Wednesday, August 17, 2022

the summer, I got to be 'me'...


Today was the first day of my son's second grade. It was both a joy- he's growing up so fast and a tiny bit of sadness- growing up way too fast!

I was just supremely surprised today by how fast the summer swept by. My son's school generally indicates the beginning of the University term too. We officially begin next week, but we have already started the process of orientations and meetings... another semester, many more stories. 

The 2022 summer is perhaps the one I have enjoyed the most since 2013 when we moved to South Africa. Summers are always my favorite season- not just because I have my birthday in the summer, but because of summer vacation- a long enough break that we can breathe. One of the chief reasons for this summer being special was obvious- my parents were here with us in Kansas, but another was that I had time to simply read, relax, travel, and be myself. 

I was born with a lust for travel. As a kid, I dreamt of becoming a truck driver traveling with goods throughout India. A minor part of that dream was perhaps realized when I attended grad school at Pittsburg State University in Pittsburg, Kansas. I would drive through prairie grasslands and see rural Kansas for two and half hours daily. It was crazy and one of the most enjoyable experiences of my life.

This summer, we went to the beach, and you can see the photos if you follow my social media accounts. This was my son's first visit to the beach, and we got on a road trip in between, so it was bliss. We also visited many family-friendly places in Kansas city itself. We went to the Science City and the Union Station in KC and our favorite, the KC zoo. We visited the KC plaza and the Prarie Fire Museum in Overland Park.  

I saw an advertisement the other day which resonates with me. The ad is perhaps from one of the travel companies- asking viewers what they would regret more when they die- the places they did not visit or the things they did not buy? For me, it's definitely the former- the places not visited. However, I don't think it was just the travels that made this summer so special. It wasn't just my parent's visit but a culmination of small things I achieved or re-lived over this summer that made it so special. 

This is why I am back at writing. This summer, the one thing I did for myself was to get back to writing my blog. I started blogging in 2006 when blogging was emerging. We had just brought a desktop computer, and my brother and I were becoming conscious of what the internet could offer. I came across a news article about how blogging and social media change the world. I became intrigued and decided to open an account on Google and started writing. 

I loved the fact that through my words, I was able to reach so many people. I still remember the comment from Mongolia on my Arab Spring blog entry. Gosh, it was enthralling. A girl from Kolkata writes about revolutions in faraway Egypt and Tunisia, and someone in Ulan Bator reads that blog and comments on it. How would anyone not be giddy at the possibilities the internet could offer humankind? Alas, it seems that initial euphoria might have been a tad bit misplaced. Anyhow, life intervened, and I stopped blogging for a long time. This summer, I decided to be back again, pursuing my second love, that of writing. 

I also did a whole of reading this summer. Of course, I am pursuing a doctoral degree, so I guess reading comes with the job, and I love it. But this summer, I read books like The Filter Bubble by Eli Pariser alongside The Traitor Quen- the second book in The Bridge Kingdom series. I also read two rather nice romances, and I was surprised they still wrote them clean. I also spent quite a bit of money on second-hand books- which I shall probably never read, but hoarding them feels so good. I was sad to see the Friends of Johnson County Library second-hand bookstore close, and I purchased a good amount of books to make myself feel a little less guilty. 

So, yes, this summer, I did all of those, but most importantly, I took out time to be myself, to get back to the things that made my life meaningful and put zest into it. Beyond my identities as a mother, wife, daughter, and sister, I am also a reader, a traveler, and a blogger... most of the time, I get lost in embracing the former identities and losing the little bits that make me whole. This summer, I think, I have reclaimed a little bit of myself... I am glad I could still find myself in those identities, and even if for a fleeting summer, I could live again. 


Saturday, July 2, 2022

Taking chances...finding hope

 


In this week's post, I wanted to rant about the recent U.S. Supreme Court's decision about Roe v. Wade, but I am not going to. Instead, I am going to write a post about taking chances and finding hope. 

So, some of you may know, that I teach at a University- University of Kansas here in Lawrence. This past semester (Spring 2022), I was teaching an online class and an in-person class. Both classes had one student each who at least in my opinion are not being treated fairly in a traditional, mainstream, University system. 

The student in my in-person class had not attended a single class during the first six weeks of the semester. The other student, the one in my online class had not submitted a single assignment in the first five weeks. 

Of course, I as an instructor did what I have been told to do by the University system. I wrote them three emails- the first two were polite and sympathetic to the conditions they are probably in which may be preventing them from submitting their assignments on time. The last one was somewhat rude- stating that I would be forced to fail them in the class if they did not communicate with me regarding their plans in the class. Now our University has a rule, that by a certain date if a student doesn't show up in class or doesn't do any assignments- the instructors may drop them. Honestly speaking- I was reluctant to drop these two students without hearing their side of the story. Pandemic taught me some pedagogical rules and the chief one I learned was that students do not really need traditional, mainstream classes to learn. Do not get me wrong, I still believe in learning- but learning can be done in myriad ways- something that Universities at least do not always realize. 

