To Khaya With Love
Samara Zimmel
Copyright 2012 Samara Zimmel
All rights reserved.
Published in eBook format by eBookIt.com
ISBN-13: 978-1-4566-0770-8
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.
Chapter 1
Now that we are in a new country, and you are born here, my granddaughter, I see it as my pleasant duty to write to you so that you will know our origins. Therefore let me introduce you to your family:
We come from the eastern part of South Africa, the warmest one called Natal-kwa Zulu. My parents came from a small district of Eshowe. My dad is Maurus Mzimela, my mother is Maria Mzimela, originally Ngonyama. Our surname Mzimela may mean “press on, lean hard to, standing independently or trusting strongly on.”
You will wonder why I write them in the present when they have passed on. I’ll tell you why, it is because for me they will always be my parents whether dead or alive, they are irreplaceable.
My dad was the oldest of the two brothers, Dominic and Conrad, with the two sisters. They were married and gone by the time I was born. I know my uncles better. Yes, the youngest sister of my father visited us regularly, we even visited her. She was comfortably off with her family, and her name was Mfongoza (I don’t really know what that means). The other sister was called Ndomba. I never got to know her though, if I have seen her it was once and I can’t remember how she looked like.
Back to my immediate family. We were seven children of my parents, six girls and one boy. The eldest was sis’ Thokozile (Augustine) known as Thoko, brother Lawrence generally known as “Two.”
The five sisters are as follows: Monica Thandaphi, known as Monica; Elizabeth Fikile, known as Matiya; Salutaris Sibongile (your gogo), known as Sibongile; Eunice Zanele, known as Eunice; Gloria Toli, known as Toli.
Presently Lawrence and Elizabeth have passed on.
There are others that have passed on, but I would rather talk about each separately.
Chapter 2
Now I will tell you about my father, your grandfather Maurus. He was the best father in the world. Can I just say him?
UMngun’omhlophe onjengezihlabathi zolwandle
ULulwandle kaluwelwa luwelwa zinkonjane nabaweli
Ozandla zimhlophe zinjengezabantwanyana
Gagasi!
Okasiphutha lukhulwini
Beludla belunqashaza njengezinhlamvu zokosa
I don’t know if there is a perfect way of translating all this. Now let’s see. This may mean:
“Mnguni you are white as the sand of the sea.
You are the uncrossable sea crossed only by heavenly birds or ocean divers.
Your hands as white as little babies’ hands. Sea waves!
Son of him who missed on great things that were eaten hot like roasted maize kernels.”
Please don’t ask me to explain all this, then you’ll be going too far!
He was a quiet godly man, my father was, about 7.5ft, a gentleman of gentlemen. Never raised his voice.
When he spoke his word was like the voice of God. Where there was an argument or doubt about a situation his word would close all argument. One incident I remember was when one of my nephews walked out of the shop with a candy bar without paying for it. The supermarket owner phoned home saying we should come get him and pay for the candy or they will call the police. My brother (his father) was livid with anger and said, “Let them take him to prison and teach him a lesson.” Generally everybody was upset about what this boy had done. Can you imagine a good Catholic family of right standing in the community having now to deal with this shameful act? I tell you it was a big thing never been done by anybody in our family.
Mind you all this time my father is sitting quietly not contributing to the comments and responses to this telephone call.
When everybody had said their say expressing how disgusted they were, my dad cleared his throat. I tell you, we were suddenly all silent. He said, “My children, it is not wise to let this boy taste a prison life, go and release him.” Immediately my brother went and got my nephew. Dad said to the boy, “What you have done is unacceptable to God and unacceptable to me, don’t do it again.” That was the end of the story; that boy never did it again.
You didn’t want to break any of our parents’ rules because you knew how much they love you. We would beg mum not to tell dad, we did not want to hurt him, we loved him too much.
While mum was a disciplinarian, dad was a loving judge behind her.
I used to look after daddy’s cattle or sheep because we lived on a farm. If for some reason while I was playing the cattle went into a field and a stranger passing by gives me a smack or reprimands me I would never dare tell anyone at home for the fear of getting another hitting. Those days older people were highly respected and honoured. We loved to make our parents proud of us, for this reason we did well at school, if it was not position I in class then it was not good enough. Not that my father insisted on it though, he was only happy for us to do well and pass.
This is the man who bore me and affirmed me as a woman of confidence. The battles I fought and won in my entire adult life are primarily because of him. He made me who I am. I was his favourite daughter and his pet.
My father said some amazing things that really bolstered my confidence.
He stated, “They will yet call my name even though I am dead, all because of you, the sky is a limit for you, my daughter.”
I cherished those words throughout my life. I believed the impossible. These words carried me through every crisis in life. Remember we were brought up under the apartheid regime where odds were always stacked against us as blacks.
He also cautioned us saying, “In olden days we fought our battles with spears, but today’s battles are fought with a pen, don’t neglect education, be the best you can.”
It amazes me how much I kept these sayings in my heart up to this very day.
Chapter 3
My father was a police man; he worked in central Durban Police Station.
I remember as a child my mother and us (how many of us she could bring at one time) would go visit my father from the farm for a couple
