Joys of growing up in a village

Recently I went home for a week in KZN, to a small but popular town called Mnambithi or Ladymith in English (not direct translation, Mzansi style - we have a lot of towns that have vernacular names which doesn't mean the same thing in English, like some people I know).

Popular Ladysmith, thanks to Black Mambazo. Gcizela is my village, situated in Watersmeet - you won't find it in GPS. Like most village kids at the time, I envied our age mates who grew up in townships and big cities. They always seem advanced, good looking, spoke fluent English (kanti it was only the accent - their grammar was sometimes flawed), they wore nice clothes. Whereas us, we were shadded (myself atleast) and our girls were strong, some beautiful smiles here and there. Whereas city kids were generally better and they knew it. Finishing matric seemed to take forever, couldn't wait to leave for big cities. There was at the time nothing beautiful about our place, but cities were attractive.

Now I've been living in Cape Town for the past seven years and thought it doesn't get better than this. I also enjoyed the 'respect' I get when going home and everyone talks and thinks I'm more sophisticated. They still carefully observe me - as if to detect how corrupt have I become. It didn't get better than that. Then one day the penny dropped. These city guys pay sometimes a lot of money to have fun for the stuff we sometimes do for free in the villages! Hobbies they call them - especially the outdoor ones. They even buy clothes for that, expensive clothes - hhayi!Take mountain climbing for instance. To them it's a big thing, whereas I climbed a mountain everyday - sometimes more than four times in one day. My house has it's back on the mountain, I climbed it almost everyday for all my high school years - short cut, yet you still walk 30 minutes after. When we still had cows, we'd spend the whole day up there with friends during school holidays or to another higher one for cattle grazing. We'd eat roots, seeds, shoot birds & braai them (didn't have vegetarians back then).

In season, we'll steal mielies, sugarcane in the nearby fields. Obviously as Zulu boys having fun involved violence - stick fighting or straight boxing, which contradicted my church's upbringing. It was compulsory, apparently to remove the cowardness in all of us - I'm not sure if it really worked. Another hobby, camping or camp fire. There was a time when Eskom didn't reach everyone, to those who don't get it - it's like permanent load shedding! We'll everyday sit around fire in the evenings - in the huts and listen to stories, mostly were horror - no comedies. That was our version of TV, since TV was a luxury and an inconvience if U had it coz it required a battery to be charged. And besides the whole village looked like a camping site at night, with all the fire lights here and there - and seeing at night wasn't difficult at all. Swimming. Now that was one point wherein we fought a long a battle with our parents, who strongly opposed us from swimming in rivers - what swimming pool? Disobedience always resulted in punishment - thanks to siblings who were traitors. It's still a strange thing for me to see parents here in cities taking their kids to swimming pools! I still remember my mother's sharp voice "Don't play in water" or when I'm about to get a heavy hiding "What did I tell you about swimming?" The rest will be screams and asking for forgiveness vowing never to swim again, obviously I would be back at it. I later realised that she feared that we'll be eaten by snakes or crocodile or drown (which is why we needed that practice in the first place!) Bless her heart. No wonder most darkies can't swim. But its fun was derived also from its proximity to danger.

Bird-viewing - we did not only viewed them from a distance. But brought them close, very close to a meal, using our slingshots and I was notorious of that, coz as a left handed it was known we never miss. I think I lived up to that. Basically, it's a whole lot of these things - fighting for fun, stealing, climbing, walking long distances (but refused when sent by parents) and playing that shaped me, us. I may not be from ekasi or any other famous township, but from a small village called Gcizela made the person me.

That is where all the trouble began, in those rivers, mountains, fields, plains and all the non-paid-for-fun that make me to sometimes refuse to pay for anything that involves enjoying nature. Instead when I need to get away from these 'evil cities' (according to some people), I go home. Killing two birds with one stone. Unfortunately for those who do not have 'amafama' or 'ancestral homelands' and even those who consciously neglect going back, they have to pay to enjoy these things.

KM