Everyone is super friendly and in a party mood. I only have time to speak to two people before the host calls me back to the guy I came with. When I get there I realize that he is trying to wingman the guy. Wingman him to me. Sigh. When the host leaves, the guy starts speaking to another man. And then another. Am I just expected to stand here? Am I rude if I walk away? How angry will he get when I reject him? But he has made no move on me, so how can I even reject him?

The situation is absurd. I’m not afraid of the guy, nor do I feel unsafe in my setting, but my thought process shows how extremely aware my whole being is of the risks that come with rejecting a guy. I pretend to see somebody I know at the party and excuse myself.

A new dawn: There is hope for masculinity yet

I fall right into the arms of a Mozambican poet who starts reciting love poems in my ear. As more of the creatives of Mozambique join us we start singing. I’m improvising and harmonising freely, text, melody and all. It is far from perfect but I can feel something has shifted within during this festival. It’s like I can access my creativity again! Gosh I love Mozambicans!

The guy who brought me to the party approaches us and interrupts us mid song. “Do you have more alcohol?” I look at him dumbfounded. Is he serious? After ignoring me all night and yet somehow making it clear that he is bothered when I’m socializing with others, now he wants alcohol? The premise of the whole situation is stupid. I feel indignant by his request and blankly refuse. I continue with my night and my new found creative powers.

When it’s an hour before dawn the guy I came with asks if we can talk. He wants to know what happened. Between us. Why did it get weird? The question shocks me. Not in any of my years on this earth has a man, out of his own free will, taken the emotional responsibility to initiate a conversation about what went wrong. Mind you, this is the guy I met three hours ago. My first instinct is to minimize my experience and brush it under the rug. It is a coping mechanism for safety I think, always looking at how to de-escalate topics that can hurt a man’s ego.

I don’t know what made me do it, but I answer him frankly. I don’t downplay nothing. I describe his behaviour and how I perceived it, as straight forward as I can. My words leave him in silence. I let him process what I’ve said, getting ready for his defense. Instead he surprises me and says “Jeesh, yeah. I can see that. I can see that now.”

From there, we dive deep into topics of gender norms, expectations, communication and toxic masculinity specifically. He does all the heavy lifting in the conversation and I am surprised by this man’s actual effort at four AM, post crazy festival, to understand himself and what happened. At the end of the talk he apologizes again for his behaviour, thanks me heartily for the conversation and bids me goodnight.

Imagine that! The conversation lingers with me as I start making my way through the tents towards the empty festival area. As I reach the site with all the fires, dawn surrounds me. It is my favorite time of day and yet I haven’t been awake to greet her in so long.

I see three men sitting on a bench, each huddled under a thin blanket. How much warmer wouldn’t they be if they just scooted together, sat on one blanket and used the other two on top of them? The conversation with the guy earlier left me the impression that he was starved for such meaningful and emotionally present conversations. Thinking about my own life, I have an abundance of them. It is at the core of my very existence. Just like the women in my life that constantly show up for me and those beautiful yet hard conversations. It must be lonely to be born a man. To not be granted the richness of non-sexual intimacy and the language of emotions. How funny it is to live the human experience.

Just a few hours ago I was painfully aware of my genders vulnerabilities. Now, I couldn’t imagine wanting to be anything else. Think what you will about The Guy, to me he will be remembered as the guy who took the emotional responsibility and held space for a hard conversation. This should probably be basic, bottom line. But he surprised me. Somewhere, some camp is playing Sjava’s Umcebo. The sky is a fierce color of pink and orange, the air wet and cold. In a few hours my friends are picking me up to go back home. What an experience Bushfire has been! What an experience it is to be alive!

My travel nightmare: Navigating Visa Issues Alone in Africa

julia.sarantes.andersson — Mon, 04 Dec 2023 13:21:53 +0000

The Global Entity

My travel nightmare: Navigating Visa Issues Alone in Africa

00:00 / 7:29

Rising from the Ashes: Navigating 10 Weeks of Visa Limbo

Traveling can easily become a nightmare, especially when visa issues arise and you are all alone in a new country. When I reached my sixth month of traveling I was ready to throw in the towel and go back home. Every kind of disaster imaginable had happened during these first months. Not counting how it all started, I had been so ill and physically weakened, I had lost my passport and visa in a country where I was completely unknown, spent ten weeks at a hostel not being able to do anything but worry and question all of my life decisions that had led me here. Furthermore, I had lost a ton of money and all of my confidence. What a f*cking mess.

My ten week without a passport, pretty much ment isolation and passiveness, being stuck inside a hostel. While I was there, somebody spiritual reminded me that I chose to be here in this situation. The instant I heard it, I wanted to tell that person to take their philosophy and shove it up somewhere… I had not left my whole life behind only to lie down and do nothing, or had I? I could feel my two sides struggling within, the one who told me to rest and trust the process versus the one who got anxiety from the non-existent plan and all the very much existing problems.

Those ten weeks were the hardest. Sitting in the unknown. Not knowing when or if it would be resolved. Not being able to judge the severity of the situation I was in. No joke, that period almost crushed me. Any and every bad habit or toxic coping mechanism that I have ever embodied at some point in my life resurfaced all at once. I will spare you the desperation expressed on my diary pages, let’s just say that if I ever wanted to try some shadow work, the timing was God given.

When something finally did happen to resolve my situation it was me, I was the thing that happened. I woke up one day, powered by a wholly wrath that I’d never felt before, and told everyone that we are fixing this today. Within 12 hours I had my passport back in my hands and after 24 hours I was back in Mozambique waiting for the bus to take me to Tofo. I cried with relief.

It was empowering to know I was the one who saved me, but I also felt silly for letting it take me so long. Maybe that was the lesson of my 10 week isolation. That I am the power, the enabler, the destroyer, the creator of everything that exists in my reality, the good just as the bad. Now, in the publishing moment, that I have passed my 1 year mark traveling I can see how important those 10 weeks of being in the unknown were, but I did beg the Gods to be done with the hard lessons for a while.

Existential crisis in Paradise

Alas, the Gods did not listen, the hard lessons continued. I had been invited to Tofo, a sea side village in the middle of the Mozambican coast, to cover a retreat. A sponsor of the retreat had heard of my blog, seen my work and wanted me to “do something” there. Very diffuse but I was eager and willing. Payment, who needs that when there is an opportunity at hand! That should have been my warning signal to myself.

When I get to the retreat it turns out the organisers have not been informed and does not want me there. Oh my goodness. To say that I died a little bit on the inside is an understatement. The humiliation of it all! To have sat 12 hours in a sweaty minibus in order to go work for free in a context where I’m not even wanted. Yohh. I felt like the biggest failure on the planet.

I was proper pissed at the sponsor who had invited me but mostly I was angry with myself. Dreams are such a vulnerable space to be in and I had not done my due diligence to ensure the soft reception of them once I put them into the world. It was a horrible lesson to learn but I decided to see it as such, otherwise the missed opportunity would have crushed me. Always get the approval of the main organizer, always get everything on paper, don’t work for free.

Soulful lessons from learning to live through my heart

As awful as the experience was, it triggered a lot of things that I am now grateful for. It made me realise that I had something I wanted to offer the world. From having no clue of what I wanted to do in life, to feeling a genuine joy and curiosity to try my own ideas out. To take up space for real. To be seen and heard.

