Gratitude

Sometime last week I posted on Facebook about what I wished for, for Christmas. I said in that status that all I wished for was  “one of those steak & kidney pies you buy at a garage, a packet of Nik Naks and a Coke”. I wasn't kidding.

But a friend quizzed me after my status if I was sure that this is what I truly wanted for Christmas. After thinking a while about it, I realized that indeed there was nothing more I wanted or wished for - I was content. Other than enjoying a good meal, being home and at peace, there is nothing more I really wanted. And that's when it hit me that I was truly happy, something I had yearned for for years.

Let me be a little self-indulgent today, and I will not hold you against it if you stopped reading right now.

2014 has been an awesome year for me. I saw God come through for me in amazing ways on so many levels. No, I did not get offered a billion dollar job. Nor did I win an all-expenses paid holiday. No, none of that. I simply woke up one day and I was happy. I was grateful and content. Most exhilarating feeling. 

But I think more than that, this feeling was coming from God’s subtle revelation of Himself to me that I became aware of His presence in my life, regardless of whatever I might have been going through. That awareness, although it is never permanent, for it comes and it goes, never to be captured and monumentalized, is the most amazing thing you will experience in your life. It is so overwhelming that you want to share it with the world. But you hold back, because you fear people will not get it. They will not understand. But maybe they aren’t meant to. 

But I digress. 

The point is that this experience left me with what one author called “a smiling heart”, and this is where I experienced that famous description which Paul gave as a “peace that surpasses all understanding”. Amazing stuff. 

Okay let me stop rambling. 

The year is drawing to a close, although there is no cosmic closure to what I believe God is doing in our generation. In that vein and on a personal front, let me continue with my self-indulgence, in the hope that I might encourage someone out there....

Earlier this year, there was this thing on Facebook where people would challenge each other to what was dubbed  the “7-day Gratitude Challenge”. So each day, for 7 days, one would post on Facebook a list of things that they are grateful for. I took the challenge head-on when two of my friends posed it to me. I did not complete the course, not for lack of things to be grateful for, but simply because I got distracted with things I was busy with at the time – the challenge coincided with my leave back at home in South Africa. 

Be that as it may, for the benefit of those I am not friends with on Facebook, I am going post the Gratitude posts here. 

So this is what has been my journey this year.... 

************************Beginning of Facebook Gratitude Posts************************

Day 1 (September 4^th 2014)

1.    I am grateful for God, without whom I am nothing.

2.    I am grateful for my 3 parents (how lucky can I guy be, to have 3)

a.     My dad, the best man I have ever known. My biggest intercessor (I think). I would be so content if I ever have half the integrity this old man has. He couldn’t have set a better example for his offspring.

b.    My mother, Faith Matsila, posthumously. For the heritage she left me. I am told she loved her children (well, it’s not always obvious, you know). And I have no doubt she did, because she sacrificed many things for my education. I was able to afford my first car because of what she left me; the car through which I could be able to do my job and so forth and so on….

c.     My step-mother, Connie Matsila. For her warm and very very BEEEG heart. Of that, she has set the bar very high. I’ll leave it here.

3.    I am grateful for my siblings. And I shall also name them one by one (I figure since you've read this far, you can read further  )

a.     My sister, Fulu. In many, many ways, she became my mother when mom died. She was just 13 years old. Of her, I can talk till the sun goes down, but I’ll spare you.

b.    My elder brother, Lufuno, posthumously. He gave me my first political lesson before I turned 7. I can’t say I would agree with his politics today, but ja.

c.     My elder sister Mulalo (or Lally). Can I just say, she was mean to me and my twin sister and boy was she a bully, but Lufuno always used to sort her out. No, seriously, I love my sister. She has my back. Always did.

d.    My twin sister Vhuhwavho, also posthumously. One day, I will write about her. She is sorely missed, but I’m glad I shared all that I did with her.

e.    Lastly, my little brother Kone (oh by the way, I named him when he was a few days old. Apparently my parents always took me seriously, even when I was just 6 years old. I wish I knew what his name means though.)

Day 2 (September 5^th 2014)

When I was a young boy of about 5 or 6, I had a hit and run accident. Okay, let me not be over-dramatic, I was hit by a bicycle. But it was quite traumatic. Anyway, the bloke that ran me over rode away. I don’t know how I made it home. To this day, the smell of rubber takes me back to that day. I would later in life, just before and just after I turned 21, survive two motor car accidents that could have easily claimed my life.

In the context of that little preamble, today, I want to be grateful for the following

1.    In all that I have faced and endured, I am forever grateful to God, for giving me the grace which allowed me to say, “Though He slay me, yet I will hope in Him” (Job 13:15a). One day, I hope I'll be able to explain why such an odd scripture can be tied up with gratitude. For now, let me just say, there is no better place to be than in the arms of God. Be it in health, sickness, even in the shadow of death, you will do well to be in His arms. Lamentations 3:21-22 comes to mind.

2.    I am grateful for our erstwhile helper, Vho-Edith, who took care of me after that near death experience, nursing me back to health.

