"I'm Free", I think

I asked, Billy, one of our drivers, to drive me to a meeting at our client’s offices. When driving back, I asked him if he thought it would rain in the late afternoon – I want to go for a jog. (It’s been raining every single day for the last couple of weeks). I’m putting on some weight, I complain to him. I must go for a run.

At first he couldn't make out what the word rain is, or maybe he just misheard me. I repeat, but this time I translate “rain” into the local language, Lingala, as the word happens to be the same as in my language, Tshivenda, as well as other South African languages. “Mvula, do you think it’s going to rain”, I rephrase the question, pointing to the sky. He’s suddenly impressed that I know Lingala, until I tell him that the same word occurs in my language as well, also in reference to the rain. This does not kill his excitement and fascination nonetheless, that our languages have similarities.

He then responds to my question, and speculates that it might just rain. He starts stroking his belly and complains that his weight gain is even more serious and of a concern than mine. I tease him by saying he’s been eating a bit too much these days, “the company is paying you well” I tease. He disagrees, obviously, and offers a more compelling explanation for his weight gain: “no, is because I’m free. No problems”  

African cultures are very similar, more so the little behavioural nuances and our philosophies on different things. Ever since I arrived in the DRC earlier this year, I have noticed many mannerisms and way of human interactions that I can easily attribute or match with how we do things back home. Like when a lady colleague of mine comes into the office and greets me, she clasps her hands in that traditional way of greeting I know only from back home in Venda. When I come back from leave in South Africa, my Congolese colleagues will ask me how everyone is back at home, if the family is doing well (a family they know nothing about, or even know exists). That’s how we do it in Africa, and South Africa (tongue in cheek, Mr President). When we greet and ask you how you are doing, we ask in the plural – “Le kae?”, how are you and yours doing?" because you represent a collective. You’re not your own – you belong to a community, so we're therefore also concerned about those you represent, which is why we ask how all of you are doing. Not just you the individual.

Anyway, back to the fascinating topic of weight. Sometime last year, an elderly colleague of mine, back in South Africa, suddenly realized that I had put on a lot of weight (this is before my weight loss which I will talk about some other time), she started to quiz me why I’d decided to let myself go. She asked if I’d gotten married which apparently is the reason we men, oh and women alike, put on weight. After having answered “no” to a series of questions as to why I’d gained weight, she concluded: “okay, pelo e tshweu neh”, Sesotho which when directly translated means “your heart has whitened or your heart is white”.  This denotes that your heart is at peace, you’re happy.

Equally, when you shed off some weight, be prepared to answer a litany of questions about what is ailing you, physically or psychologically. You can’t just lose weight for the sake of it. No, there must something. I've had friends boldly declare that “there’s something you’re not telling us” – because of my weight loss. And no, they weren't referring to some secret diet plan that I am selfishly keeping to myself. No, this something is implied to be a sickness I have not disclosed to them, which should explain my weight loss.

So your weight is somehow a barometer of your happiness. Nice.

So when Billy, my Congolese colleague, confidently justified his weight gain by saying it’s because “I’m free, no problems” I knew what he meant. Blame the weight on happiness. But to be fair, he did finally concede that maybe a little bit of over-indulgence on the pap could have something to do with his weight gain.

There really was no point to this post to be honest with you. If anything, when those of you I know meet me and ask why there’s a sudden bulging of my waistline, I’ll happily offer Billy’s explanation: I’m free, no problems. That should settle it.