It also made me remember that I LOVE a good day party. And that shame dies when you dare to speak and address whatever it is to an empathetic listener. I decided then and there to give myself grace. What I mean by that is that I started to accept that I have no control over the lessons life has in store for me or how messy it is going to be… but I can make every effort to give myself grace, chose what brings me joy and bring out the beauty in the small, everyday steps.

It can sound silly and fluffy but I am telling you, it has made all of the difference. I started taking soft walks in the morning thinking that moving in the physical might eventually catalyze the energetic movement in my life that I was envisioning. After my third week in Tofo my body started running. I don’t know who was more surprised, me or the beach dogs that had kept me company every morning on my walks. They are called the Ambassadors of Tofo and are huge dogs that run around freely. Not all of them are kind so I would recommend you to be intuitive and attentive when you interact with them.

Creating Opportunities: A Collaborative Music Project in Mozambique with John Lino

julia.sarantes.andersson — Wed, 15 Nov 2023 06:48:13 +0000

The Global Entity

Creating Opportunities: A Collaborative Music Project in Mozambique with John Lino

00:00 / 11:38

Unfolding an exciting music project in Mozambique

Hey fam, I am still here! Those of you who follow me on social media know that there have been a lot of amazing and exhilarating things happening for me on the festival front lately. Today, however, I want to share a project that has been brewing silently in the background for a good while now. A super exciting music project in Mozambique!

When I first arrived in Maputo in January 2023, there was one thing that stood out to me in particular. Maputo has such an abundance of live music and performances! Never have I been in a capital where the culture is so available, not just economically but socially. Sure, there are entry fees at clubs and events that limit who enters. But from what I’ve seen, the majority of the events here somehow manage to include and cater to the majority. Never have I existed in a nightlife scene which is so non excluding like the one in Maputo. It is quite unique to find a social context where people not only meet but actually hang out and enjoy each other’s company across social categories like class and race. It makes for very interesting conversations when you are out and about in the vibrant night of Maputo… and for a very easy going, come-as-you-are kind of a vibe, which I adore!

Local Gem in Maputo: Nucleo de Arte

My favourite place so far is probably Nucleo De Arte, a multi-purpose space for creatives. Nucleo de Arte is an art association, dating all the way back to 1921. On Sunday’s it opens up its stage for local artists to come and fill it with live music (watch here), it always feels like everyone in Maputo is there. The best part of Nucleo de Arte is hands down its backyard where the artist workshop lies. Visitors are allowed to enter!

Paintings upon paintings are stacked upon each other against every wall that is also overflowing with art. If you start looking there are no limits to the gems you will find. If you are lucky, some of the artists will be hanging around, maybe even working on their next piece. The perfect opportunity to pick their brains or maybe even find your next creative teacher! Unfortunately, it lies in a residential area making every Sunday a noise battle with the neighbours. It is unclear if Nucleo will be able to continue having these Sunday live performances.

Meet John Lino: Mozambican multitalented singer song writer

Two months into my Maputo stay I was dealing with heartbreak. Long distance relationships are hard. I was distraught. On the third day of moping around the hostel, Lino, the part bartender and part receptionist, stole a guitar from somebody nearby and started playing the most beautiful song for me (watch here). It wasn’t till days later, when I wanted to find the song online, that I learnt that he had made it up on the spot. I was amazed!

A few nights later, we sat down for a jam session. In under an hour Lino improvised no less than eight different songs. All with their own lyrics, chords, and bridges. My mind was blown! “How come you are not doing this full time?” I ask him in awe. With such talent he should be blessing everyone with his music!

The reality for local artists in Maputo

He looks at me and smiles. “It’s very hard to make a living as an artist in Mozambique. Haven’t you noticed how many artists we have here and how almost nobody works with it full time?” His answer makes me reflect on the past conversations that I’ve had in this city with different artists. It is true, there are very few who don’t have a second or even a third job to support their dreams. And the ones who have managed to work as artists full time have often had the opportunity of working or studying abroad first, an opportunity which is highly sought after but given to very few.

He tells me “Being a musician in Mozambique is a dream for many young people here. They dream of big stages and of being recognised nationally as professional musicians. In many ways, being a musician here is no different from the rest of the world. On the other hand, trying to create a sustainable music career in Mozambique is very complicated. Firstly, we have a lot of gate keepers at the big tv and entertainment stations that only let in already established artists. Secondly, having access to a proper recording studio is an economic question and many of us artists, like myself, end up having to take a second job to support our music production.”

Lino continues “If you are a new musician on the scene, your visibility is directly correlated to what you can pay, it has very little to do with the music itself. Furthermore, most musicians in Mozambique come from very humble backgrounds and the basic salaries here do not exactly provide enough as it is. Therefore, creating music gets put in second place, there is no way to pay for that when you have to put food on the table.”

Behind the scenes in the music industry of Mozambique

A few weeks later, Lino gets invited to play two of his new tracks on morning television. I get invited to come with them! I know that five year old me was doing pirouettes of excitement at the prospect of going to a TV studio. As we enter, the production of the show is already in full swing. Another Mozambican artist is performing and we get asked to wait on the couch.

A man comes up to Lino and greets him. Under a few minutes he talks excitedly about Lino’s new single and the promotion they could do for the song. It all sounds very promising which is why I feel confused to not see any excitement on Lino’s face. “Why are you not happy?” I ask him as the man walks away. “Eix Julia, what that man forgot to mention is that it costs more than I make in a month to do that kind of promotion.”

The humble beginnings of John Lino

One morning, I find myself sitting at the bar of the hostel. It is humid and even though it’s earlier than eight o’clock it is hot as hell. “How come you started making music Lino?” I ask him as he makes my morning espresso.

“You know I am originally from Maputo/Matola. But from the age of two to fifteen I grew up in the province of Gaza. Gaza is a very poor province in Mozambique and we hardly ever had access to electricity. To entertain ourselves, the kids on the block used to sing and mess around. At that age I was only dancing and playing the drums. It was kids songs but still, music has always been a part of my life. When I was fifteen years old, my father died and I moved back to Maputo. Here it was rap and hiphop that was dominating the streets. One day I happened to tag along with a friend who was recording in a studio. For some reason, he wasn’t able to do it and someone said that I also know how to rap. I improvised some bars and before the day was over I had my first song produced. It wasn’t professional or anything but back in 2012 it felt huge!”

“Wait, wait, wait! You used to be a rapper??” Having heard his songs I hardly doubt his ability to rap, but it is miles from the style that he has today.

He laughs and answers “Yes! I even started a rap band in 2012. I realised after a while that I really liked singing and started trying out some RnB but I couldn’t really identify with the music. Eventually I started doing more Marabenta, a happy, up-beat Mozambican music. And now I am here, with you, about to release my EP and have my own launch!”

The Live Through Your Heart Project

A little over a year ago, I decided to leave my whole life behind in my home country in order to follow my heart. I was in love but more so, I wanted to give myself time and space to learn to live from my heart rather than living so strategically. As you know, it has been a tough journey but one I would not change for the world. I know now that following your heart is a luxury very few can afford. At the same time, I am fully convinced that if we all lived in alignment with our hearts, our purpose, we would be happier and less destructive as a society. Therefore, when Lino told me he was about to release his latest EP, through Youtube only, I asked if he wanted to do a collaboration and launch it with a bang!? First he didn’t believe I was serious and then the biggest smile I have ever seen appeared on his face. “Serio?” For real?