3.    I am grateful for my varsity Christian family that stood by me when all seemed lost and hopeless. God bless them.

4.    I’m grateful for some of my classmates and friends who pushed and spurred me on to persevere, many of whom I still call friends.

5.    Those who have been in accidents, will tell you how quickly and sudden they happen. It's very funny how something that happens so sudden, can be so life-altering. It is in those moments, that you get to appreciate the preciousness of life. With that, I'd like to say I'm grateful for life. I'm grateful for life. I'm grateful for life. I think you get the drift.

I wish I had more ink to write things down. So much to be grateful for. So much.

Day 3 (September 6^th 2014)

My old man tells me that when I was a young boy I used to tell him that when I grow up I want to work in Australia. Of all places. Clearly "when I was a child I thought like a child".

In any event, an opportunity arose exactly 2 years ago that I'd be posted to the Democratic Democratic of Congo, and I grabbed it with both hands. Many thought it was a bold move. But I didn't think so. In April last year the move was made final, and I came to the DRC. It has turned out to be one of the best decisions I've made in the last few years.

So today I dedicate this status to what has been my second home, the Democratic Republic of the Congo.

1.    I am grateful for the refuge that this country has been for me. This is where I have been recharging myself. Every second month I get an opportunity to visit home for a few weeks, and each time, without fail, I take with me interesting lessons which are of immense benefit to me.

2.    I am grateful that this country, having a painful history of gross human violations by its colonizers, has opened up its hands to a fellow like me. I know it has opened up its hands to me because I see it in the way the Congolese people I interact with have embraced me as their own. And I feel absolutely at home.

3.    I am also grateful that it is through this country's openness that I am able to make a living and put bread on my table, something I do not take for granted.

4.    This is unusual, but I will end this gratitude speech by making a wish and prayer, and it is this: I pray that the DRC is able to remove itself from the shackles a bitter war, disease and poverty. Although I live a relatively comfortable life in this country, I am not oblivious to the abject poverty millions in this country live under. Millions die from diseases which in a country like South Africa, such diseases would be cured at the blink of an eye. I see poverty everywhere I go. Many times I choose to turn a blind to the poverty and pain I see because it's too painful to witness. It's cowardly, I know. But I hope with time, I will have the boldness to face this poverty and help in any way it can.

For your benefit, here are some pictures of the beautiful Congo.

Day 4 (September 8^th 2014)

This morning I woke up to a very beautiful morning in Joburg. And in spite of all its demons (and angels), I felt very privileged to be living in this city (well kind of). After taking my car in for a service, I was able to come back home and then go for a very refreshing jog. And for that, I felt absolutely privileged.

Yesterday I was unable to update on the ‪#‎GratitudeChallenge because I was traveling and stuff.

Today I would like go out on a limb and unmask the face of depression, and with that, I want to show why I am very grateful this morning.

This thing called depression is very ugly, and a silent killer of many MEN. A very wonderful lady and psychologist I was consulting used to always tell me that depression is dangerous because unlike a physical wound, it is invisible and can go undetected for a long time, festering into something septic which becomes difficult to treat.

For a long time, I was a comfortable home of this ugly sickness (and that's what it is) and I was afflicted for years. For years and years I did not know what happiness was. Of course, I used to laugh. And yes, there were moments when I'd be happy and smile, but these were very short lived. As soon as I had become happy, I would quickly slip back into that dark place that feels like bottomless pit. A pit which you have have no idea whether you would be able to come out of.

Worst thing is "you're a man" and in our society, you do not have the luxury and privilege, let alone a platform, to admit that you have this sickness.

And I suppose that's why I feel justified in being open about my struggles, and although it makes me nervous sometimes, at least I'm able to sleep at night, something that I cherish.

So today, I want to be grateful for the following

1. Yesterday as the plane was hovering above Joburg trying to find its bearings for landing, I was at immense peace to be coming home. Previously, coming home or leaving, was a source of intense depression because a troubled soul is never at peace. He's always running. Very unsettled, and oh so turbulent. So whether I'm going "there" and coming "here", it doesn't matter, for your inner-self has become your own refuge and home. And for that, I breathed a prayer of thanks to God. To be able to be at peace and experience if like I did yesterday, was something I was so grateful for.

2.    Secondly, and more importantly, I am grateful to God for giving me that inner peace. Nothing surpasses it. He has proved to be a healer. That, I'm a witness of. Yes, hiccups and pain come recur now and again, but they are a mere reminder of where God has taken me from.

Ladies and gents, this is what I'm grateful for today.

Day 5 ((September 12^th 2014)

Being home is proving to be too handful. Lots of admin to be done. Never got a chance to update on my ‪#‎GratitudeChallenge. Here goes

I was standing outside my quarters at the camp where I live in the DRC, typing something on my tablet when an old man, a colleague of mine came up to me and asked, "Livhu, o etsang? Oa ngola? (Livhu what are you doing? Are you writing?". I said yes, indeed I'm writing. He continued, giving me affirmimation "tswela pele o ngole Livhu, rona ha ra ba le monyetla wa ho ithuta ho bala le ho ngola (go on and write Livhu. We never got a chance to learn to read and write)".

