Dangling on the mercy of a thin cord

If you’ve ever travelled with a phone battery hovering at 2%, you’ll know exactly why I am now thinking along the lines of the Afrikaans idiom my lewe hang aan ’n draadjie.

While this Afrikaans saying usually refers to being at death’s door, for most of us these days, it’s far more literal: our lives dangle on the mercy of thin cords, charging cables, Wi-Fi signals and those flimsy two-point plugs that never seem to fit properly into a hotel socket.

You haven’t known true fear until you’ve stood in an airport lounge with a dead phone, eyeballing the only available wall socket like a lion protecting its kill.

Forget hostile immigration officers or turbulent flights. Modern travellers live and die by the cord. Or, as the idiom goes, ons lewens hang aan ’n draadjie… and that draadjie is often a very dodgy USB cable.

We’ve become so dependent on being connected that a lost charger can cause more panic than a lost passport. Think about it: we’re basically extension leads with legs. Without a plug point, the whole system collapses. The moment Wi-Fi drops, we twitch like addicts. When the GPS freezes, we stare at each other as if we’ve suddenly landed in the Stone Age. Paper maps? Oh, please. They’re now just picnic mats for the boot.

Travel once meant throwing a map into the glovebox and seeing where the road took you. Today, the road doesn’t exist unless Google Maps confirms it.

In fact, while one can still board a plane without a toothbrush, try catching a flight with a flat phone and no boarding pass. Suddenly, you’re the modern-day equivalent of Robinson Crusoe - stranded in an airport with only your thoughts for company. Terrifying. You can’t even take that obligatory “boarding gate selfie” to prove you’re a globe-trotter and not just loitering at OR Tambo with a backpack and a dream…

Still, connections are lifelines, aren’t they? From the extension cord that brings light to your campsite, to the portable power bank that keeps your playlists alive, to the WhatsApp messages that prove you survived the road from Vanrhynsdorp to Springbok.

Being “plugged in” lets us share sunsets in real time, reassure worried families, and post that all-important shot of your Strawberry Daiquiri against a blue ocean, with the caption “Living my best travel life.”

However, there’s vulnerability in it too. Unplug us, even briefly, and we wobble. The world tilts dangerously when the Wi-Fi drops to one bar. We wonder how we’ll find a petrol station if Google refuses to speak.

We don’t ask friendly strangers for directions anymore; we ask satellites. And those satellites, bless them, always insist on rerouting us via that gravel road you swore you’d never drive again.

We half-joke about needing therapy when the roaming data runs out.

Yet, here’s the kicker: being unplugged is often when the good stuff happens. The stories you’ll retell years later are never about the time your power bank worked flawlessly. They’re about hitching a ride to find a charger in a one-horse town, or discovering a brilliant roadside restaurant because Google Maps abandoned you at the exact wrong turn.

Perhaps the trick lies in choosing when to connect and when to allow yourself to be cut off. After all, the sweetest travel memories often happen when there’s no signal - when you stumble across a guesthouse run by the most hospitable hostess you’ve ever met in Sutherland or watch the stars above the Kalahari, unphotographed and unposted.

No cords. No plugs. Just you, the journey, and that reassuring reminder that life can hang aan ‘n draadjie… and still holds beautifully firm.

So yes, while our modern lives dangle on cables, cords, and signals, when you do get cut off, the world has a sneaky way of plugging you back into what actually matters - moments.

So pack your chargers, yes. Carry that universal adapter, by all means. But remember, the strongest connections on your travels aren’t always made with cables but with places, with people, and sometimes, just with silence.

𝖶𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽𝗅𝖾𝗌𝗌 𝗉𝖺𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗋𝗅𝗎𝗌𝗍,
𝚈𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝙴𝚍𝚒𝚝𝚘𝚛.