Said and done! On the 25th of November Lino is taking over the city of Matola to properly receive his new music. Through endless conversations and voice notes back and forth, the idea started growing… Now, we want to do a music project that will help other musicians be able to get the same opportunity. Lino explains “This EP release is part of a bigger dream. Yes, I am releasing my EP and I am very happy about that. But to be able to pull together young artists and offer them to share the stage with me, feels even bigger. I want to create opportunities for artists where we don’t have to wait to be recognized by the promoters of the industry. We can make our own spaces, create our own opportunities to meet the people and spread our music.”

To say it is going to be fantastic is an understatement. As we say in Moz, vai bater! If you want to be part of this project, creating a music stage for up and coming musicians in Mozambique, let me know in the comments! Or send a DM on my socials or an email to hello@theglobalentity.com. Whether you are a Mozambican sponsor or a private person far away, there are ways you can contribute. Let’s make it happen!

If you are curious to know what happened next, take a look at John Lino’s instagram! Support him by subscribing to his YouTube and other social medias.

Police, Parties and Goodbye’s: A Tribute to the Friends You Find Traveling

julia.sarantes.andersson — Tue, 29 Aug 2023 17:12:52 +0000

The Global Entity

Police, Parties and Goodbye’s: A Tribute to the Friends You Find Traveling

00:00 / 15:46

A love letter to my friends

The past few days have been a whirlwind of emotions. Mostly good ones. I’ve been continuing to hang out with my two Brazilians and their amazing group of Mozambican friends. They have shown me how to drink beer like a true Brazilian, colder than ice! Mostly they have shown me incredible kindness. Some people in this world have a certain something within them, an energy that makes everyone around them glow. Brenda and Igor have that. In their company I can feel myself being more myself, doing things I’ve always dreamt of but seldom dared. Doing it with joy and curiosity instead of crippling nerves about the outcome or how it will be perceived.

I believe there is some of that essence in the Mozambican social culture and norms too. An acceptance to the many human errors, a natural inclusion as the bottom line of every social interaction. Overall, I feel that there is space for playfulness and imperfections here, which makes the social settings a lot less stiff and awkward than what I am used to in Sweden. Obviously, I’ve only been here a month so these things should be taken as observations and reflections of the context and experiences I’m having right now, rather than generalisations. But I’m not going to lie either, with very few exceptions, this has been my impression of Maputo ever since I started socialising with people again. Which was what, two weeks ago? It feels a lot longer, time is strange like that.

The goodbye party

Brenda and Igor’s time is running out here in Mozambique and last weekend everyone gathered for a huge goodbye party. We were supposed to leave Maputo in the morning to go together to a friend’s house in the neighbouring city Matola. At four thirty in the afternoon everyone started showing up… and nobody thought that was weird! I wasn’t stressed about it but that’s only because it wasn’t my event. This would absolutely have driven me mad otherwise, like the true Swede I am.

When we are finally on our way in two full mini buses, we only drive about ten minutes before we stop. We are apparently first making a quick stop at Kwetu, a bar hosting a daytime event. As we enjoy the drinks and the music, more of our friends arrive. After an hour or so we are all gathered and start driving again. The next stop is at the outskirts of Matola at a small house. The paint on the walls is peeling and inside the house there are more boxes of alcohol and beer than I have ever seen in such a tiny space. We buy what we need and get going again, the music is loud in the xiapa (minibus) and the energy is excited.

We arrive just as the sun starts setting. It is a beautiful space with a pool and even more people, the party has already started! We dance and drink and laugh. It’s a beautiful, hot night and DJ Jambalão is playing like his life depended on it. When the first Brazilian funk song starts playing, the dance floor becomes fire! We realize eventually that nobody has made a plan for food and at this point the beer is finishing as well. The host of the house gracefully takes it upon themselves to remedy the situation and leaves in a car.

But where do you find enough food, at a reasonable price, for fifty happy, drunk people, in the middle of the night in Matola? When the host does get back it is well after midnight and everyone is about ready to pack up and leave. He gets met with cheers as the delicious chicken and fries get unpacked on the tables. A few musicians entertain us with their improvisation and eventually we are all packed into the minibus to go home.

First encounter with the Maputo Police

The ride back to Maputo takes a lot longer than when we were going to the party. Due to the late hour, the driver is driving everyone home to their doors. In order to avoid police and road patrols, he goes out of his way to drive on smaller, safer roads. Not because we were doing something wrong but because the Mozambican police have a notorious reputation for its corruption and extortion. That, in combination with the fact that the majority of us were either western foreigners or Rastas, two of the police’s favorite groups to target, made us extra careful.

At the time, I was blissfully unaware of these aspects of Mozambican society. Instead, I was sitting in the back trying to not get annoyed that everything was taking so long. When we finally arrive in Maputo it is almost three AM. Another discussion about which way to choose erupts in the bus and causes another long wait. Somebody mentions that the hostel is only a few blocks away and before I know it, the group of us who are staying there are standing on the curb of the road. The wind is a bit chilly but after ninety minutes in that bus I am relieved to be out in the fresh air. We shout goodnight to the people left in the bus and start our walk. I am hungry again and start planning the massive breakfast I intend to eat in a few hours.

I don’t get far in my thoughts before a police truck turns its lights on and speeds up only to stop right next to us. Four police officers get off, everyone is armed and two of them have huge rifles across the chest (I’m no weapon expert, it might be called something else completely). They ask where we are coming from. They want to see our ID’s and of course I have forgotten mine at home. In Mozambique, as a foreigner, you must be able to show your passport and visa at all times when asked by the police.

I try to explain to one of them that I have it at home, just a few hundred meters away. The police immediately cuts me off, almost like I have offended him by trying to speak to him. The situation feels tense and I let my friends take the lead. The Portuguese spoken is way too fast for me to be able to understand and I keep on thanking my lucky stars I am not alone right now. Just as it feels like they are about to let us go, one of the older ones starts pointing at an empty cigarette package and yelling angrily. It is the same brand as one of my friends smokes.

That is all it takes. Inside the cigarette package is something they claim is a finished joint, very illegal in Mozambique, at least on paper. It’s not ours and my friends start arguing with them. I don’t understand much but when one of the police officers takes my arm to load me onto the truck I get ice cold inside. I figure that since I am the one without a passport, they are pinning it on me. Four armed men with the authority of the law, want to drive me away, alone, in the middle of the night in a country where I know neither the language nor my rights. To say that I am terrified is an understatement.

I try to ask them where they will take me, what station. Bad choice. My English is perceived as arrogance… or something else very insulting. Either way, I feel like I have committed a crime. Brenda, my wise, brave Brenda, intervenes on my behalf and with a honey sweet voice and submissive, apologetic body language explains that I am new in the country and don’t know any better. It seems to calm him down somewhat. The oldest one, the one who seems to be the boss over the group of armed men, decides that everyone is guilty by association and proceeds to load us onto the truck. Guilty of what is unclear at this point.

I quickly follow after Brenda onto the truck before anyone can tell me to sit on the other side with my back to her. I look at her to read her face, I feel so ashamed for the situation that I feel I have caused. Instead of fear or irritation, she looks at me with steady eyes, her whole being is transmitting calm and reassurance, yet, careful to not move even one muscle of her face. She didn’t want the police to see what she was communicating. Everything was going to be fine.

