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| Nomawethu Moyo:Guest Blogger |
Happy new year! New year, new things, ye ye vele vele what what, this is not going to be a new start for me, I'm not changing any of my crap, I'm not making any resolutions :) partly because I never live up to half of them and partly because I think I really don't need them. So, as usual, my busy brain is full of a hodgepodge of things seen, things done, things felt, and things yet to be done...
So, happy new year and yes, I'm in a kombi - I hope you know what that is... It's an 19 seater van, wait, by right it's supposed to carry 15 people but these men have found a way of fitting 4 of us in a row (instead of 3) - it's nothing new, they've been doing it since whenever! It still doesn't feel natural calling a kombi a van - here in Zim, a van is what the Murricans call a truck. Anywho, I really don't like kombis, they're our most efficient form of public transport and they suck! They are one painful reminder that I'm home, public transport, public transport, I can't ask my parents to drive me everywhere, I don't have a license and I don't have a car of my own :) So here I am, stuck in between an old man, and a young mother with her baby eating a banana. Woooo worst spot ever! The old man is lightly scented with sweat and wood smoke. The skin on his hands looks tough, he has tiny scales at the fingertips, his fingernails full of dirt. Hardworking hands; "he should be proud of them," I think to myself. He looks tired and in this moment, I love this old man, I empathize without pity but with complete understanding. I hate pity, so let me love this stranger for all that I believe he has achieved. To my right, is the young mother, I honestly think she's about my age and that makes me a little furious, but I have no right to be mad. I'll call this young mother, Sharon, I have something against that name for no reason. Why bring a child to suffer on this lousy earth? Sharon* has her baby wrapped in a damp worn out towel that used to have some kind of print on it. On her lap next to the baby, there is a small plastic bag with tomatoes, mangos, bread, and rice. The baby boy, probably about 10months old, is clumsily eating a muddy banana, his hands are well covered with the slime, his nose has some caked mucus on it and I am disgusted and disappointed to the core. I spend half my time trying to dodge the baby with a fake smile, because he wants to touch everything, he's just a baby, he isn't doing anything wrong, I just wish he was a bit cleaner. Half of the world's problems are caused by sex, sex at the wrong time, sex with the wrong people, sex without adequate knowledge, disease, overpopulation, poverty, I need not say more...
To add on to my discomfort, this driver is going a little too fast, he veers off the road to dodge a hump, he will make a left turn and a quick U-turn to dodge a red traffic light, but he has breaks, because he stops at every bus stop! At some point he's driving against oncoming traffic, he swears, he's in a rush but none of his passengers seem to be pressed for time and I wonder why he's in such a rush? My mind drifts to a young man who asked me where I had parked my car earlier when I walked out of a shop with a huge plastic bag full of braids. I was annoyed by him, how dare you ask me where I parked my car, I don't have one! He was just offering to help me carry my plastic bag "to my car," well Bhudi, I don't have one but in this moment I darn wish I had one. Someone starts coughing somewhere, it's a wet cough, and the first thing that comes to my mind is TB, I stretch my neck to check whether he/she is covering his/her mouth. I'm suddenly engulfed by fear, fear for my health and the baby's, just us two, the kombi now seems sticky, hazardously humid and infested with a concoction of pathogens, I can now smell everything and I'm seriously contemplating dropping off at the next bus stop and just calling Bakhe (my Dad) to come and pick me up. I immediately scold myself for being a pathetic nuisance - every single muscle of my body is tense, I'm holding my breath... We've got to find a way of making kombis better, somehow, better drivers, and we've got to preach the gospel of cleanliness to all. I realize I can't preach the "use public transport" gospel, all my save energy, save money, reduce air pollution here, that crap won't help if our public transport is in this state. Maybe it should start with the taxi rank? Maybe it starts with some driver education?A matter for another day, another day...
Time, place, space... It's me standing next to my great grandfather's grave completely blank, furiously blank because I'm frustrated searching for an emotion, a connection. We're visiting the family graveyard to put some flowers after the new year - no beer or anything funny here. I'm with Bakhe and my uncle, they wanted to come... I walk over to my great grandmother's grave, she died at 102, and apparently I took after her - height-wise at least, she held me when I was a baby but I never knew her. I walk around, the graves are many, the graves are many, and I'm ashamed that I still fear death, I don't want to die, at least not now. I soon realize that Bakhe and my uncle are paying attention to the males' graves, particularly age at death. I overhear them trying to recall the various causes of death...the illnesses that led to the deaths...diagnosed and undiagnosed and I hear him say, "This thing might be genetic, it's coming for us." If you read one of my most recent posts about being away from home, this scene may ring a bell... I'm immediately stricken by sorrow but happiness at the same time, they who know may take appropriate precautions & be prepared, yet at the same time I have faith they'll be spared from the ordeal. My thoughts drift of to undiagnosed illnesses that my nation suffers from, the curable and incurable, the discomfort that we live with but shouldn't be living with, the lack of money or the lack of knowledge, the small things that kill people but shouldn't be killing people... It's a moment of gratefulness for the little I know, and a moment of sadness about the need for others to know, and it all occurs to me as I'm standing in my family graveyard, somewhat anticipating my own death, my reunion with my Saviour, and in this moment, it seems bittersweet.
