05.08.17 – A father and daughter meet for the first time...

A few weeks ago, I am sitting with Lerato at my house and she’s telling me about her father and her memories with him. I then look at her and tell here that I am ready to see my father…

Strange I should say ‘ready’ as if I didn’t spend my whole childhood making up faceless scenarios of my dad and I. I would imagine him coming to fetch me at school and being actively present in my life. When I was in grade 12, and all the financial odds were against me, I wrote him a letter to try and seek understanding, first, for his absence and second for his lack of pursuit of making contact with me. I still don’t know if the letter got to him or not. I finally ‘got over’ talking to my God about him and hoping to one day see him, that I resorted to settling in my heart that I would one day see him for the first time in his coffin. Until this past Saturday…

     If you know my family, you would know that they have some much resemblance between each other. Very tall, beautiful, long noses, full legs and clear with eyes – Me? I’m short, wide nosed and I have stoner’s eyes J - but I still blend in and look like the rest of them.

On Saturday, we drove to Potch in the early hours of the morning, to bury my mother’s cousin. I told my sister (Dineo) that the only reason I’m going to the funeral is so I can meet my father. Was I ready? Yes! I was ready to meet him alive. I was ready for him to see his first-born. I was ready to begin a new chapter of my life that has me calling someone my dad. I was ready to finally put a face to all my scenarios. A lot of people at the funeral last saw me when I was little and all they could say to me when they saw me was that I look like my father. It was annoying knowing that I’m the only person who’s never met him yet he was a few kilometers away from me. So when one of my mom’s cousins’ suggested we go see him, I jumped and walked to my car quickly. The drive there was so long and scary – what if I get there and he denies me (I have watched khumbulekhaya phela) what if I get there and I’m not met with the enthusiasm I yearn for? Anyway, there we went.

We get to his house and he is standing outside, waiting for us. I am the last one to get out of the car so I can try and read the mood. He is so bubbly and happy – my tears finally escape my eyes and I can’t wait to touch his face.

We meet each other with a very warm hug – me holding on to dear life in case this is a dream and I don’t want to come back to this side of reality. We both cry and he looks at me like someone he hasn’t seen in years but hoping they would, one day, set their eyes on them soon. My father, so handsome a man he is. He welcomes us inside in his house. I look around and I see pictures of him when he was young on the wall. I instantly see the resemblance – the stoner’s eyes, full lips and wide nose. I can even see where I get my larger than life personality – he is so funny and has a commanding presence. I am home.  I am at a place where reason and inclination are not at odds.

I can’t begin to describe how I’m feeling right now. Its like I have been swimming in one position and finally some help has come in to move me to the next tide. I am beside myself with joy. I feel like I am born again and this time, my birth has both mom and dad in it. I was probably angry with him when I was little but now I’m not. I am grateful to God to have finally met him and see the person whose seed I was created.

He looks at me and tells me his birthday present came early this year- his is on the 10^th August and mine on the 22^nd. What a gift.

While we are there, he tells us that they have a family gathering and we should go there. We get into the car and make our way to the family house. Never have I seen so many people look like me; from stature, to demeanor, to features. Wow, I’m finally not the shortest person in the room J

I am welcomed in and introduced to everyone who didn’t know about me – his sisters see my mom and instantly pick up who I am. Everyone starts crying and by this time I am red in the face – my head hurts and my social anxiety is starting to kick in. We eventually leave and I am ready to go home and reflect on this because the analyzer in me cannot fully comprehend this moment without rethinking it over and over again.

I can’t wait to create new memories with my father… here’s to new chapter…

Trust the process...

I’ve been thinking about the scripture “All things work together for good…”

The other day I had a chat with a guy who managed to summarize his life until thus far and all the moments in his life that collated into the diverse person he is. Basically, he lived in about 5 different places, ranging from the hood to downtown then the suburbs. Shifting schools in line with the new locations. He does mention that as a child this was quite strenuous because he couldn’t maintain friendships in a time he needed to. In hindsight though, he has an appreciation of that time because he agrees that it molded his multi-faceted character; his ability to be around the guys from the hood and still hold his own in the boardroom.

Now I wish my childhood was that interesting… we lived very different lives but the point I want to drive home with this note is that if we embrace all those little moments we have gone through, we will learn to appreciate the perspectives they have contributed to our overall make up and what the bible means when it says “All things work together for good…”

I grew up in the hood and attended township school for the duration of my schooling life. The first time I was around a lot of white people was in varsity and you can imagine how overwhelming that was especially when some of them were racist. (In 1^st year, I almost beat up a girl who said “you people” referring to us blacks. I’m a better person now)

In high school, I was part of a debating team and we had opportunities of going to private schools to go debate and actually won. In retrospect, that phase taught me to stand up for my argument and have the confidence to put it across no matter the audience. I also played chess with the boys in my class. Chess teaches you to think strategically and give yourself enough time before you make a move – the unpredictability of life demands this sorts of leaning thus I encourage everyone to learn the game. My experience of playing chess at school helped me get into the UJ national team in first year and do well. I didn’t pursue it further because everything became too overwhelming so I had to sacrifice it.

