That time when Fathers are foregrounded for praise, honor, and veneration has arrived, Sunday, June 19 is Father's Day. It is a day in which society pauses and says to its fathers, thank you for being who you are. For some, it is about reminiscing about the fathers they had and maybe venerating them.
As we celebrate our Fathers, it is a singular moment and honor to sit and reflect on the great lessons that my father taught me. As I mentioned in other renderings, my relationship with my father has always involved climbing up mountains or walking in the quietness and serenity of the grasslands somewhere in our beautiful land South Africa. In these encounters with his wisdom, storytelling or simply starting an argument that seemed to mean nothing would be the platform and conduit with which he would do his impartations.
In the hierarchy of humanity, impartation happens when the one imparting has the authority to do so on an otherwise available and willing junior upon which impartation would happen. In this specific walkabout, my father was teaching me the importance of a secret and what is in fact a secret compared to a covenant of two people. He would ask if I knew what 'imfihlo' is compared to 'imvumelwano', a secret and a covenant.
He taught me that a secret becomes the best one when it is widely shared by many people who agree not to tell others they know of it. The character of a secret is it being told so that people know it exists and yet cannot be told. Whilst a covenant exists between those that enter into it, some through word and others through blood or related. There might be people that share secrets, and in that secret society, individuals would enter into covenants that anchor their secrecy.
For instance, I grew up knowing that whatever happens at the mountain stays at the mountain, it does not come down with us as we leave the mountain. Yet, to leave whatever is at the mountain was a secret all knew about even if they did not know the covenants reached the mountain. I knew when I was not invited to the mountain, and any of my siblings were, it was because there are secrets with covenants going to be made and consummated. I grew up knowing of my special place with my dad, and that all my siblings had their own too. It is the uniqueness of my moments that made the son in me believe it was princely.
The risks that we faced together, and in some instances almost being bitten by the most lethal and poisonous snakes, were so great that our surviving them defined our belief in our invincibility. Being a young lad, he would make me believe that it is because I am his son that I was able to survive the dangers associated with being in those bushes without ammunition, save for his protection. On certain days it would rain with storms and lightning, including hail, he would calmly lead me to spaces that were not under the trees, but safe enough not to make us good conductors of the electricity in the lightning.
As the storm passes, and other crawling and dangerous animals position to hunt prey, he would be on the lookout to show me which ones I should avoid, and which ones we should kill as we go about with our business. Wet as we were we would dry up on the mountain, a lesson I later understood to be that storms will always be there, it will rain on you, as it hails you need to respect hail and pause for it to pass, and then continue with your journey, and indeed you will dry up.
I know the experience was a lesson in itself, unstructured as the lesson was, it was a structure in its own right. I could only be in the lesson by being inside its occurrence. It is those moments that I treasure to have had a father that Kalanga was. These mountains went on to include taking me to lobola negotiations of many of my cousins, taking me to report conditions of pregnancy about my sister cousins, taking me along to reconcile fighting adults, and taking me to meet some of his friends who were traditional leaders and healers. There are spaces he took me I only remember when the moment for the lesson to be applied arrived, and I would say, ok papa how the hell did you know I would be here, there and there I would know his steps in and about my life were ordered.
Married to one wife, my mom, Kalanga would take me along to his friends that married more than one wife, and explain to me why that happens without losing the opportunity to explain why it was not an option for him. Coming back from these encounters felt like coming down from the many physical summits and their dangers. As I drive in Mpumalanga, I see these summits and marvel at this special teacher I had. Equally, as I encounter other life lessons I draw on his wisdom and exposure to marvel at how easy it is for me to dovetail with the world at its valleys and summits. It feels so great to come across challenges that you were prepared for, the learning curve becomes an exhilarating experience.
In his last days, he started to teach me how important my mother is in my life. He would not forget to remind me that to be a child of my mother is more valuable than being his son. He would always say it is easy for a man to be a father to any child that sees how much he loves his/her mother. In fact, he would go on to say if any other man comes and loves my mother like he did, that is the man I can call a father like I did to him. Fortunately for me/us, our mother went on to embrace the church as her next husband, and those of my siblings that saw the new Father my mother fell in love with, went into the sanctuary of the church and grew to its various levels. This was by no means accidental, it was a lesson from my Father, to call another a Father because my mom loves Him. With later understanding, I realized this Father had always existed, and I needed to understand Kalanga to make it easy for me to find Him
As Proverbs 1:8 teaches like Kalanga did "Hear, my son, your father's instruction, and forsake not your mother's teaching." Yes, I believe in the word when it says "I will guide you in the way of wisdom and I will lead you in upright paths. When you walk, your steps will not be hampered, and when you run, you will not stumble." My father Kalanga, and My Father have indeed lived up to this Proverb.
Happy Father's Day to my father, Gitsha Fanie MATHEBULA, Madyatshamile, Kalanga, ntukulu wa vagwena, WISH YOU WERE HERE TO STILL TEACH and ANSWER MY MANY QUESTIONS. I wonder if I have mountains I take my kids to.
🤷🏿♂️Ndzi ti tsundzukela va Kalanga
🤷🏿♂️Swinene!!!
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