Zibuyile iinkokheli

Ever since I turned 29 three weeks ago, I’ve just been dealt with a bad hand of rejection and disappointment – not really the note I wanted to launch this new year on but hey, we are here now and dealing with it one day at a time. I won’t get into the specifics of the events/situations that brought me to this point but I will share a little story about my first memory of feeling this way.

So let’s take a stroll down memory lane for a moment…

I vividly remember quite a lot of things from my childhood. From as early as the age of three I believe. It must’ve been in the year 2000 when we still lived kuQumbu, a small rural town in the Eastern Cape. We rented a room and a piece of land kwaTatu Faku, where my Mom’s caravan was perched for a couple of years prior relocating to Mthatha. There were several families living in that yard because it was a ‘complex’ made up of one to two-bedroomed flats.

On one particularly hot summer afternoon we were given a R2 coin by my then friend’s father to go and buy iziqeda. R2 back in the day could get you a good amount of snacks as a child depending on what you wanted to splurge on. Isqeda otherwise called i-bompie in some parts of the country, for the benefit of those who don’t know, is basically a homemade ice lollie where one would mix some sort of water flavourant, more famously drink-o-pop, and pour it into small plastic bags to freeze. This was a very common business to have in the neighbourhood and almost every child’s favourite treat because ice creams were expensive and reserved for special days.

Isqeda was 50c each, and there were five of us which meant that we could only buy four. I think by now you can already anticipate the direction in which this story is headed. The money was given to the eldest of the group and I happened to be the youngest. The age gaps among us wasn’t much. Probably 2 years at most between the eldest and the youngest.

I remember running down the street barefoot with excitement to go and buy said treats. My analytical mind was already doing the math mid-run because I had figured that there wouldn’t be enough money for everyone. I was already thinking that perhaps buying amalopisi would be a more reasonable and fair option (think Nik-Naks, but on a very low budget, packaged in the same clear plastic bags as isqeda). I mean, we could’ve still blown the R2 and spent it all on amalopisi, then poured every single chip into a big bowl and used a cup to measure and distribute the snacks equally. Again, these were just my thoughts. I never verbalised any of them because one, I was extremely quiet and shy and two, the eldest of the group had the money and because her father was the one who had given it to us, she called the shots and made the decision as to what would be bought.

Different flavours of isqeda were bought and of course, they were all to to each owner’s preferences. On our way back from the short-lived escapade to the house that sold the goodies, I was met with an expected but still disappointing discovery which left a lump in my throat and a dryness in my mouth that I can still feel to this day each time this memory creeps up on me. Which oddly enough, it has been twice since the incident – in 2022 and two years later, in 2024 just in a different way this time. It’s kind of ridiculous how the brain can conveniently forget events that are lifechanging, only to bring them up at extremely ill-timed moments decades later.

I had no bompie. Everyone else had one. I was the youngest so the unanimous decision that was made was that I had to settle for being offered a lick of the treat at each child’s discretion. Meaning that my enjoyment and subsequently, sharing in the excitement was relegated to someone else, and this case, a child’s hands. Those children weren’t the most considerate I must say.

So after one lick of each bompie, I realised that the children weren’t so happy and keen to share. This was not an issue of sanitation I must assert. It was innate selfish children behaviour I think but in my heart I had already settled that I had no right to feel any sense of entitlement. The money was a gift to begin with and my friend could’ve chosen not to share it at all irrespective of the fact that it was given to the group. Nonetheless, that was very foreign to me because although I am an only child, I grew up with my cousins and sharing was not optional. It was not even a question. Everything was shared equally regardless of the size. We would even break up fizz pop so that everyone could have some!

As soon as the situation settled in my mind, I made a few deductions and aligned my actions accordingly. Firstly, I concluded that they weren’t my friends as much as I was theirs. I overestimated just how much these five/six year olds valued my friendship with them. Secondly, I felt unwelcome and as though my presence was an inconvenience because my peers now had to share something that they otherwise wouldn’t have had to had I not been present. Lastly, I was faced with a disappointment that I couldn’t begin to explain because I really could’ve just ran straight to my Mom and explained the situation to her and I bet she would’ve solved the problem by giving me 50c and perhaps even walk with me to go and buy my own isqeda.

I went home. Without saying a word to anyone. I don’t even think my Mom knows this because it’s a story I never shared. I didn’t like involving adults in children’s squabbles anyways. Granted, this was not a squabble. It was a situation that broke something in a little girl and an adult voice would’ve definitely remedied the situation before it got dire.

