Letter eighteen of eighteen

Dear 2018,

Today I bid you farewell.

On the last day of each year, my mind always plays mind tricks on me. The “this year, next year and last year” confusion when referencing events begins to kick in hard. I don’t think that your day 365 will any different.

As a child, the thought of a “time jump” fascinated me. One of my neighbours sparked this. “Can one eat food last year and finish it next year?” I actually thought about this the first time I heard it. “Yes, I had my food last night and finished it this morning,” he said with a smirk. We cracked so hard and made him repeat it over and over. I tried it on my mother and she said yes immediately. I cracked. 

In recent years, I’ve been rather pessimistic about the last day of the year hype. Maybe pessimistic is a strong word. Let me say, I’m not moved. Why do we get so excited as if we will go on a time break? Yes, I get the fact that we’re starting over but it’s really just a continuation. I’m opening a door to another cycle. I’m getting onto another treadmill. I’m entering an unknown territory…Recently, a friend and I were even wondering why it’s “Happy New year”.   

So, on your last day, I refused to be caught up in this hype of treating you as if you’re already gone. No. I’ll be present until your very last hour. You deserve that much respect, right?

They say that goodbye is one of the hardest phrases to say. They are right. I’ve had to say a couple of those this year. I’ve fortunately skipped some. They happened telephonically. Then there were others that I’ve had to sit through. I reminisced on the good time, made sure there was comfort food around and I wished them well. What is great about goodbye is the deep appreciation of hello, the blessing of having been touched by a soul and the awesome memories which you will carry forever. I guess this is why we get so angry when we don’t get to say goodbye to our loved ones before they die. We feel robbed of the opportunity to express this. In Africa, we say that “I am because you are”. This is true. Each and every person's personality and being is made up of encounters and interactions. 

2018, today I’ll sleep, wake up and you will be no more. I’m saying goodbye. I won’t miss you. There’s no reason for me to miss you. I’ll carry your scars and treasure your memories like a long lost friend that I’ll never see again. Thank you for each and every moment.

Oh, and 2018, above it all…thank you for life and her lessons. 

Farewell! 

Linda

Letter seventeen of eighteen

Dear 2018,

Remember all the times when I was tired? 

There’s a popular video of EFF leader, Julius Malema, in South Africa which gets used a lot on social media. In the video, Malema is heard saying that “…they are just in it for it. They are tired shame. They don’t know what’s going to happen tomorrow. They left everything in God’s hands”. I don’t think I remember who he was referring to but, I have been “them” so many times this year.

What can I compare this phenomenon to? One of my favourite things to do growing up was getting inside a jumping castle. I loved the idea of bouncing up and down. There were a few glitches to this. I lost balance when there were many of us inside. I would be jumping only to fall because someone had just jumped and I would bounce off. Or, I would have just touched down with my feet to catch my breath and someone would knock me off while making their “big” jump. I would either fall and bounce or just allow stand there and wait for balance. I fell a lot but I enjoyed jumping castles and trampolines. I still do lol.

When I pass jumping castles these days, every now and then, I watch this phenomenon unfold and reminisce on my days when I would be defeated lol. I laugh at my younger self and I always wonder if the child going through the very same thing has any idea of what life is teaching them. Through this, 2018, I’ve learnt that one will not always have balance. Even when they are doing the things they love the most. 

2018, I welcomed you with Proverbs 3. Little did I know back then that I wouldn’t need to lean on my own understanding. No. Your challenges were of a different brew. Malema is right. I left everything in God’s hands.

My relationship with God has sustained me so much this year. 

A song by Khaya Mthethwa and Oasis Worship, Mkhulumsebenzi, which captures this very well. There were so many times this year when I was so caught up in completing chapters, meeting deadlines, preparing for classes and so on that I wasn’t aware that God is sustaining me. His grace, love and mercy had been doing something greater than that. They had been providing the wind beneath my wings and they were allowing me to be.
This isn’t a lesson unique to you, 2018. I am marvelled by God year in and year out. What makes you stand out is that I think I’ve been on autopilot for the longest time ever during your days. I can’t believe that I’m on day 364. Yhu! 

Today, I’m thinking about all those nights when I went to bed wishing I had a magic wand. You know why? Because I woke up to live the reality that grace is renewed every morning. There were days too when I woke up with the joy I had the previous evening. When the bounce of joy in my heart remained untouched. 

Another interesting aspect which I got to encounter this year is the concept of Isaiah 60:22. 2018, we live in a world of social media which also sometimes sells us the illusion that our dreams will come at the same time as burger orders at our favourite fast food joints. We look into the gardens of our friends, with perfect likes, and think that the grass is greener on the other side. We break at the face of adversity, become impatient and forget that our paths are different. I hope that nobody looks at my life and thinks “perfect”.  

2018, to date, there has been no year which has schooled me about timing the way that you did. Thank you…

Letter sixteen of eighteen

Dear 2018,

I lost track of time today. You’re no stranger to this phenomenon, right?  

I’ve had such a strange relationship with time during the past 363 days. There have been days which felt like half days, there have been days which felt like I had been through two days in one and there have been days like today where I blinked and time had flown by…

At the back of my mind, I think time moves constantly regardless of what we are going through. In my heart, though, I feel like the good days are shorter. I feel like the weird days are just confusing. The bad days just feel like I’m starring in a horror movie and I don’t get to wake up. 

You’ve dished out another choke slam since we last spoke. Just when I thought you were at your best behaviour! Boy, was I wrong. Congratulations, you’ve earned your place in the “toughest year’s competition”. 

There are many reasons why I lost track of time this year. There were times when I wrestled with my sleep when my body acted up as if I didn’t feed it vegetables when I was busy multi-tasking and cases where I feel like the time thief came and snatched the hours of the day lol. 

