A TRIP DOOWN MEMORY LANE

I grew up in a village called Tshisahulu in Venda Limpopo, in my grand parents’ home. There were five girls in the house and my brother was the only boy. My three aunts and I were more than close, we did almost everything together. We played, walked to school together; we would share house hold chores, do homework together, played in the streets together, went to Sunday school together, were confirmed in church together, we would make plans to cover each other’s back when we wanted to see our boyfriends. My grandparents were very strict and we knew if we would get caught, the rule was an injury to one was an injury to all.

In the past week I was really taken back memory lane because of  the death of my old time favourite singer Whitney Houston, I started reminiscing about how active and innocent we were as kids growing up in the dusty streets of Tshisahulu. We played house, hide seek, jump-rope, double Dutch, marbles, kick, hopscotch to name a few and of course some indigenous games, We would play outside so hard until late and my grandmother would have to shout for us to come back to the house. We would rush back home covered in the red soil from head to toe. My grandparents’ yard is full of mango and litchi trees and we would climb the trees, daring each other on who could climb the highest and reach for that yellow ripe mango or simply climb up during a game of hide and seek, we would also enjoy going to the nearby bush for catching locust and birds to come back and play house. I remember even having a pretend wedding at one point as a child. How Can I forget trying to make Marula drink called Mukumbi during marula season?

 The festive season was so much fun and extra special when I was growing up; we all looked forward to it with so much anticipation. My mother or grandparents would buy us “Christmas clothes” and I would sneak into my mom or grandparents’ Wardrobe to look and admire the clothes when no one was watching, counting down the days. Christmas Eve would be accompanied by the smell of freshly baked scones, muffins, cakes; we would stay up late while my mother or grandmother make the traditional dessert of custard and jelly, we would fight to lick the custard pot. When Christmas day came we would get all dressed up and Christmas clothes were usually a dress, and a new pair of shoes and blow dried hair. The shoes would still be so tight because you are wearing them for the first time. I looked forward and cherished those days. Back then you were really blessed if they bought clothes for you just out of the blue, you really appreciated it. I really struggled with keeping myself tidy the whole day, come lunch time I would have red spots of beetroot salad covering my pink or white dress.  We would walk from one street to another parading our brand new clothes. It was the only time you were allowed to eat a lot of sweets and get away with it. 

As we progressed to our teenage years the ballgame changed we became obsessed with music, we would keep musical books and try our best to write the lyrics of then popular songs, my mother use to call them national anthems. We would record the songs on radio or a VHS, and I would be so angry when the DJ would talk during or towards the end of the song. We would rewind the song until we get the words right. Thinking about it we would sing songs that we did not even understand their meaning; I actually believed I would be a famous singer one day and become like Whitney.  We would stay up late, and I can still hear my grandmother’s disapproving voice, saying to us if only you knew your school books the same way as you knew the words of those songs you would be coming first in your class. In our household an average pass was not enough because it would be followed by my grandmother’s speeches about how those songs were a bad influence in our lives, we knew one thing for sure there would be no Studio Mix that Friday night because my grandmother will be praying the longest prayer to remind us of how much she disapproved of our hobby.  

Looking back I appreciate everything about my childhood, the dusty streets, and the indigenous games, the locusts, the music book, and the pretend concerts we would have because they shaped me into the person I am today. You see there were no video games at our home; there was no swimming pools, no extra mural activities at school, no park with swings. The dusty streets and the nearby field was our park with no boundaries. The nearby stream was our swimming people and if my grandparents dared to find out we knew we would be punished, but this did not stop us from sneaking to the stream from time to time. The fact that if  one of the village elders or neighbours saw us they would make it their business to shout at us and warn to tell our parents, would not stop us from testing the boundaries. We were having fun, innocent fun and all we had was each other, we had to be creative. The neighbourhood kids were a very important part of our upbringing. We learned to make the best with what we had.

I am now older and have kids of my own; they live in a world that is very different from mine. Their world is what we use to dream about as a young girl running in the duty streets bare footed, instant and fast food; swimming pool is part of the norm, video games, PlayStations, Xbox, Nintendo DS, the internet, a fast paced world of Google, Facebook, reality TV and music channels. I must say I do acknowledge the advantages of their world but I cannot help to wonder if they can be as creative as we were and if their world lacks the space to be creative and the chance to think outside the box? Does their world create a culture of ungratefulness and sense of deserving? My view is that my parents had different challenges, and I am now faced with different challenges when it comes to being a parent, I need to make sure I raise well rounded, grateful, appreciative kids, who are well aware of our history or were we come from, our upbringing so that they do not take for granted the strides made by those who came before them.

INSPIRATION FROM AN UNEXPECTED SOURCE

 Funerals are a very sad occasion and having said that I can never get used to them, but if there is one thing for sure about them is that in the midst of mourning it surely brings people into your life that you have not seen in a long time. During my father’s funeral it was not an exception I got to see family members; relatives and friends that I had not seen in a long time. One person that stands out for me has to be an old family friend who we had not seen in the past ten years or so. As my brother and I started reminiscing about the past; the good times and the not so good times; we also remembered some of circumstances that would make him come spend time “hibernating” in our home.

