I have always been acutely aware of contrast – creativity is individuality, and individuality is what differentiates entities. Differentiation is, in my mind, contrast.

Winter wrapped Cape Town in a grey blanket – setting Table Mountain for a winter feast, as I left the mother city on a rainy Thursday afternoon in July. Uneasiness filled my mind, as my thoughts were preoccupied with passports, visas, boarding passes, and the idea of summer in Europe – the reasons escape me.

On a grass plane in rural Western Cape a teenage, HIV-positive mother gave birth to a premature baby. Her body was weakened by the disease; her breasts produced no milk to feed a young baby. The mother died.

Upon my arrival in the City of Sin, my South African guard was still well in place: my travel documents and cards warm from close body-contact. All over the internet, it reads “Europe is safe”. So is South Africa: if you stay out of harm's way, you will be safe.

Médecins sans Frontières (MSF) doctors tried everything in their power to save the baby, her frail body affected by poverty and disease. A European doctor working on an outreach mission in the Western Cape held the crying baby after her mother died – she need not be alone, the woman thought. The baby was weak and hungry. The nursing sister took her from the doctor to care for her.

In Cape Town, trains are not safe – first class is even more dangerous than third. I felt overwhelmed: Schiphol was modern, but so is Cape Town International Airport. Until now, Europe did not seem to be that different from Africa. As expected from a busy European airport, people rushed around in the Arrivals’ terminal – minding their own business, gathering their luggage, speaking a dialect I grasped only for the first couple of words.

The European doctor tried speaking to the baby's family; they did not understand her at all. She explained to them that the baby was sick, but they looked at her with blank expressions on their faces.