What proceeded next was a forty minute drive through the empty streets of a sleeping Maputo, stopping in small, dark alleys and being scolded by the oldest man. The two younger officers, with their arms across the chest, kept walking around to our side, wanting Brenda’s attention, trying to flirt. The disgusting power dynamic of this in itself, doesn’t need to be pointed out. I have no idea of how common that is here but men with license of violence, in a corrupt society, hitting on you while not allowing you to leave – is not only disgusting but scary.

At the same time, it also makes this whole thing seem more performative, the accusations, the car ride, the stern talks. Eventually, after a lot of scolding from their part and a lot of what I can only describe as butt licking, on our part, they let us go. Properly shaken up, we make our way back to the hostel. We hug each other before we finally get to sleep. Despite the exhaustion it takes me hours to fall asleep.

The next day, in the early afternoon, we are all awake and gathered in the outside living room area in the hostel. All exhausted from the events earlier that morning. Brenda and Igor share with me in detail their previous experiences with the Mozambican police. They make sure I know that I didn’t cause this but was rather a victim of systematic corruption and how it looks on the individual level. I still can’t let go of the guilt I feel. The energy is heavy as we sit there and discuss the events of the night.

Mozambique, somebody says and in resignation sighs deeply. There is a moment of silence and all of our eyes eventually land on a no-smoking sign. The irony, as there is always somebody smoking here, is too much. Truly nothing is straightforward in this country, everything is context based. We start laughing, the kind of laughter that comes from the stomach, the kind that releases stress and anxiety. It is what we needed to let go of the heavy energy we were all carrying from the night’s events.

The journey of becoming: connections and goodbyes

The last days before Igor and Brenda leave for Brazil, are spent together. We go to markets, hang by the beach and go out, making the most out of Maputo’s nightlife. I am sad to see them leave. Their last night in Mozambique we spend together at the beautiful Prahna restaurant. Brenda and Igor are leaving the very next day and the feelings of everything that comes with moving away from somewhere, are very present. They have spent a year here, built a life here. I am well familiar with the sensation and I feel for them. It is not an easy process to go through. For the first time since we started going out together, nobody is dancing. We sit and talk quietly about everything that has been and what is to come.

When we come back to the hostel nobody is ready to say goodnight. Luckily, Lino, the bartender/receptionist, is still awake and holds us company while we drink another beer and talk about life. The absolute siblingship I feel to these people is beautiful. I am so lucky! For most of my life I have walked around feeling like an alien, never really belonging anywhere or being part of any community. But for the past couple of years, through the love and interactions with beautiful souls like Igor and Brenda, something is changing within me. I don’t feel that way anymore. It is like I am relearning the way I relate to myself and the world around me, perhaps best described as relating and experiencing the world from a place of abundance. It is a truly beautiful and expansive process.

As we sit there around the table, a song comes to mind, a song I haven’t heard in years. It is the song Historia de un amor, sung by Cesaria Evora. For those of you who haven’t heard it yet, it is full of melancholy and love. It encapsulates all of the emotions that are present in this moment, on our last night together. I feel I want to give it to them, sing it for them.

For a moment I get super nervous, the perfectionist within saying I haven’t sung in over four years and my insecurities are telling me who am I to take up space?! I look at them and I realise that it is all love here. If there is any time that I should break my four year break, it is now, surrounded by all of this love. They won’t mind me taking up the space, they will receive it as the gift I intended it to be. I take a deep breath and ask them if I can sing a song for them. I am met by a resounding and enthusiastic “SIM!” (yes in Portuguese).

And so I sing and I do it from the safe space of abundance. It is a beautiful moment and I realize and accept, for the first time in my life, that my voice is a gift. The moment affirms something that I know to be true now. The people that love you, will always want to see you shine your light, in whatever shape or form it may come.

On that note, I want to give a huge shout out to all of my friends back home and the friends I have been blessed to meet through my travels. It is a crazy mix of beautiful souls that have given and continue to give me so much. You are all a part of my process of becoming and I am eternally grateful to you, new as old. Your love heals.

Lost and Found: Soul Searching on the go in Maputo

julia.sarantes.andersson — Mon, 17 Jul 2023 06:51:24 +0000

The Global Entity

Lost and Found: Soul Searching on the go in Maputo

00:00 / 12:00

First quick impression of Maputo

I’ve been taking it super easy since I got to Maputo. Doctors orders. I’m filling my time with slow mornings, slow movements and slow activities. I even went out to buy groceries to cook the other day, something I haven’t done properly since I started traveling. It feels grounding to cook my own food, another slow process if I do it my way.

I’m in a weird state of mind where I don’t know where I am or what I am doing. When I go on my morning walks through the streets of Maputo I have a hard time orienting myself. Not back to the hostel but rather I have a hard time feeling that I am in Mozambique . Everywhere people are speaking Portuguese, which I don’t understand at all, but my brain keeps thinking it’s Spanish. The city itself reminds me so much of Havana, Cuba, that I catch myself thinking that I am there. The rundown apartment buildings, the city greenery, traces of communism in infrastructure, Maputo even has a beach promenade that is so similar, albeit shorter, to Havana’s Malecón.

I guess that’s not so weird, after all, I have no references of what Mozambique is like. My brain is probably just trying to make the most sense of what it is seeing and hearing. It feels almost like having a bug in google maps, but in my brain: intellectually I know I’m in Maputo, the capital of Mozambique, but the pin on the map keeps dragging me back to Havana saying I’m there. The heat is a lot more dry here than in Cuba, but at least it’s not freezing like in South Africa. I guess that my brain, just like my body right now, needs some time to adjust. And if there is something I have right now, it is time. I think it’s beautiful to have time for being lost, it’s the only way I know how to find.

Crash landing at a cute hostel in Maputo

I’m staying at a backpackers hostel called The Base, the only hostel I could find exist in Maputo according to google at the time. It’s a tiny hostel hosting a maximum of fourteen people in a total of three rooms. It has a beautiful veranda that overlooks Baixa, an area of central Maputo, and the ocean. It would be perfect had it not been for the mosquitos, they are vicious! I have to make an effort and buy some stronger repellent the next time I go out.

It’s a very tiny hostel for spending as much time in as I am. It is also currently packed, filled with happy, social tourists and travelers. They are super sweet and inclusive but I cannot deal. My social batteries are wiped out and their niceness makes me want to hide in the bathroom. Something I’ve actually done on a few occasions this week. I can feel the staff looking at me, I understand enough Portuguese to understand I am a topic of curiosity. They giggle as I stretch on the veranda, giggle as I sing in the kitchen or when I’m crying on the phone. There has been a lot of that since I got here. I think there is a combination of things: my health, leaving mom at the airport, leaving South Africa, all the impressions from the past months traveling.

I don’t think I realised it fully before, but following your heart does not equal it being easy. This is by far the most turbulent journey I’ve ever been on and I am just in the beginning. Yohh. The main feeling I am struggling with now is loneliness. I know it is ironic considering I have no energy to socialize but that doesn’t make me feel any less lonely.

Traveling and learning to live through my heart

I had a flight ticket back to Sweden that I could have been on had I not decided to go to Mozambique and continue this journey. Perhaps it was the realisation that I have made a definite choice to not go back home, that the flight had literally flown me by, that made me crumble. Or perhaps it was the warm hug from a stranger that made me realise just how lonely I actually felt. After a week and a half keeping to myself in Maputo, I allowed myself to talk to another traveler at the hostel. He had just been on a psychedelic spiritual journey in South America and was now going through Africa on a motorbike. He had daughters my age and I quickly found myself enjoying his company.

