Wednesday, November 11, 2015

My Everyday Woman

My mother. First met her in 1991. A year later she married the man who happens to be my father. In 1993 I started living with them full time. Based on stories I heard told by my peers about stepmothers - how evil they are towards step children - I did not believe she'd ever have my best interest at heart. Every chore and every beating felt a bit unjustified. And unjust. Each time she reprimanded me, I'd think to myself, "Vele bayabasho." And it would always end with me writing a note to my old man requesting that I go back to live with my maternal grandmother in Maliyaduma. See my life was wonderful there. No one would touch me, not even my biological mother. Umfana wagogo abengasuye wekudlala! And the answer was NO each time. Which meant I'd only get a break when schools close, when I'd be allowed one week to go visit. I'd flinch each time someone referred to her as my mother and forgetting to make the distinction.

The saying is older than old, yet true for today as when it was made to be told; TIME WILL REVEAL EVERYTHING. With time I realised it never was as bad as I thought it was. In fact, it wasn't bad at all! I had it good. Two wonderful women in my life to mother me. Quite often we use other people's prejudice against people to inform our engagements and overall relationships with others. There are people we violently dislike because WE’VE BEEN TOLD they are mean. It has taken years, but part of my own personal growth has involved deciding that I ought to take what people say of others with a pinch of salt. Or just not take it at all, but I digress…

I sent her a text some months back, thanking her for playing her role in my life with great aplomb and being such a wonderful parent to my siblings. She replied, with a thank you text herself. Thanking me for allowing her to be my mother, saying she learnt a lot about parenting then. I hate calling her Step Mom now. She's my mother and a good friend of mine. Her smile warms my heart. Always! She gave me three wonderful siblings who would go to the ends of the world for me (and never come back because they’d wait in hope I would come to pick them up. LOL). Yes we still have our differences in opinion, taste and other stuff. But those differences pale in comparison to the commonalities, thus we hardly ever find time to focus on them. Given a chance to start over, I would not trade those "hard times" for anything. There were too many life-long lessons that have helped me deal with a whole lot of things in this life.


I thank whatever Gods may be for giving me two wonderful women to mother me. My Everyday Women.

NB:
Worth noting, is at any point in my life, from infancy up until now, it has always been a requirement to have two women taking good care of me. From my two grandmothers to my two mothers. It’s God’s plan for my life, that’s how I’ve always been sheltered. And on both occasions, the two have always gotten together quite well. Hope you understand. LOL

Thursday, July 2, 2015

Lost In Neglect

Something I've always wanted to say, but just didn't know how. I've always felt overwhelmed when trying to put my thoughts on this issue. A Whatsapp conversation this morning was inspiring enough for me to go digging, and found something quite close to what I've always wanted to say.


Here goes...
"A lot has been done to give the girl child her voice. Groups and activists come together with many projects that are all about helping the girl child unshackle the chains keeping her down. But the boy child has been left behind. While the girl child is enjoying her freedom and coming out of her shell, the boy is fighting to be treated better. The female gender is considered to be the weaker sex. We are thought to lag behind in most things. In every field, a man is considered superior so that qualifying standards are lowered so we can fit in. Our issues are given more prominence since its assumed men can handle their issues.

I believe a girl is more likely to open up if overwhelmed by huddles. On the other hand, a boy mostly bottles up every bit of anguish or pain. He has been brought up to not show weakness, most cultures believe a man keeps his issues to himself. Should he come out and talk about it, his peers will call him weak, he will be told to deal with it on his own, that only women cry and expect to be helped. The sad truth for their silent agony is because very few listen. Rather than be shunned for speaking out, he will "man up" and secretly deal with it.

The fact that society seems more focused on the girl child is rapidly suffocating the male child. He is just as vulnerable as the girl child. Due to society's underestimation of the boy's needs, they are now being subjected to various tormenting acts. He is prone to sexual assault and suffering as any other child. For solace, they are turning to vices. They need to find a way to fend for themselves or to deal with their issues. Narcotics and alcohol abuse as well as crime seem to the way for them to do this. It is the place they can find consolation. Society sees this but brushes it off as "boys will be boys" when girls are found in such situations, activists come out guns blazing saying its because they have been ignored. They defend the girls and seek help for them. The boys are left to go back to their old ways. This needs to stop.

