What the first half of 2025 taught me
Thoughts on water outages, transitions, and showing up for your dreams
A lot of people avoid highlighting the hard parts of living abroad. When you think of Africa, images of tropical climates may come to mind. The weather in South Africa’s largest city is a little bit different.
Although I’m accustomed to much harsher winters in the Northeast of the US, Johannesburg’s dry climate has taken longer than expected for my body to adjust. As the city is inland, a great distance from any large body of water, and receives most of its rainfall in the summer, winters here (typically from June to August) mean dealing with extremely low humidity levels. This dryness not only presents challenges for the skin, hair, and nails but also contributes to drought conditions.
When taps run dry
Johannesburg’s water outages have been annoyingly unpredictable lately. The water may shut off with little to no warning, sometimes for days at a time. It’s made me think more intentionally about where I want to build a home. What does it mean to feel rooted in a place where something as basic as water is not guaranteed? Climate change feels less like a future problem and more like a current reality. Water access has now become one of the factors I consider when imagining where to live long-term.
There have been emotional shifts, too. A few close friends I’ve made here have gone away. Some have returned to the U.S. for American summer, others are away from Joburg, and one has relocated to Kenya. That’s been hard. Finding people you click with and building genuine relationships takes time. At the same time, it’s reminded me to invest in the people who are still here. It’s prompted me to make more time for community. I’ve also decided to be open to dating again. That came after a period of healing and introspection, allowing me to sit still with my feelings. I’m no longer trying to protect myself from every possibility. I’m just making more room to receive love, however it may show up.
Adjusting to academia
Academia has brought its own challenges. What feels familiar is the overlap between the philanthropic networks and operations I’ve worked with in the United States and those I’m now learning about in South Africa. I thought there would be bigger differences. The harder part has been adjusting to the emphasis on theory, especially after years of working in more practical and applied roles. It’s been eye-opening to study philanthropy at a time when the aid sector is undergoing a significant shift. The landscape looks very different from what it was even six months ago.
Still, I’ve reached a milestone! July marks the halfway point of my coursework. The thing I’m most proud of this year is what I’ve done as a student. My research proposal was accepted and I’ve received my ethics clearance. This month marks the start of my fieldwork, interviewing funders, artist support organizations, and women visual artists operating in Gauteng.
It’s been encouraging to see how open people are to participating in the research. Their willingness has energized me. I’ve also had the steady support of my classmates and supervisor. That support carried me through moments of doubt, especially when I questioned if this degree path was the right decision.
Making room to receive
Being a student again has made me more resilient. I’m learning to think more critically, to organize my thoughts more clearly, and to use writing not just to describe but to persuade. The learning hasn’t been limited to academics. It’s been personal, too.
There’s a thread that ties this season together. When life gets uncertain, lean into your community. Don’t isolate yourself. Find what steadies you. Let people help you stay grounded. Be open to accepting help from a friend whether it’s a place to shower, motivational support from colleagues, or a simple compliment that makes me blush.
For me, this journey began with a dream I’ve had since 2009: to study abroad. That dream is now part of my daily life. My studies are enabling me to gain a deeper understanding of philanthropy across various countries and to expand my perspective as a researcher and practitioner.
Lately, I’ve been returning to Lucille Clifton’s poem won’t you celebrate with me. One line keeps echoing in my mind:
“come celebrate with me that everyday
something has tried to kill me
and has failed.”
That line feels true in numerous ways. I hold it close, especially when the days feel long and the world feels hopeless. It reminds me that survival is worth celebrating. That continuing is something to praise.
And here I am continuing.
Halfway there.
Song of the week:
With care,
Chelsey Lowe
Your reflection about feeling rooted in a place where even something as basic as water isn’t guaranteed really hit home. As a South African, I found it deeply profound—and honestly, a little heartbreaking. It’s humbling and frankly embarrassing that expats like yourself, who come here with open hearts, are subjected to such hardships right alongside us.
Of course, this isn’t a mess we as everyday citizens created, but it remains a painful reflection of leadership failure. It feels like an insult to the legacy of those who fought—and died—for our rights to dignity, equality, and the basic infrastructure that should come with that. That Johannesburg, of all places, is bearing the brunt of it adds to the frustration.
Still, I hope you don’t leave with the impression that this is the norm everywhere in SA. There are spaces, even in more rural provinces, where the taps are always running and life moves a little slower but with more consistency.
Also, I just want to say—reading about your willingness to date again after sitting still with your feelings… I admire that. It takes courage. I selfishly wish I could be the one dating you 😊 but whether or not the universe swings it that way, I really hope you find someone who reflects back all the warmth and depth you share so freely here. Just be vigilant out there.
Rooting for you always.