We were as different as two people can be. Me being in a super soft, vulnerable flow and him being much more assertive, almost aggressive in his need to search and find. Despite this, it was beautiful to connect. Perhaps because we were so different we allowed ourselves to have vulnerable conversations about spirituality, absent fathers and the search and need for purpose. It was refreshing, I felt seen. Before he left The Base to continue his journey he gave me a warm, heartfelt hug. The physical contact shocked my system. I realized I haven’t had any sort of physical contact in a long time. Yep, that was definitely what triggered what came next. Before I knew it, it felt like the walls of my lungs were closing in on me. I wanted to creep out of my own skin, that’s how uncomfortable it made me feel. But instead of running away from that feeling, instead of distracting myself with something-anything, I stayed present with myself and the emotions.

After a few hours of that, just sitting with my feelings, and with Wash over Me by TEEKS on repeat in my headphones, I reach the peak of it all. My heart feels like it’s cramping and just when I accept that this is escalating into a full on panic attack, I hear a little voice. It says to me that everything is okay now, I don’t need to hurt like this anymore, I have done the work, I’m allowed to let it go now. At first I feel skeptical, whose voice was that? Can it really be that easy? But then I think what if it is just that ‘easy’, show up for yourself so that you can let go. I take a few deep breaths and with every exhale I can feel the tightness over my chest releasing. The sadness and loneliness becomes less prominent. Within minutes I am sitting straight up again. I feel lighter than I have in weeks. Not even two seconds later I get a text inviting me to a dance social, talk about Divine timing!

I’m sharing this experience for several reasons. Firstly, I want to live in a world where we can talk about mental health in a non-stigmatized way. Secondly, it is so easy to glorify and romanticise the traveling lifestyle, when in reality, it has its ups and downs just like any life. Thirdly, THIS is the most exciting part of this journey! Don’t get me wrong, being this sad sucked. Almost having a panic attack, definitely not something I recommend. However, I can feel myself growing. I’m getting to know myself more, the good as well as my not so charming sides, and I can see how I show up for myself differently now. That, the inner journey, that is what’s exciting! Furthermore, I don’t think I am the only one who feels this way sometimes. Maybe you are also in the trenches trying to follow your heart, whatever that may entail. Maybe sharing this will make you feel less alone in the process of it all. When I get the text message inviting me to salsa social dance, I smile. It feels like I am being guided: you’ve done what you needed to do solo, now you need to raise your vibrations, you need others. You need to dance!

Social dancing in Maputo

The guy who texted me was Fumo Frias, a Mozambican dance teacher that I met while he was teaching a tangokiz workshops at the Mother City dance festival. I had reached out a few weeks earlier to ask about the dance scene in Maputo. He chose the perfect day to get back to me! At the time I was so grateful for the opportunity to go out and dance that I didn’t even have time to get nervous as I usually do. When I get to the restaurant Bella Madalena two hours later I am dressed up and ready to dance. I’ve asked Amanda, another Swedish girl from the hostel, to join me. As we enter I see we are representing the Swedish flag, me in a blue dress and her in a yellow. I’m glad to have a kind person by my side as I get ready to break my social isolation.

There is a mix of tourists and Mozambican people present and people are already dancing when we get there. Before I know it, I am up on the dance floor as well. It is such a relief! When I get back to the table after my first salsa, Amanda exclaims “Woah! You look completely different!” and she was right. The joy of salsa, the joy of community and connecting with another human being can truly be transformative. This is good for me, this is what I need. I talk to Frias who invites me to their dance school DanceSpot the following week. Apparently they teach everything from salsa and kizomba, to tango and swing. How exciting! This makes me happy! It doesn’t take long for the salsa teacher Amino to catch on that I can lead. He invites himself to a dance and gosh how I sucked! I haven’t led anyone in months. Amino however, is kind and encouraging, we laugh loads together and once again I am reminded that dancing is the answer. To everything. Always. Maybe a tad dramatically expressed but nonetheless true for me.

When we are on our way home I look out the car window at a sleeping Maputo swishing by. I am filled with gratitude for being able to be here. Even though some parts of this journey are really triggering and difficult, I do believe I would be dealing with these doubts and fears even if I was still living at home in Sweden. Perhaps just at a slower pace. There is something about traveling that accelerates internal processes. And I know, loneliness and all, I would much rather be lost and found in beautiful Maputo, doing this inner/outer journey, than at home feeling equally lost. Thank you God for this life!

Seafood, Conversations, and Soul Connections: Mother-Daughter Vacation in Durban

julia.sarantes.andersson — Sun, 02 Jul 2023 08:03:29 +0000

The Global Entity

Seafood, Conversations, and Soul Connections: Mother-Daughter Vacation in Durban

00:00 / 13:28

Bus back to Durban

A week ago, I took the bus from Johannesburg back to Durban. Despite having experienced similar issues previously, I had forgotten about the difficulty of hailing a taxi app driver to get to certain locations in the city.. such as bus and train stations. I almost missed my bus to Durban since no Uber nor Bolt wanted to take me there. Luckily, the hostel‘s minibus was available to drive me last minute and I said a prayer as we swooshed between people and cars of Johannesburg. It was pretty early in the morning and the streets were busy with people recreating the steps of their morning routines. When we got to the bus station, the driver rushed in with my big bag in tow to stop the bus from leaving me behind. I thanked him profusely and got onto the bus. The rest of the nine and a half hour drive to Durban went smoothly.

As always, I get a feeling of worship and awe as I watch the mountains of KwaZulu-Natal (KZN) start appearing around us. The Soils Sedilaka is playing in my headphones and I smile as I see a message from my mom confirming she has landed, she is half a days journey here. The next day I’m standing at the very same airport that I arrived at just three months earlier. I felt super excited at the prospect of showing her around KwaZulu-Natal for the first time. She has always been the one showing me places, now it was my opportunity to do the same for her. We were going to start with a few days in Durban and then move up north in KwaZulu-Natal, to a hopefully cleaner shore and sea area (read my previous post the Durban sewage crisis here). It felt fun planning out the things to do in Durban with her in mind.

Ever since I decided to go on this indefinitely long journey, a lot of people have asked me “But what about mom? What does mom say/feel about that?” And it’s quite funny because I can honestly answer that she got exactly what she raised: a curious and travel hungry person. There is nobody that I have discovered more corners of the world together with than alongside her. She has shown, encouraged and guided me to become the person and traveler that I am. Frankly, at this point, with 28 years of traveling and vacationing with her, I am yet to find a better and more compatible travel buddy.

Exploring Durban's Vibrant Markets

With only a few days to spend in Durban, it was obvious where we had to start: the markets! As far back as I can remember, this is where she loves to be, in between all of the people, languages, bartering, things, food and smoke that you encounter at a market. We start our Saturday by going to Musgrave market, a flea market filled with clothes, oils and incense, live music, second hand articles and lots and lots of street food! After walking around the whole market and of course shopping a few things, I can’t help it when I’m with her, we both order what we want to eat. We sit down at the red plastic tables placed at the center of the market. I still don’t have much of an appetite but the freshly squeezed orange and ginger juice tasted amazing! Although our usual routine when traveling and eating is to give space for long conversations, we couldn’t stay too long. I wanted time to show mom another market!

