A tale of love and dread, after a rollercoaster two weeks.

I arrived in Switzerland two and a half weeks ago. After a few days, I was desperate to get back on a plane to South Africa.

Not because I wanted to leave my love, but because I wanted to get home to my Mum.

We got dealt some terror, and I thought we were losing her.

I would have bought a ticket right away, but I didn’t have my passport.

You see, I left it on the train right after landing.

I was so caught up in my love bubble, I forgot my handbag on the train.

Back in Mzansi, I would have had minimal optimism that I’d ever see my bag again, but in Switzerland, I felt quite optimistic.

I reported it, and after a few days, I got the message that it was found and I could pick it up.

I figured, if anything were missing, it would be the expensive action camera inside the bag.

Not so, it was my passport that was missing!

“What, how, why!?”, I asked the SBB train officer. She shrugged.

Another gentleman who spoke English stepped in, looked at the system and explained that there was a note saying my passport was sent to the South African embassy.

This was before I got the news that my Mum was unwell, so I felt relieved to know it was safe and was patient regarding the wait to get the news from the embassy about when I could pick it up.

The next day, and a phone call from my Dad later, I was less patient.

The embassy explained they hadn’t received it yet and suggested I report it lost at the police station.

I made my way there and was greeted by a man with kind eyes and limited English.

I told him I had an emergency and started explaining that my passport was missing and I needed to fly back to South Africa as soon as possible. I cried as I explained I needed to get to my mother. He looked at me, and I could feel the sympathy he felt, but that didn’t help him understand me.

He took out his phone, wrote in the translation app, showed it to me, and I read, “Am I right in understanding that you have lost your passport?”

I said yes, even though it was more complicated than that, and I sent Stefan a message asking him to come to the station to be my translator.

In the meantime, the officer started the process of filing a lost report.

Thankfully, Stefan arrived before this was complete and could relay the full story to the officer. With the extra information, he decided to make some calls.

He called SBB (the train service) and was told that they had sent my passport to the embassy, along with the date it was sent. He then called the embassy, and they confirmed that they had not yet received it.

This is the same information I had, but the officer took it a step further and found that if we continued filing the lost report, it would render my passport useless, and I would then have to apply for a new one.

He told me to wait.

I had no choice. I was also anxiously awaiting an update regarding my mother’s health.

To my great relief, the news came that she was stable.

Then I spoke to her, and she instructed me not to come home.

I told her that at this stage, I couldn’t even if I wanted to.

It took a few more days before I finally got the message that my passport was at the South African Embassy in Bern, ready for collection.

Relieved, I picked it up and have been rather protective of this Green Mamba since.

Now, as per my Mum’s instructions, I am staying put for the time being.

She is a fighter. I am proud to say I inherited that from her.

She was on death’s door. Her heart had stopped. It took them four minutes to resuscitate her, but she came back.

I am left feeling so many emotions after this scare.

Grateful that I still have her.

Shame for my behaviour at times and the lack of patience for those closest to me.

Deep love and admiration for the woman she is and the lessons she has taught me.

I am because of her. Not just because of her birthing me, but because of me growing up surrounded by the kind of love that is indescribable.

Because I had the greatest gift a child can have: the knowledge that their mother would do anything in the world for them. The knowledge that I am loved so fiercely that it allowed me to feel protected despite the dangerous situations I put myself in.

Now: I may be on a different continent, but I know I have her in me.

Pamela’s daughter, that’s me.