Anyhow- so here we are getting closer to the finals week of the Spring semester and these two students are still absent- from class as well as from assignment submission. Then one day- perhaps because they hadn't received any emails from my end, or perhaps of my last somewhat rude email- they reached out to me. The student in my in-person class met me in my office- and I learned about a promising youth with tons of potential. We sat together and chalked up a plan that would grant the student a passing grade. The other student- the one in my online class- met me over Zoom- and I learned about another promising youth- we too made a plan for the semester. 

Needless to state- both the students not only passed the class but both of them passed with As. They wrote to me at the end of the semester- and one sentence in both their emails stood out for me, "thank you for taking a chance on me... "

As a teacher, I think this is my greatest reward. The students whom the traditional University system dismisses- sometimes due to lack of resources, sometimes because they do not learn the way mandated by the University system- students who slip through the gaps in the system- if only someone listens to them, help them open up and encourage them- it takes time and effort but the reward is so much greater. 

I know there are many teachers like me who take chances every day with similar students. I know there are many more educators who want to but cannot due to institutional failures. To me, my teachers have always been superheroes but I think, these students are real superheroes- who conquer all odds and come out shining. I felt so happy and at peace today when I upgraded their grades to As in the University grade roaster that I decided to write this blog entry. 

These students reinstate my belief in humanity- with everything terrible that is going on- and the news media pouring fire on all ends inciting polarization more than ever- you never know who gives you hope. I am hopeful today. 

Finally, I am sharing the link to a Ted talk that I heard recently where Kevin Kelly talks about why being an optimist is the only way to progress. 

Adios, till my next post. 

And yes, take chances on others- it's a beautiful feeling to be rewarded with the result. 

Ted talk on optimism

Wednesday, June 22, 2022

The tangle of priorities

 The last time I updated my blog- I lamented how I haven't gone back to writing, in a long while. I decided to get back to updating this blog more often, in fact, every Saturday (hahahah). But before I could do good upon my decision, life intervened and I ended up prioritizing other things. 

Which made me think: How do you prioritize? What comes first for you? 

I thought of writing this week's blog on priorities. 

Besides writing, my other love is reading. Lately, I found myself reading books on social media and how it is destroying or saving democratic societies. But curiously, in my library- both Kindle and actual, I also found titles such as Atomic Habits, 12 Rules For Life, and Peak. Needless to say, I still have to read any of those, but from whatever I could glean from cursory reading is that priorities matter. If we do not prioritize our tasks, then we won't get anything done. That made me ask myself- how exactly do priorities work- how do we know these tasks or jobs are really, truly important to us? I mean in ten years, would we look back and remember these tasks? 

I don't know the answer to these questions but I did prioritize my tasks last week. My son's baseball routine had the top priority. I also prioritized cooking for family and seeing some episodes of Stranger Things 3, plus grading my student's assignments and writing my dissertation prospectus. 

But I did not prioritize writing my blog, reading the books I had borrowed from the library for summer, or going on a long walk with my mom. Are these not important or not as important as some of the things that I did prioritize. Would I regret not ascribing significance to these tasks ten years from now? 

I also thought about the psychology behind prioritizing certain tasks over others. The jobs or tasks that I did, or thought were urgent and needed completion related to my immediate family needs, my duties as a mother, and my job and career. The tasks I neglected or put off for another day- like writing my blog- I deemed as not significant enough, or somehow not important enough to be tackled on an immediate basis. The question is why? Why did I think that the tasks that would give me more joy could be put off for another day rather than jobs/tasks that needed to be done? I do not know the answer, but I believe a lot of times, we do put off things that provide us genuine happiness. 

Some months ago, I was hearing this podcast- The Happiness Lab (The Happiness Lab Podcast Link) and there are some episodes on "funtervention" or fun-interventions- things that the podcast host does just for fun-- things that bring joy to her. I thought, that these funtervention or fun-intervention episodes of the podcast were amazing. But, not applicable to me because I have a small kid and he needs me so I must prioritize my duties as a mother... blah, blah, blah... 

Maybe I was wrong, maybe not. Maybe I shall re-read this post in ten years and realize that my current priorities weren't priorities at all. Or maybe I shall be thankful that I did the jobs/tasks when they needed to be done. 

So if you are reading this, think about your priorities- what are you prioritizing now? Would you look back at your priorities ten years later and regret them or be satisfied that you attended to the tasks that you did? And yes, if you get time to listen to a podcast, Let The Happiness Lab be it. 

Adios... 



