“A rabbit hole is a metaphor for something that transports someone into a wonderfully (or troublingly) surreal state or situation.”
For a long time I have been a firm believer that each and every one of us has got a skill and a passion buried in us. That seed is a gift from God for us to nature and make it bloom so that it may produce fruit, to feed us and those around us.
My journey began after high school, young, restless and clueless. My mom’s finances didn’t add up, to get me to complete the “educational system”, i.e. high school, university and eventually get a job bla bla bla. I decided to buy some time and extend my gap year, knowing very well that university was a dream which I didn’t feel good waking up from.
One of the superpowers I acquired through the “gap year” was living in Zimbabwe. I will gladly add that on my CV. My country has got 98% unemployment rate, that’s how hard it is to survive in Zimbabwe. My country is not for Sissies. I still have photos of myself looking like I’m on hunger strike. Through it all I survived.
Suddenly an opportunity arose, not what I fancied. “The reason for working is to get paid” I rebelled. On the contrary it was a voluntary gig. For the first few months, I was supposed to pay a certain amount of money towards my essentials, just to prove that I was serious about volunteering. However, that didn’t move me a bit, for the thoughts of exposure to a different culture, learning to speak good English, the experience and hopefully get a white girlfriend to scratch my jungle fever itch. All of the above pushed me to hastily pack up my luggage and travel 48hrs across the border.
My arrival rose eyebrows, everything seemed out of order. I arrived a day earlier, wearing a wrong t-shirt, written, “IM NOT STUBORN BUT MY WAY IS BETTER”. My eyes were bloodshot red, from lack of sleep, people thought otherwise and the worst part of all I was hungry, surely perceived as I had munchies.
As I mentioned earlier, living in Zimbabwe is a significant skill. In no time I quickly adapted to the environment, I worked hard, I even did the worst jobs one could fathom. A few of my duties included harvesting and sorting macadamia nuts and avocadoes, worm farming, irrigation… My worst job was working in the coffee fields. It was the only job that made me doubt if I had made a wise decision to volunteer. I hated coffee passionately. I would spend weeks and weeks spraying coffee trees, picking and processing cherries and hand sorting tons of coffee beans.
That was how I fell into the rabbit hole.