2018, you haven’t only managed to make me think of a time in the form of hours. This year, I’ve had to think about my age as well. Firstly, I can’t believe that when I was growing up I had the idea that someone my age was old. Being this age was one of the ultimate dreams. Maybe a year older, actually. My younger sister and I used to refer to home as “Robbies”. This was short Robben Island. Anyone who is familiar with the history of our country will relate to our dry humour. We called it that way because we thought it resembled the entire system and we were prisoners. At a certain age, we would have served our time, as our favourite struggle heroes, and be free. 

I’ve had to think about my age this year because there were times when I had to pinch myself after I had to share it. Like, what?! Where have the years gone by? I was just planning my 21st a year ago. It wasn’t long when I ticked joyfully next to “early twenties” on forms. How do years roll by as if they are just weeks? 

Then, on the other hand, I get to spend time with people who are older and wiser than me. Of course, you know how they are. Always assuring me that I am actually quite young and that there is still time to rethink my decisions wisely. That and “take your time”. Hearing this for the first time didn’t settle my ageing anxiety lol. After a while, however, the conversations simmer and I see the light.

Today I’m grateful for the wisdom of my mentors.
I’m grateful for each and every reminder that I need to get back on track, that I need to rework on something, that buying a proper bed is one of the most important transactions I’ll ever make, how I need to work on my writing…how I need to get out of my comfort zone. 

Above all, I’m grateful to time for being constant. This reminds me all the time that I am in charge of how I relate to it. I have the power to hold onto joy much longer than I go grief…

Letter fifteen of eighteen

Heita 2018!

It’s your last Friyay! YAY! 

Today I’m reflecting on the music which moved and inspired me this year. Below are songs I’ve listened to over and over. They carry so many precious memories of my experiences with you 2018. They’ve played at weddings, during chill sessions with friends and they’ve dominated the airwaves of my heartstrings! 

Music is one of life’s magical gifts to us. Not only do the lyrics entertain you but they also carry so much emotional weight. 

10. Mafikizolo – Love Potion 
9.  DJ Ganyani ft. Nomcebo – Emazulwini 
8. Master KG ft. – Skeleton Move
7. Abathandwa – Umoya wami uyavuma
6. Mlindo The Vocalist ft Sjava – Egoli 
5. NaakMusiq ft. Bucie - Ntombi
4. Vusi Nova – As’phelelanga 
3. DJ Sumbody & others – Monate Mpolaye 
2. Prince Kaybee ft. Busiswa – Banomoya 
1. King Monada – Malwedhe 

2018, you know the tons of stories behind these jams. I’ve turned a blind eye to my lack of rhythm when these songs came on. I’ve flexed my best vosho, head vosho and Thuso Phala dance moves. You name it! To everyone who knows me, yes…most of this happens while I’m all alone. Lol. To everyone who doesn’t, let’s all pretend like I’m the slickest dancer you know lol.

Friyay mood aside, these tracks are art pieces. To say the least. They’ve d
I don’t know which song will take song will take the song of the year. My guess is that various radio stations will make their unique selections. This whole song of the year confusion is an interesting thing for me. Back in the day, everyone knew that Brenda Fassie would take it. Now, it’s fair game. The trophy floats around for people who have different music taste buds.

For me, King Monada takes it for so many reasons. Malwedhe, for me, is to the South African music scene what Black Panther was to Marvel and what Crazy Rich Indians was to Hollywood. It is more than just hype after a few videos went viral. It’s more than just representation or an entire country moving in one motion. The success of this song, for me, represents a player’s presence being acknowledged by other players inside the room.

As you know, 2018, this speaks to so many things. 

During you, I’ve witnessed the rise of so many incredible works of musicians, poets, authors and activists. I’ve seen peers, elders and even young people step up and shake the status quo. This year, there have been so many instances where it was as if I was standing in a garden and I had the opportunity to watch flowers bloom first hand. Flowers blossom and butterflies spread their wings for the first time. I’ve seen women stand up to patriarchy and toxic femininity, I’ve seen people grow into themselves and become unapologetic about who they were. I’ve seen rape survivors reclaim their power, I’ve seen depression and mental health awareness rise and I’ve seen brave people go for their dreams.

Today as I remember and reflect on all this I’m jamming to the playlist, and many more, to bid you farewell on your last Friday…

Letter fourteen of eighteen

Dear 2018,

You’ve introduced me to myself.

Being introduced to people is one of the most interesting things in life. I’ve met people in interesting ways. From the people who remember you from high school, those you wish you had never met, to the elders who remind you what you did when you were a toddler.

My maternal grandmothers are die-hard fans of this. "You were such a chubby baby growing up", "I used to enjoy playing with your cheeks", "You used to like water so much", "You used to say this, you used to say that...". Most of the time I just stand there smiling and not having a clue lol. 

One of the things I always try to remember when meeting someone is the name. In most cases, I even ask how your name is spelt. I credit that to journalism. So, yeah, that is what I do in most cases. That and knowing were the person comes from. Just so that I can pin it on my memory. I do this because I’m not good with names. But I hide it well.

I’ve had to meet people multiple times before remembering the names. By then, my memories with them are stronger. And no, I dare not admit that I’ve forgotten the name. If I’ve had to save your number then I create an alias for you. This has backfired once. I saved a name according to a memory trigger. Then she texted in her number months later, when I had forgotten that I even have her number, and then bam!  I was so embarrassed. I still get embarrassed when I bump into her from time to time.

Meeting parts of yourself, which you didn’t even know existed, is much like the above-mentioned scenarios. You taught me this 2018. 