Saturday, June 11, 2022

Reflections on writing and habits


I have been thinking about getting back to writing my blog for some time now. Age, I believe, has a way of reminding one of the priorities in life. Writing was always a priority for me, not just writing journalistic or academic pieces - that's what I do for a living. But just writing, writing words that flow from me. Writing is my therapy, always has been, always will be. 

Now that I turned 39 this May, I was wondering how do I tell my seven-year-old to keep following his passion when I do not follow mine? Therefore, back to writing, and back to this blog. Last year, one of my friends from college, Anna, joined the NaNoWriMo (NaNoWriMo) and wrote the novel, Almost Maybes (Kindle book link). I have been reading it. It's really good so far, and I am enjoying it. I felt truly proud of her, that she took the plunge and actually wrote. I could never do that. 

Age, I believe also shows humans what they are passionate about and what they lack. I am passionate about writing but I do lack the discipline, I believe, I am capable of eking out time for writing. So this is an attempt on my part to get back to writing- free-form writing, careless words, that just flows. This is what I envision for myself in 2022- just for me. I am going to write a post on Saturdays on this blog - every Saturday- for four Saturdays. 

However, since this blog post will be on social media, and some of you will probably read it - if you believe you have a passion you would like to take up and like me, you lack discipline, here's a TED Talk I found for you, which helped me a lot. 

Ted Talk on Grit

So that's all for now, till next Saturday, adios..!!! 

Friday, June 8, 2018

To that friend of mine who went over the edge.

Image Courtesy: https://www.highfaluter.com
For about two weeks now, the concept of suicide has been haunting me, so much, that I decided to write a blog post on it... which in itself, is a rare event these days with my schedule and responsibilities. How or why it came to this, I do not know, but I have constructed a timeline of events, which shall probably help my readers understand as to why I am writing upon this subject.

Two weeks ago, I began a subscription of Netflix, the streaming platform. The first show that I wanted to see was '13 Reasons Why'. Apart from being highly talked about and being somewhat of a controversial show, I wanted to see the portrayal of the book upon which the show is based. I had read the book earlier. I wanted to see how the show represents the book. Well, it wasn't a good experience, emotionally, which I believe was what the producers of the show were aiming for. To be fair, I liked the show much more than I had liked the book. The book had not explored in such intricacy the characters of Hannah's parents, which the show did. While I saw the show, I saw myself examining my parenting style. The show left me with a lot of questions that I have jotted down and I aim to find at least some of the answers later.

Then a week back, a friend of mine wrote a post on Facebook that a mother of her childhood friend has committed suicide. Another news on suicide. For the past week, this friend of mine, kept writing about the emotional state of mind related to suicide and so on. I commented on some of her posts and some I just browsed through.


Then, this week, there were two 'celebrity' suicides, those of Kate Spade's and Anthony Bourdain's. I honestly do much know much about Kate Spade except she was a designer of caliber and I mostly avoided the news but today when I read about Anthony Bourdain's suicide, I was shaken. I used to follow Bourdain's show on CNN and the man himself on Twitter and Instagram. I went to his Twitter page today... nothing, empty... He was actually quite active on Twitter, and I often retweeted or marked his Tweets as favorites. And anyone who uses Twitter knows, you form a unique relationship with someone you follow on Twitter regularly... and I am not saying this in a creepy sort of a way but, as a Twitter follower, you can actually become a small part of his/her life.

And these events brought me to writing about this phenomenon today.

I myself, have had a distant encounter with suicide.


I was in tenth grade and a classmate of mine tried committing it. Thankfully, he didn't succeed. I still remember the day when I walked into school, this was a really small school, in a close knit community, where most kids knew each other and their families. And that morning, there were these small circles of students who were discussing something in hushed tones. When I approached my friends, they informed me that this classmate of mine had tried killing himself and was currently in hospital, undergoing treatment, failing the attempt. I remember walking to my desk, depositing my bag, and just going blank in my head. This person used to sit in the next row to my right. I kept glancing at his empty desk and wondering, what pushed him to the edge.

I think he took that year off and didn't come to class, or probably did, I don't remember. I had tried blocking him off that year... But long after that I thought of him often, and my thoughts were not necessarily always empathetic. Some were out rightly cruel... You see in India, suicide is considered a crime. If one succeeds, well, there is no more to be said of it, but if one fails, one needs to be arrested for the crime committed. I do not who or how this wholly inappropriate law came up, but probably it made its way into the country's rule book during the colonial British period. I also do not know, what the current position is on the law. Either ways, it doesn't help people who are having suicidal thoughts.

Image Courtesy: highfaluter.com
Often time, I used to think of this classmate of mine as weak, weak in the sense that I looked down upon him for not facing the challenges of life. Also, I used to feel really angry toward him, as, in the aftermath of that event, his parents and his little brother (who studied in the same school) went through a lot of emotional disturbance. I felt that he should not have done this to his family. His little brother often faced taunting remarks and jeers from people in the hall way of the school, and wherever the little boy went, there would be the gossip of his brother's attempted suicide following him. In fact, I had visited his house after he came back from the hospital and I had wanted to ask him, as to why had he done it. But I couldn't. I couldn't even look at him, so the whole time, I looked at the floor or at his parents and brother.

