To My Father... And those learning to live through trying circumstances...

I first read this piece two years ago when Lindi wrote it as her personal statement for university. She is a talented writer who bravely reveals depths of herself in her writing. Also a growing playwright, who has produced, directed, and acted in her own plays, and a poet, her writing is an important and powerful part of her and I’m grateful she shares it with the world. You can read more of her work on her own blog here: http://lindiwedhlakama.blogspot.com

That car had been in the family ever since I could remember. Its shock absorbers were close to non-existent, and the engine made a loud noise, but the noise lent me a familiar comfort as I sat quietly in the passenger seat as my father drove me home from boarding school.

“So did you write any tests this week?” my father asked for the third time in ten minutes.

I felt irritated as I replied, “You’ve just asked me that question!”

“And what did you just reply?” he earnestly inquired.

I glanced at him. He was no longer the sturdy family man I vaguely remembered from my childhood. He reminded me of an infant, and that angered me. He was supposed to take care of me, not the other way round.

“I said no,” I said. It was the easiest way to end the conversation. The image of a photograph of one of our family holidays in the past came into my mind. It was one of, a younger, radiant version of my father. He had a lovely smile. It was the smile of a man who had worked so hard that he had left his home in the rural areas of Zimbabwe having earned himself scholarships to study abroad. He had been humbled by many experiences in his life. He had fought for his country Zimbabwe in its liberation struggle; thereafter he had been imprisoned for fifteen years. The light in his eyes in the photo said that it was alright to go through such challenges in life, as they made an individual stronger.

Mr L.G Dhlakama

These thoughts of the past soothed my sour emotions. I smiled and looked at my father in the driver’s seat. He looked over at me and smiled, and then he said, “So my daughter, did you write any tests this week?” I decided that I would ignore him this time. Feeling slightly annoyed at my insolence, he began on one of his long lectures. I zoomed out.

 The world could never give me the reason why a strong and hard working family man like my father was suffering from Alzheimer’s disease. Ashamed of my rash behavior towards my father I brushed away my tears. I imagined how hard it was for him to wake up every day having forgotten a little more of his wonderful past. How hard it must be for the head of the family to sit all day at the table and reread old newspapers.

As the car came to a stop by an intersection my eyes caught those of a little girl. The little girl had no shoes on, yet the radiance in her eyes did not reflect the anguish her little feet must have been experiencing walking on the scorching pavement. The girl in the passenger seat waved at the girl with no shoes.  The little girl waved back.

As the car noisily continued on its journey, I thought how, perhaps life was not so bad. I noticed that my father’s lecture had ended unusually early.

“I got eighty percent for my literature essay, Dad” I quietly said.

The world was not too much of an evil place, but only for those who had the courage to dream past their present circumstances.

Lindiwe Dhlakama

(Upper 6, 2012)

Society

This poem was performed in March at Arundel’s first Spoken Word evening. I wish it were possible for you to hear and see it performed, because it gave me chills. One of the most honest students I have had the privilege of knowing, this poet speaks some powerful, brutally honest truth. Sit up and listen, society.

She was thirteen going on fourteen,

When it seemed that everything that had ever been in her life up until this point

Was nothing but a fading dream.

What used to matter was now just a matter of a blissful set of memories.

The kind of scenes you see when you reminisce back-to-who-you-used to be.

It was no longer about fun, friends and cartoons

Gone were the junior days, I mean, this was high school.

Suddenly it mattered what you looked like, it mattered who your friends were

It mattered what your size was, it mattered what you wore.

She became withdrawn.

The world didn’t make sense to her anymore.

Then there was this thing called a “chope”;

A simple slip of the tongue but she watched her pronunciation every time she spoke,

Because she didn’t want to be labelled as “gwash” or get laughed at

But the sad thing is…that wouldn’t be considered as bullying

I mean, it’s a society thing.

She was fourteen going on fifteen

When people were really mean.

They accused her of being gay and that too was okay because everyone had a nickname at the end of the day.

So she was Miss Homo because she was not one for dresses, heels and pleated skirts.

She liked sneakers and baggy t-shirts.

So she was confused about who she was and who she was meant to be…well

According to society.

She was fifteen going on sixteen,

When insecurities trickled up her spleen.

She felt that she needed a boyfriend

but not because she wanted the homo rumours to end

but because being in love meant that you were lovable

Having a significant other meant that you were beautiful.

She never saw him but just that click from single to in a relationship on Facebook, made her feel special.

I mean, hey, it was cool to not be a single lady…

Said who?.. well, based on society.

She was sixteen going on seventeen,

When she stepped onto the social scene.

She got her ID and society said she was an adult, right?

Done with exams so she could party, go crazy and go out at night.

It was okay to jail break, I mean- it was o break!

She would make decisions without takin a second to ingest, process and digest what they meant.

Obviously, it led to a lot of mistakes and regrets.

The truth is she wasn’t ready yet but she…

She listened to what society said.

She was seventeen going on eighteen,

When it wasn’t cool to be “clean”

She started sipping on alcohol, underage drinking and her parents didn’t know

Then again it was socially acceptable because everyone was doing it

It wasn’t right but it felt alright

Because there is safety in numbers and security with friends

It was the start of something new and in the beginning no-one thinks about the end.

I mean, forget about liver cirrhosis and cancer.

Society said, “You’re young, you only have to think about health in your future.”

She was eighteen going on nineteen,

When she realised something about society

People made it seem like it was some abstract inanimate being

That eventually, indirectly and unfortunately controlled your destiny.

Because we base our every decision on other people’s opinions

It’s like you don’t have an option…

She felt like she was part of a lost generation.

It seems like every generation blames the one before but we can’t keep playing this blame game anymore.

It’s so easy to pin it on the celebrities,

“Everyone’s twerking cause of Miley.”

For one second, forget about the illuminati

Rihanna, Weezy, Jay-Z

They only have as much power as you give em’

So take the initiative and just don’t listen to them.

It’s not about what Miley does; she’s lost, just like us

We’re all just trying to grow up

“Children are going wild because rappers sing and endorse songs on parties and weed.”

But are they the problem? Or is it us for buying their CD’s.

Real eyes recognise real lies, and it took her 6 years to see it;

In a way, everyone’s a hypocrite

We’re all so quick to say, “I want my man to be a Christian.”

But we don’t want ‘church boys’ so you go look for him, at a rugby game.

And I’m not saying rugby players don’t pray

But you want him to be a Christian based on the condition that he’s- on the team.

But love is unconditional, that’s not looking for love

So, what are you looking for?

Cyber bullying? Don’t blame the media, Facebook, Twitter

Behind that mean comment on your screen is just another human being.

She was tired of people sticking their noses into her business when it wasn’t their business to begin with.

No one had the right to judge her, except God who created her and well…

Maybe her parents for producing her.

And if it hasn’t occurred to you…

That girl in the baggy jeans at the peak of her teens is me

And I realised that we are society

Not Facebook, Justin Bieber, Oprah Winfrey

And there are 3 kinds of people in this world;

Those that watch things happen those that make things happen and those that wonder what happened.

So can we be the generation to accept the blame, make the change and make something happen.

At the end of the day, it boils down to you and me

Because we are society.

Paida Pooty-G Gambe

(Upper 6, 2014)