I don’t know if I’ve said this in previous conversations but, as people, we tend to focus so much on the noise happening outside that we ignore ourselves. We shut down our inner voices. So this year, while you were serving me choke slams and uppercuts, my inner voice became louder and I had no option but to listen. I give much credit to self-mastery lessons too. 

So you know that you know someone and then you really know someone right? Normally after life-threatening situations, tight spots and just the most random simple acts. I met myself during all of those. 

This year I got to fully embrace my name. Linda: five letters, action verb, one sentence…a command. My name, in my mother tongue isiXhosa, means wait. That is the direct meaning. The deeper meaning, however, means waiting in patience. I’ve always known what it means. A few years ago I stumbled across the events which led to me having the name. I had been misinterpreting it for so long.  

You know how they say that we have an inner child living within us? So true. This year I got in touch with her. I understood a few triggers to certain emotions. I got to understand what hurt her the most, what inspired her the most and why she became a dreamer. I know I keep saying this but, one of the biggest things I’ve been doing these past two years is walking away. I’ve never really done this before. I was the type who stayed and endured. I made excuses for people, and myself. Not anymore. Knowing myself has taught me that I like the sound of my feet moving. Moving towards adventures, seeing new places, exploring, overcoming fear and…walking away. 

I’ve also embraced my strengths unapologetically. I’ve dreamed unapologetically. I’ve loved unapologetically. I’ve forgiven myself unapologetically. I have just been unapologetic.  Guess what? I loved each and every minute. Unfamiliar territory at first but liberating once I get the hang of it.

2018, thank you for showing me parts of myself which I never knew existed.

Letter thirteen of eighteen

Hello 2018,

Today is to all the fights we’ve had.

We used to call this day Boxing day in South Africa. It’s a public holiday that is now referred to as Day of Goodwill. Honestly, I still think of it as Boxing day. So, my thoughts today are about the times when you and I were in the boxing ring.

I hardly watch boxing. The times I’ve caught glimpses of it I have always been fascinated by the manner in which the two opponents go at each other to the bitter end. Our time together this year resemble some of those fights which I’ve seen.

There were times when I felt like a boss, and I felt like I was stepping into the ring while the commentator is announcing me. Nothing fancy. No. “, Linda, coming in from the streets of life, weighing 44 Kg, is known for her smile and being resilient”. This would be said while my song, a mixture of Impi, World’s greatest and Eye of the tiger are playing. Lol, yes, I have a wild imagination. I’d stand in my corner and watch you come in. “2018, nicknamed year of terror, is known for her ability to suffocate anything in her way. She’s kind and mean at the same time. She prefers her weight to remain a mystery”. You’d step into the ring and the battle would begin…

You know very well which battles we’ve had. You know why I’ve cried, felt scared or just became angry. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I am capable of the emotion. Lol. I think this is what everyone goes through from time to time. We all fight inner wars which we keep to ourselves and “life” one. That is why we need to be kind to each other at all times. That and being considerate.

Not all fights with you have been bad. No. There was this time when you knocked insecurity, fear and a lack of confidence right out of my system. There were times when you forced me out of bed on days when I felt like snoozing and staying in dreamland for longer. There were times when you made my faith stronger especially because it was tested countless times this year. 

Then there were times when you were just extra. You took cheap blows and you just made the most out of my shortcomings.  2018, your uppercuts have left me scars and bruises but let’s be honest, I also gave you a few blows! Oh, you know. Like that time when I muted “bazothini abantu” when I listened to what my system needed and when I just decided to be regardless of toxic spaces. Let us not forget all the times when I chose myself.

As we draw closer to your end, I’m slightly bouncing inside this ring. Left, right and then left again. I’ve got my two fists in the air and I’m protecting my face. I’m waiting for the referee, Father Time, to ring the bell and call this match over…

Letter twelve of eighteen

Merry Christmas 2018,

As you know, I’m a Christian. Today is a day we’ve put aside to mark a strong foundation of our faith. Today is a day we choose to celebrate the birth of Christ.

Yes, you also know how commercialised the day has also been. It’s more about Christmas decorations, getaways or even gifts. That is how we are as humans. Today, I’m taken back to what this day actually means to me as an individual. 

When I was younger, this day was really about getting new clothes and being with my friends. That and nibbling on different kinds of delicious dishes. Today was about firecrackers and just being, as the carol goes, “jolly”.  My family has never had a Christmas tree or done presents in the morning. That tradition just remained on the television screens. Funny enough, my mother is planning on having one soon. May the forces delay this counter-revolutionary ambition! Even if it is her birthday. 

In recent years, as adulting kicked in, the view has slightly changed. When I think of the birth of Christ, and how Mary gave birth to him, I am reminded of the Game of Thrones that is life. Listening to a homily at a local parish this morning gave me more food for thought.
The gospel of the birth of Christ symbolises the manner in which marginalisation still thrives. The capitalist rooms, resembling the Inn which Mary was refused entry, are still full. There are so many births, in this day, which take place within stables. The hope of Christmas, however, is that Jesus was born. He lived and so will all the dreams and promises which he has given us.

2018, you’ve taught me that dreams flourish and come through regardless of adversity. You make a way to enter rooms which you long to be in regardless of the signs on the door. Even flowers are placed inside the ground before they can grow and bloom. Thank you for this reminder.

Today has been blessed. Probably one of your best days 2018. In my joy, I am also aware that, as I have before, there are those having a dark Christmas.

My thoughts and prayers are with families who have lost loved ones, families going through financial strain, people feeling lonely, bored and frustrated. My thoughts are also with those who do not have families and those who are far from their loved ones. My thoughts and prayers are also with those who are having one of their worst days while the entire world seems like it is laughing and smiling. 

