...One is silver and the other's gold.

As I may have mentioned, I’m a bit lonely here in Africa.

Not oh-cruel-world-why-does-no-one-love-me lonely, it’s more of a Saturday-night-and-my-husband-is-watching-sports-(again)-and-I-have-nothing-to-do-(again) lonely. Sigh. The problem is not complex; in fact, the answer is easy – I need girlfriends.
But we’ve been over this.

I must admit; I’m struggling to make friends here, and I’m not exactly sure why. I think I’m a pretty likable person, right? Slightly neurotic, as we’ve established, but some might even call that charming. (Just go with me here.) It’s not that I haven’t met people – I have. I just can’t seem to get over that wall between small-talk and real-talk.

I know that if I give it a chance and stop worrying so much, it will happen eventually. I’m just impatient, and friendships – the kind of friendships I need – don’t happen overnight. I need a friend who I can be both silly and serious with. Who will listen to my secrets and confide in me as well. A friend who knows me, the real me. I need a friend who feels like family.

This week, I have been teased by the temporary presence of one of those kind of friends.

Roger’s best friend, Greg, has been here (from the UK) this week to work at the Joburg Wine Show. Roger and Greg practically grew up together – they met at boarding school when they were twelve – and though I haven’t known Kirsty (Greg’s wife) quite that long, I consider her to be one of my best friends. Sadly, Kirsty couldn’t join Greg on this business trip, so our little group was missing its fourth, but just being around Greg this week has reminded me of what it feels like to have that kind of friend close by.

Greg is one of those people that can talk to anyone. He has ‘the gift of the gab’ as he calls it. But lots of people can make small talk. Greg has the ability to talk to a complete stranger with the same level of comfort and ease that he would speak to his best friend. It just comes naturally. I think that’s part of the reason that no matter how long it’s been since we’ve seen Greg, it always feels like it was just yesterday.

When Roger and I first considered moving to South Africa, Greg and Kirsty were toying with the idea as well. I had visions of Roger and Greg playing golf and watching sports on the weekends while Kirsty and I would lay by the pool or go out to brunch. Greg and Roger would work together, and Kirsty and I would start a fabulous business (I wasn’t exactly sure about the details but it would combine Kirsty’s passion for music and my love of writing). She and I would face the baby question together and maybe one day we’d have a little Melhuish and a little Jarvis crawling around together. This life in Joburg looked good to me. The Melvis family (as we had so cheesily named ourselves once upon a time) would be reunited at last.

But then Greg found a great job with a winery and Kirsty started singing with a local jazz band. They put the idea of Africa on the back burner while Roger and I forged ahead with our plans. It was disappointing, but I already had those visions of me by the pool. Of course it would be much better if Kirsty was there beside me, but hey, I’d still be lounging by the pool right? So here we are. Roger and I in South Africa and Greg and Kirsty in England.

I admit that I still harbor hopes that they will change their mind and decide to give life in Africa a try. I know it’s unlikely, especially now that Kirsty is a budding jazz star (check out her with the band at http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VTAM9UKozL4 ) and Greg has made himself invaluable at his company. But Greg continues to toy with my emotions by telling me they still think about moving here. It’s still a possibility, he says. There is still hope for the Melvis family.

I’ll keep trying to make new friends here in South Africa, but I’m still hoping that Greg and Kirsty will show up one day with all their belongings, asking if they can sleep on our couch for awhile. I will jump up and down with a resounding "Yes!" because friends like that just don’t come along every day.

So this is my love letter to Greg and Kirsty…Sure, it’s a blatant attempt to lure them to sunny Africa, but can you blame me?

In fact, it reminds me of a nursery rhyme I knew when I was little (or maybe it was a Girl Scout song? I don't know, but that's not the point) –
"Make new friends, but keep the old;
One is silver and the other’s gold."

That’s the only part I remember, but I think it’s the most important part.