Down memory lane to better days

Nothing beats the good old days. Oh yes, back then life was simple and with few worries. In fact, the only worries our parents had back then were whether it would rain enough to let the grass grow.? I, like many others of my generation and generations before me, was raised by a strict granny whose idea of fun was talking out loud to herself. Granny would talk so loud that one would think she was having an argument with herself - waving her hands in the air and clenching her fists.? Yeah, I was raised by the old-school type of granny who would first give you five of her best lashes before asking questions. If you landed in trouble; like steal something from the neighbours - granny would first beat you, and then hand you over to the neighbour to do the same.? I never quite understood how she could always ask visitors to spank us on her behalf. She did the same to my younger brother one day after he refused to finish his delicious dish of pap en dikmelk.? Granny asked the male visitor to teach the boy a lesson, upon which the man grabbed my brother by the ankles and beat the living daylights out of him. That was the last time granny ever asked someone to deal with that boy for her.? I was not exactly skilled at many of the household chores at the village. For instance, I couldn't harness a donkey cart even if my grandfather was standing right behind me. For a young Herero man, that is Morse code for “you are in big trouble” when the old man stands right behind you and watches your every move.? Those damn donkeys were stubborn - you try and harness them and all they do is look at you with blank eyes as if you are speaking Greek! My grandfather would, of course, always come to the rescue and give me one of those “you city boys are good for nothing” speeches.? Eish, it was hard fitting in; back in the city I didn't quite belong as I was not exactly 'thug' material. Whenever we went out looking for girls, my friends would always look cooler than me - even if I was wearing a clean and well-pressed pair of pants. Their manner of speaking just seemed to impress the ladies more - and it wasn't even real English!? In the village, I wasn't exactly God's gift to farming either! Grandpa, being the old-fashioned man he is, never believed in changing for the better.?For instance, I never quite got the rationale behind Grandpa's philosophy of never allowing us to swim in the pans on some days. Well, I couldn't swim even if my life depended on it, but that is a story for another day altogether. Fellas, I grew up in the Omaheke Region - the largest concentration of water in that region is the Okombepera village dam!? Grandpa would look at the sky and the shadows and just decide that it was not going to be a good day for swimming. What Grandpa knew of swimming was as fatal as a black mamba's bite!?When someone stays in the village for long, you get to appreciate the finer things in life - like eventually getting to read the 'Did you Know' on the back of those Chappies bubblegum wrappers.? In fact, Grandpa would never share those Chappies with anyone. Whenever we asked him why he didn't want to share, he would say: “You kids have just eaten a whole plate of pap and omaere. You are not hungry at all - go and play!” It didn't help even when we tried explaining that the bubblegum was not meant to satisfy a person's hunger but merely for pleasure. Eish, those were the days!? Whenever I see these dudes driving posh cars and living in upmarket suburbs because they hate Katutura, Mondesa or Kuisebmond, I always wonder if they never had grandparents like mine. I always say it is good working your way out of poverty and climbing the corporate ladder, but eliminating such precious memories from your history is fatal.? Let's raise our glasses to the memories of yesterday. Until then… [email protected]