I’ve been in a still position staring at a dark room silently speaking to God over the past hour or so. At 8 pm, the lights went out so I retired to my cousin’s bedroom for a short lie down, what else do people do within those two hours? It eventually ended and feeling tired, I realised I must have slept the last hour off so I excused myself for the night.
I’m now in the backroom (as we call it in South African townships) of my aunt’s house in Sebokeng. Absolute silence surrounding me, except in my head and these irritating mosquitoes that keep buzzing near my ear. Loadshedding is any man’s nightmare, I almost said a snob’s, as a cheeky reference to myself in this current moment but truth is, the whole nation have had enough. I could put the candle on if I wanted to but, these mosquitoes would have a bloody feast and I’m trying to go back to sleep.
I opted for the backroom (an annex) instead of sharing a bedroom with my 20 something year old cousin who’s been consumed on a phone call with her boyfriend close to three hours. I’d rather listen to these mosquitoes this way, I have my own space to piece out 11 pm thoughts such as life now and at elderly age. The recent loss of my grandmother has obviously shifted such thinking towards the forefront of my mind but it isn’t anything new as someone with a genuine heart for old people.
Laying here in the dark, literally twiddling my fingers only to stop and think ‘this is something Mme would do on a sleepless night or early morning in bed’. Tap her hands to a rhythm I somehow caught on to or flick the hair on the crown of her head.
Both my grandmothers in their unique ways were special to me. My mother’s mother taught us as kids to pray before bed. If she didn’t get us to repeat a prayer with her, I’d catch her softly whispering one. My father’s mother taught me how to execute gentle strength, she outlived mama’s mme. Last year September on her birthday, I’d gotten her age wrong actually, she did with 89 in mind. I was prompted to ask ‘how does it feel to be a year towards 90?’. I’ll never forget her response, it’s as if it was programmed to remain a lingering memory. ‘Haachi, osare ketla e bona 90 ngwanaka?’. In essence, we were a year ahead, she would be turning 89 this September but to para- phrase, she wasn’t on a mission to make it to 90 and she really was fine with that because there was nothing more to pour into from a personal outlook- she lived her purpose as a child, sister, wife, mother, grandmother & great grand mother and felt fulfilled. Which brings me to my sleep deprived thoughts over old age. Life is God’s, whether some agree or not, He purposed it as scripture states in Genesis. Only, who wouldn’t empathise with elderly people that suffer and feel they’ve outlived their time? I’ve been with many who were/ are ready to go to sleep and not wake up because laying in the dark this way to wake up watching the days pass away means nothing compared to being in heaven. It puts so much into perspective concerning our young years and how we spend them, the elderly or any human experiencing suffering, especially in Third World countries where people really have nothing else and I repeat, nothing else to stimulate them except seeing another day come and go.
Young as we still are, let’s live purposeful lives so that we may look back when our time has come and say truly, I served and have nothing more to give.
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