Now when I think about it, I feel disgusted about my behavior and my thoughts. I am not fond of suicide as a method of dying. I don't think anyone is. But I am trying to become more understanding. I now know that there is possibly something very dark that crosses their minds when they take this decision. Possibly they have seen all the options and have decided that this is the sole option left for them. I have done a bit of research on the subject in the preceding days, and till date there is no conclusive reason as to why a person decides to take his/her own life. There are multiple reasons of suicides, such as mental and emotional disturbances, depression, economic and financial reasons, the lifestyle, drug and alcohol abuse, sexual assault, family problems, so on and so forth, but no one can ever pinpoint to the reason as to why a person did what he/she did.

I am in no way an expert in this subject, hell, I am not even an amateur in this, but I think, if we just talked to people, if we, became less judgmental of people and of their circumstances in life, probably a lot of these people would reconsider their decision. From what I have learnt in my life, a little conversation, a small email or a text message or a telephone call actually help others. We are often scared that if we intervene and ask about others, we might be seen as being nosy, but probably we need to be nosy, at times, we need to let other's know that we are there for them.

I have decided to be more involved in the lives of the people who matter to me. I know that it'll probably not solve anything, but if a friend of mine is harboring these thoughts, I want to be there for them. I want them to know, that they are wanted, they are loved and they are cared for. It might help someone not to go over the edge.

Here are some helpful resources to go to in order to get information on suicides and how to help someone who probably might be having such thoughts.
Image Courtesy: GermanTown School Center District


National Suicide Prevention Hotline:

1800-273-8255

https://suicidepreventionlifeline.org/

https://www.sprc.org/

https://www.sprc.org/resources-programs/recommendations-reporting-suicide



Wednesday, July 27, 2016

A year into motherhood...

Motherhood... its been a year for me now... and let me tell you, nothing, basically nothing, in my life (or your's, my dear reader, if you are a mum) will ever compare with this experience.

Honestly, I had never given this particular aspect of life much thought until a squiggly, red, wet and screaming human being slid out of my vagina. The recurring days are somewhat blurred to me because of an onslaught of new activities and skills that I was to learn.

I learned how to change diapers, learned that sleep was a luxury to some people, learned, that when a baby screams there is nothing much I can do about it and learned that patience is indeed earned.

Basically when people tell new mums how to cope, I just want to laugh out aloud... Cope... one cannot cope with the avalanche of responsibilities that swamp down upon you. What can possibly be done best is compromise... mind you that's very different from 'coping'.

However, I do not want to disappoint new mums or to-be-mums.

Its indeed a lot, a lot of pain... but every pain is doubly rewarded. Around 6-7 weeks when your baby learns to smile socially. Really, before that life is just a plethora of tears, tears and more tears, and do not let anyone else tell you otherwise.

It's only when your baby starts to recognize you a bit around that 7 weeks time and starts smiling that toothless smile, probably you feel that, some of your earlier efforts are rewarded.

Anyway, coming to why I sat down to write this article is because I wanted to share some of the stuff that I learned about motherhood in the past year. This is based on my experience and solely on my experience as a mother. All experiences of course differ, but these would be the top five takeaways from my first year of motherhood. For all new mums, and for all mums-to-be, perhaps this would be helpful.

1) Do not stress about whether your child is born naturally or via procedure: Many a times, our bodies require extra help in giving birth to a life. Now, more than ever before, C-Sections are becoming extremely common. Some of the literature I read prior to giving birth to my baby scared the hell out of me about C-sections.  Really, whoever wrote those books are extremely stupid people, definitely they haven't experienced motherhood. Natural births are desirable but for some reason if one has to go through a procedure to bring the baby into this world, there is absolutely no problem. What matters and is of utmost importance here, is the health of the mother and the child. There is absolutely no, none, zero difference between a child who has had a normal birth and one who has had a birth via c- section.

2) Breast is best for babies but Formula really isn't so bad: Ok, I did breastfeed my baby for a full six months and really, it does have many advantages. For example; my baby never suffered from a cold or an ear infection in the first year of his life. For the first year in fact we did not have any 'sick' visits to his pediatrician. But do not despair if you are unable to breastfeed your baby. There are several reasons why some mums cannot breastfeed their babies and its really, really alright. Before I became a mum, I had read an overwhelming amount of literature regarding the importance of breastfeeding. And some of them honestly, made mums who did not breastfeed seem like demons. Relax... there are several very good infant formula available in the market and it is meant for those mothers who cannot breastfeed their babies.
I was formula fed from week 3 and I turned out absolutely fine. As long as the baby gets the required nutrition, its ok..,  There was a study that I came across which stated that breastfed babies have a higher intellect than formula fed ones. If the authors weren't high on dope while writing that study I would be seriously amazed. Trust me, the intellect of a child is dependent on well rounded nutrition, his/her upbringing and the skills that parents impart to the child. Its entirely unrelated to whether one was breastfed or not.
So, for any reason, if you cannot breastfeed your baby, please do not feel guilty. Your child can easily get into that Ivy League school you dreamt of. It really does not depend on whether he/she is breastfed.

