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Living with Ghosts

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Kate intends to write a book one day of her life (soon as she can find a publisher to work with) but in the meantime she writes of her experiences when things come up.  Born in Rhodesia in 1970 during the Bush War, she was placed on an isolated coffee farm on the Mozambique border.  Her childhood was full of trauma and beauty: harsh, brutal, bloody and awful whilst also magical, funny and extraordinary.  Living with Ghosts speaks to the souls that still haunt her today, that often visit in flashbacks and nightmares.  Some of these posts are their stories as they lie in unmarked graves, forgotten by most but not by her.

Flashbacks are not Memories

Hyper vigilance is a fact of my life.  I grew up hunted.  No adult was safe to be close to.  Nobody was trusted.  Those that I had loved and trusted had been murdered, massacred, machete’d into tiny pieces of useless flesh, blood and vomit.  Sound extreme?  How could you understand.  You who sit quietly comfortable in front of your favourite cop show on t.v.?  The reality of violent death and torture are so far removed from you that words like this fall like hyperbole in a windstorm of make-believe. A childhood in an african civil war adjusts reality perceptions permanently.  Live to Die.  Die to Live. A heartbeat.  Perspiration.  Thoughts.  Emotions.  Subtle body cues.  Faces, so much information.  All the time, every day, every minute.  The noise in my head is deafening.  Mostly I just avoid big social events, when I can’t, I scan the room for safety.  Hide behind…