About Ali Buck

Hello and Welcome, Welkom, Muli bwanji
Olandiridwa, As-salaamAlaykum, Lumela Kamohelo…

I could greet you with any of the above and a whole heap more words (as can anyone who has google, no big deal); but see, I’ve lived for an extended period of time in all of the countries mentioned above: South Africa, North America, Malawi in Central Africa and Dubai in the Middle East. I’ve travelled to every continent, other than the Arctic, turning the seemingly glamourous into the ordinary; and reducing the world to a classroom globe spinning around airports and technology.

Somehow, through all these adventures, I’ve managed to stay married (around 40-ish years) to one l-o-n-g-suffering husband, Lincoln. We miraculously produced and raised two great boys, who’ve attracted two beautiful girls, and live commendable lives in other places as third-cultured global citizens. I’m daily astounded by this, as it’s by the grace of God alone that any one of us has survived the more than a million ouches, ‘so-help-me-Jesus’ pleadings and deeply relieved ‘thank you’s’.

My family is my greatest and most cherished success.

Life has been good to us. Not necessarily easy but always transient as I learn to sit in the uncomfortable long enough to know that it is better hanging on the edge of happy and expecting good while looking, and hopefully learning from the lessons created for and through me.

I love my home, and we’ve had many homes where these things always remain constant: Friends and family perched on kitchen counters and in comfortable couches where the loud and raucous reign.

The sacred dining room table, where conversations spill from mouths as fast as the food fills them. The discussions – some deep and some lightly peppered with humor, some sublime and others ridiculous, the intelligent and academic; but mostly with words that end up in the mirth-gutter accompanied by good wine and great desserts.

Always great desserts, as baking is my love language.

Then there’s the ‘oh-dear-me’ times when all is not a bowl of roses and hands slap the table in frustration, as words come before thought; and the air stills, hovering heavy and hard. Stuff happens. This is family. This is home, and this is where my heart is, no matter the physical location.

Our latest abode is back in our motherland, South Africa. It’s exhilarating to be living here again after twenty years of being abroad.

This is home for good and there is no place we’d rather be.

I love this country – idiosyncrasies, hurting history, bad press and all. With the world in a wobble, every country has its own exceptional insanity and ours may be shaking more than most; but where there is life there has to be hope. And big hope, I have. Hope to make a difference in any way. Through spoken words that tumble easily from my mouth (too easily at times). Through the written word, that comes with arduous thought, only to get edited over and over again. Mostly I hope to make a difference by listening and hearing the words of others as they tell their story. Everyone has a story out of which they live. To be heard and acknowledged, is to be inherently human – not necessarily with reciprocal words but with value.

My hope and prayer for you, is that you find value in this space. That my words make you feel valued, and that my stories add value to your life; so much so, that you take what you get and go spread it elsewhere.

Thanks so much for stopping by. I so appreciate your time and look forward to the day when super-sonic technology, on a wish, will lob you into my kitchen where warm chocolate cake and freshly brewed coffee are waiting to welcome you, anytime.