I was a little embarrassed by this affirmation because the truth is I wasn't really writing writing. I was Facebooking, but to be fair to myself, trying to explain the concept of Facebook to this old man would have been nearly impossible. So I chose to leave him with the idea that I was "writing". But whatever it was that I was doing, using the power of the written word, is something that he saw as a huge privilege which should be cherished.

You see, “Ntate Tshepo”, is a man in his fifties, born and raised in Lesotho. Like he says, he never got the privilege of learning to read or write. He started working in the mines from a young age. While standing outside and talking about writing, he admitted to me how much it embarrassed and pained him how every time when we get to customs at the airport, he needs to rely on someone to fill in forms for him. He went on to tell me how it was upsetting it is for him when he sees young ones not taking the advantage of privilege of being literate.

Today, I'm grateful for the gift of literacy and and the use of the written word. Being able to read and write are two things I have learned never to take for granted.

Day 6 (September 13^th 2014)

There is something truly special about this song. It's probably because its title is precisely what my name means.

Today, I do not have any special story to illustrate my gratitude. No.

What I do have, however, are the words of this simple song, and nothing encapsulates my feelings this morning more than this song does, "Give thanks".

Give thanks with a grateful heart
Give thanks to The Holy One
Give thanks because He has given Jesus Christ, His Son

And now, let the weak say I'm strong
Let poor say I'm rich
Because of what The Lord has done for us
Give thanks

(This is me this morning)

**********************************End of Facebook Gratitude Posts**********************************

And thus ended my Gratitude Challenge. What a year it has been. 

Accountability - A much needed virtue from Christians

Last week Thursday, I was a little livid when I read that TB Joshua, the leader of the Synagogue Church of All Nations (SCOAN) in Lagos, Nigeria, had yet again, failed to appear in court where an inquest was held to find out what had caused the building collapse at his church earlier this year.

I took my rants to Facebook in a series of posts. Many friends were taken aback by my rants.

I suspect that some thought I had lost it, or at least just had a nervous breakdown of sorts. The truth is that I was still very much in my faculties, so to speak. I knew and was conscious of what I was saying.

There comes a point where the silence of observers is just as brutal as the actions of those guilty of committing an act. I have fashioned myself as a mild activist of social justice on issues of gender-equity and so such. But more than that, and much more crucially, I am first a born-again Christian, saved by the blood of Jesus, and live with the hope that I will one day meet my saviour. But I believe that until that reunion with my Lord happens, I have a role to play in society, and such role will be disingenuous and unauthentic if I do not speak out on issues I feel strongly about. To a large extent, that is solely why I am here. Of that, I have no doubt. Many wrong things continue to happen because we keep quiet.

So I ranted and vented, I huffed and I puffed, about the Lagos spiritual leader's actions or non-actions. Last night I decided to explain my comments, yet again on Facebook, on a long-worded status.

A friend then asked me to put the status/post on the blog so that it doesn't get lost on the Facebook timeline. I have obliged.

Below is the status I posted last night, quoted verbatim, save for a few juggling of words and stuff.

Hi. 

I think it's time I said something about my comments about TB Joshua late last week.

In September this year, South Africa, Nigeria, and the world watched in horror as images started trickling out showing the guest house of the Synagogue Church of All Nations crumbling down. A total of 115 (or 116 depending on your source) died in that building collapse. 84 of those people were South Africans.

It was Friday the12th September when that tragedy happened. Many of us only got to know about it the following week. It is widely reported that the leader of that church, TB Joshua, and his officials tried to play down the collapse of the building saying that only a few people had been injured, and that his own personnel were engaged in efforts, by their own means, to rescue the "injured". I say "injured" because a few days after that building collapsed, we got to learn that the building collapse was much, much worse than the public had been made to believe. Scores of people, loved by their families, had lost their lives. It is also reported, very widely, that church officials refused assistance from external agencies.

The way in which TB Joshua and his church dealt with this tragedy was distasteful, to say the least. I, a Christian, watched, read and listened in in dismay at how the church leader (TB Joshua) was responding to this tragedy. It had suddenly become all about HIM. It was an "attempted attack on HIM by a plane" that had been seen hovering above some time before the building collapsed, he claimed. Secondly, a claim was made that an explosion had been heard. That explosion also "caused" the collapse. Boko Haram (the notorious terrorist group) was also thrown into the mix.

Many of us, Christians, kept quiet, at least publicly, throughout this ordeal. Some of us chose the easier route. We directed our anger toward the Nigerian government who were perceived as stalling efforts of repatriating the mortal remains of those that had perished in that building collapse back to South Africa.

Meanwhile, serious public questions were being asked about what might have caused the collapse. Building experts, quickly rebuffed the explanation of Joshua about the aerial attack by the plane. The explosion theory was also disregarded by experts. It then emerged that at the time of the fatal collapse the building was actually in the process of being extended - additional floors were being added to the existing multi-storey building. Furthermore, it was also reported that municipal approval had not been received by the church to make these modifications to the existing building.

Many of us remained quiet.