After high school, I spent 2 years at home and life wasn’t happening – or so I thought. Those were the years where I grew my relationship with God, learnt how to pray and stay the course of belief in the midst of uncertainty.  I also realized my love and ability to write. I read any and every book I came across and I just got to know who I am. These sorts of things you get to appreciate in hindsight because when you are going through them, the hope that you will get out and be better is little to none. That period also taught to me to be patient when I go through a bad patch because if I could get out of that misery, I can certainly get out of anything.

I learnt how to articulate myself from reading a lot of books and writing words I didn’t know and managing to fit them into the next conversation. (I remember how I used to love saying “in the greater scheme of things” hehehe). I’ve also mentioned before that I didn’t know the computer at all – I’m very happy that my former high school now has a computing facility because that’s very important. Dineo and I came across a call center programme where we were taught how to type, amongst other things. Strangely enough, that’s the only good thing that came out of it. God will always put you in places that will end up working in your favor. It was such a drag going to that place because I knew I didn’t want to work in that sector but I went anyway because I wasn’t doing anything at that time. This is another thing I have learnt; don’t disregard everything you do because you don’t know what you’re going to get out of it.

I can safely say I’m grateful for everything I’ve experienced thus far because its made me the versatile person that I am. I get to work and chill with the ladies that clean the kitchen and can easily waltz into the MD’s office with ease. I can twerk on a Saturday evening with my friend and wake up to reading a book. I can drink some gin and wake up to run some few kilometers only because I can be whomever the hell I want.

I just hope that you embrace whatever you’re going through right now because when the bible says “All things work together for the good for those who love God” best believe that’s the truth.

Book Review: Period Pain

I saw this book on my twitter timeline and I knew I had to get it.  It’s the first thing I purchased when I got paid and it was delivered 2 days later at my house. In 4 hours I was done with it. Beautifully written, real and in touch is what I’d describe this small gem.

The novel is based on a young woman called Masechaba who travels back and forth in time during her uprising to tell both a story of a changing South Africa and a teenage girl. Masechaba lives with both her parents and her older brother, Tshiamo who, a little later, commits suicide (I swear, I don’t go out looking for books that talk about suicide. They just jump in front of me *Cues MiWay Ad*)

The title of the book is a double word play on Masechaba’s very heavy period and a time where South Africa was experiencing xenophobia, which resulted in a painful period in our history. This book is Masechaba’s journal where she communicates to God about the happenings of her life. In the book, we see how, as she grows older and goes through bad experiences, grapples with the idea of God and religion. “And besides, Jesus wouldn’t get it. Jesus never failed at anything. He never did a thing wrong. That’s the fundamental difference. Having to live with failure will always set us apart from the Son of God. Having to live with the shame of not being better, not being courageous, not being great”

Growing up, Masechaba was a timid and reserved child due to the scarring that came with a heavy period she experienced. It was literally an overflow that needed her to wear 2 panties, 2 pads and a tampon and this would go on longer than the maximum 8 days of a cycle. One can imagine how that affects the upbringing of a young girl who’s desire is to be normal like other kids and do normal things like sleepovers and sports and wear anything she wants, without the shame of a bloodbath. This unfortunate imbalance makes Masechaba cave in and find refugee in her only friend, her brother Tshiamo. He seemed to be the only one who understood her because Masechaba’s mother is a typical black mother who believes in witchcraft and that Masechaba can’t do any form of surgery to heal her because she might ruin her chances of being a mom one day.

Tshiamo is into arts and he’s not the most affectionate person and that gets to Masechaba because she loves being hugged by her brother and doing everything with him. A few pages in the book, Tshiamo hung himself on a tree and a safe part of the world that Masechaba knew seized to exist. She grows to become very angry at her brother for ‘taking the easy way out’ and not being strong enough to face whatever he was going through. He didn’t write a note so now one knows why he did what he did.

Masechaba’s grieving process is captured throughout the book. She goes on a period of 2 years where she keeps on emailing Tshiamo and updating him on everything she experiences. She has accepted that her brother has passed away but this is how she chooses to deal with the loss.

Masechaba goes on study medicine and is now a qualified Dr, you must read to find out why she chose that profession, very interesting. Her periods have subsidided and she doesn’t experience anymore pain but she can’t seem to get out of the routine of dark clothing and a pile of pads just in case the sleeping monster awakens.