3) Do not compare your child's growth: This is one instance where I stand out a clear winner. I never, for once, compared my baby to other babies of his age in the past year and going forward will never, ever do. My mother and mother-in-law, who both have had two children each, love comparing their kids and as a result started comparing their grandson with other babies in his age bracket, the day he was born.
Please do not do this, or even listen to those who do this to your baby. Remember each baby is unique, every baby will grow upto be an individual on their own. If, from the day of their birth, you start pushing them to be like others, they will forget to be themselves.
When it comes to real physical growth, ask your pediatrician for a growth chart, or better yet, download it yourself from WHO's website.
I am giving the WHO-CDC approved growth chart for boys and girls for mums who are interested :

https://www.cdc.gov/growthcharts/data/who/grchrt_boys_24lw_100611.pdf

https://www.cdc.gov/growthcharts/data/who/grchrt_girls_24lw_9210.pdf

Try to follow this growth chart to see if your baby's growth rate is normal.
One rule of thumb that most pediatricians recommend is that your baby should double his/her birth weight within six months of being born. For eg: if a baby is born 8 lbs, he/she should be 16 or closer to 16 lbs by the time of six months.

4) Postpartum depression is real; seek help: A countless number of new mums experience postpartum depression, and most ignore it as 'baby blues'. Postpartum depression is a clinical depression and is very different from baby blues. If you are a mum-to-be or a new mum experiencing any of the following, please, please consult a professional:

a) You feel like crying most of the time without a valid reason.
b) You feel like you are the worst mother on earth and you cannot provide for your baby.
c) You lose your appetite and get no joy in seeing your newborn.
d) You welcome dark thoughts about yourself and about the baby you have given birth to.
e) You feel you would have been better off if you hadn't given birth to a baby.

You can also take this quiz to find out, if you are suffering from postpartum depression:

https://womensmentalhealth.org/quiz-are-you-suffering-from-postpartum-depression/

The internet has a wealth of information on postpartum depression and it would do you and your baby a ton of good, if you are prepared. Please read about it and sensitize other family members about postpartum depression. If the mother is unwell, the one person who suffers most is your infant child.



5) Do not try to be a super-women: There was a photograph of the Duchess of Cambridge, Catherine, on covers of major newspapers and tabloid magazines, appearing in a designer gown and looking fabulous just days after giving birth to little Prince George.

That is not a reality.

Most of us are average working, middle class women who look extremely different than Princess Catherine days after giving birth. And that is completely ok. Also when you come home after the birth of your child, make sure all hands are on deck. This is not a time to be polite and refuse help. If anyone, and I mean anyone, offers help, take it.

You have just brought a new life on the planet, trust me, half of our population cannot even conceive (the half comprising men), let alone give birth. You can and you have. So now, just relax for a few days, weeks or even months (if you are lucky). Make sure all hands are on deck to help you with the few days just after the baby's arrival. Make meals and freeze them a week or so before your expected date, so that you are relived of the burden of cooking. If you have absolutely no help, consider hiring one for a few weeks.

And this is a real world we live in. No one expects you to be going out to an Oscar evening days after giving birth. Be realistic in terms of what your body is capable of and make adjustments accordingly.

There is though, a strong connection between looking good and feeling good, but its entirely upto you whether or not you, even want to take a bath. This of course implies that cleaning the house and doing laundry is entirely out of bounds, unless, you feel an overwhelming urge to clean things. Remember parenting was not meant to be a one person job. Nature did not intend it that way. That's why it takes two people to conceive. Take the help of the other person responsible or if that person isn't around (the moron), then take help of your parents, his parents, your siblings, grandparents, bosses (yes, some do help), colleagues, friends, just about anyone who is not a certified maniac and is good enough to offer help.

So yes, motherhood is an experience, unlike any other...

Do I love it?
Yes, absolutely, hands down...

Would I do it all over again?
No... probably not in near future.

All the very best to my dear ladies who are stepping into this wonderful journey. Trust me, your life will never be the same again... and what it'll be, it'll be for the better...