Oh, and 2018…thank you for unwrapping the gift that comes from praying for others to me. I owe you an entire letter dedicated to this. It will come…

Letter eleven of eighteen

Good evening 2018,

You’ve made me laugh! 

It’s a Monday. Yaaaay…not. To keep my calm, I’m going to look back to the times when sent chuckles my way.

There was a time when I took laughing for granted. This year I got to realise that laughing is actually a need. It’s a basic need. It’s up there next to safety and security. When I laugh, I can’t control myself. My entire body gets captivated by the joy that I am just, as you say in popular culture, “unable to can”. Then there are times when I laugh so hard that I can’t even breathe so, I would need to step away from the source of my laughter just to catch my breath.

The source of my chuckles is often people I don’t even know. A certain man from Umlazi takes the cup for 2018. I was in the same taxi as this gentleman. He was seated at the back with a friend. They had been chatting since we all got into the taxi. Then, a certain house jam played on the radio. “Dliver, ke kopa volume. Ngiyacela. Please”, he said in his Zulu accent. At first, the driver didn’t hear his request but he repeated it, adding “ke December”. Then he began dancing and laughing along. I could tell he was quite an old school. So many things gave it away. When I turned back and I watched them get into action. Was he in it! Lol. I felt a bit embarrassed for staring so, I turned back quickly. He noticed this and screamed, “ubumandi uyabudidiyela mntanami. That is how we do it in Umlazi”. The direct translation to this is that one brews happiness for themselves. I laughed so hard at this! 

He was right. He was so right. Happiness is indeed a beverage you need to brew for yourself. Being happy isn’t anyone else’s responsibility. It’s a cup which we need to feel up ourselves. One we need to keep overflowing even before we can begin to pour into other cups. Which should already be overflowing or else they will drain us.

2018, you’ve helped me remember that I have full control over my cup of happiness. This means walking out of rooms which suffocated my freedom and standing up for myself during situations which threaten it. You’ve gifted me with such precious moments! I’ve gotten down to Mafikizolo’s love potion, or “portion” rather, I’ve watched the works of love at play, ululated…I’ve laughed at myself after awkward moments, I’ve laughed at hilarious jokes…I’ve laughed at you, 2018 when I got one up.

Someone once said that we all want rainbows but don’t want a little bit of rain. This year, you’ve forced me to dance in the rain. 

2018, cheers to all the rainbows you’ve given me! 

Letter ten of eighteen

Dear 2018,

You had days when the serenity levels were low.

You’re familiar with the serenity prayer right? I grew up with it. It was printed and put up in most homes I visited. We had it printed in the key holder which held the keys to my parent’s room. It’s one of the first few things I learnt how to read.

God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, Courage to change the things I can, And wisdom to know the difference.

I’m not familiar with the origins of this prayer but it played a very big role in my upbringing. In recent years, I even used a short version of it as a caption on most of my posts on social media: serenity * courage * wisdom. 

Most of the people who know me personally know how much of a perfectionist I am. That and being obsessed with making plans. I’ve been this way as long as I can remember. My parents have always had to teach me the “life happens” or “leave room for disappointment” side of things. I dreaded those lessons. 

I used to love cross country and athletics back in the day. I was the only girl in the team for a while and I still didn’t mind. There was this particular race when everything just went south. I wasn’t really fit, I ran my worst time and I was amongst the last to finish. After the race, my mother hugged me as I had just won a medal. That was so embarrassing. In hindsight, this was her showing me to accept something that I couldn’t change. Still is, when I think about it. Was she not watching the same race? I guess I’ll fully understand this moment when I have a minion of my own. 

2018, you’ve taught me to make courage one of my favourite acquaintances and she’s come in very handy. She was there before I gave major public speaking speeches before I entered each class and before I had to face any obstacle. On some days, I had to be courageous and get out of bed to face them.

There were days, 2018 when the serenity levels were really low. I couldn’t be still, or calm and I just couldn’t even spell peace. I only saw mountains and I had no idea how I could even climb them. You’ve been a tough year nana! You’ve thrown me to the deep end but, as I said to you earlier, I’m surviving you. It’s years like you which anchor one to God and not be moved. 

There were days too, and many, when this prayer came in handy, don't get me wrong. But today is dedicated to all the days when it didn't. Those shadows are enabling me to enjoy my light. They are part of my image. Omitting them in my reflection to you would be an injustice to the scars.

To the tribe, thank you for helping me climb mountains…

Letter nine of eighteen

Dear 2018,

You’ve been a journey.

I’ve always liked exploring, seeing new things and new people. Side note: back then I couldn’t even spell budget or bank balance lol. So, it was nicer. One of my favourite things to do was to see the animals on the way. That and watching the sunset. The colours are BEAUTIFUL! 

We have a tradition of praying before each and every trip as a family. Silent prayers or group prayers. Travelling mercies isn’t something we take lightly. On the way, we nibble on padkos, marvel at the sight and depending on the trip, talk through what the game plan is. The beginning of the year for me also symbolises the start of a journey. 

I don’t know who else does this but, one of the things I like doing when travelling is checking how much further it is until I reach the destination. How many kilometres left? How many more stations? How many hours till I reach there? And what I miss, unfortunately, during this time is the opportunity to be present during the journey.
This year, 2018, you’ve stopped me right in my tracks and forced me to be present in my own journey of life. I didn’t always get it right. I missed so many moments and these reflections are helping me to just take it all in.

I’ve begun so many interesting journeys this year. Personal ones, work-related ones and spiritual ones.  One of them includes having the opportunity to lecture at one of the institutions of higher learning in my country. What a gig! One of the most exciting, and challenging, things I’ve ever done. I’ve always had a neck for teaching and sharing knowledge. My mother even believed I’d take pick a teaching degree when I enrolled for the university. Believe it or not, it took forever for this to sink into my system. Not when I bumped into them outside of class and they called me “Miss Fekisi”, not when there were people around us and I rushed to greet first to avoid them calling me “mam” and definitely not when I heard “I got a distinction for your module” followed by an expression I can’t even begin to describe. I still don’t think it has sunk in. I was too busy checking how far I had to go, how many kilometres I had left...