You see our “uncle” that is what I will call him for now, was a hard core criminal. He would come to visit our home in Venda to hide from the police. As we stood with him trying to catch up, a childhood friend recognized him as someone that he works with in the same building. My brother and I stood there in disbelief as our “uncle” confirmed what this childhood friend has alluded to us. When everyone was gone we started talking about this strange encounter, as we asked ourselves what a hard core criminal was doing in an office. I mean do car hijackers rent offices these days, as we asked each other jokingly. We later learned that he was now in the straight and narrow and has turned his life around.

A week ago while my brother was visiting my home we decided to give “our uncle” a call and spend some time with him. As we were sitting over drinks listening to him talking about what he now does for a living and his experience on writing business proposal and starting your own business, I just could not believe my ears. How does a hard core criminal turn his life around? Is he for real or am I dreaming?  Has he really walked away from the life he once knew and enjoyed? What was the reason for the change?

As the conversation went deeper my uncle went to give one of the most profound testimonies that went on to ignite a fire of hope in the inside of me that will never die. He went on to explain that the law finally caught up with him and he had to serve a prison term, and while serving his sentence he decided to further his studies and make plans to turn  his life around. By the time he was released he had a plan of turning his life around, which was a business idea.

My uncle went to share with us valuable lessons that will cherish more than gold for as long as I live. I must say it is so true what Ms. Oprah says “inner wisdom is more precious than wealth. The more you spend it the more you gain”.

First lessons: Never write yourself off.  He explained that people will write you off and they have the right to an opinion, but do not write yourself off. When he came out of jail he believed in his dream and he never lost hope. He was more than determined to live a normal life. He had spent most of his life hiding from the law and living like a rat, and he wanted a different life for himself.  When he looks at his life at this moment he is proud of himself, he is now a law abiding citizen, earning a salary and making a positive contribution to the economy. What I learned is that life is full of second chances; you have to believe that for yourself and be willing to take them.

Secondly you must have a plan: While still in jail he put together a business proposal that was just waiting for him to be released from jail. He did not waste time feeling sorry for himself, but took responsibility for his life, and did the best at that moment, which put him in the best place for the next moment. After being released with nothing but a business plan and confidence in himself he went to one of the South African bank and arranged a meeting to share the idea. He did not take into consideration his past and his criminal record. He believed in himself and the beauty of his dream and it was all he needed. The bank asked him to come back and do a proper presentation and as they say the rest is history.  He then asked pivotal question, how many people can convince the bank to give them a mere R1000.00? He managed to persuade the bank to fund his business idea. The truth is not so many, his secret was doing his research, using his time in jail productively and he did not just put a business proposal but ended up with what he called a convincing bankable business proposal.

Third lesson: never compare your achievements with anyone else. Sometimes it is very easy to feel like life has kind of left you behind, especially when you compare your life to your peers. My uncle simply said another person’s success is none of your business. If you compare yourself to others you will lose focus. Come to think of it, it is so true; we are all different and we achieve our goals at different stages of our lives, because our paths are different. The truth is not everyone is what I call a text book case. I describe text book case as born to a 2.5 family, slept through the night in your own cot bed at 6 months old, walked at nine months old, started talking by two years of age, went to crèche, completed high school by seventeen years old with great marks and got admitted to one of the top university, completed in record time, got a good paying job and married your high school sweetheart.  I am running out of breath just writing this. If you fit that description I am happy for you. Some of us repeated a few grades or passed Grade 12 and had no idea what we wanted to study at university or  which career to pursue; if we did realized that it was the wrong choice along the way or worse there was no money for tertiary education, some of us had to enter the job market with no tertiary education and study while on the job or even study while already holding a full time job, with kids and a husband,  some of us had kids in high school, or before marriage or are not even with the father or mother  of their first child anymore. I have to say I take this lesson and bury it in my heart and I will remind myself that even though I might not be where I want to be or have taken an unorthodox route to my dreams or destiny; but as long as I do not give up I will reach my goal.  From that day on my secret prayer is thank you God for my unique journey, I know you are working everything out for my good.

Fourth lesson: You are as old as you think. Every year when he celebrates his birthday he gets very excited and feels that he is just a year younger. Being in jail gave him the opportunity to study and get a formal qualification, at an age where most of us would have not seen the need. He has not stopped studying since, he described his house as a library and he is enjoying furthering his study and gaining knowledge at his age. This just goes to prove that wisdom and knowledge is more valuable than silver and gold.

So what you are waiting for? Are you still going to use age or circumstances or your past as a reason to give up on living your life to the fullest? If a former convict can embrace a second chance for himself, what is your reason for giving up on yourself and your dreams? I must say it does not matter how you start, but what matters is how you progress and reach your destiny. In the words of Nelson Mandela “The greatest glory in living, lies not in never failing but in rising every time we fall”.