Masechaba is now a Dr who has moved out of home and now lives with her only friend, Nyasha. Nyasha is a medical officer from Congo whose view of the current South Africa is so robust it, oftentimes, becomes overbearing to a quiet Masechaba. Nyasha is very pretty with beautiful brown eyes and dreadlocks. She complains about pretty much everything and hates every living white person in the world. She doesn’t understand black women wearing weaves (a young Hugh Masekela) because she feels they are being too westernised. “Now I must keep these dreadlocks, even though they wear my head down, even though I’ve grown tired of them, because one of us, some of us, must have pride” – Yep, that’s Nyasha and her lotfullness(don’t google this word, it doesn’t exist).

Chaba’s mother doesn’t like Nyasha, in fact she detests all African brothers and sisters because like every other xenophobic person on this earth, she thinks they are here to steal our jobs and use their magic to take our talents and money… so funny!

At some point, later in the book, Xenophobia gets too bad that people are being hurt and some killed. This period of pain causes a drift between Nyasha and Chaba because Nyasha believes Chaba is like every other south Africa who sits quiet and does nothing while the white man continues to divide the black man. With Nyasha, every wrong thing is as a result of a white man’s existence on our beautiful earth.

Chaba who currently hates everything about her life and her job decides to do something about the xenophobic attacks and starts a pertition that goes viral and becomes somewhat of a success until she becomes a victim of correctional gang rape from 3 south African men who are teaching her a lesson from ‘protecting makwere-kwere’. She goes into a heavy depression where she stops working and her heavy period comes back again. She goes through therapy which doesn’t seem to help her because she doesn’t really belive in it.

Later she realises she’s pregnant and will never know who the real father is because of what those 3 bastards did to her. Because its too late in the pregnancy, she decides to keep the baby and surprisingly, she becomes the best thing that’s ever happened to her. She calls her daughter Mpho “…Because that’s what she is, because its not her fault, because she doesn’t deserve to have this stain on her future, because I refuse to allow anyone to tell her, or me, otherwise. She’s my Mpho, my gift”

This book deserves a part 2 or some sort of continuation I think. I enjoyed it and would really recommend it. I hope you enjoyed the review and thank you for reading the blog.

Do You Have A Lisa In Your Life?

Have you watched Being Mary Jane yet? Its one of my favorite series and a lot of black women can totally relate to her story. There’s a bit of MJ in every one of us and everyday is a constant battle to fight the set status quo.

Why can’t we have it all…? A great career, good family, money, good relationships and awesome friends? That’s not too much to ask, surely!

MJ has a close friend called Lisa, who eventually commits suicide on season 3. Lisa is an accomplished Doctor who’s very pretty and lives in a beautiful house. But Lisa is the most unhappy person ever, she suffered from depression and as I have touched on it before, this illness steals your joy and make you feel inadequate and useless. Lisa is so envious of MJ’s life that she doesn’t see how well her life is. Do you have a friend like that? Well, I did.

Lisa goes as far as going after the man that MJ has always loved and in season 3 she dials MJ and includes her in the conversation she has with David, the guy MJ loves. She wants to hurt her friend so bad. This is how someone who is not content with their life will always come at you. They will try everything to make you feel like they do always and unfortunately, there’s nothing you can do to help them. I read an article about someone who said they sympathize with Lisa because they felt that she commited herself to their friendship and MJ didn’t. I disagree…While friendship is a 2-way street, you should never expect your friend to translate their love for you the way you do for them. We show love differently and service each other in a way we each know how. 

David might not have been the best partner for MJ but it wasn’t Lisa’s call to make. As friends, I am happy for you to share your opinion on my matter, but you need to afford me the opportunity to choose whether to go ahead with it or not. Don’t ever impose your rules of living on someone else.

About a month ago I was walking my friend, Dineo, home and we actually touched on the subject of happiness and the importance of being content with what you have right now. I appreciate her because she constantly reminds us of where we come from and the struggles we have been through because that makes us appreciate our accomplishments and the dreams we have. Happiness is an everyday job and you need to work towards being happy.  

Joe Budden once tweeted this “She don’t want your man. She wants your happiness… She just thinks he’s the source of it” – This is true in every sphere of life because people see you happy and think its because of a particular element but you make it a point to be happy inspite of everything going wrong in your life. Like I’ve said before, Those people whose lives seem to be smooth sailing and look like they don't encounter problems decide which part of their story they want to tell. Like a showreel, they edit out the worst moments, their problems, battles etc. So don’t ever look at someone’s life and be envious of it because you don’t know what they are choosing to hide.  You must also be weary of the advises you listen to because not everyone has your best interests at heart.

Be careful of that friend who will always reveal your secrets because ‘they can’t keep shut’. That person who will want to hurt you deliberately so they can feel good and think an apology with solve it. Protect your happiness because its costly.