Rest, my true and real sweetheart... Rest.

Two Julys ago I lost my maternal grandmother to stroke. I never thought it was going to happen when it did. Yea, yea- I knew it was going to happen... sometime! I just didn't know it was going to be so soon. She was eighty three- I guess for me, there would never be a late enough time or an ideal time for her to go.

Needless to say I still mourn her. I can't believe I lost her.  Yes, there were times I could have spent with her that would have made losing her less painful but I think the one that hurts the most is the fact that she asked to see me barely two weeks before her death.

Of course, typical of me (only back then, I hope!) I told her I was too busy. Not in quite blunt terms but in retrospect, it might as well have been.

Of course, the fact that I had two aunties come in from the UK and I had flown to their house on a visit practically immediately they arrived, does not help matters.

Now I cry and I mourn and I can't tear my heart out enough. Of course, the two aunties are my grandmother's daughters and I had had the gall to go show my rebellious face to her when they went to see her.

I can't help thinking how it must have hurt her that I had found my way to them (maybe thinking I needed access to UK goodies or more likely didn't value her enough) and had not found it in my heart to either heed her call or have some private time with her. Instead I had shown up with my aunties and taken off with them.

Till today, I bless her soul and ask God tell her I miss her. The pain doesn't go away. I tread the border of talking to her directly (which I slipped into once despite knowing it to be scripturally wrong) and telling God to tell her things for me (which I know cannot be wrong- He simply wouldn't if it is wrong!). I had to ask God for Mercy, Forgiveness and Cleansing for the latter when strange things began to happen.

Well, I was reading the Word of God yesterday and I read the Book of Genesis Chapter Forty Eight and verse Twenty One where Jacob told his son, Joseph, "Behold, I die: but God shall be with you, and bring you again unto the land of your fathers." It struck me. God was talking to me.

I had lost my grandmother and mourned her for two years and it did not seem like there would be reprieve. However, I realised something- she was dead after the manner of men but God is still alive and always will be. She was dead after the manner of men but maybe, just maybe we would meet on the right side of heaven. She wasn't a Christian but she personified Love even to her own hurt. Not without human fallibility, but I think, always with Love.

Family, Friends, Acquaintances and other people who are blessings would come and go but we should love them- always. We might not always feel loving towards them but we, as well as they should never be in doubt that we love them.And we should cherish them as long as we have them. We should honour them and respect them. Even if they live to be a hundred and twenty which we can not guarantee, they will always be gone too soon.

Instead of treating them like they will always be there we should understand that the length of their lives is but a Period (a tiny dot as well as a short phase) compared to eternity. We would always wish we had done more. Why don't we at least make sure there is no blessing we had denied them - look into our hands and even though we miss them and wish we had done more, we are sure that there was nothing we could have done to bless them that we didn't do- even if it was just a visit... or sometimes, one more phone call.

As for me and my grandma, I miss her. I miss her so much! But crying and wishing wouldn't bring her back (believe me, I longed for that!) but at least I can cherish her memory, talk about her and pass on her legacy- a legacy which now includes the fact that, I would not make the mistake I made with her twice!

From the scripture I read, I gather I still have God in this life. (I also still have countless blessings, even in people that He has given and still gives me). I gather He will see me to the end and 'bring me again to the land of my fathers'- the place of His promise. I will fulfil destiny. I am thankful to Him for all these. I feel as if my grandmother is also parting with me as far as this life is concerned on these Words of God. I don't want to part with her but parting we all must.

Till we meet to part no more in Heaven, all I can say to her right now is, Rest, grandma, rest! Heaven knows I can think of no one else right now who needs it more. Rest, my true and real sweetheart. Rest...

Tall? In what exactly?

All my life it would appear that I have had a penchant for tall guys. Tall and fair, tall and dark, tall and slim, tall and broad, tall, tall, tall, tall, tall. I loved tall and it seems tall loves me. It was a mutual thing. For me, tall was the definition of a complete man- curse those romance novels to hell and back! Older aunties of mine actually had to point out recently, how it seemed you could bet anything at all that my date at any material point in time would be tall. That got me thinking. They were right, you know. Of course, no amount of pleading that I had done nothing out of the ordinary nor gone out of my way to make ‘tall’ a norm was favourably received. I just felt naturally that a guy should be tall, that was all... Come to think of it, I think even the world over ‘Tall’ is a pretty vital requirement for a man. Hmmnnn......