In the central parts of Durban, in a pink, two floored building, you will find the Mekah of Zulu beadwork and crafts; the Victoria Street Market. Unfortunately, I took no pictures as I have been warned about being careful with your smartphones up in this area. Seeing all the different beaded jewelry made me remember the performances I had seen last time I was in Durban. Basically everyone, including the audience, were wearing something traditional that day. But it is not an uncommon sight to see Zulu culture here. Very opposite to how I express, or perhaps not express, my own Swedish culture, people here seem to have it more incorporated in their society. Incorporated not only in events and special holidays but in fashion, social codes and in their sense and expression of identity. It’s really quite inspiring.

Hidden Forrest in Glenwood, Durban

Besides the markets we walked Durban’s beautiful sea promenade and explored the Botanic Garden of Durban. One morning, our host took us to the Pigeon Valley Nature Reserve. I was so surprised because in the middle of Glenwood, the area where I’ve spent most of my time while in Durban, lay this huge plot of completely indigenous forest! Some parts were so thick we couldn’t walk through it but our host guided us through the nature reserve with spot on knowledge of the area. After spending two months in South Africa’s concrete cities, Cape Town and Johannesburg, it felt good to breathe some forest air. The walk takes longer than expected and when we come back to the parking lot I am hungry! I take the opportunity to introduce mom to the fantastic Glenwood café. Even though we are close by I ask if our host can drop us off with his car. I have walked here during the day before but there is something about walking around with my mom that makes me more cautious than normal.

Dance, Drama, and Delights: Durban's Cultural Scene

The evenings in Durban we fill with music, food and culture! The first night we went to KwaZulu Natal Society of Arts, a gallery that was hosting a concert with the band Abahambayo. We came a little bit earlier to look at the art but were quick to find a table once the music started playing. Eventually the garden concert had to be moved inside due to the rain coming down. Nobody complained though as everyone was eager to hear the second half of this energetic group of musicians!

Another night I had booked us into a dance performance at the Playhouse Company, an old theatre under modern direction. The actual performance was a guest performance specific for the holiday but I would recommend checking the theatre out when you are in town. They seem to have a variety of shows and styles of entertainment and the quality was absolutely beautiful! It is sort of another tradition of ours, to go see one dance performance this time of year.

With less success, I also brought mom to Jazz night at Alliance Française. The pizza was okay but I had not researched what group was going to play, neither mom nor I am a fan of this style of jazz. But as she said, it’s nice to have experienced. Her eagerness to see what I have only told her of in words and photos for so many years is really moving.

The food highlight of the week was discovered by mom and her expert researching skills: Joops Place. We came to a fully booked restaurant and were lucky to get a table at all. If you want to eat good meat, this is the place. The location is a little odd, over viewing the parking lot, but you easily forget that once you get to taste your food.

Umhlanga and Ballito: Balancing Expectations and Realities

After only a few days in Durban it was time for us to leave! I had planned so that we would visit two more places: Umhlanga Rocks and Ballito. Umhlanga Rocks is a popular vacation place for Durbanites and I’ve only ever heard good things about it. When we get there though, I can’t help but feel a little disappointed. Umhlanga rocks is a small town with huge highways and roads at the center of it. The buildings are tall and cold, the massive hotels surrounding the beach are generic and lifeless, everywhere you go you see cars and concrete. What a shame. I get the feeling that everything here is new, every building and every car. It looks like one of those all-inclusive places on Mallorca. I don’t like all-inclusive, nor do I like places where I can’t feel the history or connect to the culture. I think this is a perfect example of when definitions differ. My friends who have all recommended this place probably find it super relaxing. I find it dull and lacking personality.

Fortunately for us, we stayed at this super cute Bed&Breakfast called the Honeypot. Each room has its own veranda and the common area with the pool is gorgeous. The friendly staff greeted us each morning and were very accommodating. Despite not falling for Umhlanga Rocks or finding it that interesting, it was the perfect destination for us this time because I needed to rest. As it turns out, the low energy and poor health I’ve been experiencing lately were all symptoms that needed strong medication. It completely wiped me out and I was left with warnings of infection, movement, and strict instructions of recovery. Typical! Typical that I get ill just when mom has crossed two continents to come see me. I felt guilty about it, about it happening now but mom called it divine timing, saying she wanted nothing more than to be here when I was weak.

Those who know mom and I from my childhood would probably associate us with seeing mom ride her bike around with me sitting behind in a shockingly green children’s saddle. She took us everywhere on that bike, no matter the weather. We could have used that bike in Ballito, as it was a bit bigger distances and no taxis nor buses were available. Everyone in Ballito drives a car, has a big house, with a huge alarm and fake teeth. It was more green and nature was more present in the towns infrastructure which made it beautiful. The restaurants were fancy and we ate a lot of great seafood. I probably won’t come back here as I found no culture nor history nor markets but it definitely suited our needs for tranquility. I had tried to plan a trip so that mom and I could experience KwaZulu-Natal without a car but I realise now that next time, I want to be driving.

The best things about traveling with my mom

We spent the days on the coast walking slowly, indulging in seafood and in each others company. If there is something mom and I know, it is how to spend time talking endlessly about everything together. It is not like we constantly talk, but when we do I feel like we can traverse the universe together. I have often thought of the beauty and poetry in this, where mine and moms endless conversations about everything within, has taken place from every corner of the world. I believe these conversations are an essential part of why I love traveling today. They made the connection between the physical journey and the inner journey so unmistakably clear. How much you can learn about yourself and your world when you travel; how much you are forced to confront within; the people and cultures you get to mirror yourself in and be inspired by.

If I would say three things that are typical about mine and moms relationship I would firstly say, we are super close. Growing up it was her and I traveling the world and experiencing life together. Secondly, we love to sing and harmonise together and have spent countless hours on the road this way. Finally, I would say that we are both empaths. This has led to some interesting breakfast scenarios when we host our friends and both of us suddenly get moved to tears. And then we look at each other and laugh. It is so amazing to have a person to connect with in this way. I am lucky, lucky to have a soul sibling as my mom in the physical world.

Empowerment in Vulnerability: Finding Sisterhood on the Road

julia.sarantes.andersson — Fri, 26 May 2023 08:41:09 +0000

The Global Entity

Empowerment In Vulnerability: Finding Sisterhood On The Road

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The most common side effect of traveling solo

The most common side effect of traveling is definitely the constant deep thoughts and never ending reflections. Goodness. Travelling solo can be a daunting task, especially when shit hits the fan. For me, nothing dramatic is up, I’ve just been in my feelings lately. Not necessarily the good ones. I wake up crying, the tiniest thing sets me off and I am exhausted all the time.

Parallel to that, I currently have zero bullshit tolerance. Or rather, I have this unyielding need to set boundaries in a way I’ve never felt before. I can’t let even the smallest thing slide. This side of my personality completely surprised me. I am used to letting my people pleasing needs get the better of my boundary setting abilities… but for the past two weeks I am setting boundaries left and right without any hesitation or censorship. It feels both incredibly thrilling, even empowering, can it really be this easy?? But it also feels super uncomfortable as I am sure not everybody likes this side of me. And who am I if I am not liked..? Free?

