It's Freedom Day in South Africa. This day was set aside as a public holiday to celebrate a new Constitution and the first non-racial elections which ushered in democracy back in 1994. Today the country is currently in level 5 lockdown as part of the national government's fight against Covid-19. It's been a month since lockdown was officially implemented. It's been a month since I couldn't really dodge the politics of my being.
I've always been intrigued by the manner in which people refer to politics. You know how they go on about how politics are complex, how politics are a "dirty game" or how all is fair in love and politics. My other favourite one is "there are no permanent enemies in politics". They were right! Now they were all referring to politics in general. Imagine how complex it becomes when one is dealing with politics of self. Hold that thought. Now add this variable: imagine how it's like handling politics of self during lockdown? It's lit!
First of all they are ungovernable. Politics of self are a combination of a monarchy, dictatorship with a dash of democracy. All in one. This being a figurative representation of the various states of being that your mind goes through.
Secondly, you're forced to face the capitalism of anxiety, uncertainty and the frustration of things being in the air. Let's not forget the changing of plans. I'm sure I'm not the only person who has even forgotten how plan A looked like. I'm still bummed it didn't happen, don't get me wrong. The realist inside me just moved on to B then C then D and so forth. Trust me, she's also exhausted. Lockdown has slowed me down so much that I'm forced into reflection. Honest reflection where I introspect and like a typical Xhosa mother I'm forced to "spring clean".
Yes. I've asked God where He is. Calmly at the beginning of it all because I felt like He didn't hear my "You've got this, right?" question. This must have been between plan A challenging into an unexpected Plan B on the "this was supposed to be happening now" list. I'm not sure. I reached out to Him again when I felt completely helpless. Things were getting out of hand. I was exhausted by everything on the outside at this time. What Covid-19 meant to my continent, country and community. The lead theme of these conversations was definitely "Thixo, uphi? Uthulele ntoni bawo?" (Where are you God? Why are you quiet?).
In the midst of the battle of noise and the stillness Psalm 46:10 found me. "Be still and know that I am God".
It turns out that He's been talking back. The noise was too loud and distracting for me to hear. In the stillness of it all I discovered that the Peter within me had been denying the presence of His grace. My inner Thomas had been too fixated by signs and certainties. Did my frustration and uncertainty make a louder noise than my song of praise? How did I think the valley of the shadow of death look like? Was the "niks sal my ontbreek nie" (nothing will break me) verse from the Psalm 23 song, which I sang in primary, a typo?
Do you remember how I selected Psalm 115 as one of my personal themes for the year? I forgot this at some point and I lost a grip. Thank you for the "proof of address" department that handles mercy and favour deliveries in heaven. That department makes sure that God's love locates you wherever you are.
As it stands, level 5 of lockdown is set to end later this week in my country. I'm not holding my breath. I'm looking at Plan G with a side eye and I'm trying to make peace with the possibility of Plan H coming into play.
As today draws to an end I think my inner politics are unanimously agreeing that freedom is a privilege. One I've always had. Freedom is not found in the absence of adversity and uncertainty. Freedom is learning to find your rhythm and dance to whatever beat the drummer of life decides to play. Freedom is kindness to yourself and obedience to the laws which govern your being which are liberating in every sense of the word.
It turns out that I needed stillness to remind me of this...
