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Dr Josephine Shambare
Correspondent
There was a time I used to come home after a hard day’s work, park my car, get to the front door of the house, try the door and find it locked yet with people inside. As I waited to have the door unlocked, I would hear high volume of hip-hop and R n B music pumping through the windows.
The volume would be turned down followed by hissing sounds making me wonder what would be taking place. I would wait by the door close to 10 minutes or so. When I entered the house, I would be greeted with ‘too friendly’ smiles and offers to carry my bags; by my children, nieces, nephews, and their friends.
I would express my displeasure to such behaviour. So, one day I decided to sit them down to establish what would be taking place.
My nephew Keith, who was the youngest and rather timid confessed: “You know what aunt, when you arrive home from work, we will be enjoying our music. The house will be in a mess from pillow fights, popcorn all over the floor and, chairs and couches pushed towards the walls to create more room. So, we delay opening the door to give ourself time to tidy up the living room before you enter. Our apologies aunt”.
This was a familiar story from most parents. I said to myself “Uum ndokusaka vakuru vakati mugoni wepwere ndiye asinayo” (Uum, this is why our elders say you can only be an expert in taming a kid if you do not have one). Despite the explanation, I still wanted to understand what the hissing was all about.
My niece Rudo who was the oldest and a university student was just quiet.
I wanted to hear her version but first asked her how her day had been and she replied: “My day was fine aunt. I have lots of assignments to do. In addition, I have to assist one of the ‘mothers’ in our class with today’s lecture notes because she had to leave early for a school run.”
I asked her: “How old is this lady in your class you call mother?”
“Thirty-two,” she replied.
I was taken aback and quizzed her further.
“She is not very old. If you call her mother, what about me?” Rudo started laughing and as if she was choking, she replied, “Ah, you are an ‘ancestor’.”
On saying that, everyone in the room burst into laughter to my amazement and bewilderment. The mention of the word ‘ancestor’ opened the Pandora’s box.
Suddenly the timid Keith had become more energetic, courageous and itching to explain further.
“When you hoot by the gate, this is when we alert each other that you have arrived home saying ‘ancesssssstor, ancesssssstor, ancsesssssstor has arrived, watch out’ — hence the hissing sound.”
Rudo took over the explanation: “The mothers in our class are younger than you. They understand the kids of today very well. The grannys ‘ages range from mid-forties to mid-fifties. Women of your age and above are ‘ancestors’.”
I retorted angrily: “Who sets those categories?”
Rudo answered calmly: “Of course it’s us out of mischief. But seriously aunt, we now live in an era of technology. People of your time always tell us that during your time, you were well behaved, you respected elders, you were high fliers in school, you did household chores without being begged, et cetera.”
I started to wonder where the conversation was going.
Rudo continued: “We acknowledge and respect the fact that you ‘ancestors’ are a repository of knowledge and wisdom. You are archives of repute when it comes to history”.
At one time I felt I was being insulted but I maintained my cool to hear more.
Rudo continued: “But admit it aunt, most people of you age are technologically challenged. You were born before computers were here. Most of you have not made an effort to learn and be abreast with changes in technology especially for small, simple day to day applications. How many times have you asked me to reinstall your WhatsApp application, aunt?”
The kids in the room started to share their experiences excitedly.
“My mom spends most of the day driving around paying bills instead of doing mobile banking”.
Another kid chipped in: “My dad cannot change the ring tone of his mobile phone”.
Another said: “My mother has a nice iPad’ but does not know how to use it”.
It was a very interesting discussion done a few years back which I find very relevant today with the new norm. The Covid-19 pandemic has ushered in innovative and technological ways of living and conducting business.
Social distancing has made it compulsory to navigate the technological terrain to access certain services in the comfort of your home; regardless of age or literacy level.
But the question remains in my mind: “Did they have to call me ‘ancestor’ because I’m technologically challenged”? I just smile — “These kids”.
Dr Josephine Shambare writes on social issues for entertainment and awareness, in her own capacity. Excerpts are taken from her unpublished autobiography; and PhD thesis: ‘The Enigma Of Child Sexual Abuse in the Zimbabwean context: Beyond Statistics’
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