Halfway through Twenty-Roller Coaster

When I revived this blog last year, with the 18 letters to 2018, the plan was to be consistent. That, unfortunately, hasn’t been the case this year. So I begin this post with an act of contrition: O dear readers, forgive me for my absence. It has been a roller coaster of a year!

I recently visited an amusement park with friends. When we stepped in there we had a couple of goals: have fun, remember to capture the memories, eat as much as you can and get on as many scary rides as possible. Sounds about right, right? The beginning of the year reminds me of this phenomenon. You plan to hop on to as many “scary rides”, tick off boxes and survive. No matter how much planning goes into it though, nothing prepares you for the roller coaster experience. Nothing prepares you for those few minutes, which feel like an eternity, when acceleration and gravity are interacting in interesting ways.

This year has felt like a roller coaster. It didn't usher in smoothly. The most frightening part of the ride has been health. My health woes creeped in just as the year was taking off. This slowed me down a bit...literally and figuratively. I’m not sure how it’s like in other communities but in mine you don't qualify as sick if you don't look like you are on the verge of meeting your ancestors. Nope. You need to have lost drastic weight, have your hair fall off or other explicit exterior. Basically if your exterior is good, then whatever it is that is bothering you on the inside is not big. This is an unspoken declaration in the village. I don't know who came up with these measuring techniques but this has been the case for as long as I can remember. As you would have it, I fell short of qualifying to look sick. I’m already a size 4 or size 6 on good / swollen days, the dreadlocks have grown longer and everything looks normal on the outside. So almost every declaration of my ill health is met with “aw'bonakali tu” which loosely translated to you don't show at all.

Juggling work and keeping up with the health has kept me occupied so much that it feels like I blinked, and then we were halfway through the year. Already?! How?

Six months down. Six more to go.

I think I mentioned in an earlier post that I’m not big on resolutions. Instead of jotting down things I'll do differently, I set a theme. The theme has three things : how I’d like to have fun, which virtue to nurture and a scripture which anchors me. My 2019 theme is fireworks, gratitude and Isaiah 60:22. While themes are not as stereotypical or limiting as resolutions, they have a similarity to some extent: they disappear. They disappear when you need them the most.

My health doesn’t show me fireworks, it sends flames. On days when I felt drained and in pain gratitude is the last thing on my mind. As for timing, I think my immune systems has a talent of picking the worst times to act out. During all these downs, however, the universe comes through in unimaginable ways and makes things work.

I see fireworks every time my extrovert side wins the battles over introvert me who is not a fan of public speaking. I find myself being grateful for so many things that I have overlooked before, this including my self-worth and self-love. God is still working on my impatient self.

My friends and I had a blast at the amusement park. We screamed our lungs out, enjoyed the food and remembered to capture the memories. No, we didn’t go on all the “scary rides" as planned. Did we chicken out last minutes? Well, I can’t exactly confirm that. What I can confirm though is that I guess the strategy for the next six months is to stick to the theme for 2019 and allow Twenty-Roller Coaster to roll out as she pleases...

To Dinomore

Have you ever found yourself in a situation where you butchered lyrics to a song countless times before actually getting the right version?  Those close to me know I get to do this from time to time.

One such song that I've butchered belongs to the Giddens Sisters and is titled I'm going home to die no more. In my defence, I should say, I was very young when I first heard this song. I was young and I had no idea what "death" was. So how did your girl sing it? I'm going home to Dinomore. Yeeep. To me Dinomore was a person.

Today, many moons later I find myself in a community hall singing along to this song. Correct lyrics this time around. That and being conscious of the context of the lyrics.
What sucks about songs at a funeral is their heart  piercing and trauma triggering effect. The words and the tunes do not just move your body but they reach your soul.

My great grandparents planted eight oak trees as a symbol of their union. Two sons and six daughters. I refer to them as oak trees because of their values and everything they stand for. My family and I are standing face to face with death today because one of the oak trees has fallen...

My heritage stems from one of the sister oak trees - my maternal grandmother. She and her siblings kept their roots merged and raised their offspring that way.

I've had the most interesting conversations with this oak tree that has fallen. She was such an interesting grandmother. Yes, i say grandmother.

My grandmother has been obsessed about my weight, concerned about my health woes and curious about my love life too. Above it all, she's been excited about my success and showed love at all times. The love that is gentle and validating. Not only to me but to all my other cousins. Oh, what a gentle heart!

You were full of drama and sense of humour too. I won't forget the day you boasted to one of your friends about me. "Can you see who she is," you asked. Your friend looked at me searching her mind. "...she's Ntemi's daughter. She's an entire journalist". Your friend, in shock, asked how I manage to interview the likes of politicians I won't mention. At this point I was torn between cracking up so hard and wishing that the earth could swallow me. Deep down I was happy that you were proud of who and what I had become.

Farewell Gogo. Farewell even to the other trees that have fallen before you. Go home. Go home to die no more...

Lerapeleng - a love like yours

We grew up reading stories about how Prince Charming woke up Snow White with a kiss, how Cinderella attended a ball to meet her Prince and how Belle managed to turn an entire beast into a Prince.

For me your love story is one which qualifies, without a doubt, to be added onto the list of timeless romances. One we should tell our children about as they grow up. Thank you for the honour of entrusting me to share it with your world…

So, when I tell the story it will go something like this: Once upon a time kids, before your time, in a kingdom of roses there lived two incredible humans. A knight who hailed from Bethlehem and a princess whose home is best known for the dark mountains which cover it.