Finally, an inquest was opened by the Nigerian authorities. The government wanted to get to the reasons why the building collapsed. In efforts to get answers from ALL stakeholders, a summons was also issued to TB Joshua to appear in court, or whatever seating that was. A second was issued, and again, TB Joshua failed to appear. His reason this time (Thursday last week) - he says he didn't receive the summons. ANOTHER summons was yet again issued for him to appear at the inquest the following day, Friday 21^st November. This time his lawyers acknowledged that they had indeed receive this particular summons. BUT, they are going to challenge it. Why? "No, it is not appropriate for TB Joshua to go and give whatever testimony is required of him". Why? “No, TB Joshua is still grieving the loss of life”.

Let me park that for now.

I was raised in the church. And I truly love the church. When I was about 8 or 9, a young pastor from the Eastern Cape visited our church in Makwarela, Venda. His name was Pastor Vuyani Sam. I loved Pastor Sam. He left a lasting impression on me. Pastor Sam testified of how he gave his life to The Lord when he was just 10. When I was 9, I gave my life to The Lord. I had beaten Pastor Sam's record. Pastor Sam has since passed on.

Because my father is a pastor and church leader, we saw many, many pastors at our home. One particular pastor, whenever he meets me, still reminds me of a time when he visited our home and asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up. I confidently told him that I was going to be the chairperson of our church's District Council (DC). Why such a random ambition? My dad was, at the time, the chairperson of the Limpopo (or Northern Transvaal) District Council. I wanted to be like him. So I had ambitions of being a pastor and a church leader.

Actually, I did become a leader of sorts, much sooner than I had imagined. I held a few leadership roles when I was a teenager, often chairing committees with members older than I was. Once, my old man told me to withdraw after I had been elected Secretary, in his absence, into a district committee of a "Fathers Fraternity". I was 16 years old.

I decided to go study at Wits, in Joburg. While there, I continued to attend a branch of our church. At the same time, I was also making inroads in the leadership structures of campus ministry. So on Sundays I would go to a branch of my childhood church in the mornings and in the evenings attend services of an independent campus ministry where I would later become a leader.

After the Lagos tragedy, some friends asked me privately what my thoughts were of what had happened at that church, particularly how the church and its leader had dealt with the incident. I made my feelings known, but I chose to keep quiet from airing them publicly mainly because I felt my questioning them would be somewhat insensitive, especially because many families were still traumatized. I believe many still are.

The popular refrain among fellow Christians is that we should not question "men of God". A more popular one is “touch not the anointed of the Lord”. Fortunately, where I come from, no church leader is above reproach. And such leaders are certainly not above answering questions. Most concerning, in this case, is the absolute refusal to account to public authorities by TB Joshua. That's a very bad trend and one that must be challenged. It is doing us no favours as Christians.

I think it was Archbishop Tutu who said that "truth cannot suffer from being challenged and examined". Truth can defend itself. I wish many a church leader would embrace this.

When a leader starts displaying attributes of seeming to be above the law of the country, and acting with impunity, we should all be worried. And my Christian upbringing tells me that higher standards of leadership should be expected from any Christian leader. 

Someone asked me if I myself am a good person, when I made a statement that TB Joshua wasn't one. The truth is that I am no angel myself, to put it mildly. I failed many, many times as a leader. I made huge blunders that I am just fortunate didn't make "front pages" of Facebook. At least not yet. But if they ever do, I hope I will have the grace to own up and account to those who love me or have any interest in what I do.

www.truthmagsa.co.za

Hide and Seek

“Where are you?”

For some very strange reason, this is one of the questions many people find uncomfortable and harrowing, especially when this is asked by an intimate partner. I think God knew precisely where Adam was when He asked him this question, "where are you?" And if we really need to be honest with each other, this should be a very easy one to answer. I mean it's just 3 words thrown together in order to gain perspective of one's location. Just 3 simple words. Where. Are. You. I mean, really, nothing could be simpler.

The reality, however, is that this is a very loaded question. It’s much heavier than the 3 words that carry it.

I was chatting with my neighbour recently, and very profoundly yet randomly, we spoke about how important it is for people, particularly those in intimate or close relationships to call each other on the phone and ask that question, which many find uncomfortable, "where are you?” That discomfort, for want of a better term, is what we need to focus on.

When Adam was asked that question, he knew exactly what God was asking. A shift had occurred in their relationship and he had found himself totally displaced. So then God asked Adam to define his position in relation to Him, and that is one of the things Adam must have been running away from.

I wasn't there in the Garden of Eden and I speak with no authority on the matter, but I imagine Adam and God had an intimate relationship and friendship. So deep was their relationship (I imagine) that when God merely appeared in the garden, Adam (and Eve) hid. They just had to hide. They couldn't face him, for reasons that are obvious. An agreement had been breached, a covenant was broken. And Adam couldn’t face the aftermath and consequence of that fractured relationship.

God asks Adam a very simple question, “Where are you?”

In many ways, we continue to grapple with that question today.

In Sesotho, Sepedi or Tswana languages, when you ask a person how they are doing, you say “le kae?” The direct translation of this simple question is “where are you?” So in other words the question of how you are doing has to do with your positioning in life. Not a positioning of your physical location, but it is about your positioning in the cosmos. The appropriate and normal response to that Sesotho question is “ke teng”, which means “I am here”. I mean, isn’t this just so profound? I wish I had words and a way to really unpack how profound this is. I am here, I am present, I am integrated with my past, present and future, altogether in one place. I am not disintegrated or scattered. I am. As you see me, so I am. I am. And because I am, you can then relate with me. Ke teng.