Interestingly, tall guys the world over seem to generally preen if they find themselves to be tall. Wow! Now that I think of it, firemen are fighting fires, NGO’s are fighting for humanity, scientists are coming up with new cures for diseases like every other day and a guy thinks by being tall, he is doing the world a favour! Lol!

 Sometimes, when a guy would recount his favourable characteristics or things he considers assets, you would hear, ‘’I’m tall (usually drawled in a mock attempt at sounding casual- ‘I’m ta-aalll’) six feet ten inches ta-aalll....’’ Fie!

I have seen tall guys about as useful as a head warmer and a muffler worn together in extreme heat. And I have seen short guys with more fire in their bellies than a thousand tall men piled high.

If you ask me, apart from the brainwashing romance novels have done on women in making them think their men were not complete without height, I think really that the penchant women have for tall guys might also be a weak attempt by the women to make up for something seriously lacking in themselves. When a woman is insecure in herself, she could hope a tall guy would cover that for her; make up for whatever deficiencies she perceives herself as having in the eyes of others. If she’s insecure generally, ditto. If she’s socially immature or inadequate, ditto. If she’s mentally inept.... yeah, you got that one too- ditto! - A tall guy makes you feel good. But how good exactly is the tall guy for you?

Does he put food on your table or does he even care? Does he look out for you or does he push you toward your dreams? Are tall guys automatically responsible, clearheaded, mature and protective? Do they naturally fall into the category of guys that are coolheaded, productive, industrious and dependable? Where are the 'real men’ virtues of Integrity, Honour and Dignity? Thrown to the winds on the farce of some tall guy that automatically knows how to spell his name because he is tall? Tall guys are not necessarily smart, you know. Yes, I know my queries apply to all men irrespective of any criteria but while on this issue of ‘the craze for tall men’ please allow me harp.

From what I’ve seen, heard and know tall men are so full of themselves their height is all they generally tend to have on offer. Short guys, because of this lie that tall guys are somehow better, fortunately or unfortunately, tend to think that they have a lot more to prove. They go out of their way to make worthy statements.

Who started this lie, I beg you - that a guy has to be tall, or for that matter has to be fine to know what it is to be a man? No wonder men these days take credit for a height they did nothing to get and leave every other thing they could actually do as men to women who marry ‘heights’ (or ‘fine-ness’) but apparently no substance. It takes no effort at all to be tall no doubt. Even being fine might require some tiny weenie effort to maintain it but being tall requires absolutely no effort, requires no special skill and is definitely not picky about character.

But it sure takes a lot of work, effort and commitment to be a man. And what man needs height to do things that are a man’s? Many men, yet to have undergone coming of age rites beyond the obvious *winks* - (which hardly separates a male man from a male warthog) would rather shirk their true and distinctive identities than step up to the plate. Might I add especially if they are tall?

Which would then beg the question, on a final note- Tall in what, exactly?

Mandela lives! (2)

Continued from Mandela lives...

Thinking about it, I couldn’t relate with this hiccup my bosses were bringing up. Sure I could understand it when they said he had not watched his children grow. Yes, I could concede that I would have no idea (having never personally experienced) of all the obvious and less obvious ways in which this would pan out in his home.

Yet, I also know that while his presence at home might have reduced the chances of certain ill occurrences taking place, it did not guarantee that they wouldn’t. His child could still have died of AIDS- ask folks who in good faith could genuinely ask themselves where did they go wrong.

Also, he could have still had a divorce- Is the probability of that even without a prison sentence even up for discussion? If a divorce doesn’t find an incarcerated spouse for an excuse, its treasure trove of justifiable and unjustifiable reasons and excuses are limitless.