Free and human perhaps. In many ways I recognise this grumpier, more firm and secure self from my childhood. A core self that I somewhere along the way in life got used to hiding, feeling shame over, minimising. As empowering as it is to (re)discover aspects of yourself, I can’t get over how uncomfortable I feel. All of my feelings are right at the surface for everyone to see and endure. I feel powerless and naked, like my whole inner being is on display for everyone. Staying in a dorm with 10 other women, at a hostel which is constantly buzzing with people and energies from all over the world, is overwhelming right now. And yet, in a space where there is nowhere to hide, I can only surrender to reality. For the past two weeks, I am learning to navigate this new hyper emotional state I am in.

Sisterhood and hostel life

To my surprise, I have during these weeks been blessed by the uncompromising, unwavering sisterhood of women. Despite being my least charming self, women here at the hostel have gathered in something best described as a protective circle around me. It is the small things, the hand on my back, the looking into my eyes, the inclusion in the everyday routine that has started to take shape here at the backpackers. I started crying when Hadiyah one morning told me she was cooking breakfast for me. For her it was such a simple thing, for me, who’s been struggling with appetite for too long, for me – it was everything.

We are a handful of women who are staying at Curiocity for a month or more. Everyone from different parts of the world, with different journeys, reasons and ways of being. I don’t know if they sense my vulnerability or if they actively see the wreck I am and can’t help but reach out a hand… It doesn’t matter. I am absolutely amazed by the sisterhood and care I feel right now.

Last weekend was also spent in the company of strong women. I went to Pretoria yet again to reunite with my old Pietermaritzburg gang: Lerato and Sine. I feel such an overwhelming sense of joy and gratitude every time we meet or talk. That we are able to meet like this, years, lives and continents apart, and yet despite this – truly meet. Not just see each other but appreciate, celebrate and lift each other up, wherever we are in our lives. As I sit back and watch these women shining in their light, I conclude that it is a luxury and privilege to be a part of womens’ lives. There is nothing more enriching! The weekend in Pretoria was naturally filled with laughter, a lot of catching up, drinks and adventures. I am truly blessed! It would have been so easy to feel lonely on a journey like this, especially considering how everything started… but no, instead these women, known and strangers, show up and give me from their abundance. Yes, I am blessed. I feel held, by the universe and the very women present in my life.

Future: dreams, doubts and purpose

Once I got back from Pretoria to Johannesburg, it hit me. This could be my life. I mean, this is obviously my life right now but this, having access to these amazing people on a regular basis, that could actually be my reality. If I make it. Make what, I am not sure of at all. When I was in Pretoria, I took the opportunity to do a visit at the Swedish Embassy. A family friend is currently stationed there and she was happy to show me around. It felt surreal walking those corridors, saying hello to titles I once dreamed of becoming. Now, I am not so sure anymore. Ever since I saw the finish line of my university studies I have been feeling claustrophobic at the thought of a nine-to-five job. I wonder if that truly is the only way to achieve economic stability. Or are we entering a new era where we are allowed to exist outside of those hamster wheel norms?

Thousand upon thousand of thoughts are going through my head. A lot of doubt as well about the journey I’ve decided to embark on. But I’m also realising that my hyper sensitivity right now is affecting everything. In a weird way I feel like I am two people, one is the emotional mess and the other one is observing the emotional state I am in. The observer feels calm, I know at my core that everything is the way it is supposed to be.

Travel tip of the week

Let things take their time! Don’t stress if things don’t work out as you thought. It was hardly in my plans to go through this in a hostel environment. And yet, by allowing it to take space, facing it and giving myself time to care for it, I have been given just the right support i need. Yes, it is not what I imagined to be doing in this vibrant city, but I trust it is just what I need.

Surfing the Waves of Fear: Conquering the Ocean in Cape Town

julia.sarantes.andersson — Fri, 05 May 2023 10:31:32 +0000

The Global Entity

Surfing the Waves of Fear: Surfing in Cape Town

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Juxtapositions of History: Sipping Wine at Robben Island

There is something quite macabre about sipping a glass of white wine while watching the sun descend in a breathtaking color spectacle over Robben Island. For those who are not familiar with South Africa’s history, Robben Island is where Nelson Mandela, together with other political prisoners, were held during apartheid. It has been used as a prison since the 1700s but is most famous for its holding of political activists during the apartheid regime. It stopped being used as such in 1994 when the first democratic elections were held in South Africa. Since then it has been transformed into a museum preserving the stories of life, resilience and resistance lived there. I remember feeling very humbled when I was there my first time in 2015. I definitely recommend everyone who visits Cape Town to take the ferry from V & A Waterfront to Robben Island and its museum. The incredible view over Robben Island, where such horrible things happened, is a contrast that somehow describes South Africa in a nutshell. A country where the contrasts are so huge between past and present, poor and rich, human and less than, that the contrasts themselves are normalized to the degree that they can be almost ignored. Or perhaps that’s just human behavior in general, normalizing, selective seeing.

Blouberg Bliss: Finding Community and Serenity by the Sea

A week ago, I left the buzzling city center of Cape Town for Blouberg, a seaside community 20 minutes outside of the city. My first impression of Blouberg is that it is very beige, every house is in a nuance of beige or gray… the second thing that struck me about this place is the kite surfers. It might not help that the hostel I chose to stay at is a kite community hostel. Every night the dining room is buzzing with the latest coolest stories and stories captured with GoPros. I chose the hostel, Khaya Kite and Yoga Hostel, because it offered morning yoga. After weeks of flues and colds I figured some yoga and salt water would do me good.

I was pleasantly surprised, the hostel was more like a community of nerds than anything else. But that is Blouberg in general, the kites are everywhere! In the mornings, when the wind is but a mere breeze, they are nowhere to be found. But as soon as the wind picks up, the sky over to Blouberg strand is filled with the kites of the surfers. It looks beautiful. I can only imagine the adrenaline rush from traveling at the mercy of two elements, wind and water. For me, one element is more than enough. Despite having loved the water growing up to the extent that mom practically had to drag me up out of the water every time we went swimming… I almost drowned twice as a kid. A few years after those incidents, a fear of the ocean started growing within me. For many years I couldn’t explain it, I didn’t feel afraid I just did not want to go into the ocean.

From Panic to Power: How Surfing Helped Me Overcome My Ocean Fear

I was about twenty years old the first time I took a surf lesson. The first time I almost stood up on a board it took about three and a half seconds before I tumbled head first into the ocean. The currents were strong even though we were in pretty shallow waters. I could feel the board tugging at my foot, pulling it to the right. At the same time, I was being pushed down by another wave tumbling down on me. I feel the sandy ground brush up against my back. Simultaneously, the underwater current is pulling me out, deeper into the ocean. It takes less than a millisecond for my twenty year old self to convert back to the seven year old me being pulled into the Pacific Ocean. The panic is absolute. Just like when I was seven years old, a grown ups arm reaches down and pulls me up. Air. I find my footing again, I look around. The beach is there. My instructor is right next to me, he laughs and smiles at me. “You are awake now hey?!”

Ever since that first lesson, surfing has been a bridge for me to get back to the ocean. The ocean Goddess Yemaya, from the Afro-Cuban religion Santéria, blessed me a few years ago and now I am once again swimming freely in the ocean. Freely but afraid. This time was different though. After my first two lessons I felt strongly that it was time. I needed to get out there on my own. Be in the ocean and trust my own capabilities. I knew it was imperative. I canceled my third lesson and decided to rent a board from my surf school, Open Ocean, instead. I knew that if I ever wanted to start feeling safe in the ocean again, I had to start being out there on my own. My pulse was high initially but after a few minutes sitting on my board, waiting for the next wave, I started feeling alright. After some attempts to catch a wave I started laughing. It felt hopeless. Trying to catch a wave was like trying to hold water in my hands, it just disappears in front of you. Until suddenly I feel it happening, the wave is lifting me! I’m on it! I went from trying to catch it to actually having it! To say that it felt amazing is the understatement of the century. I felt invincible.