Relationships are about constantly asking questions. Let me repeat that. Relationships are about constantly asking questions. (Pretty thick coming from a single guy ain't it). But seriously, in relationships, you’re always asking questions, especially in the early stages. It's important that you do. And one of the critical questions to ask is precisely the one which Adam dreaded being asked that horrible day. And that is the question Sesotho speaking people are asking each other today, albeit in slightly different contexts.

This might not go down well, but I’m just going to go ahead and say it: we are always hiding. That's the reality. Always hiding. We are either hiding or are hiding things. And like our forefather and foremother, we hide behind clothes and all these material things we work so hard to attain. I will work SOO HARD so that at the end of the month I can earn some money that will allow me to buy an expensive piece of clothing that I can hide under. We are so crazy about and fixated on hiding things. Call it covering up, I call it hiding.

Unlike Adam, why can’t we just stand and declare our position? Naked or not. Compromised or not. State your position.

                                                         (www.cutestpaw.com)

When my neighbour and I were discussing this concept of “where are you”, she affirmed its importance by giving an example of how even at work, she would pick up the land-line and phone a colleague on the land-line extension and go on to ask “where are you”, although it would be very obvious that if they picked up the land-line phone, they should be sitting comfortably at their desk.

In relationships, people are constantly trying to find and locate one another. We are forever seeking to know where our loved ones are, as we should.  The big thing though is that this question’s intention is not simply an attempt to determine the physical location of the person, but rather an attempt to know or perhaps have the person define their positioning as it relates to us.

Maybe it is my naiveté, but what I said to my neighbour  was that I believe any person in any sort of relationship should be able to, without any fear of prejudice, ask their partner where they are. I cannot see how you can relate to a person without knowing where they are. I can’t.  It’s not possible. And no, it’s not creepy. I’m not creepy. Really really. It’s just a matter of really trying to understand how to relate with you at that particular point.  

If, at the worst case scenario, you ask me that question and I happen to be at a compromised position like Adam was, that is all the more reason why your question should be justified. I say, ask your girlfriend that question and don’t be ashamed to. Ask your boyfriend, husband, son, daughter where on earth they are. Ask them. You must. And they must answer.

Let’s stop this thing of hiding. It is so 1920s.

Once you start struggling answering that question “where are you?” then you should really start asking yourself “where indeed am I?” Like a Sesotho speaker, are you able to confidently say “I am here”?

If not, then, as we say in the mines, makhulu problem.

In defence of Hope. Fathers matter

By Sibo Lefalatsa

You will remember that Livhuwani introduced me to you all by referring to a talk I gave about the place of men in the family. The place of course is here, there, everywhere, wherever your family needs you and wherever you have something to give, it’s not a place per se it’s a presence.

I have a love for this topic because I’ve often felt unique in my experience, while many spoke of their grandmothers I spoke of my grandfather. I’m a mother, with a second on the way, there is no doubt my kids need me, no one doubts the need for a mom but I am a big advocate for dads, that the love that exists between them and their children should be respected. I’ll take it a step further, I actively push for it, I just want my hubby to be able to be himself and his son to just know him, they’ll work out the rest themselves. Let’s be honest, in our communities, in the way people speak, both men and women, men are encouraged to be these hovering entities who perform a role instead of being allowed to just be there, chilling, laughing, playing, bored, excited, interested, tired, annoyed.

So that’s why I want to share just two of my favourite memories of my dad and grandfather, just for the heck of it, they just happened to be there and made these memories happen.

First memory:

It’s the day before my wedding, 7 years ago, the church grannies have arrived in their numbers to help prepare me for this momentous undertaking. Seated around me and each given an opportunity to leave me with a word for the journey. Lo, it was about 1 and half hour of negativity.

“Marriage is tough, you are now about to enter a life of misery and tears”

“Men are cheats, all of them, oh your man is a Mosotho? Well prepare, Sotho men in particular are the biggest cheats, they have a certificate in cheating”  J

“You’ll wet your pillow with your tears, that’s how tough it is, but yes please make sure to do so quietly. There’s no need for the man to know you’re upset with his mom”.

“A man is a crocodile, what you’ll be sleeping next to in bed is a crocodile!”

“You modern women, your husband’s are afraid of you, we’ll tell you what they want, they want you to wear dresses not pants and if you do insist on these trends cover your butt with a long top”

It went on and on…

Then, suddenly my dad stood, he’d been there all along but I hadn’t noticed him in the cacophony of misery. My dad, normally does not do the emotion thing, he’s the guy you go to for the “go to school, do well at school, toughen up, you can do it” type of dad. I go to him for the “300” or “Braveheart” just before an epic war moments rah rah rah!!!!!! talks, he will get you off your, oh poor me moment and get you ready to kick some serious butt! Defeat? What is that?