Yes, 2018. Rub it in.  This was completely on me and not on you. 

So today I am taking it in. My first time in front of a large class, the first exam scripts I’ve had to mark and just everything else in between. The bonds I’ve made with some students and the inside jokes in certain classes. Having welcoming students and condescending ones. Seeing them get out of their shells as the semester progressed. What a ride! What a ride! 

During each journey I’ve been on, I’ve experienced turbulences, stop and go’s due to construction on the road and even buses not arriving on time. I’ve missed a few flights, trains, buses too. There were times, especially the first few times, when my eyes watered up really easily. I’ve now learnt to embrace the uncertainties. This is easier said and done when one is travelling. When it comes to real life scenarios, however, that’s another song.

 There are countless times this year when I’ve had conversations with people who didn’t understand the choices of my journey. While others sigh subtly, others would openly criticise and move on as if they had just done me a favour. This audacity used to bother me. It’s actually even made me reluctant to even talk about what it is that I actually do. May we reclaim the power we give others over our lives back. May we ignore them the same way we do the GPS lady when she tells you to “turn left”

2018, thank you for taking me places. Thank you, above all else, for bringing me back to me. Thank you for bringing me back home…

Letter eight of eighteen

Sup 2018? 

It’s your second last Friyay. Yay!  

December is an entire mood back in my hometown. Almost each and every hood is expecting initiates to return, people are throwing traditional ceremonies for one or other reason, people are getting married, there are funerals and the nightlife is at its peak. Our small town is even smaller. People are coming down from their villages to shop. The lines in each store resemble ant colony rows, cars move slowly through the town and the taxi rank is the busiest. Maybe second busiest to the chill spots. Yeep. Ke Dezemba boss! 

During this time, the race for song of the year is also on. Which hit track is going to be playing when we enter 2019? I’ll place my predictions next week. For now, I’ll go down memory lane with a flashback playlist.

8. Mdu – Mazola
7. Arthur Mafokate – Mnike
6. Thebe – Groovers Prayer
5. Bongo Maffin – That’ isgubhu
4. Mandoza – Nkalakatha 
3. TKZee – We love this place
2.  Brenda Fassie – Everything! 
1.  Mapaputsi – Izinja  

These songs just summarise a phase of my childhood. 

There’s a line on track 1 which goes “aksafan’ nak’dala umunt’ angene house to house ucel’ ihappy. Happy!” The direct translation is, gone are the old days when one used to go house to house and ask for “happy”. “Happy” in this context refers to treats. Back in the day kids in South Africa would dress up in new clothes on Christmas day and move from one house to house asking for treats. It was like our version of trick or treat. Only that, in our context, the costumes were normal clothes and our version of tricks depended on the household. You could be asked to dance, recite a poem from school or just simply say if you’ve passed. Treats ranged from sweets, choice assorted biscuits or, if you were lucky, you could get a slice of cake. 

I participated in this tradition back in the day. I’d barely sleep the night before from the excitement. When it came to “happy”, however, my two left feet didn’t help much with the dancing lol…I just looked cute and told them I passed. We’d move from house to house and repeat this routine. Oh, the joy of being young! There were years, too I should add, when we became a bit mischievous and explored some experiments. Oh, you know…what happens when you add Disprin tablets to Coke?  Let me not say enough about those.

Those days are long gone. I hardly even see the people I grew up with when I’m back home. We’re in 2018 and the memories of childhood still fill me up when I’m back here…

Letter seven of eighteen

Hello 2018,

You’ve taught me thankfulness. 

I’m back home. Your letter is a bit late because time zones work slightly different around here. What do I mean? Well, 6 am is considered broad daylight. Being busy with anything other than chores, for the most part of the “day”, is similar to committing treason and signing a death warrant. 

While I was busy with chores my nephew, aka deputy supervisor, and I said the exact same thing at the same time. “Touch white. Luck’s mine” I exclaimed and jumped to touch the first white thing I saw. You want to know what he said? “Jinx”. “Jinx” and then he looked at me with astonishment over what I had just done. Needless to say, we spent the next following minutes going back and forth, cracking up, over what jinx and touch white means. This child makes me feel old!

2018, today I am filled with gratitude.

So many amazing things happened this year. Not only in my own life but also in the lives of my family members, friends and colleague’s lives. 

Everyone who knows me on a personal level knows how obsessed I am with dreams. Big dreams. Small dreams. Wild dreams. Anything one sets their mind on to and actually dares to achieve. I’m there to validate. I’m like a constant cheerleader for people to constantly dream and have faith in their dreams. I guess I’m wired up this way because I’m a dreamer myself. I'm such a dreamer that I co-founded a non-profit organisation which rallies behind dreams.

I got a front row seat to so many dreams realised this year. Bursaries awarded, graduations, weddings, new births, new jobs, winning awards, buying cars, new houses…the list is endless. It’s been beautiful and inspiring to watch. So much because, for most of these, you’re there during the inception of those dreams and you pray to God to grant them true. You’re also there on days when people felt like throwing in the towel and giving in to adversity. Seeing them win brings so much joy! 

You know the biggest argument between pessimists and optimists over the water in the glass? It’s half full, on the one hand, it’s half empty on the other. I’ve shifted between these two spaces before but this year I was just mostly thankful that there is water in the glass.
I owe the dark days, when serenity levels were low, a huge kiss on the forehead for this. If it hadn’t been for them, I wouldn’t be this appreciative of each and every ray of light.

