Kinks and Quirks - Part 1 š
So someone asked me to expand on my complicated dad experience that I made mention of in the previous postš
Hehehe...I would need a whole day for that but here's a brief summary.
Now I've come to believe that a sense of humour is a must for survival. We have to just laugh at ourselves sometimes, even our tragic mistakes, embracing them as part of the intricate human experience.
Our parents, just like us, are only human. They make their share of mistakes, sometimes very grave ones at that, but we love and honour them nonetheless. My mother was my personal hero, the strongest and bravest woman I've ever known. She went above and beyond and sacrificed so much to give us a better life than she had had. She was beautiful and feisty and took no nonsense from anyone, especially the men in her life. There was never a dull moment with her.
My beloved mother had a colourful interest in men, as do I apparently. So while dating a boy from her "hood", we'll call him Mr N (for Ncayiyane), she developed a friendship with Mr M (for Mthembu)šwho happened to be her brother's friend. Mr M wasn't from the area so my uncle would invite him to visit my granny's house for days on end when they had a soccer tournament or something. So that's how Mr M's dubious friendship with my mom grew.
At the time, Mr N, Mom's official boyfriend, was working in Pietermaritzburg and would only go home to Port Shepstone a few times a year, leaving plenty of room for the other friendship to blossom. So naturally when I came into the world, the issue of my paternity was questionable, but life continued and my mom and Mr N welcomed a baby girl into the world (me, of course). They weren't married so mom lived at home and initially raised me at my gran's house.
When I was about 5/6 years old I distinctly remember an argument between Mr N and my mom about whether I was really his daughter or not. Things had soured between them and my mom prohibited me from visiting Mr N's home and didn't allow him to come and see me either. He clearly didn't put up much of a fight and was absent from my life until his dying days.
I was too young and didn't understand the situation, of course, and no one ever explained anything to me. Apparently, my mother and Mr N had actually broken up shortly after my birth.
When I was a toddler, my mother had a stint at marriage with a much older guy (just for the cows, my mom's sister would later tell us) lol. They basically scammed the guy; they took his cows, and then my mother left him, after marrying him, of course. Legendary! (It was a sibling effort, I believe, well, three of their siblings at least).
Actually, I'm certain it was my uncle's idea; he was known to disappear with people's lobola money. By people, I mean his sisters. Gotta love my family!š Okay, I'm exaggerating, he only disappeared with one sister's lobola money (mom's younger sister), lol, the other time it was my mom's life policy payout after she passed away (since we were minors and all, he took the liberty of safeguarding it for us - forever). My sister and I would be rich if it weren't for him...tsk tsk tskš (I highly doubt). Anyway, he's also late, so we can't make him pay it back now. (How I've digressed...)
After my mother's phoney marriage, she had my sister in 1993 with a wonderful man (my sister's dad, Nyawose). Another Mr N...hahahaha. I have lots of respect for this man, to this day, he's a present and very good father to my sister, and to me actually. His responsibility and involvement in our lives never changed, even after he and our mom broke up.
Fast forward to early 2006, Mr N asked me to come to see him at his home, where he was very sick. At this point, my mother had passed on. So I obliged and listened to what he had to say.
He apologised for not trying harder to be a part of my life. He told me about some rumours he'd heard back then that made him question if I was his child, and that my mother was never straight with him about it...blah blah fish paste. I had grown up hating him for his absence in my life. He died shortly after, and I grieved deeply for what could've been. I was now officially an orphan...lol
I just want to pause here and boast about my people. You've heard the saying that it takes a village to raise a child...well, that certainly was true for me. My mom's younger sister (I call her mom), along with her late husband, had always been like parents to me and went above and beyond in taking care of me, whether I was near or far. Their 5 boys are my little brothers, and they have never made me feel like an outsider. I'm their older sister, and I even changed most of their nappies.
Along with my family, there were many Good Samaritans who contributed tremendously to my upbringing, mainly my then-best friend's family, the Zulu family, who took me in after my mom's death, and I lived with them till I finished high school and went off to university. My mother had been the only one from our family who lived in Durban, so Buhle's family figured I shouldn't be uprooted to go start a new school in Sheppie, where my family was. So I had an abundance of families, and my upbringing was a true team effort. My sister was at least living with her dad and stepmom, also in Durban.
Back to my story. In 2006, after grieving Mr N's death, my family introduced me to a strange man, introduced to me as Uncle Mthembuš (see the lightbulb? - Mr M!!). He was very nice to me in particular, taking me out, buying me airtime and lots of fancy things. Where did this rich man come from, and what was his place in our family?... I would wonder. He called often and checked up on me since I was schooling in Durban and he lived on the South Coast. When I wasn't creeped out, I definitely was loving this new attention from this mysterious uncle.
Lo and behold, on the day I received my matric results in December 2007, I was told that "Uncle Mthembu" is, in fact, my biological father. I was no longer an orphan...lol. He was my mom's Mr M from back in the day. The last time he had seen my mom was after he had impregnated her, and they decided to keep it a secret and tell Mr N that I was his child. I was hysterical, to say the least.
The roller-coaster ride that ensued as we tried to build some kind of a relationship is a story for another day (or perhaps when I write my autobiography).
I love my family to bits, but they can be a weird bunch sometimes. But then again, which family is without its kinks and quirks?
Now I've come to believe that a sense of humour is a must for survival. We have to just laugh at ourselves sometimes, even our tragic mistakes, embracing them as part of the intricate human experience.