Finally, twenty seven years of his youth doesn’t have to translate to twenty seven years of the most fruitful years of his life. If you ask me, Madiba did a lot before he was incarcerated- activism, his stand against apartheid, his fights even in youthful exuberance…

He did even more during his incarceration – his Law degree, his self-improvement, his decision to not be bitter, his faithfulness to his Cause, his immunity to prison walls and making sure they neither destroyed him nor limited him…

He did the most though after his incarceration – The actual practice of everything good he had become as his character shone forth in Strength and dignity, his ascension to and subsequent relinquishing of his Nation’s Presidency, his qualifying for the love of a strong woman saying more of him than a thousand mistakes could have, his position as an elder statesman maintained with dignity and integrity throughout his lifetime…

You can say any number of things about Madiba, what went wrong and what could have been. It is the human nature to make excuses and presumptions for what we do not understand as well as for what we wish were. The truth is none can say. It might have been worse or better with or without the factors we consider but none can truly say. We only have life as we see it, as we know it and as we expect it to be. To say it would have been better ‘if’ would be to subscribe to an illusion and settle for irrational and therefore unacceptable discontent.

As my boss would say, it is the same habits that take you to the Palace that would keep you there. In other words it is the habits that take you to the top that would keep you there. I agree completely with him. It takes character to keep and maintain the habits that took one to glory. I also go on to say, it takes even more character to know when to bow out than it does to attain glory. And in the style of Madiba, as in life so he did in death-  Madiba simply bowed out.

He lives on, not just in the way of the dead and in the hearts of all his loved ones and all who loved him. Madiba lives on in the Legacy he left behind that even as I speak pumps in the hearts of change agent Africans and Citizens of the world, the world over. The Legacy of Truth, Strength and Honour….

Mandela lives!

Mandela lives!

It was with a heavy heart that I remembered Madiba (Mandela to even more) some days ago. The epitome of every sane African’s desire for a leader, he was a leader to more people than he probably cared to count. For some reason, this man that I had not even met had me close to tears as the fact that he was indeed, dead, gone, hit me early in the early hours of the morning two days ago.

I had seen Blackberry d.ps change to honour Mandela over the course of the night and somehow the import of the death of this great man never fully sank in until when I stopped to think of it as I stepped out of bed that morning…

And I wondered how his children felt that morning, knowing their father had touched lives thousands of miles away from where he had lived; moved some close to tears (and many more to actual tears) who had never even met him physically.

My heart tore at the thought of a man who had paid the ultimate sacrifice not just to do what he believed in but also to do that which he knew to be right. No selfishness from this one. Nope.

I thought he had been duly rewarded. In my eyes, he had paid the ultimate price and then had had life hand him candies. Twenty Seven years in the cooler is no joke but if u were able to come out better than u went in and go on to do even better for yourself, then something good had come out of a bad situation hadn’t it?

He had died at 95 years, been in prison for 27, been out of prison for 68. If you ask me he had lived more years outside prison (and I would believe, free in every ramification) than some had lived their entire lives. Add to this, the fact that he got to be a Lawyer during his time in Prison and I say, talk about time well spent. Prison didn’t hold this guy down or slow him down at all!

Also, he got to be President! Wow! President of the very nation he had fought for. What else could be more of a thank you, or even as fulfilling? Some say it was a pacifier, I say, thank God for the pacifier! He could have been acknowledged, won but had his victory

Sure he lost Winnie but he got another love for a wife! Tell me about it. He had seen both sides but had ended up on the right side. His story could have ended in any number of wrong ways but it did not - some have been killed or died for less ‘sins” than he committed and under less dangerous circumstances. Mandela lived to tell his story. He lived well after his release.

Somehow to me he had his ups and downs like everybody else (maybe deeper downs and higher ups) but he managed to come out right. He managed to be a beacon of hope to more people than he ever met and even more people than he would ever know.  He inspired life and hope, belief in good and in the greater good.

Then, discussing with my boss and his friend I heard an angle I had never considered and frankly don’t even know if I should be- the angle of how he had it difficult on the home front; his divorce from Winnie, his child lost to AIDS, and the fact that twenty seven years of his life in prison was not just twenty seven years but twenty seven years of his youth, the most fruitful, vibrant,  virile and therefore most significant part of his life.

To be continued...