Back to word

Fictionalising reality, I want to say today marks exactly a year since whatever. You know how it usually goes, the ‘once upon a time’ intro convincing you a ‘perfect life’ truly exists. 

Perfect life. Depending on your definition, this concept could be a thing. I’m drifting. 

Writing this, the plan is to carve you the freedom moving to a new city has afforded me. 

Without sounding too cliché, I want to take you on a journey of the Ndongaziyaduma my grandfather warned me about. The one where success is only guaranteed by spending your first night in a public bathroom. This is according to my grandmother and the TV shows she swears by. 

I’ve always been the ‘break-boundaries’ cousin. The first one to get a hiding from the feared uncle. The first to be a family meeting agenda. The first to do many things, including moving to a province 500km away from her umbilical cord stump. 

Kwamaphupho ayafezeka.

That’s what this place has been to and for me. It has exposed my mind to the realities of its wildest imaginations. As funny as it may sound, at 26, I was finally blessed with seeing an LV store with my own eyes. Not that it’s a big deal but there’s just something about a parking lot with more Porsches that Polos. 

No amount of preparing, movie-watching or people-asking could prepare me for the mistakes and challenges this place came with. The first one being the selfishness. 

Akube nobuntu ebantwini.

I was raised raised by a maternal grandmother who has never seen a teacher’s natural habitat. A taxi owner-polygamist plus local chief paternal-grandfather along a MaZondi, who after losing both parents, was forced out of school to start a career in Serving Patriarchy as an abused housewife.

The Spirit of Ubuntu, as I was taught, is a collection of values that should always guide us. 

To my surprise, Joburgers don’t know what the word means. They have little to no respect for others. Shame is also another myth. Depending on where you stand on the poverty scale, you may be greeted back and if you’re lucky a ‘thank you’ once in a while. 

Ingawa namhlanje ksasa iphinde ivuke.

Writing this I’m at my favourite place in the city – Booksellers of Rivonia which is on the same plot as the Iris Garden coffee shop. After weeks of struggling to write a re-launch post, I decided to come here for inspiration.

Entering the shop, two old ladies gasped at how stunning I look. I thanked them, greeted and asked how the day was going. They replied and said I should shout if I needed any help, then continued with their conversation, allowing me to experience the word-ven on earth. 

Now I’m finally ready to re-add ‘blogger’ to my bio. This is the come-back piece. 

P.S. Turn those notifications for the full Joburg experience.