2018, I’m thankful for the new beginnings you’ve presented. I’m thankful for the chapters you’ve closed, the new ones you’ve opened and those old ones where the plot continues to thicken. I’m thankful for every aura and scent, for every discovery and encounter.

I’m always wary of daydreaming, excuse the pun, about the next year prematurely. I say prematurely because I think I need to reflect on the lessons before moving on but, I do hope that I do not lose sight of this in 2019. May I never lose sight of gratitude…

Letter six of eighteen

Dear 2018,

Yes, I know. Some wounds will never heal.

There are a few things under the sun that we can’t escape from. During the wrestle that is life, death, for me, gives one of the biggest chokeslams. 

Growing up, watching WWE was one of my favourite pass times. I found it fascinating. I admired so many of the players. The likes of Eddy Guerrero, Rey Mysterio, John Cena, The Rock and of course, The Undertaker. I liked each of them for unique reasons such as their charisma and signature moves. The Undertaker’s chokeslam came to mind while I was thinking about today’s letter. The chokeslam, for those who are unfamiliar with the term, is a wrestling move where the wrestler grabs his/her opponent on the neck, lifts them up in the air and then drops them on their back. Hence the name. You are choked and then slammed. The death of a loved one feels exactly like this. To say the least.

The initial slam comes when you hear the news. Your denial phase occurs while you're up in the air. Your back hits the ground really hard when they lower that coffin and your brain registers that you’re hurting. It doesn’t end there. No. Not by a long shot. The sting of death chokeslams you when you least expect it. Death chokeslams you when you hear songs and conversations that remind you of them when you find yourself eating their favourite food…when you realise that they will no longer be there. Ever. The thing about all this, mostly, is that you can hardly bring it up. Not to people mourning like you, not to those who have recently lost a loved one and you don’t dare tell people who have no idea what you are going through. So, you get up after each slam. You sing the “life goes on” song and you soldier on…until the next slam.

A few years ago I lost my chaplain. His death altered so many things in my system. I lost two of my aunts during the second year of the Master's degree. One paternal. Another maternal.  This crippled me in so many ways. Ways that affected my progress but, as I said earlier on, I kept this to myself. This year, I faced the occasional chokeslams on the anniversaries of their deaths. One would think that it gets better. It doesn’t. I’ve just accepted that I’m not the same person I used to be. 

I reached exciting milestones in my career this year. One of them was graduation. It wasn't my first. I had graduated before and I hardly made a fuss about it. I don’t even have the stage photos of my first two graduations. So when this graduation was approaching, I was on that boat. One of my late aunts never understood this. I remember her questioning me having a 21st birthday party celebration over a graduation party. Being the apple of her eye, I cooked up an excuse that there would be others and that I only turned 21 once. She accepted this reluctantly and life went on.

Graduation this year was a bit different. Mainly because I decided to make a fuss. I decided to smile and make the most of each and every memory. I walked on that stage grateful for everyone who got me there. Those living and departed. I expressed my gratitude to those still alive. I openly accepted my chokeslam in memory of those whose prayers reached where they couldn’t. May the warmth of my love, like yours, still bring comfort to those around me when I too am no more.

When Vusi Nova’s rendition of As'phelelanga plays I jam to it with my memories of them, and other’s I’ve lost, on rewind. There are days when I laugh. There are others when I just get so teary. On all days, though, I'm grateful for the gift of their lives. 

2018 because of you, I give death and life a nod and accept that nothing with change…

Letter five of eighteen

Dear 2018,

You’ve taught me how to embrace discernment.

Shortly after we met, as I mentioned in a previous letter, I chose Proverbs 3 as my anchor scripture to see me through you. A couple of verses there, 21 – 23, touch on how one should not lose sight of discernment and common sense. It even goes on to say how this combination will keep you safe on the way and your feet won’t stumble.

I grew up watching those martial arts themed movies. No, I didn’t play karate with the boys. I never even harboured any ambitions of learning but, I still watched. Probably because it was one of the few times when my mother didn’t fuss over the age restriction. Karate Kid was a favourite. I don’t really memorise movie lines but, hands up for those who still remember “Teach me, Mr Miyagi”. If discernment was karate then you, 2018 my friend, were my Mr Miyagi. 

2017 introduced me to the concept of discernment but you’ve courted me to embrace it. Last year I had those meltdowns when I saw people’s colours. This led me to cut some ties and be completely unapologetic about it. I didn’t say true colours on purpose and I’ll explain why in a bit. Discernment for me, this year, has gone beyond the superficial norm. So, discernment wasn’t only about being vigilant and cautious with the people around me. It was also about being mindful of who I am and the role I play in their lives. 

Not everyone is going to be happy for you. Some of your accomplishments may even isolate certain people from you. People will smile to your face and talk trash about you. Some people will constantly ask about your well-being just to measure you up. That is life. It happens to all of us. Knowing this doesn’t hurt any less though. What discernment taught me, fortunately, is the ability to see through the masks. 

Embracing discernment is another process. One which makes you realise that people’s true colours are relative. A taker, to you, is probably a giver elsewhere. A disloyal or dishonest person probably learnt to communicate in that manner. People are broken out there. We are all just casualties of each other's inner wars. Heck, I've even embraced the idea that in someone's story I'm the villain. So this year, 2018, you have taught me to turn the other direction just when my discernment alarms go off. I no longer try to find a room in these toxic spaces. I accepted apologies I will never receive. I moved on without the association or friendship. I did this because I realised that I couldn't stumble on my own path of finding peace while I remained in rooms which suffocated it. Regardless of who else was in the room. 

The other side of the discernment coin this year, however, was a heart-warming experience.

