It would be interesting to know what the statistics are for people who get a warm fuzzy feeling at the mention of the word “home”.
Opinion by Thembe Khumalo
And by home I am not referring to the place where you live and make your living, I am talking about going back to your roots — the place of your origin.
In the modern world I find the meaning of home is more about the people than the place. Where the people from whom you originate are gathered, that is your home.
Christmas holidays always conjure visions of family. But few of us have the picture postcard kind that shows us sitting around the fire telling stories and exchanging “perfect” gifts.
More often family occasions are full of banter, a little teasing, noise, some frustrations and irritations, but at the end of it all, a reawakening to the meaning of family and the reasons we are who and how we are.
I imagine that for many people the concept of home presents a cacophony of mixed emotions.
There is the undisputed concept of love, whichever way that is expressed. In some families love is a touchy feely thing expressed in hugs and kisses and other shows of physical affection.
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In other families physical touch is frowned upon and even the verbal expression of love is never direct, but declared in convoluted expressions like: “I put you though school didn’t?”
From that, the object of affection is expected to conclude that they are loved. In a way it’s sad, but also a little bit funny. Imagine what would happen if everybody just relaxed and said what they felt without worrying about whether they would ever be taken seriously again!
Our preoccupations with propriety sometimes stand in the way of real progress. I have watched my own family evolve over the years.
Parents have become more relaxed and lenient as they get older, the siblings taking more initiative and having more constructive conversations as responsibilities shifted with the sands of time. It’s a good place to be, and it just keeps getting better.
Another thing common to all families is fighting. Do all families fight? Yes! Just in different ways and to different extents!
Disagreements are bound to arise in groups where there is jostling for attention and admiration. Invariably there are parties whose expectations have not been met by others; perhaps even for years.
Perhaps the one who paid school fees is expecting more gratitude, while the one whose fees were paid for longs to be free of the obligation to others.
Or perhaps the one who is “doing well” resents the pressure to provide while those supposedly “not doing well” feel a sense of entitlement; ‘after all he might not have got to where he is without our support’.
Some parties might see favouritism at play while others see praise bestowed as being due. At the end of it all, while parties may want to turn in different directions, the thread of love and communion keeps them connected, and therefore irreversibly bound together.
When family remains in the same place where you grew up, coming home invariably fills one with a lot of bittersweet moments.
Like the old Abba song: My friends and my family, this dull little town/ Buses I’ve missed, boys that I’ve kissed /Everything old and familiar . . .
Sometimes just being in the place is a reminder of why we left, but in more nostalgic moments, we wonder how life might have played out if we had stayed in the same place.
One thing familiar to all family gatherings is food. It’s not just the Greeks who put on a spread in the style of a Big Fat Greek Wedding, we all over cater when there is a family gathering.
In Zimbabwe a beast may be slaughtered, be it a chicken, a goat or a cow. And the experience often serves as a biology practical for the younger ones, an advanced religious education for the spiritual ones and a culinary lesson for all.
And then there are the stories — recounting of the misdemeanors and mysteries of years gone by are a familiar part of family festivities.
And no matter how many times some stories are told, one never tires of hearing them.
Some expand and become more illustrious with each telling, keeping each new generation rolling with laughter and suspense. Alongside stories are the songs.
Music from all generations is woven into the fabric of every family, whether it is church hymns, traditional renditions, Christmas carols or regular pop music.
Every family has its stash of favourites and while some families dance and others join in song, none remains untouched. In the midst of the food, the fighting, the music and the madness, the spirit of togetherness flourishes and the family stays intact.
And as we go our separate ways, to places where we make our living, we look forward to the same time next year, when we will once again be home for the holidays.
- Thembe Khumalo writes in her personal capacity. Readers’ comments can be sent to [email protected]. Follow Thembe on Twitter www.twitter/localdrummer or visit her facebook page www.facebook.com/localdrummerzw
