By Douglas Kruger
I WAS standing by the side of a rugby field, watching my son pummel and be pummelled, when my phone buzzed. Exciting news: a friend from South Africa had given birth to a beautiful baby girl, right here in Jersey. Mum and baby were both in terrific condition.
I had a little sniffle, then mused about how much such an event means to those of us who come here seeking a new life.
The birth of a child is always a big milestone. But when you’ve uprooted your entire life, and relocated from the far side of the world, it signifies something even greater. It’s new history for your family. Here, in your chosen home. You came to this place. But your child was born here, on these shores and under this flag. That means something.
Acclimatising to any new place comes with its challenges, and I’ve discovered that the emotions come in waves. You will experience long seasons of nothing but belonging – walking easily to a coffee meeting, jogging along a beachside path, or slowing your car to allow a pony to clip-clop by as the rider nods a smile. But it’s interspersed with inevitable tidal waves of nostalgia for everything you miss.
That’s when the natural beauty pulls double-duty.
In Jersey, scenery punches well above its weight. Small though it may be, the Island’s castles, coasts, and dewy farm trails offer a charm still fresh half a decade in; it is something that we still take pride in showing to visiting friends: “Come see where we live – it’s incredible!”
It’s all so ancient, so packed with the stuff of history, so picture-postcard perfect. And it’s a small community, but also an entire nation. You can drive its length in a half-hour, yet spend years learning its rich history, nuanced moods and political idiosyncrasies.
This will be the first year our family can vote. That means we’re digging deeper into the issues. And yes, there are times when the Island’s foibles can give you a hernia. But even the foibles are only frustrating because of the obvious potential. One can easily see how much the place might prosper, given even slight nudges by good leadership. Nothing here is fundamentally broken, fatally flawed, or headed down the wrong path. The place is good.
Very good.
Safety from violence. That’s a big one for South Africans.
My best friend’s mum was murdered in her own home in a housebreaking, and many of us have such awful tales. We discover that here, people can barely believe them. That is to the great credit of your society.
I don’t have to clutch at my possessions as though I’m passing through a war zone. I don’t worry about being hijacked when I stop at an intersection. My pulse rate no longer increases when my child is out of sight; it’s Jersey – he’s fine – and that’s valuable beyond belief. At night, we will sometimes hear church bells. But never gunshots. Nothing is a threat here.
Then there are the ways in which the Island acts upon your family. The way your child’s accent transforms, or the fact that he now has a favourite football team. He calls his friends “mate”.
Even the problems in Jersey are not deal breakers. There’s not enough parking. Oh well.
Connectivity with the mainland should have been solved a century ago. That one’s a pity.
Excessive red tape for business is a big one, and entrepreneurs here definitely need more freedom and support, but people are fighting for those, and we see signs of a will to improve. Witness the rise of Value Jersey, and the Islandwide pushback against excessive regulation. Tides are turning, and that is a sign of a healthy democracy.
The quality of schooling has been unfailingly superb. I will never forget the day my son, then five, announced from the back seat: “Public parking.” He’d read a road sign with casual ease. Back home, and in many countries, we would only have started spelling out “C-A-T” at the age of six.
It’s also good to be on the right side of history. I’ll give you an example, and it’s a little embarrassing. Right now, South Africa’s “Minister in the Presidency for Women, Youth and Persons with Disabilities” is openly celebrating the 47th commemoration of the Islamic Revolution in Iran. This, even as civilians fighting for freedom die violently at the hands of that regime. Most South Africans hang their heads in shame, and such radical government is why many of us leave.
But Jersey appears to have better sense than that. Better morals, more respect for freedom, less tolerance of ideologies that think life is cheap, or that women can be property.
This is a good place. These are good people. When they are frustrated, they react with meetings and debate, rather than rage and destruction. When people suffer misfortune, the Island pulls together and helps. When items are lost, they find their way back to the owners, and when natural disasters strike, volunteers are quick to rush in.
Kindness is common.
There is also no end of clubs and societies organised to transfer skills and help kids reach for their dreams, from the government group that asked me to coach debating skills for young people, to the rugby club training my son in how to squash the opposition into the mud.
Jersey is good. Very good. And so, to my friend’s precious new child, welcome to the world.
And welcome to Jersey, the place where you were born. Whether this is your home for life, or just the place you came from, your entire story started here. And that’s wonderful.
Douglas Kruger is an author and speaker based in Jersey. His books are all available via Amazon and Audible.