I got to see people for who they really were – caring, loving, supportive and so hilarious. There were times this year when I felt like you were too much and they were there on this journey. Wiped tears off my face. Laughed off my crappy moments with me. Reminded me of who I was. We broke bread, stuffed ourselves with waffles and yes, I was forced to finish meals lol. I received genuine love. Let us not mention the number of times when they lifted up my name in prayer and lent me their wise counsel. To my tribe, thank you. For being the cactus plants in my safari desert, for your endless support and for understanding that, once in a while, we all need to be islands.

2018, you have taught me how to embrace discernment and because of this each and every touch down felt sweeter. I should mention those in one of these letters…

Letter four of eighteen

Good morning 2018,

You know Monday is my least favourite day of the week right? Guess what? You amplified that! 

I’ve disliked Monday for as long as I can remember. Can’t exactly pinpoint since when exactly though. It wasn’t back in my early years at school though. I was so mischievous back then. There was a point in primary where I’d be in one class but there was always room for me in the other class from time to time. I remember in Grade 4 I used to be taken to the B class when my register teacher had run out of options with me. I’d be as silent as a mouse on the first day but this didn’t last. I'd eventually start chatting and making friends in no time. She’d then take me back immediately after noticing this. This cycle would go on for a while. I had mastered the art of “adapt or die” and I wasn’t even aware of it. Even though I was a problem child in school during the time, I enjoyed going there. Back then Friday was my least favourite day. Things have changed though. Vastly. Hugely. Immensely!  Right now every Monday I join the struggle to “adapt”. 

I don’t know about everyone who doesn’t have English as a first language but there are expressions in this tongue that my system just refuses to accept. There are tons but one of the most absurd for me is “Blue Monday”. Really?! It ends there? Two letters and then that’s it? Qha? No ways! “Blue Monday” doesn’t even begin to justify the torture that is this day. No ways. I question so many things about this expression. If it were up to me, I’d call it Mini uyakrhakrha! This loosely translates to “day, you are sour!” I’m convinced there’s a better expression in Pidgin. I should find it lol. 

On a serious note, most of your Mondays were the pits! Surviving them, and many more sour days, are one of the reasons why I feel like I deserve a t-shirt written I survived 2018. I still have two more weeks to go with you in order to qualify. 

I’ve disliked most of your Monday’s because you’ve felt, for the most part, like a 6 working days week. Friday’s had the tendency of acting like deputy Thursday’s. This meant that by the time the Friday feeling kicked in my head was already on the pillow. I’d finish off work on Saturday, try to run errands here or attend functions. I kept Sunday’s sacred as much as I could. Mass, chilling and going on occasional dates with my friends. Those were epic. It wouldn’t be long, however, when the reality of you kicked in and I would have to face Monday. Monday who, mostly, reminded me how exhausted I was. Yhu! 

One of the things I’ve discovered this year is that I am one of those people who chronically suffer to “Monday”. How ironic is it that your last day is on a Monday? Better behave 2018. You had better behave!

Letter three of eighteen

Dear 2018,

You’ve taken me to beautiful places. 

One of the most beautiful spaces you’ve taken me to is a place I choose to call Reconciliationville. Reconciliationville is like one of those small towns that you pass through without paying much attention. I remember experiencing this first hand a few years ago when I was part of a news team crew. I’d passed the particular town so many times before but I had never gone in and toured it. Needless to say, I know now there’s more to that town than the fill-up stations on the main road. Reconciling with yourself is similar to this. We go through so many things that we hardly pause and tour our own emotions.

Today is celebrated as Reconciliation Day in South Africa. I won’t bore you with the public politics but, I will let you in on my inner politics and your role in them. I’ve had to reconcile with myself this year. In so many ways. I’ve had to accept flaws creeping up during moments when I least needed them to. I’ve had to be mindful that I was responsible for creating emotional boundaries. I’ve had to pump up the confidence and serenity levels from time to time when they were low. I’ve also had to remind myself that I need to take a chill pill and just be.

I think every person has inner wars and conflicts they carry around with them. I think that the difference is on just how much aware one is of these and the manner in which they handle them.

I’ve always been my worst critic. You have no idea just how many times I’ve used the backspace button while writing the letters to you. It’s either too corny, emotional or just too much information. Anything to keep me in my comfort castle of stone walls. The courage to even share these letters is a miracle. That, and the fact that you’ve been throwing me into the deep end so much, 2018 that I’ve had to come out of my shell.

So, there’s a room in Reconciliationville where one is forced to treat themselves with kindness and love. In the very same manner that they treat others. It’s one of my favourite spaces. I’m still getting used to it actually. Being here made me realise just how many views I’ve missed while sleeping on the self-love train journey. 

I shared a post on Instagram earlier this year where I wrote that one of the hardest apologies I’ve ever made was to myself. I was sorry for being frustrated about my weight. I was sorry for being apologetic about my accomplishments and reaching milestones. I was sorry for granting circumstances, which were completely out of my control, the power to control my state of mind. I was sorry for many more things. I was most sorry that, until recently, I wasn’t aware that I even needed to apologize to myself.

2018, you’ve taken me to beautiful spaces where I got to realise that I needn’t allow broken souls to dictate how I act towards them. I’m incapable of being selfish. I’m such a caring spirit and I make the well-being of everyone around me a priority. They don’t all have to reciprocate that and that is okay. I’m still me and I’ve reconciled with that. You’ve taught me that 2018 and I salute you.

You’ve taken me to beautiful places and for that, I will be forever grateful. You have, in a way, brought me closer to myself in so many interesting ways…

Letter two of eighteen

Dear 2018,

You’ve served me a streak of tsunami’s! 