Intervention is crucial before our young male generation gets devoured. A child is a child. It should be remembered that no gender is more superior or stronger. Girls have been the weaker sex for ages, but as they get stronger we must remember to also care for the bo. It is wrong to empower one sex at the expense of another. Don't let the boy child succumb to destitution. He is just as vulnerable as the girl child." - Lulu Akaki

Sourced from the National HIV Programs Report (2014)
"Ultimately, the boys are expected to be men to lead and provide for families. Where will these men come from?" Quite sobering a question to wake up to. Quite tragic how we have neglected the boy child across all sectors. Looking at the HIV Programs Annual Report of 2014 (National) which was disseminated by the Ministry yesterday left me wondering if we are really asking the right questions with regards to certain things or we are just following world trends and ignoring what the available evidence in our own setting tells us. The HIV positivity rates are higher for males for much of the younger ages, up to about age 29. It never was highlighted as a major concern in the dissemination meeting yesterday. No one, myself included, bothered to ask where these boys are getting the HIV from. I probably wouldn't have noticed had it not been one of the people I shared the report with raising some critical questions this morning after looking through the report.

Last week, at another meeting to discuss findings of the recently completed Multiple Indicator Cluster Survey, there was a lengthy discussion on the girl child. How we can improve programming for improved health outcomes for young girls. How we need to reach “the transmitters” – the old men having sex with young girls and infecting them in the process. How through the Voluntary Medical Male Circumcision programme we have been able to provide protection for the young boys and there’s nothing similar to cover the young girls. I have never, not even once, heard it asked in any forum; “Who transmits HIV to the young boys?” Is it not a critical question worth asking, especially in light of what the available data is saying? For young girls, the question is always asked, and much of the responses are centred around culture (the abuse thereof) and intergenerational sex – the abuse of young girls by older men.

The general consensus is, the boy child is well-covered. They are strong enough to fend for themselves, the vulnerabilities are not the same. We choose not to examine the evidence and just go with the flow. Run with what the donor community identifies as critical.


But shall we not live to regret?

Friday, May 22, 2015

The Language of Tears

 Tis often said, "You don't know what you have until it's gone," meaning we usually take for granted the very things that deserve our gratitude the most. As I sit here, alone, listening to songs that remind me of you, sad you're gone, but glad we departed from the norm a countless number of times, showing gratitude for the roles we've played in each other's lives over the years. Never shy to say, "Thank You for being my friend." And those were the last words shared between us, a few hours before I was told you'd been admitted with food poisoning being the prime suspect.

A huge part of me is still stuck in that time, refusing to catch up with events that have been since then. Struggling to process how someone can move from writing, with that cheeky smile I imagined, "Uyahlanya mfana wami" - when I threatened to find me a new friend because you'd left the country without letting me know - to that state I saw you in on that hospital bed in such a short time?! Perhaps, the answer is LIFE IS FRAGILE.
TemGcie with some members of Lend A Hand

Eternally grateful I will be to have had you contribute to my life in the most positive of ways. Glad to have been on the same team as you, trying to improve lives through #LendAHand. Knowing you'd be there each time I needed someone to be. Because of you, I know what true friendship is. I know the joy and comfort of knowing you have someone you can call late at night for them to go pick your brother from school and drop him home because you're still out having fun courtesy of your youth. 

There's no getting used to this part of life, with each death awaking in our hearts the longing for permanence. In Paul's letter to the Philippines he wrote, "I am hard-pressed between the two; my desire to depart and be with Christ, for that is better. But to remain in the flesh is more necessary on your account." Fight, you did to remain in the flesh on our account. You knew there's still a lot of lives in need of your gentle caring hand even though the strain your body had taken dictated departing would be far better. You wished to serve, and you did. Selfishly, we wish you were still alive. But we do know you’re in a far better space than what life had confined you in the last couple of months. I find solace in that.

This is probably the most incoherent thing I've ever written, and you'd probably tell me that much too. Too soon to make sense of anything, and I'm in no rush to forget about you so I'll definitely make it right at some point.

I'm a mess right now. Truth is, you've been gone for months, but reports of improvements in your condition gave us hope we'd soon ask, almost rhetorically, "Awusuye yini?" after you'd asked what was always meant to be a rhetorical question as well; "Yini ngatsi nicabanga kutsi ngingugogo wenu?" Tears fill my eyes, but they refuse to fall. Probably because you'd laugh at me if you saw them. Then say you're not laughing at me, you're laughing at the tears, trying to dodge a slap to the back of your head. So I'll let them hang there until they're brave enough to fall. Would really love to talk to God this one time, but words fail me. I find comfort, however, in knowing He understands the language of tears. You taught me that much.

Phumula Mntolo. Mphotholozi. Me, I'll just sit here and listen to songs that remind me of you and your infectious smile.

*Originally posted on my facebook page on Saturday, 16 May 2015