Both knight and princess were part of a
 special society (ACTS). He was a senior leader. She was also in leadership structures. They were based in two areas. Their paths crossed multiple times before their special and unique encounter - UniZulu!

A series of interesting events unfolded before the two of them became a couple. I must say. With hearts golden like theirs, you can be assured that there were other's who had their hearts set on them.

As fate and God would have it they got together. And boy, has it been a journey.

So yeah...allow me to add some theatrics to this. I have a very good idea of how this will play out. You know how older people get about having met an extraordinary person? How they go like "yeah, I've seen Nelson Mandela" or Brenda Fassie or any great...I get to be that someday because of you two.

Your love story is so inspiring. You've been inseparable since you hooked up.  Watching you grow together has been incredible. Those first dates jitters, pursuing your dreams and even the birth of your bundle of joy. Facing hardships and pursuing dreams together.

At this point of narrating the story...I'm sure the person I tell it to will be expecting me to pull a typical "and they lived happily ever after". Nope. That's not how this story ends.

The greatest trait about your relationship is how it is genuine and real. In a world of fake news and augmented realities - you two are the real makoya's of Maratongfontein.

Lerato, about you, we'll advise our sons on courtship and character. We'll tell them that actions actually shine a knight's armour. That when you like it, you put a ring on it!

Ipeleng, about you, we'll tell our daughters how virtue is personified. We'll tell them about strength and love unimaginable. We'll show them a living example of Proverbs 31.

Each and every person in here has watched your fairytale unfold. Each of us scribbling something. I think I speak for all of us when I say that we were there, we are here and we are looking forward to entering forever with you.

To end this in proper fairy tale style, I'll say this: I do not wish you a mere happily ever after. No, that is so overrated. I pray you have a blessed ever after...and that is what I will tell my children someday. They lived blessedly into forever.

I love you dearly. Congratulations!

My ten years challenge: 2009 vs 2019

There’s a challenge that is currently trending on the social media streets of South Africa. I’m not sure when or how it began but my timelines are flooded by people sharing photos of themselves accompanied by #10yearschallenge. The posts also come with hilarious captions from the various social media users reflecting on the difference between the photos and the time between.

I've been a bit reluctant to post my challenge. I've been hesitant because of technical and emotional reasons. First of all, I don't have a lot of photos stored from back in the day. I think I had my first camera phone late in 2009. As fate would have it the only photos I have, of a chubby me, come with emotions that I had neatly packed away at the back of my heart. I've been reluctant to share them because, in order to give a sincere challenge, I would have to first challenge myself to look back.

Around this time, exactly ten years ago, I overheard my mother pleading to God to spare my life...

I began the 2009 school year as the head girl at my high school. Contrary to popular belief, I was surprised when my name was called out for this. I'll leave the politics behind this for another day. I was the head girl and I was entering my last year of basic education. I don't really recall all the emotions around this but I do remember feeling anxious and a bit overwhelmed about the year ahead. My health began taking a toll in the previous year. I lost complete interest in some of my school subjects. I had also just about exhausted my tolerance for social life in high school. Loved and adored by some, disliked and hated by others but mostly, misunderstood. A lot of people thought they had me figured out back then. Looking back I'm definitely sure that none of them could have been right. I know so because I wasn't even sure what was happening half the time myself.

The events leading to the plea for my life are also a bit foggy. I remember that I was walking about at home in the afternoon, still in my school uniform, when I suddenly could not breathe properly.  Long story short: we drove between two neighbouring towns, without getting help, before we were referred to a hospital in the nearest city. I was in such a state that I couldn't even wait for an ambulance. On our way to Bloemfontein, from Aliwal North, I remember feeling numb and losing more control of my breath as time went by. Towards the end, I could not even keep up with my brother trying to distract me, or my sister praying frantically from the seat behind me. I think the last thing I actually remember was overhearing my mother plead to God for my life. I had mostly heard her sniffs and heavy breaths. Hearing her plea gave me a sort of relief and I just passed out. 

I woke up as we entered the hospital. Only managed to breathe properly with the help of an oxygen machine. Of all the times I had been in hospital in the past year, this was the longest. It was also the furthest away from home. I began losing weight rapidly after this. I didn't really notice it at first but then one day I tried to put on one of my favourite jeans. They were so baggy that I could literally fit two legs into one side. It's been an entire decade and I've still not managed to gain the weight back. Between you and I, I've given up. I've accepted that I am not that person and I will never be. I don't dare repeat this to my mother when she forces me to eat. I don't even dare make the grandmothers, who always reminisce on how cute I was as a chubby baby, aware that the topic on weight is a very sensitive one. I won't even get into the conversations I have with people who think I have the "perfect" weight.


In reflecting on this challenge, I can't really be fair to 2019. We're only two weeks into this new year. I'm still saying "happy new year" to people and I'm settling into my chosen theme: Fireworks, Gratitude and Isaiah 60:22. I'll have ample time to reflect on this year and who I am. Not now.
For some of us, the ten years challenge triggers a couple of painful memories that we would rather forget. It reminds us of failed efforts, scars and the feeling that while time has moved, a lot of things have still remained. Let me overshare a bit: just a week ago one of my veins popped while I was receiving an injection because it is too small. This, unfortunately, meant that another area of my body had to take it for the team. Imagine being pricked twice. Yhu! Same struggle, different year! 

The silver lining, I should say, is that God listened to my mother and spared my life. These past ten years have also had their fair share of victories...