uNcomi
this is a story about my grandmother, uNcomi
there's plenty special about ugogas wam' - that is my father's mother. she was born almost a century ago. in those days, specific dates were inferred by the wars that were going on, how big a harvest they had, the season of the year and the position of the moon. so when the makhiwas came with their weird ideas of days, months and years, it all seemed too foreign to her family.
uNcomi is a great storyteller. once she gets going she doesn't stop. she has the power to turn the simplest tale into an interesting chronicle of events, so vivid you'd think they had recently happened. my earliest memory of her is probably of me running away from her half naked ekhaya. but i wasn't as bad as my older brother. you see, uNcomi was popular in the area from her star quality beer. utshwala obujiyileyo obusuthisayo. the secrets to her brewing techniques hidden in the kitchen rondavel - two dug out mbizas, each with a capacity of about 200 litres. now, my bro, town boy ohlal' emasofeni, sees these 'holes' and thinks, 'ah, nansi i-toilet'. ugogo kasam' tshayanga bo. the words, "ucamel' embizeni yam' wena mfana kaJeki!" still ring in my ears.
whenever we stayed with her during our school holidays, she'd wake us up way before the sun was up with her mthanyelo, commanding us to our morning chores. mina loGuy (my dear cousin) had the ardous task of milking the goats. now that was an artform in its own right. from the way we entered the sibaya, to senga-ring the beasts, to letting out amaziyane, to ketha-ring amaziyane, to xotsha-ring imbuzi out egangeni. ugogo would have tea topped with goats milk: itiy' ejiyileyo. at that time, we were inexperienced to venture into the big sibaya with the nkomo, so we just watched uPhiri from the sidelines. [to this day, i dont think i can senga a cow properly] at the nd of the holiday she would line us and give us each i-two bhobho eyomphako.
uNcomi never liked going to town. she was very content with just being around the home she had lived in since the 1920s. one interesting story which shaped my very destiny still rings in my ear. you see, ukhulu uMqweqwe [bless his soul] never believed in education. he was adamant that his sons would look after his cattle, grow up, marry the locals girls and live the life he lived. uNcomi thought otherwise. whilst yelusa-ring the nkomos, she would cut long reeds of dry grass and secretly store them. when she had gathered enough, she would sell it as prize roofing material. the money she made from her sales was secretly stashed away eqaqeni behind the kitchen. the money was then used to send her boys to schools far and beyond. clever woman.
old age has caught to with her but her body seems to defy the nature. a cocktail of amaphilisi keep her heart ticking and her soul warm. she still makes amacansi but the failing eyes make the task ten times as difficult. she suffers from chronic backache which she calls igunkuya likaMeja. let me explain. uMeja (Major in english) is a relative who she had fight with four decades ago. He ended up almost beating her to death with a nduku and to this date her back hasn't healed.
she is affectionately known to everyone as ugog' umgane. this is because she calls anyone and everyone mgane. this is what makes her a special person. she becomes your friend almost immediately after meeting you. kodwa, get on her wrongo side, the mgane switches to bhoyi! as though as she was tempting fate, she starting calling us amaNgilandi from when we were very young because we spoke such brilliant english. little did she know that those very 'Ngilandi's would end up eNgilandi. now her poor soul regrets using those words because she doesn't get to see us anymore.
there's plenty special about ugogas wam' - that is my father's mother. she was born almost a century ago. in those days, specific dates were inferred by the wars that were going on, how big a harvest they had, the season of the year and the position of the moon. so when the makhiwas came with their weird ideas of days, months and years, it all seemed too foreign to her family.
uNcomi is a great storyteller. once she gets going she doesn't stop. she has the power to turn the simplest tale into an interesting chronicle of events, so vivid you'd think they had recently happened. my earliest memory of her is probably of me running away from her half naked ekhaya. but i wasn't as bad as my older brother. you see, uNcomi was popular in the area from her star quality beer. utshwala obujiyileyo obusuthisayo. the secrets to her brewing techniques hidden in the kitchen rondavel - two dug out mbizas, each with a capacity of about 200 litres. now, my bro, town boy ohlal' emasofeni, sees these 'holes' and thinks, 'ah, nansi i-toilet'. ugogo kasam' tshayanga bo. the words, "ucamel' embizeni yam' wena mfana kaJeki!" still ring in my ears.
whenever we stayed with her during our school holidays, she'd wake us up way before the sun was up with her mthanyelo, commanding us to our morning chores. mina loGuy (my dear cousin) had the ardous task of milking the goats. now that was an artform in its own right. from the way we entered the sibaya, to senga-ring the beasts, to letting out amaziyane, to ketha-ring amaziyane, to xotsha-ring imbuzi out egangeni. ugogo would have tea topped with goats milk: itiy' ejiyileyo. at that time, we were inexperienced to venture into the big sibaya with the nkomo, so we just watched uPhiri from the sidelines. [to this day, i dont think i can senga a cow properly] at the nd of the holiday she would line us and give us each i-two bhobho eyomphako.
uNcomi never liked going to town. she was very content with just being around the home she had lived in since the 1920s. one interesting story which shaped my very destiny still rings in my ear. you see, ukhulu uMqweqwe [bless his soul] never believed in education. he was adamant that his sons would look after his cattle, grow up, marry the locals girls and live the life he lived. uNcomi thought otherwise. whilst yelusa-ring the nkomos, she would cut long reeds of dry grass and secretly store them. when she had gathered enough, she would sell it as prize roofing material. the money she made from her sales was secretly stashed away eqaqeni behind the kitchen. the money was then used to send her boys to schools far and beyond. clever woman.
old age has caught to with her but her body seems to defy the nature. a cocktail of amaphilisi keep her heart ticking and her soul warm. she still makes amacansi but the failing eyes make the task ten times as difficult. she suffers from chronic backache which she calls igunkuya likaMeja. let me explain. uMeja (Major in english) is a relative who she had fight with four decades ago. He ended up almost beating her to death with a nduku and to this date her back hasn't healed.
she is affectionately known to everyone as ugog' umgane. this is because she calls anyone and everyone mgane. this is what makes her a special person. she becomes your friend almost immediately after meeting you. kodwa, get on her wrongo side, the mgane switches to bhoyi! as though as she was tempting fate, she starting calling us amaNgilandi from when we were very young because we spoke such brilliant english. little did she know that those very 'Ngilandi's would end up eNgilandi. now her poor soul regrets using those words because she doesn't get to see us anymore.
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