Please hear me out and hear me very well. I am not sharing this to play the blame game on neither the adult who gave money without clear instructions on how to spend it, nor the children who probably didn’t know any better, and I don’t even want my Mom to feel bad about something she knew nothing of because I had opted not to share it with her.

Needless to say, I continued being a part of that friend group until we relocated about a year later but I treaded with extreme caution for the rest of our time together. As soon as I felt an inkling of exclusion whether subtle or overt, I removed myself from those situations immediately. Most of the time though I just altogether avoided group settings. This later on translated into my schooling career well into varsity and my adulthood. Of course it has manifested itself in different ways now that I’m an adult.

This further trickled into how I navigated my family life. I isolated myself, spent a lot of time alone because that eliminated the possibility of being rejected and disappointed. Crazy right? Especially if you know my family, you will know that the probability of that happening was very slim. My family loves and they love hard. I love them so much and I wouldn’t trade them for anything.

I never wanted to find myself in an environment where I was either chosen last or not chosen at all. So I isolated instead. I chose myself every time, without fail. I would rather spend my time alone in my room instead of chilling with the rest of the family in the family room. This frustrated my Mom a lot and I know this because we spoke about it a few years ago. My personality type didn’t help the situation either because the isolation quickly transformed into a deep sense of loneliness and sadness.

Sure thing I kept to myself but I also over-compensated quite a bit to ensure that I was never not chosen. My academics in primary and high school? I made sure that I was first. Competitions? I had to be somewhere at the top. Most people really thought that I was a just great student and yeah sure, maybe I was naturally gifted but most of it was a coping mechanism which just so happened to work out in my favour in the end.

I had friends, but at the back of my mind there always remained the lingering thought of, “What if I’m not good enough to be a part of this group? Do they really want to be my friend? Will they still choose me even if I have nothing to bring to the table?” We can talk about the dynamics of my friendships over the years some other time when it is not a sensitive topic as it is right now.

This was eons ago but here I was, an adult at this stage and boom! On a very random day I got struck with the same feeling that I felt when I was five – rejection and disappointment. It hit me like a ton of bricks and I was left paralyzed for a day or two. I started nit-picking everyone’s words and actions and to be honest with you, because of how I was feeling already, my radar was automatically set out to pick on the things that had the potential to be interpreted as rejection. I was actively waiting for people to disappoint me. Some did, and I was proven right. For a split-second or hours, I actually contemplated reverting to my former self. The isolating, over-compensating self but on steroids this time. I debated rejecting any form of warmth lest I be met with disappointment.

The sad part is that as I wallowed in that for a while, I let a fleeting experience overshadow the acceptance and promises that had been kept. I almost robbed my people and ultimately myself, the opportunity to be showed up for and loved on simply for just being me.

The season that I’m finding myself in currently is so tricky because I am dealing with rejection and disappointment in ways and from areas I least expected. I somewhat feel so out of my element in terms of what I can offer. It’s hard. It really is because I’m struggling with the fact that my natural inclination is to show up for everyone in any way that I possibly can simply because I want to. Yet at the same time, I am very much aware of the limitations I have in terms of my capacity at this very moment. I am doing the best that I can. With the same breath, I am trying my utmost to maneuver around the concept of duality in life. In the midst of all the chaos and drama, there has been peace and joy. So I am also learning to give myself the grace to just be and allowing myself to be showed up for by my people. They have been so gracious, kind, loving and patient towards me. Oh! What safe landings they have been! God truly sets the lonely in families.

Anyways, I’m having a vulnerability hangover right now so I’ll just leave this here as it is because the way it’s ending is becoming a little too haphazard for my liking.

Dear Leader

I have no wise or encouraging closing remarks for you this time. I myself am in need of those. It be like that sometimes. I am actively looking for Scriptures to get me out of this predicament, along the lines of “…and David encouraged himself in the Lord his God because he was greatly distressed…”

Here I am, greatly distressed by a bunch of things, big and small. Tripping and getting up and just refusing to surrender to defeat even though it might seem like the easy way out. So over the past few days I have been saying this to myself repeatedly and I will keep declaring it until my mind, heart and mouth are on the same page… “Jesus, You are my friend forever and I know that You will neither reject nor disappoint me. You have my best interests at heart. So I will sit right here at Your feet.”

So as you do life and lead: Jesus knows. He sees. He cares. Let Him hold your hand through it.