Picture Courtesy:

https://www.google.com/search?q=new+mums+images&rlz=1C1SKPL_enIN442IN443&espv=2&biw=1366&bih=667&tbm=isch&imgil=DxLlcCCUWdySKM%253A%253B2LBAoCUqFneqTM%253Bhttps%25253A%25252F%25252Fwww.sudocrem.co.uk%25252Fantiseptic-healing-cream%25252Fblog%25252Fwhat-new-mums-say-about-losing-sleep%25252F&source=iu&pf=m&fir=DxLlcCCUWdySKM%253A%252C2LBAoCUqFneqTM%252C_&usg=__xSciQAZ2MDeXfo97uhD6qs_ucnw%3D&ved=0ahUKEwi7vs7ZgZXOAhUGLSYKHV3hBLsQyjcINw&ei=qWCZV_vFI4bamAHdwpPYCw#imgrc=DxLlcCCUWdySKM%3A

https://www.google.com/search?q=infant+formula+images&rlz=1C1SKPL_enIN442IN443&espv=2&biw=1366&bih=667&tbm=isch&imgil=sRy-UYILGzuXfM%253A%253BJfOeWj30dYby2M%253Bhttp%25253A%25252F%25252Fwww.vocativ.com%25252Funderworld%25252Fcrime%25252Fblack-market-stolen-baby-formula%25252F&source=iu&pf=m&fir=sRy-UYILGzuXfM%253A%252CJfOeWj30dYby2M%252C_&usg=__7qUxJdvu3F8ITKAK0aImGxDvBQ8%3D&ved=0ahUKEwieptSlgpXOAhXJ8CYKHXRwCfEQyjcIRQ&ei=SWGZV97dA8nhmwH04KWIDw#imgrc=sRy-UYILGzuXfM%3A

https://www.google.com/search?q=supermom+myth&rlz=1C1SKPL_enIN442IN443&espv=2&biw=1366&bih=667&source=lnms&tbm=isch&sa=X&ved=0ahUKEwjU1cC3gpXOAhXEdSYKHXOqCOkQ_AUIBigB#imgrc=6tXZDgP4e-hKyM%3A















Thursday, March 12, 2015

A lone woman's journey through transition...

Sophie Mahlangu, trudges up the steep slope towards the ‘Retirement Village’ in Silver Lakes Golf Estates in eastern Pretoria. It is 5:30 a.m. on a Saturday morning and early morning golfers are preparing for a tee off at the nearby golf course.

She spots a morning dog-walker and waves at her.

‘See you Ma’am, in the afternoon.’

‘See you, Sophie’, comes the jovial rejoinder.

Sophie, 54, is amongst the numerous domestic workers working at the Silver Lakes Golf Estates. She boasts that she is one of the oldest domestic workers in the area.‘When I first came here, there were a few houses and the rest were still being built. Some of the children I had known as infants have now grown up and are in Universities.’ Though the surroundings have changed, little has in Sophie’s life. She still works as a domestic in some of the houses in the Estate.

Sophie’s generation witnessed the transition from the undemocratic apartheid regime to the dawn of democracy in 1994. It had the unique opportunity to attest the best and the worst of two completely different governing systems. As South Africa celebrates 20 years of democratic rule, it is Sophie’s generation, which offers the best insight into what, the future holds for the nation.

Born in Belfast (officially eMakhazeni) in 1960, her mother was a domestic worker in a farming household. Her father worked at a shop in White River near Nelspruit where he had another family. The mother-daughter duo seldom traveled to Nelspruit to see her father. Sophie grew up on the farm and her childhood memories are mostly filled with vivid colors of tulips that were farmed.

‘Winters used to be very cold in Belfast but on a sunny day, you could keep seeing the flowers and forget the cold.’

Sophie studied in a school on the farm. The local pastor’s wife taught some of the worker’s children in a small hut situated near the gates of the farm. Unfortunately, when Sophie was six and in Grade 2, the school had to be shut down as the hut was needed for farm purposes and thus schooling discontinued. ‘I still remember the day clearly. Some men came in a large truck and started cleaning the room. Me and one of my friends stood by watching. No one came to stop them or anything. It was just a normal day at the farm.’

The year was 1966 and Soweto schoolchildren’s uprising was ten years away. Apartheid South Africa then, paid scant attention to the education of farm worker’s children.  

However, Sophie did not feel bad that the school shut down. In fact she felt extremely happy because now she could help her mother in the kitchen.

‘I wish I knew the importance of a good education then. But I didn’t. My mother never told me how important it was to be educated.’

The 6 year old Sophie went on to help her mother in household work for the next eight years. When the farm was sold, Sophie, then 14 and her mother went to live at her uncle’s home in Germiston.

‘Germiston was very different from the farm. It was very busy. I learnt a lot from that place.’

Unable to find work as a domestic, Sophie’s mother joined a group of women who specialized in bead making. Sophie and her cousin Rebecca, who was a year older than her, took up a job at a nearby store as the store keeper’s assistant. They were paid R 3 a week and one meal a day.

It was Sophie’s first paid work.