That guy, stood up amongst those grannies and said “S’bo, you deserve to be happy in marriage. If we  believed that we were sending you off to misery we wouldn’t do it. Please believe that you can be happy and we want you to be happy”

I love this. I live by this. That he stood up right there and then, not waiting to talk to me in private afterwards, that he spoke directly against what they said. My Hope was restored. What those women said may seem funny, 7 years later, but they did affect the way I saw Hape and not in a good way. Can you build something walking in with that kind of hopelessness, anger, distrust? Sure you may be preparing me for what might actually happen, but it also might not.

My dad, I suppose being a man was a little wounded by such assumptions and I’m glad for it. I understood, I had to give my hubby a chance and I wasn’t being sold into slavery. My family, not knowing for sure either, Hoped for me a happy marriage. That was all I needed to hear, misery is not a given, defeat is not inevitable, I can fight for mine and my family’s happiness, we could try.

My nature is a fighting nature, I’m not naturally inclined to endurance. Give me a fighting chance and I’m up for it, and that’s what my dad gave me with those words

Second memory:

It’s a little over 2 years ago, not long before my grandfather passed away and we are in Durban for our regular family visits and hubby and I are sitting chatting away with my grandfather and then he points to a Mfeka family portrait that now includes hubby and our son and says to my husband 

“That’s my pride, that picture. I’m very proud of this girl, I’m very proud of her”. And then he carried on with whatever he was talking about, I can’t remember.

You know I’ve found, sometimes to my own amusement, that I’m not the kind of person who needs constant affirmation of self, in fact I’m pretty good at affirming myself, thanks. I mean I appreciate it, if I can get it, but I have a tiny group of people who occupy my inner space. I often wonder why that is, especially whenever someone has commented on my attitude. My perception is that one of the main reasons for that is that I got all the affirmation I ever needed or will ever need, from men I loved dearly and who loved me even more.

When my grandfather was at death’s door, I was anxious to drive to KZN asap. I was certain, given how close we were he’d wait for me before he left. He didn’t…

I searched for feelings of disappointment at this betrayal of our close friendship, and there was none. He had said everything there was to say, the day he told me and my hubby of his pride in me, a pride I thought I already knew and yet it meant so much more to hear him actually say it. To the extent that Sibo was concerned, the man had done his business and there was nothing to chase after him for.

So potential dads, this is why you need to fight tooth and nail to be present as yourselves not personas for your daughters and sons (and their mothers, we need a lot love to darn it J):

Growing up and even now, when a man or woman, anyone really, but especially men insult or mock me or try to bully me, I always think, “I’m loved by men who sacrificed a lot for me and my wellbeing, I would never, on God’s green earth insult them by taking your word for who I am over their word, I have far too much respect for them.”

I’m not saying that every child growing up with dads and grandfathers thinks like me or that without dads they can’t be confident and strong. I’m not even saying everyone should be so self-assured…actually no they should, every woman deserves to be self-assured, not just that bombastic “we’re all beautiful” talk, I mean we’re not all beautiful and we’re not all beautiful all the time, so what?...

I mean real self-assurance, based on receiving the unearned love and pride of God your Father and God-willing, the love and pride of a father here on Earth.

I’m just sharing a story, that’s all. If you as a man knew that there is a chance, even a small chance in the midst of the world’s madness, that you could give that kind of self-love and self-assurance to your son or daughter, wouldn’t you do it?

Well now you know…

Peter Pan does not live here....

By Sibo Lefalatsa

I am going to tell you something that will blow your mind.

I’m smart, no not kinda smart, no not smart only from studying for my exams from neat lecture notes and scoring an A. I mean smart smart, business savvy and strategic in my dealings. I’ll call you out on a statement that is not well thought out. You can ask any of my friends, I brook no quarter. I’m not ashamed of that, in fact it doesn’t bother me at all and I won’t hide the fact that I am smart from your relatives or your friends, it is what it is.

I’m also funny, I’m actually very funny. Not funny like, I don’t know where on the map the North-West Province is, no I mean, I’m funny because I know stuff (I read a lot of books) and I love teasing people. I do banter well. You don’t like being wittingly teased by a woman? That’s a shame….for you, because if I meet you and we have a conversation it’s going to happen to you, I like it when it’s done to me too. Oh and I must add I’m not ashamed of that, in fact it doesn’t bother me at all and I won’t hide the fact that I do it from your relatives or your friends, it is what it is.

There are many things I won’t hide from your relatives or friends, I won’t hide my job, my title, my personality. I just won’t, because I don’t want your people’s confidence to be paid for by my lies. If you have a problem with me, begin a process of working on your issues, or dump me, but don’t try and control what people know about me, be free about that stuff.

You know what else, look at me (okay look at my profile pic) am I wearing a green top, green tights and a pointy green hat? No? You know why? Because I don’t suffer from a Peter Pan complex. I’m grown and I like that. I don’t have my 19 year old innocence or my 19 year old naiveté and I don’t suffer from a child-like need for acceptance, so I’ll ask you tough questions, I’ll be very direct with you, as adults do and I expect a reasoned and intelligent response. You know why? Because you won’t dismiss me like that.

You’re probably wondering why so heavy Sibo? Who sucked the sugar out of your lollipop?

