Of legends

I smiled when he said, "the future is in our hands", thinking to myself that there was nothing in those hardened hands. Somehow his words lingered on my for mind many moons thereafter. Each time they floated in my mind, as if they were a chant that cast me into a restless state of mind. It has been five years since that day.

Who was he?

Who is he?

My grandfather remains one of my most favourite people. He is late, but he still lives on in my memory. He lives.

His life story is one that leaves me smiling every time I hear about it or whenever something reminds me of him. He was a self-made man. He had no formal schooling but could articulate wise and carefully-considered thoughts and reflections. What really made him so loveable was his humility. He remains a great embodiment of being a family man. I think this is what made him a great man that he was.

My grandfather was a sangoma. He would often relate how difficult the path to him becoming isangoma was. In my young mind I remember wondering what could be difficult about learning how to use the herbs to heal ailments . Perhaps these thoughts were a result of what I had come to learn through a particular understanding of Christianity and westernisation, and how both shun the practice of ubungoma. For the great part of my adult life I have had inner conflict about this. A wrestle of self between what I was generally expected to be through a Christian and westernised society and a becoming and acceptance that I didn't know who I really was or coming to be. The polarisation between cultural beliefs and customs, and Christianity and westernisation was something I have tried to confront in a bid for enlightenment. This has been and continues to be a struggle.

I have felt so many emotions; from the helplessness at not knowing who or what you are, despair at not knowing where you come from, the futility of life in not knowing what your purpose is, the hope that sustains when the picture seems to come into focus, and to the unexplainable joy that stirs deep in one's belly when the universe assured you that you belong.

My grandfather taught me to treat everybody with love; a lesson I am learning to this day. I wish every child could have an experience with a loved one like I had with my grandfather. He was an embodiment of ubuntu, a true son of Afrika. His hands were hardened by love and sacrificed, and as such, I never felt their hardness because of the love in the human that carried them.

I am a troubled lover

Without conscious choice, I have been in deep reflection for a number of years. I have been reflecting because I am troubled by how to love better.  I can trace this trouble to many years ago. Back then, I had framed it as trying to understand what a life well lived is.

Love has been a continuous theme in my life. I learned early in my adult life that love is my greatest strength. More importantly, I learned that even in my broken self, I am love. I've pondered what it means  to love my wife, son, family, relatives, neighbours, community and the world at large - and how to do this really well. I've danced in the multiple shades of love and have had moments where I felt that I fully grasped it. And there have been many moments where I have acted in ways that show I have not. And so the dance continues.

And with the river of life and time forever flowing I have learned to be. To be in life. To be in love. To be in the moment. It has been a journey of learning, and a lot of unlearning. I have struggled to grasp the many contradictions in my life and in the world - to love myself despite the flaws I observe in me, to reconcile the wrong with the right, and move beyond good intentions to meaningful engagement.

I am grateful for life. Without it I wouldn't have this trouble.

Mother