Being in this place is bittersweet for me. I love how beautiful and peaceful it is, all the green, all the mountains. The landscape here is breathtaking. I love the simplicity of the way of life here, how one can escape from the chaos in the world and get lost in how peaceful this place is.
However, this place also reminds me of my late uncle. It’s the first time I’ve been here since he passed. I didn’t realize how much I missed him until I drove into the village and saw his home, I felt his absence then. I realized there would be no day when I’d walk outside and see him leaving his house. He won’t just appear on a random day, say hi, and reminisce about the good old days. On some days he’d walk by, see me and my cousin outside, and he’d come in for a chat. I miss his stories about his time in Johannesburg, the animated way in which he shared his life’s story with us, alternating between English and Afrikaans. It was a joy to listen to him share the happiest parts of himself with us.
Memories can be cruel sometimes, memories will come at the most unexpected times and command your attention. I didn’t cry when I heard he’d passed on, but I cried today when I saw this place that embodies everything I used to love about him, this place whose landscape would forever remind me of him. It’s incredible how one doesn’t realize how much someone means to them, until they are breaking under the weight of their absence. I hope eternity embraces him with open arms. Rest in peace, power, and all the happiness your rotting flesh harbored in this life. Dlamini, Zizi, Jama kaSjadu, ugqatso ulufezile.