“You see my dear, I am crazy because I know too much, because my mind is made with self-rising flour, but is covered with steel, I cannot be manipulated. I can only be lied to and loved. I know that the black man as well as the white man are equal in the eyes of an x-ray and that those eyes are our God. I know that for us to be told that we deserve a mediocre life is for us not to know that people before us, lived extraordinary lives. I know that I’m beyond my skin and bones, that I am eternal, that I need to tell more people about their eternity as well and that my son will be the only person I will suffer for.” She said.

She was scratching her head and pulling a curl straight as she spoke. I wanted to say wow, but then she interjected again.

“Did I tell you I married my uncle?”

I blushed immediately. I was still grasped by her “speech” and had so many questions I wanted to ask her.

Instead I said, “No you didn’t, Mam.”

“Well, I did and it was only because my bones told me to. We are so happy together, it’s bliss when he is around and even better when he isn’t, when I think about him and miss him.” She said.

“Wow.” I replied.

I was simply in awe of how calm she was about everything, and of how much of Maje I saw in her. It was like studying genetics on steroids. I didn’t know what to say, with all the information I had heard, so I kept quiet and began processing. She continued to play with her hair, then Maje walked in with the tea in two tea cups, so unusually big I chuckled and Maje laughed with me.

“A bit unorthodox neh?” He asked.

“A bit.” I replied and laughed again.

“Tea is very good for us, it’s very good for meditation. The sip is key for concentration. Yabo (You see)?” He said.

“Ooooow! I see, I see.” I said

He sat next to me, and whispered, “I’m sure you were expecting nothing less. This, she is my soul.”
Which then gave me the courage to say, “Mama, I don’t think you’re crazy, in fact, you may just be our last hope of sanity. I’m actually honoured to be compared to you.” I could feel Maje smile.

She smiled, nodded and said, “I know that I still have so much more to learn, and to teach along the way, I’d love it if you would join me.”

“I would absolutely love that, Mam.” I said.

“You can call her Olwethu babe,” Maje interrupted.

We continued getting to know one another for the rest of that afternoon. Mam Olwethu shared her deep affection for Sam with me, how they complemented each other, how they adopted each other’s habits and what she thought Maje and I would become. We talked about how our lives had to be connected, how she would try to see my ancestors and how we had to educate more people about the power of the mind.

People who realize what freedom entails, I said to myself, as I began preparing for bed, find it painful to painful having to watch our fellow brothers and sisters suffer from discrimination and racism. None of us were born to hate, none of us were born to suffer and none of us were born to fail. We are beings of light and love, we have lived through hatred, through suffering and through the limitations of knowledge.

We have to learn to embody patience, love and a rich mind. It’s simple, the more you know the less you suffer. The more you know the more you can do. Know that meditation is essential for the soul. Know that true love can happen without a sexual partner. Know that peace come from a wise population. Know that it is pivotal for us to look a 9-year-old and say, “You’re in charge.”

Know that sanity does not mean equality, that we are all equal. The people represented in Sphiwe Village represent our ignorance to the resolution that is Mam Olwethu that people who are kind, can uplift us all and can give birth to souls like Maje. That peace is alive within all our communities. It’s willing to be moulded, but we are too busy pointing fingers, calling others crazy and laughing at then without realising their potential.

***

Tell us what you think: What is sanity to you?