I grew up in rural Eastern Cape, South Africa. My childhood was not isolated from the typical experiences of girls my age. This means that I also learnt how to cook at a very young age. I might not have had the responsibility of putting meals together but, I knew what to do and how to do it. I learnt how to mix the dough, ukuxova in isiXhosa, for bread, how to prepare pap and rice. Amongst other things. I did all this, with supervision, without burning anything.  I only recall one major incident when I burnt something from my entire childhood. It was on 26 December 2004. I remember it as if I had just walked into the kitchen to my uncle asking what had happened.  

There a multiple reasons why I remember it so vividly. Firstly, because it was the first experience. Secondly, the reason I burnt the rice was that I had been outside with my cousins who were having a face-off with other teens from another kasi (neighbourhood). I was not about to miss out on that! Yes, I was a bit mischievous growing up but that’s a story for another day. The last reason, and probably the strongest, why I remember the day is because I learnt a new word on the day. The word was Tsunami. Yes, that was the same day when headlines across the entire globe were reporting on what had happened. Since then the I personally coined the term to just define any disaster.

2018, you’ve given me a streak of tsunami’s! 

I’ve burnt onion while braising, I’ve burnt chicken while trying to prepare my famous chicken mayo and I burnt muffins. Imagine that?! My stress-baking safe haven had been invaded. And that wasn't the worst of it. I've recently had to face the reality that I had also burnt myself out trying to keep up with you.

There are so many instances when I felt like you were a teapot and I had been a tea bag. Something I had always wished to be since reading Peter Dixon's I'd like to be a Teabag sometime in primary. I paid little consideration, unfortunately, to the last two lines of it: "Except that once in all my life
I`d make a cup of tea!"

In defence of my younger self, making tea as a teenager was no joke. There were only so many times you could succeed in acting as if you were asleep when visitors came over, made a silent exit before mama put in the tea order or, bribed my sister to do it instead of me. That didn't always go so well. My prayers of the guests preferring a cold beverage had higher chances of reaching heaven first. I seldom got those, "no, let the child be. I'm fine" guests. I flipped so many tea bags that I eventually wished I was one of them lol.

Adulting, on the other hand, serves you the harsh reality that you are the tea bag and you actually have to make a cup of tea. Constantly. I've taken up the "tea bag" role over the years but you take the cup. Yes, do mind the pun.

2018, you've served me a hot cups of tsunami's! 

In all fairness, you’ve equally been such a journey. So, not all my letters to you will focus on your potholes and speed humps. You’ve taken me places with beautiful views too… 

Letter one of eighteen

Dear 2018,

I was on my knees when we met.

Our initial encounter wasn’t anything outside of the ordinary. I’ve been following a small tradition over the past few years. During the last hours, of every year, I sit outside and I marvel at the stars covering my rural town. I listen to songs blasting from almost every corner and “happy” cheers from neighbours. During this time, my mind wonders and reflects on the year that it had been.

Before I met you, however, I made slight adjustments to the tradition. I hadn’t been feeling well since Christmas so my time outside was limited. I materialised on going outside just when the fireworks had intensified.What a sight! Growing up,I used to envy my friends who were allowed to wander around the streets burning tires and holding their own shooters without adult supervision. My parents only let me out once. Can you imagine?! Then there was that year when I thought all my dreams would come true because we visited a relative who had bought an entire box. It was filled with different kinds, shapes and sizes. Firecracker, or cricket as we fondly say here in my hood,  heaven I tell you. I was so excited, I couldn't wait to see them all go up. The joy was cut short though. My cousin brother accidentally lit some of the small ones towards my direction and I got minor burns on my toes. It hurt more than I let on but, I wasn't about to be a cry baby. The box got confiscated and I felt guilty for being one of the party poopers. Needless to say, since then, I've never really wanted to participate. I've just opted to the role of watching and marvelling. So, I watched and marveled as tradition dictated. Then I moved back into the house before midnight to get ready for our first encounter.

I was on my knees, right in the middle of a prayer of thanksgiving, when we met. I didn’t rush off to scribble a list of resolutions during our initial encounter. I got off the New Year’s resolution bandwagon a long time ago. I credit this, I should add, to fruitless attempts of keeping up with them. So that is why I didn’t welcome you with promises of what I would do or wouldn’t do.

I’ve resolved to picking out themes for years. Proverbs 3 came to my heart shortly after I had stepped into your realm.  Growth, joy and Proverbs 3. I needed to trust in the Lord in order to survive you and I chose to stick to that scripture as an anchor. Little did I know!

Our relationship has taken up so many shapes, hasn’t it? You’ve been a friend, a foe, a stranger and a long lost friend. You’ve made me laugh, like I never had before, and cry tears even in the middle of broad smiles. You’ve been the vrrr to my pha, the eina to my ouch…the yho to my yhu! It seems just like yesterday when I met you. In the same breath, I must say, it feels like you’ve been multiple years in one. You've felt like a guest who overstayed her welcome and equally like the sister who popped in for tea. All in one.

In order for me to be grounded in my reflection of the lessons you’ve thought me, I’ve decided to write you a letter on each day before I bid you farewell. Each letter capturing a piece of you that I will carry for many more years.

Today, I remember how I was on my knees when we met. You found me praying. In hindsight, I will forever be grateful that you found me in my strongest position. I say this because my journey with you needed every ounce of strength…

Letters to 2018

 We all have things we've always wanted to do but put them off. I have such a long list 😂🙈. One of them is sharing reflective pieces here - a space I've neglected for a while now.

In a bid to fulfil this fantasy, yours truly will be writing 18 letters to 2018 as part of her reflection. Each letter dedicated to each day before I bid her farewell. 1/18 begins tomorrow.

Stay tuned for #lifeandherlessons 😜