So, happy new year and yes, I'm in a kombi - I hope you know what that is... It's an 19 seater van, wait, by right it's supposed to carry 15 people but these men have found a way of fitting 4 of us in a row (instead of 3) - it's nothing new, they've been doing it since whenever! It still doesn't feel natural calling a kombi a van - here in Zim, a van is what the Murricans call a truck. Anywho, I really don't like kombis, they're our most efficient form of public transport and they suck! They are one painful reminder that I'm home, public transport, public transport, I can't ask my parents to drive me everywhere, I don't have a license and I don't have a car of my own :) So here I am, stuck in between an old man, and a young mother with her baby eating a banana. Woooo worst spot ever! The old man is lightly scented with sweat and wood smoke. The skin on his hands looks tough, he has tiny scales at the fingertips, his fingernails full of dirt. Hardworking hands; "he should be proud of them," I think to myself. He looks tired and in this moment, I love this old man, I empathize without pity but with complete understanding. I hate pity, so let me love this stranger for all that I believe he has achieved. To my right, is the young mother, I honestly think she's about my age and that makes me a little furious, but I have no right to be mad. I'll call this young mother, Sharon, I have something against that name for no reason. Why bring a child to suffer on this lousy earth? Sharon* has her baby wrapped in a damp worn out towel that used to have some kind of print on it. On her lap next to the baby, there is a small plastic bag with tomatoes, mangos, bread, and rice. The baby boy, probably about 10months old, is clumsily eating a muddy banana, his hands are well covered with the slime, his nose has some caked mucus on it and I am disgusted and disappointed to the core. I spend half my time trying to dodge the baby with a fake smile, because he wants to touch everything, he's just a baby, he isn't doing anything wrong, I just wish he was a bit cleaner. Half of the world's problems are caused by sex, sex at the wrong time, sex with the wrong people, sex without adequate knowledge, disease, overpopulation, poverty, I need not say more...
To add on to my discomfort, this driver is going a little too fast, he veers off the road to dodge a hump, he will make a left turn and a quick U-turn to dodge a red traffic light, but he has breaks, because he stops at every bus stop! At some point he's driving against oncoming traffic, he swears, he's in a rush but none of his passengers seem to be pressed for time and I wonder why he's in such a rush? My mind drifts to a young man who asked me where I had parked my car earlier when I walked out of a shop with a huge plastic bag full of braids. I was annoyed by him, how dare you ask me where I parked my car, I don't have one! He was just offering to help me carry my plastic bag "to my car," well Bhudi, I don't have one but in this moment I darn wish I had one. Someone starts coughing somewhere, it's a wet cough, and the first thing that comes to my mind is TB, I stretch my neck to check whether he/she is covering his/her mouth. I'm suddenly engulfed by fear, fear for my health and the baby's, just us two, the kombi now seems sticky, hazardously humid and infested with a concoction of pathogens, I can now smell everything and I'm seriously contemplating dropping off at the next bus stop and just calling Bakhe (my Dad) to come and pick me up. I immediately scold myself for being a pathetic nuisance - every single muscle of my body is tense, I'm holding my breath... We've got to find a way of making kombis better, somehow, better drivers, and we've got to preach the gospel of cleanliness to all. I realize I can't preach the "use public transport" gospel, all my save energy, save money, reduce air pollution here, that crap won't help if our public transport is in this state. Maybe it should start with the taxi rank? Maybe it starts with some driver education?A matter for another day, another day...
Time, place, space... It's me standing next to my great grandfather's grave completely blank, furiously blank because I'm frustrated searching for an emotion, a connection. We're visiting the family graveyard to put some flowers after the new year - no beer or anything funny here. I'm with Bakhe and my uncle, they wanted to come... I walk over to my great grandmother's grave, she died at 102, and apparently I took after her - height-wise at least, she held me when I was a baby but I never knew her. I walk around, the graves are many, the graves are many, and I'm ashamed that I still fear death, I don't want to die, at least not now. I soon realize that Bakhe and my uncle are paying attention to the males' graves, particularly age at death. I overhear them trying to recall the various causes of death...the illnesses that led to the deaths...diagnosed and undiagnosed and I hear him say, "This thing might be genetic, it's coming for us." If you read one of my most recent posts about being away from home, this scene may ring a bell... I'm immediately stricken by sorrow but happiness at the same time, they who know may take appropriate precautions & be prepared, yet at the same time I have faith they'll be spared from the ordeal. My thoughts drift of to undiagnosed illnesses that my nation suffers from, the curable and incurable, the discomfort that we live with but shouldn't be living with, the lack of money or the lack of knowledge, the small things that kill people but shouldn't be killing people... It's a moment of gratefulness for the little I know, and a moment of sadness about the need for others to know, and it all occurs to me as I'm standing in my family graveyard, somewhat anticipating my own death, my reunion with my Saviour, and in this moment, it seems bittersweet.
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