The store owner and his wife held classes for under educated children and adults every Saturday evening. Sophie joined the classes and it was here that she came to know, of a man, who had been locked away in a far off island near Cape Town for asking black people to stand up for their rights.
‘That period of my life was filled with anger. There were many mines situated near Germiston. Often young men from the mines would come to our shop owner and meetings would be held in his house. I came to know of the struggle that some people were waging for our rights in those meetings. The men would read aloud passages from a book. Though I did not understand much, I knew that there was something wrong going on outside.’

One of the young men from the mines was named Ephraim. He was particularly vocal in the meetings and he always urged those who had gathered around to take up education. Sophie and Rebecca both came to like the young man very much. One day, Ephraim asked Sophie to accompany him to the farmer’s market, which was held twice a month on Sundays. She felt elated that Ephraim had chosen her to accompany him. She remembers putting on her best purple dress and spending two hours trying to get dressed for the occasion.  Rebecca who was clearly jealous of her did not speak to her for two days.

Five months later on a cold Tuesday morning of July, Sophie found out that she was going to be a mother. She was nervous as well as happy and waited breathlessly for Saturday when she would see Ephraim. Saturday came but Ephraim didn’t.

She frantically tried calling the number he had given her. She says:  ‘Every day, I would spend an hour at the phone booth trying to call him. Sometimes the number kept ringing, sometimes a man would pick up and when I asked for Ephraim, he used to say, that there was no one of that name. Finally, I asked the other men in the meeting what happened to Ephraim and they said he had left the work at the mine and gone to Tanzania. They did not know why.’

Sophie was then 19 years old. Unmarried, almost illiterate and barely making ends meet; she was at a loss at how to deal with the situation. Her only friend at the time was Rebecca, her cousin.
Rebecca, now working at the SARS customs office at the OR Tambo International Airport in Johannesburg says of the period: ‘We never heard from Ephraim again. When Sophie first told me of the situation, I did not know what to do. We held hands together and did what we had been taught to do in times of distress. We prayed.’

Praying together did not help the situation much as Sophie was confronted with a huge dilemma; how to break the news to her mother and her extended family.

According to Rebecca, unwed mothers at that time were looked down upon.

‘Our family went to Church regularly. They believed in family, even if your husband went away later, it was a different thing. Sophie and I were both very scared to break this news.’
Going away from Germiston seemed to be the only option to Sophie now. She and Rebecca started looking for vacancies for domestics and household work in Pretoria when Rebecca found a cleaning job in a children’s day care in Garfonstein in Pretoria East. Rebecca secured the position of the cook for Sophie and the two cousins moved to Pretoria.

When Sophie was almost six months pregnant with her child, she and Rebecca decided to break the news to the family. Rebecca was Sophie’s biggest support during that period and has been ever since.
Says Rebecca: ‘In hindsight, I believe it was a blessing that Ephraim did not ask me out that day.’
Although angry at Sophie, her family nonetheless accepted her situation and even offered to cover the cost of medical care that was required during the period.

The year was 1985 and the political situation in South Africa was tense. Add to it a faltering economy with economic sanctions that were being imposed upon South Africa by the industrialized countries.
The social grant available to her mother was not enough to bring up a child and Sophie was barely making enough money to take care of herself. At this juncture, Rebecca again stepped in. Rebecca had meanwhile undergone her Matric Certification (Grade 10 at that time) from the University of South Africa through distance education. She heard of an opportunity for Black women at the Custom’s office at the Johannesburg International Airport (now OR Tambo International Airport) and applied. She was successful and this additional income was a huge help to Sophie.

On a hot evening of November, Sophie gave birth to a daughter and gave Rebecca the right to name her child. Rebecca named the child Precious.

Says Rebecca: ‘Whatever had happened was not the child’s fault. She was just so precious to both of us.’

For the next six years, Precious grew up in White River amidst her grandmother and her family while Sophie managed to secure accommodation with her aunt’s family in Mamelodi East.
Sophie’s tenure in Mamelodi East from 1985-1991 was filled with dread and fear. With political tension escalating to a peak, fights would break out almost every evening in their area. Neighbors were scared of each other and every day a burglary would be reported at some house or the other.

‘All neighborhoods had community patrols, but they would be of no help. Everyone was left to look after themselves. Burglary and theft would be common occurrences. People had stopped reporting these to police. I never understood why black men fought each other. Every day, while coming back from work, I would see burnt tyres, shoes, belts and ashes and I would be fearful of getting caught in one of the fights.’

With the increase in crimes and internal skirmishes, came the increase in the illegal gun trade. Almost all families bought a gun for themselves. Some spent their entire month’s income to buy a gun. However individual ownership of guns did not reduce the theft or the violence. It just seemed to increase.

Rebecca’s life meanwhile had taken a completely different turn. She had moved to Johannesburg and had settled in her new job at the Customs Office. She would sometimes visit Sophie at their aunt’s place and would mostly talk about the political changes that were coming to South Africa.

