Be fearless when the need to regroup arises
The village that raised you can also kill you. This death which is spiritual in nature usually comes in the form of the batho ba tla reng
(what will people say) syndrome.
It is real and painful but my people in the village make it so difficult to overcome it. In January, I made the difficult decision to pack my belongings and return home.
As a young man who left home in an exuberant pursuit of academics and subsequently a career, this wasn’t an easy decision at all.
It’s been almost a decade since I left home, my beloved village of Pankop in Mpumalanga – 80km north of Pretoria.
As a newly unemployed person, I had to make some hard choices regarding my future and the little money I have saved over the past few years. To waste money on renting a flat was not an option when I had no job to wake up to every morning. But I must say, I did contemplate staying in the city for at least three months, just to avoid being the topic of discussion in my home village.
Perhaps you think I am exaggerating. I feared the rumours, the lies and the endless questions about why I am back home. I wasn’t even given a day to settle into my new life. As the truck that had my belongings stopped by the gate at home in the middle of the day, I witnessed neighbours standing by their doors, others at their fences, to see what was going on. In that very moment, I felt like the earth could open up and swallow me whole.
One of our neighbours came to the house immediately while I was helping the guys to off-load my stuff. She greeted us and went into the house to have a chat with my mother... obviously about me.
She asked my mother why I am returning home. My mom being the diplomat and the spin doctor I know her to be, simply used the truth about my little brother to make a case about my return.
She said: “As you know, Chris [little brother] is going to live in Pretoria from February. Kabelo thought it wouldn’t be wise to let us live by ourselves with no male figure in the house.”
She bought my mom’s story. The truth, however, is it’s really nobody’s business why I came back home.
My mother is also starting to warm up to my presence at home. The day I broke the news in December about my return home to the village, I saw disappointment and worry in her eyes; understandIn ably so. I had to come to terms with the fact that every child is his or her parents’ pride.
I am coming back home like a prodigal son. I have no car, no house and nothing that society sees as a mark of “success”. Mind you, I used to review cars at work. I would rock up at home with a sedan, an SUV, a bakkie or a hatchback.
The cars would range from the most affordable to the most expensive one. Someone said this to me the other day: “Kabelo, walking to catch a taxi doesn’t suit you.” I laughed and walked on.
We just never know when to not stick our noses in people’s business. Had I entertained the fear of batho ba tlo reng syndrome, I would be spending money I don’t have in the city to impress people who don’t care about me.
Hard as it may be to come back to the village, I believe that we should all be strong enough to look beyond rumours and gossip.
I am coming back home like a prodigal son. I have no car, no house...