Do numbers matter in Africa?

Since he was by the classroom he scanned the room and saw that they were some spaces on the benches. So he went to this particular bench holding his son’s hand.
Then he said “ticha, ndikati kune mwana uyu sebera uko newe sebera uko wangu gara apa zvinodini” (Teacher, how about if I say to this child and this child (referring to those seated) move over there and my son seats here?)
This man obviously had no concept of what is meant by a full class. He did not understand the standards of the modern world of teacher — pupil ratio, resources such as books to facilitate the learning process and facilities available.
According to him space on the bench meant that his child could fit into the classroom. I recall this used to bring laughter when dramatised because by then we were learned and able to understand modern thinking.
Now that I am grown and probably wiser, I know that this man was just being true to himself. I now appreciate that this man was not ignorant, but operating within his African mode.
By African standards the man was right. In Africa we can never say we are too many for something. Africans generally believe in the community for we are a people together.
Look at the traditional family everyone was accommodated and people shared whatever was there happily. People could stay together under the same roof in their numbers without giving it a second thought. I recall staying together with my cousins in a four-roomed house in one of the high-density suburbs before the house was extended.
It was not a problem to anyone not even the breadwinner who had to feed a bigger family. In actual fact it was a question of the more the merrier. By African standards numbers are not an issue. I have heard that they were days when the municipal houses were subject to inspection, what the older folk called “spekisheni.”
I understand it was done during the colonial times to limit the number of people in a household in the townships. I suppose it was for political reasons and maybe an effort to match resources and facilities available with the number of people. I want to think that this in a way worked for those people that were more comfortable with their families. I hear that in some families the extra number of people would vanish before inspection and resurface later. It was a cat and mouse game. In my view it is only now that we see numbers as a problem.
We build very big houses with five to sixteen bedrooms and comfortable with our two children. People of my kind are now happy with a situation where each family member drives her/his car to church.
A visit from an aunt or uncle from the village is considered a stress because we now budget to the dot. The packets of meat for a period with enough pieces for the nucleus family are nicely tacked away in the freezer.
There is no room for an extra mouth so the sooner they come the sooner they go is considered ideal. Yet if we look back we see that sharing food, except tea, was not an issue. I hear people used to cover tea with cloths or jackets when it was introduced. They could not afford sharing the sugar, but for everything else our elders were generous. I have heard of stories of people beckoning passersby to come and get something to eat. Some of these elders earned themselves names “gara mubikirwe or uya mubikirwe.”
The Shona have an adage that says “muyeni haapedzi dura” (a visitor will not gobble up food supplies). It is now that numbers have become a problem because we now focus more and more on the pocket. Our priorities have changed from people to things.
Things determine relationships and responses to situations. Like in most things there is a remnant that remains. I think no matter how hard we try to align ourselves to the modern thinking some characteristics will remain interact.
There are remainders of the mentality of the “ignorant” father that can be discerned in many ways among our people.
Some people do not take kindly when they are told the car is full after they ask for a lift. Some people want to squeeze themselves on a very small space especially if it is a free ride. I think you have seen cars struggling to pull along with an overload of people and their luggage.
They do not stop to think of the increased wear and tear of the vehicle. I have also noticed that the way we come together in times of sickness and death prove our Africaness despite being a “civilised” lot. If you have been to a hospital visiting a sick friend or relative then you appreciate what I am saying. The corridors are full as people try to get a chance to get into the ward.
The authorities have set standards and limit the number at a bed to two. They have even devised a system of cards with numbers, but these do not seem to work. It is not uncommon to see five or more people by a bedside even if the patient is not talking or opening his/her eyes.
This is a time when numbers do not work. Our thinking cannot understand why we should be limited to see our loved one.
The story about fresh air for and stresses to the patient seem not to make much sense to us. It gets more complicated when hospital administration specify that only close relatives are allowed into the ward.
Who then is the close relative? Is it the mother of the sick person, the wife, the child, the brother, brother-in-law, niece, aunt or grandfather? By African standards everyone is a close relative. No matter our attitudes to our relatives in the good times we would want them to be present in difficult times such as death. Here we can feed as many people as possible.
People can walk in and out of our houses with no one paying attention. I believe we are a special people defined by certain characteristics that might seem primitive in the modern world. What is important is to see how we can make our standards work better for us in the changing environment.
The question is how can we keep the fabric of our culture without abusing each other?