Our parents, just like us, are only human. They make their share of mistakes, sometimes very grave ones at that, but we love and honour them nonetheless. My mother was my personal hero, the strongest and bravest woman I've ever known. She went above and beyond and sacrificed so much to give us a better life than she had had. She was beautiful and feisty and took no nonsense from anyone, especially the men in her life. There was never a dull moment with her.
My beloved mother had a colourful interest in men, as do I apparently. So while dating a boy from her "hood", we'll call him Mr N (for Ncayiyane), she developed a friendship with Mr M (for Mthembu)šwho happened to be her brother's friend. Mr M wasn't from the area so my uncle would invite him to visit my granny's house for days on end when they had a soccer tournament or something. So that's how Mr M's dubious friendship with my mom grew.
At the time, Mr N, Mom's official boyfriend, was working in Pietermaritzburg and would only go home to Port Shepstone a few times a year, leaving plenty of room for the other friendship to blossom. So naturally when I came into the world, the issue of my paternity was questionable, but life continued and my mom and Mr N welcomed a baby girl into the world (me, of course). They weren't married so mom lived at home and initially raised me at my gran's house.
When I was about 5/6 years old I distinctly remember an argument between Mr N and my mom about whether I was really his daughter or not. Things had soured between them and my mom prohibited me from visiting Mr N's home and didn't allow him to come and see me either. He clearly didn't put up much of a fight and was absent from my life until his dying days.
I was too young and didn't understand the situation, of course, and no one ever explained anything to me. Apparently, my mother and Mr N had actually broken up shortly after my birth.
When I was a toddler, my mother had a stint at marriage with a much older guy (just for the cows, my mom's sister would later tell us) lol. They basically scammed the guy; they took his cows, and then my mother left him, after marrying him, of course. Legendary! (It was a sibling effort, I believe, well, three of their siblings at least).
Actually, I'm certain it was my uncle's idea; he was known to disappear with people's lobola money. By people, I mean his sisters. Gotta love my family!š Okay, I'm exaggerating, he only disappeared with one sister's lobola money (mom's younger sister), lol, the other time it was my mom's life policy payout after she passed away (since we were minors and all, he took the liberty of safeguarding it for us - forever). My sister and I would be rich if it weren't for him...tsk tsk tskš (I highly doubt). Anyway, he's also late, so we can't make him pay it back now. (How I've digressed...)
After my mother's phoney marriage, she had my sister in 1993 with a wonderful man (my sister's dad, Nyawose). Another Mr N...hahahaha. I have lots of respect for this man, to this day, he's a present and very good father to my sister, and to me actually. His responsibility and involvement in our lives never changed, even after he and our mom broke up.
Fast forward to early 2006, Mr N asked me to come to see him at his home, where he was very sick. At this point, my mother had passed on. So I obliged and listened to what he had to say.
He apologised for not trying harder to be a part of my life. He told me about some rumours he'd heard back then that made him question if I was his child, and that my mother was never straight with him about it...blah blah fish paste. I had grown up hating him for his absence in my life. He died shortly after, and I grieved deeply for what could've been. I was now officially an orphan...lol
I just want to pause here and boast about my people. You've heard the saying that it takes a village to raise a child...well, that certainly was true for me. My mom's younger sister (I call her mom), along with her late husband, had always been like parents to me and went above and beyond in taking care of me, whether I was near or far. Their 5 boys are my little brothers, and they have never made me feel like an outsider. I'm their older sister, and I even changed most of their nappies.
Along with my family, there were many Good Samaritans who contributed tremendously to my upbringing, mainly my then-best friend's family, the Zulu family, who took me in after my mom's death, and I lived with them till I finished high school and went off to university. My mother had been the only one from our family who lived in Durban, so Buhle's family figured I shouldn't be uprooted to go start a new school in Sheppie, where my family was. So I had an abundance of families, and my upbringing was a true team effort. My sister was at least living with her dad and stepmom, also in Durban.
Back to my story. In 2006, after grieving Mr N's death, my family introduced me to a strange man, introduced to me as Uncle Mthembuš (see the lightbulb? - Mr M!!). He was very nice to me in particular, taking me out, buying me airtime and lots of fancy things. Where did this rich man come from, and what was his place in our family?... I would wonder. He called often and checked up on me since I was schooling in Durban and he lived on the South Coast. When I wasn't creeped out, I definitely was loving this new attention from this mysterious uncle.
Lo and behold, on the day I received my matric results in December 2007, I was told that "Uncle Mthembu" is, in fact, my biological father. I was no longer an orphan...lol. He was my mom's Mr M from back in the day. The last time he had seen my mom was after he had impregnated her, and they decided to keep it a secret and tell Mr N that I was his child. I was hysterical, to say the least.
The roller-coaster ride that ensued as we tried to build some kind of a relationship is a story for another day (or perhaps when I write my autobiography).
I love my family to bits, but they can be a weird bunch sometimes. But then again, which family is without its kinks and quirks?
Nano this is so heart wrenching, I am sorry that you went through that. I am glad that you finally got to connect with your dads family. I vote for therapy it will help with all your trauma.
ReplyDeleteSending virtual hugs kisses and light.
Thank you my darling. Therapy is definitely necessary for one's sanity. I'll be starting with it very soon, thank God. Bringing all your thoughts and feelings to the light and making sense of them brings incredible healing and freedom.
Delete