 It all started 2 weeks ago and I must tell you, I’m pissed.

Answer me this, why do people in this country find it so easy to talk down to women? I’ll give you the two particular incidences that got me annoyed.

I was watching eNCA and Nkepile Mabuse was interviewing the newly appointed Minister of Women. They were discussing the disgusting scourge of abuse against women. Nkepile asked why the department was not undertaking research to have a better understanding of the causes and possible solutions to this abuse. The Minister said that while it’s true that they have not done that research and they can’t explain the disgusting situation we are living under as South African women, she felt that women must empower themselves, because, of the cases she mentioned where women were killed by their boyfriends, those women should have walked away from those abusive relationships before they were killed.

You know what, I’m going to take some time to vomit, but just before I do that, let me say this, no woman, no matter how dumb she is, deserves to be killed by her partner. Why I didn’t leave is irrelevant. In fact let me put it to you this way. Those black men fed to pigs by their white boss (remember that horrific story?) did you think to ask their families why they didn’t walk away from their abusive racist boss before he fed them to pigs!!!!

 I will leave you to think about why you wouldn’t ask such an irrelevant and insensitive question and then realise how offensive it is for people to talk about women who should’ve walked away from abusive relationships after they’ve been abused and killed.

The next annoyance came during a radio show interview of a number of successful business women. These were not your average South African woman (who of course is not a successful multi-millionaire businesswoman). One of the ladies, said something along the lines of, you may be a CEO at work but you’re not a CEO at home. She also said cooking for your family is not abuse, anyway you can do it while drinking a glass of wine.

Whatever.

Firstly, no one needs to tell me I’m not a Corporate and Legal Affairs Manager at home just like my husband is not an Operations Manager at home (okay technically he is, but that’s cos he’s really good at managing operations J). Actually, I’m also the legal manager at home, because people, hubby, brothers, friends, parents come to me with business and/or legal questions and I apply my 9 years of high-level legal and corporate training in advising them, so there!

If I am bossy, that’s me don’t try to cut me down by suggesting I only discovered the ability to boss you around when I became CEO, anyway does it bother you that I’m a CEO? If not why do you care where I’m CEOing? Where have you ever heard of a man being told he is not a CEO at home?

Secondly and this might seem minor, of course cooking is not abuse, but it also depends. Maybe I can’t afford domestic help, I’m the breadwinner and I work long hours and I consistently have people waiting for me to cook. This is an unreasonable expectation and I don’t blame anyone living this circumstance believing it to be abusive. We are women but we’re not all living similar lives and yes a seemingly minor thing to me may be part of a series of burdens for you which take their toll. Basically, each woman will decide what they believe to be burdensome. I refuse to be told what should aggrieve me, old as I am.

Why would the Minister be so bold as to address me (a woman) when she doesn’t even know why the perpetrators of sexual abuse and murder do what they do? Does she think that highly of rapists and murderers that she would lecture me about when I should walk away from them instead of addressing their filthy conduct?

Why would someone, be so bold as to lecture me about how my profession should influence relations in my house and what chores I should be prepared to do, in my house?

I’ll tell you why, we are too accustomed to thinking that women are essentially child-like and need constant lecturing to remember themselves. We seem to also believe it’s okay to place the responsibility of having decent stable societies at the feet of women. We act as if the world’s problems can be solved by women behaving themselves, by us protecting our sons’ egos and generally insisting that women make life easier for everyone else, they are strong and they are nurturers aren’t they? They must also get out of the way of criminals, because they’ve spent all their lives being told to protect their virginity and virtue, they should be used to being held responsible for the consequences of indiscretion.

Well here’s my response… I’m not listening.

My strength and my ability or willingness to nurture will not be taken advantage of. It is not a ticket to expect me to labour under abuse, neglect or used to help maintain unfair power relations in my personal relationships. I’m not here to make any man or woman feel comfortable when there’s nothing to be comfortable about, I am not going to squeeze and bend myself out of shape to help you be more comfortable in life. I’m not ashamed of my life, my accomplishments or my job. I aim to be a decent and respectful person and I expect the same level of decency and respect from men and women to be addressed towards me and I don’t tolerate situations where I’m not afforded that respect and decency. If you’re looking for a 30 year old woman-child that you can scold and bully, please try the next door… I hope you find another woman who has had enough!

Healing the Family

I went to visit my parents one afternoon and my dad remarked, rather disappointed, that they had been expecting to see me the previous weekend. I responded very straightforwardly, "sorry papa, I was attending a marriage seminar". Now my dad is a man who can never hide his emotions. When he is sad, you'll notice it. Equally, when he is happy, you'll also see it. But this time when I mentioned where I had been, he had laughter written all over his face and it was very clear he was struggling to mask his amusement.

Finally, he burst out laughing as he could no longer hold back. This was all very funny to him. And I am sure that night when I left their house, I became my parents' private joke, like I usually am. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if the moment I left the house, my sisters were immediately called to be told that this bachelor brother of theirs is now on a new mission, attending marriage seminars. People in my family like gossiping about each other, and over time we have all learned not to make the mistake of believing if you shared your secret with another member of the family, it would remain that way.