Uncertainty and Possibility in Cape Town

Sitting here now, eight years after my first encounter with this intense city and this immense country, I feel its funny how life works. How one encounter can change the trajectory of your entire life eight years later. If I, by encounter, refer to the country or the guy depends on what day you ask me… I’m definitely not referring to Cape Town, God knows I never liked this city. Until now. Now, with friends here and favorite salsa spots of my own, I can suddenly paint my whole life here. Everything from starting a hostel to digital nomad jobs to applying for fundings for art projects. I could see myself in a pair of hippy-dippy overalls in Woodstock, bringing Salsa to Observatory’s student bars, connecting with musicians, going to the beach on the weekends trying to learn to surf. I can see it.

Right before I left Cape Town for the Blouberg beach I stayed at a hostel in town. When eating breakfast one morning a woman approached me and struck up a conversation with me. We talked about our lives and dreams for the future, our doubts and prospects. She was a lady of the night and wished for a better life, in a different country, with somebody kind. About my own situation she simply said “It can be hard and impossible for everyone else, that is irrelevant. Cuz you have to try your luck. YOUR LUCK. You can’t base your decisions on other peoples failings, maybe it wasn’t meant for them.” Right then and there, it felt like it was a sign that I should make a go of South Africa after all. Try to stay, get a job, make it happen. But now, after a week of ocean and contemplation, I am realizing staying would be not trying my luck, not betting on me. I can always come back, at a later point when it’s time. For now, I feel something tugging at me to get a move on. There is a strong feeling within, that in order to stay I must go. Perhaps not to find but to rediscover, a confidence and self-knowledge I used to have as a kid and somehow lost along the way. I feel I need to show up, for what or who I don’t really know. I guess we will live to find out!

Discovering Cape Town’s Vibrant Culture and Nature

julia.sarantes.andersson — Sun, 26 Mar 2023 16:54:11 +0000

The Global Entity

Discovering Cape Town’s Vibrant Culture and Nature

00:00 / 8:40

Sharing Stories: A Night of Connection at MOCAA's First Thursday

I am still nursing my cold, it is not budging even a little bit. I am currently at the stage where I don’t have much voice. Despite this, I still managed to sobbingly explain the whole boy-debacle/moving fiasco to my old time friend Trècy. Trècy and I met during my internship in Pietermaritzburg eight years ago. When she saw that I was in Cape Town now she reached out and invited me to the First Thursday at MOCAA, the museum of contemporary art. First Thursdays is a concept that exists in both Cape Town and Johannesburg where the galleries and cultural centers of the city are open extra late. As the name describes it happens the first Thursday each month and it’s a vibrant event.

So here I am, in the middle of a hurdle of happy gallery goers and art consumers, crying. I am surprised by my own emotional reaction, I hadn’t cried before, why start now? As we wait for another friend to join us for the art tour, Trècy holds my hand and listens. It hits me that this is the first time in like a month that I am talking face to face with somebody that actually knows me. What a sanctuary. To get to tell everything that happened lately to somebody who genuinely cares for me.

It also hits me how amazing it is that Trècy and I, after eight years of separate lives, are able to reconnect so easily. I say a prayer of gratitude within, to all the girls and women who have ever been in my life and taught me all that sisterhood entails. Eventually my sobs turn into laughter, laughter at the absurdity of things, the irony of life… It’s one of those laughs that I can’t control. When I finally catch my breath I hear myself say “I just feel so much shame.” She looks me seriously in the eyes, takes a breath and says “Don’t Julia, you were brave. Don’t be ashamed of that.” I wipe my eyes and feel my shoulders drop.

Cape Town Delights: From Braais to Gardens

During my weeks in Cape Town, Trècy and her friends generously invited me to braai’s (meaning BBQ in South Africa), go dancing, adventuring in the wild, dinners and chill out times. Getting to be part of that, a vibrant group of friends, all with different ambitions and lives, made it easy to picture myself living here in this city. Everywhere I turn I get invited into different communities, groups and contexts. And sure, not everything is with a clean intention and those I promptly turn down, but that is almost insignificant in comparison to the flow I feel since I got here.

It is fascinating how a city that used to feel so cold and impregnable now feels accessible. I can almost taste the life I could have here if I decided to. It is not an easy process to get a work visa in this country but as someone said to me recently, we all have to try our own luck. On the other hand, if I feel like this two months into my trip – just imagine how I am going to feel about all the other places I am going to see. Is this where I am meant to be? Or is my destiny elsewhere? Or do we create our own destinies? How do I know what is right?

One of the places Trècy took me to was the Kirstenbosch National Botanical Garden. To call it a garden gives the wrong impression, it’s more like a nature reserve, a park of wilderness perfectly framed by the mountains of Western Cape. It is immensely beautiful! The past three weeks here in Cape Town have been incredibly packed with beautiful people, reconnecting with old friends and exciting encounters with new ones. Sitting here now, in this beautiful, quiet garden, I realize it is the first moment of peace I have had since I arrived in the city. I take the opportunity to journal a little bit, something I have completely neglected since I got here to Cape Town.

Journaling while solo traveling

Writing is such a powerful tool, especially when solo traveling as I do not necessarily have the people I need around to reflect with. Today’s writing session brings me back to something a healer told me right before I started this journey. He told me that I need to be more honest with who I am. Stop pretending to be small and willing when I’m actually anything but small and usually quite critical.

At that moment I had a hard time understanding what he meant but now, sitting here in what feels like the gardens of Eden, I have a moment of clarity. With all the turmoil that this trip has entailed, everything from broken dreams to getting ripped off by someone I thought was my friend (no it wasn’t much, yes I felt dumb), I am realizing I feel a crippling shame about articulating what I want and desire, what my expectations are. I have known for many years that I have trouble setting boundaries and saying no but today it hit me that I don’t even want to say straight out what I want. And it is not just because I don’t know what I want, which sometimes of course is the case. No, it is more that I don’t feel like I should say what I want.

The realization shocks me, I have to put my pen down. It is such a stark contrast to how I used to be as a child, a contrast to how I see myself. But I can now see the correlation between being boundaryless and not saying what I want. Somewhere along the way to becoming me, I have accepted the socializing norms that tell girls to be quiet and adaptable in order to be worthy and “good”. No mas. No more. This absurdity is something I will stop with right now. Or at least start unlearning right now.

Solo Travel Journal

I am stopping all pretentions.

No longer pretending to be unbothered when I’m actually boiling with disappointment or shrinking from the insecurities that your silence triggers.

I will no longer dress my intentions in appearances of pretend non-intent and jewellery of disinterest.

I will no longer negate to ask just because I am afraid of your answer. Or perhaps even more afraid of how naked I will feel spelling out my expectations and hopes.

I will stop giving space to the idea that I need to earn to want. Earn to yearn and desire…

No, I am stopping all pretentions.

Want it. Express it, pure and clean.

Don’t excuse or diminish it. It is what makes me human.