Says Sophie: ‘Rebecca would tell us of the change in government that was happening. She would say we will now be able to vote and have a government of our own. We heard about Mandela being freed from prison and wept with tears at the images on television when he walked hand-in-hand with Winnie. However, things did not change much in our neighborhood. The images on TV seem to be from another world.’

Sophie was desperate to escape her present neighborhood.

‘I had been on a look out for household domestic positions in some of the big estates that were coming up in Pretoria East. A lot of young, well-to-do couples were buying houses in guarded (sic) estates close to  the day care that I worked in.’

Sophie’s prayers for a new job was answered in 1992 when Dr. Jaco Fernandez walked in at the day care with a household domestic worker’s vacancy. Dr. Fernandez, his wife, Lorenda and their three children had arrived in South Africa a year ago from Mexico City in the United States. Dr. Fernandez was associated with Medecins Sans Frontiers (Doctors Without Borders). Sophie moved into the domestic quarters with the family in October 1992 and this was Sophie’s first entry into the Silver Lakes neighborhood.

The Fernandez’s twins were almost Precious’s age and the doctor and his wife encouraged education. Precious had been enrolled into a government school in White River and due to the ongoing political turmoil, most of the time, the school remained closed. So Precious lagged behind in class. Sophie asked if the family would allow her daughter to stay with her in the domestic quarters. They not only agreed but encouraged Sophie to enroll Precious into Pretoria Girls High where their own daughters went. Precious was admitted to Pretoria Girls High in 1993 in Grade 1. Probably because Precious was eldest in her class and quite matured for her age, she excelled in her studies as well as games.

Sophie says: ‘I had told Precious while coming to Pretoria, never to compare herself to other girls in class. She was always to know, that I was both her mother and her father and that, though I shall try my best to take care of all her needs, she has to forego luxuries.’

Rebecca, on the other hand, fulfilled some of the little girl’s fantasies, like good clothes, hair do’s, the first walkman and even the first mobile phone.

Sophie took up two more domestic household work besides Fernandez household to supplement her income. With the introduction of government social security grants, Sophie’s financial turmoil eased a bit, but as income increased so did expenditure.

Says Sophie: ‘All I remember from that period is how both of us struggled. The only advice I remember giving Precious almost every day was to excel in studies or she would end up like us.’

Jaco and Lorenda were exceptionally good employers. Almost all costs during Precious’s school going years were borne by them. Lorenda also took it upon herself to tutor the little girl along with her own daughters. Sophie, in spite of her busy schedule, would never miss any of the parent-teacher meetings that were held in Precious’s school. She says she did not always understand what the teacher said but she never missed any because her presence made a difference to Precious.
‘Throughout her growing up years, I always made sure she knew how important education was going to be. I would not repeat the same mistake that my mother made with me.’

Precious cleared the Matric examination in 2005 with five distinctions. She secured a place at the University of Stellenbosch and is currently in her final year of Masters in Chemical Engineering.
Stellenbosch was chosen because some of Rebecca colleagues had recommended the University to her.

Says Rebecca: ‘At that time I was posted in Cape Town and my colleagues would often tell me that Stellenbosch University is the best when it comes to engineering. I told Precious to try for Stellenbosch since she was in Grade 9. I wanted her to go the best school since we in our childhood had missed out on it. Precious had both the intellect and the perseverance, that’s why I always pushed her.’

2004 was indeed a remarkable year for Sophie. Besides Precious going to college, Jaco and Lorenda bought a small apartment for Sophie to stay in the nearby Newmark Estate.

Says Jaco: ‘It was all we could do to say thanks to Sophie. In all her years of employment, Sophie never asked anything for herself. There are so many domestics who keep asking for food, money, clothes, but Sophie never asked for anything. She would silently carry out whatever we wished her to do.’

Lorenda passed away last year from a prolonged illness. During her last year of illness, Sophie left all the other households she was working in to be at Lorenda’s side. Jaco’s eldest daughter Alexis says: ‘Sophie was a nurse-cum-cook-cum domestic-cum gardener all at the same time. We sisters, all of us live abroad. It was not easy for us to take care of mum and dad could not do it all himself. We needed Sophie and fortunately Sophie was always there for us.’

After his wife’s death, Jaco sold his house in Silver Lakes and moved to the ‘Retirement Village’ where Sophie was going to work, the morning I caught up with her.

She bid me farewell in front of House no. 19’s door and said: ‘I will tell everything I remember. Why don’t you meet me today afternoon at my place? However, most of the difficult things, I am trying to forget. You know, I feel tired thinking about my past. I want to forget it. Life is better now, this is how I wish it to be.’


Reflection muses...

Language is the basis for recapturing experience...

- Cyhthia Selfae