GROWING up as a young boy in the rural heart of Zululand where there was no running water or electricity and people herded cows for a living, Spring Day was a one of the magical and exciting days of the year.
It was a special day – food, music and everything in-between had to be ready and prepared in advance.
After all, the day only came once a year and we went all out.
I still remember my grandmother’s morning call the day before as she checked if all our new ‘church clothes’ were ironed and hung and that our shoes were polished and spotless.
There was nothing she loved more than showing off her smartly dressed grandchildren to her friends.
Believe it or not, she actually thought she had he greatest grandchildren, better than those of any other gogo in the area, and she wasn’t shy about telling them so.
By the time we went to bed the night before, I always had butterflies the whole night. I couldn’t contain my excitement about showing off my new outfit to my friends.
As a boy I was very shy, but on Spring Day, when I was all dressed up, I was a chatterbox oozing confidence.
From young to old, we all shared food, drinks and played indigenous games – and, of course sang jolly songs together until dark.
Crush girl
If you were lucky you ended up dancing with your crush girl, you know, that beautiful girl that every boy in the community liked.
Maybe, just maybe, if you were really lucky, she might hold your hand and make your day.
But it was more than just new clothes. It was about how as the community we came together to share in the festivities.
There was no fear of any incidents, no children went missing, no one was stabbed – just plain and innocent fun.
We treated each other like family and visited each other’s houses and ate biscuits until we had stomach cramps.
After the festivities we had two important tasks – to fold and pack our church clothes neatly inside gogo’s old kist and, just because it was Spring Day, it didn’t mean we had to forget about our daily duties of locking up the family’s goats.
Now, years later, my heart weeps when I realise how things have changed.
It has become a show-off time for many young people. They consume alcohol like there is no tomorrow. Sometimes, sadly, there is not.
Liquor shops double or triple their profits during this time. The youth go through so much trouble just to exhibit a lavish lifestyle they can’t even afford.
These days what used to be a greatest period has turned into reports of shocking murder cases and rape incidents.
People do not have that old spirit of Ubuntu, where neighbours treated each other like one big family.
As we begin the spring season tomorrow, I long for those old days and I am still searching for the way back to that magical time – a simple, but exciting period.
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