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Lenox Lizwi Mhlanga on Saturday
LAST week was a great one for most people koNtuthu. With the capital city relocating temporarily to the south, the accompanying high spending patterns had people with ama-plan okwenz’inyuku (plans on how to make money) laughing all the way to the bank!
I had my gripe about how service providers raise prices to astronomical levels much to the detriment of future business. Making a killing became a motto for these greedy types. When people try to disguise unbridled avarice as business, then I become truly unhinged. The column last Saturday, if you missed it, held a lot of lessons on that and future forays into entrepreneurship by fellow citizens.
So much about bad vibes. Let us take a lighter look at things that make one go Aaaaaaah!
Next month I turn a magical 54 years of survival. A lot of enemies who wanted me dead, have gone the way of the Dodo. Not that I celebrate someone else’s demise. It’s a gentle warning to those still living and are wishing the same, that God’s got my back y’all!
When I do kick the bucket, I will be a life well spent. I have done my part, and still am. I have taught and trained hundreds, if not thousands who swear by my name. From high school to university and other tertiary institutions, including corporate, and more recently, the military. Yes, the military! Last week I shared my wisdom to a room full of army commanders and my parents would have been so proud. I won’t mention my contributions to the arts. That’s a story for another day.
As I look back to the past 54 years of life, I thank the Almighty that I had such a wonderful childhood in such a beautiful country. I think back to the time, before e-mail and online banking, before Play Station and DStv, VCRs, CDs and DVDs and bearer cheques. Way back. I’m talking about the time of umacatshelana (hide and seek) or ingqobe or umalalisango-cum-tennis at the square. Games like Jim-Bass, Tap Tap, u-A-ra-wuru, umatshayana, stop sweetie-sweetie, and Christopher Columbus. And how everyone wanted to either be the Soviet Union or the United States of America during the Cold War!
How about building a swing from a piece of rope tied to the protruding branch of a peach tree (umpintshisi)? There were no guarantees that the rope would withstand all the strain, and when the resultant broken limbs would earn one a thorough hiding by the neighbour?
What about the time when you were lucky enough to go to the Centenary Park or Luna Park to eat candy floss (utshinda) and ride the miniature train?
Watching the peacocks parading their glamorous plumage and how about the fountain, with its constant shower of water spraying you with its cold, albeit refreshing freshness or its changing colours at night?
What about the dreaded bath time? Taking a bath at 4pm, then having tea in your pyjamas! And you knew that uma usugezile, no more playing outside.
Closing the windows at 5pm so that the mosquitoes would not bite you. Sitting down on the carpet to wait for TV 1 to begin, and watching the Muppets, The Flintstones and hey-hey-hey Fat Albert, Voltron? Then it was time for Star Trek, Hawaii 5-0 or Kojak.
When the news came on, your parents would insist on absolute silence even if you had no clue what was being said by those staid white men and women in suits. Perhaps isikhiwa sasibeqa bona abadala and you would not want to be blamed for them not understanding what was being said on the news fully.
There would be those periodic exclamations of, hmmm Smith is being a buffoon or Thatcher must be crazy! It’s good that wall did not have ears and eyes. Otherwise my parents would have been thrown into jail for sedition.
When the weather report started, you knew it was time for bed. School holidays meant going to the rural areas or attending the dreaded extra lessons. The holiday would be over in what seemed to be a flash. You would plead with your parents to get you a new pair of school stockings because all the ones you have developed windows. Similarly, Christmas was a time for negotiation.
And it would be Hobson’s choice of ufun’izigqoko zeKrismas or ufun’i-uniform? But most times, of course, you got both. Oh, our loving parents, how they managed you can never say. Looking back, I wish I knew their secret formula.
The night before the first day of school you couldn’t sleep. Shoes were polished until you could see your face reflected on them. The khaki uniform would be pressed ilomqolo’sik’impukane and the crisp new stationery all ready to be messed up with the teacher’s dreaded ‘See me!’ (that your parents got from work!)
First thing on the morning schools opened, you would get your lunch box with a polony sandwich and diluted orange crush. Who would forget the smell of Mazoe Orange? Items that would never make it past the local bullies at the gate. If only our parents knew how their efforts were donated to involuntary charity.
With Dandy bubble gum going for a cent, ice-cream from the Dairiboard, the happy chappie with his noisy bell with his little cart of cold goodies. Yes, running to the corner to buy Rum and Raisins, popcorn (hatsh’amaputi) penny-cools or Queen cakes. All for not more than a dollar? Do you remember?
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