But to be fair, at some stage after laughing at my marriage seminar expedition, my old man did finally commend me for "preparing myself for the future" by attending marriage seminars, seeing that I'm as single as a monk. It would also be unfair of me to only paint the picture of my parents having fun at my expense for attending marriage seminars. The truth is that my folks are my biggest cheerleaders and supporters. Of that, I have not a single doubt. That's why when my dad started laughing at me I also couldn't resist laughing at how seriously I take myself sometimes.

In many ways, I love how we are able to laugh at ourselves, even in sombre circumstances. Recently, when we unveiled my biological mother's tombstone, my dad had us in stitches when he told the audience at the ceremony that regardless of how much he loved my mother, like in any marriage,  him and mom had their differences. He told us of an instance where they had had a quarrel and mom made it clear that she had had it. She was leaving. Apparently mom decided to walk out the house but only made it as far as the corner of our street. My dad teases and says he knew she wasn't serious because if she was, she would have at least packed one bag. We all laughed.

Ironically and at a more personal level, when I heard this little snippet of my parents’ squabble, I felt soothed. Let me explain why. I have mentioned elsewhere on this blog that I never knew my mother because she died when I was but a baby. So when my dad mentioned that he and mom had nothing more than a normal marriage which had its fair share of ups and downs, I felt he had managed to bring her to life in a very significant way.

Not only did he manage to bring her memory to life, he also managed to make her human. You see, because I never knew mom, in my mind she was something of an enigma, an angel, a surreal person, incapable of being angry let alone walking out on her husband during a quarrel. Dad remarried 3 years after mom died to a wonderful woman I normally refer to as my mother, because in many ways she is. Theirs is a beautiful marriage which assures me of the sanctity and importance of marriage in the building of families.

But the reason why I was fixated on my dad and late mom’s marriage and how they related is because of the direct biological and relationship I have with both of them. It was important for me to realize that marriages go through ups and downs. Disagreements are there. Quarrels happen. But after your argument, and when you've walked out in a fit of rage, it’s important that you calm down, go back and talk things through.

I am excited by the authenticity married couples around me are showing, particularly when it comes to the realities of marriage, and how possible it is to have a thriving marriage, even in the year 2014. In South Africa. Much as we lament the plight facing the institution of marriage in the country, there is a wave of optimism I’m seeing sweeping through the land. It might be small, but it’s there. Divorce might be on the rise, but there is also a new creed of openness that I think we must laud. Young black women and men are yearning for genuine and authentic talks about this institution called marriage, with the aim to restore it. And for unmarried young people, such as I am, this is tremendously important.

After Sibo’s post about marriage and the over-romanticizing in choosing life partners, it became very stark and clear judging from the responses we got, that many many young South Africans are yearning for an honest dialogue that will help us in re-building the family structure. Insofar as a platform of dialogue on these and other social issues is concerned, we are currently working on something. On this, we will keep you posted. This is an exciting time and I have never had better hope for our country than I have experienced over the last couple of weeks.

I knew an old man once. A deep, wise old man with incredible foresight and something I call “a sense of knowing”. After he came back to South Africa from exile, my friends and I would spend lots and lots of time with him at his house, learning from him, and talking about the country. Spending time with him was like a roller coaster ride. You would find yourself somersaulting from one moment laughing till your tummy ached and the next moment you would be sitting still because the room suddenly became emotionally charged.

Many times, we sat and talked, laughed and cried (yes we would) discussing  ourselves and where South Africa was headed. On certain occasions he would stand up while talking to us, and although he was still physically with us, he would be transfixed as he looked out the balcony, suddenly lost in his thoughts, kidnapped, and his mind would take him far away from us to a place only he could go. Just as quickly as he had "left" us, he would quickly come back, and simply say, “guys, I’m worried about the country”.  What he “saw” in his moment of “escape”, I cannot tell you for certain because he had gone to a different world where very few are able to go.

From time to time, I get glimpses, albeit very very small, of what I think he “saw”. At the very least, I think I understand why he would say “I’m worried about this country”. In these visits we would speak about the state of "man" in South Africa. We also interrogated each other on deep personal issues, for it is in looking into yourself, that you can be able to authentically engage with the world. And often times, he would sum things up by saying, "we are sick”. That, I know what he meant.

But one day I received a message from a friend of mine after I had been venting out my frustration about the country. She simply said, “don’t be discouraged man, God hears us and He will heal our land. He wants to”. Such comforting and encouraging words. This includes the healing of our women, our children, our men, from all strata of life. From the normal man on the street to those in power. And our families too will be healed. We are currently praying and preparing for that platform.

God will heal our land. He wants to.

"Then the LORD appeared to Solomon by night, and said to him: “I have heard your prayer, and have chosen this place for Myself as a house of sacrifice. When I shut up heaven and there is no rain, or command the locusts to devour the land, or send pestilence among My people, if My people who are called by My name will humble themselves, and pray and seek My face, and turn from their wicked ways, then I will hear from heaven, and will forgive their sin and heal their land. Now My eyes will be open and My ears attentive to prayer made in this place. (II Chronicles 7:12-15 NKJV)

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