By Vusumzi Matomane
[Free Lessons from the Ordinary People]
When I turned ten; my mother bought me a brand new, blue-and-white BMX all the way from Johannesburg—because: I had been a good boy up to that stage and I had passed Standard Two.
In those days, to every young boy in Ngangelizwe, owning a bicycle was the closest thing to owning a car…factually: I believed that I was driving a car whenever I was riding my BMX in the dusty streets of the ghetto (when we were young; we had many beliefs).
And it was about the same time (when Mother bought me that BMX) that my Grandmother bought me a: garden-spade, fork-spade and rake. How I knew the implements were mine?... I had seen, whilst walking around the neighbourhood, older boys utilizing such implements (in those days; they still had boys’ chores and girls’—but even then, with Grandma, I did both chores). And since I was the only boy at home then; I knew I was going to lend a hand…in fact; both hands and get some work done.
‘Today you let your pony rest—you’ll ride when we’re done in the garden…come, and bring the tools with you.’ Grandma had said.
So, working alongside Grandma; I would watch, ask this-and-that and do some work. To tell the truth: I did my bit in the garden just to get done and over with so I could go back to my pony—unaware that there were valuable lessons culminating from the whole exercise…quiet lessons from the garden that; only the gardener understands.
‘Today we’re planting the pine-tree…come, and bring the spade with you.’ Grandma had said the other day.
‘Aunty,’ (I cannot remember well; where did I pick up the habit of using inappropriate tittles when addressing family members [my Grand-Grandma: I called Mamma, my Grandmother: Aunty, my Mother and my Mother—my Mother has a twin; so I have two Mothers—I call them Sisi]).
‘We have enough trees already.’ Our homestead, during those days, had peach-trees in abundance ( I cannot remember now; how many, exactly there were).
‘We need more trees, young man…come now, and bring the spade with you.’
And thus I became a gardener…a gardener with a watchful eye.
I developed a habit of riding around the neighbourhood (and neighbouring suburbs) looking at green-grasses, flowers, shrubs and trees. Up to this day, although few people know it, I have been having green fingers since the days of gardening with my Grandmother.
I still apply lessons I learnt from the garden as I approach life—for instance:
· Good nurturance is vital,
· A caring touch makes a difference,
· Observation is a form of art,
· Other things take time (good fruits take time to mature),
· Remember what happened last season,
· Monitor progress,
· Sometimes we change strategy for better results,
· Faith is very important,
· Sometimes things go beyond human control…
These are quiet lessons learnt in the garden—they become, I have noticed, useful; not only in the garden, but also in life in general. They are free-lessons from Nature…lessons that can make this world a lovely (if not the dearest) place to live in.
And for instilling in me; the love of gardening: I still believe that my Grandma was the cleverest Lady I have ever known.
Today, some twenty years later, the pine tree that Grandma and I planted; is still standing tall and majestically.
I look at that pine tree and remember Grandma/Aunty and her wisdom (I have always thought of Aunty: a-silent-teacher. Up to this day; I still cannot find other words to decribe Aunty—other than those)…
It is human-nature to consume fruits and/or vegetables today and forget the next day. It is, however, easy to remember yester days when there is a tree standing because a tree hangs around, or rather stands around, for quite some time: especially the pine tree (and I am very much inclined to believe that that was the lesson that Grandma intended for me to learn).
One of these days; when I buy my own piece of land: I am going to plant a couple of fruit trees, and, definitely; a pine tree—just one pine tree will be enough.
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