The notion that “black people don’t go on holiday, they go home” has always served both as a funny jab and a reminder of not just the deep meaning the December holidays have come to carry for our homes, but also undertones of a lack of access.
Every major holiday, be it the Christmas season or Easter, we pack our bags and gladly leave behind the cities we work in and head home- mainly to the villages and small towns. We flock to the N1, N2 and N3 with pockets full of money and almost always come back empty-handed, but we do not have qualms with that. At least we were happy and could reconnect with our ancestral homes and the people we left behind.
Anywhere else it’s the season of AmaGrootman (the deep-pocketed man with some reputation). In Limpopo, we have a concept called Makarapa — our brothers, sisters, fathers and hustlers who have money to spend, those who can renovate the house, buy those hefty holiday groceries and “make the circle bigger” at events. In KwaZulu-Natal, Msinga, they have a parade celebrating the “return of breadwinners” with the men marching through the streets in new branded clothing. They make us proud, and for a while make us feel accomplished and give us the taste of the gold. This too, is our culture. Though rooted in colonial influence, we embrace it.
They mirror the expression of joy that they as migrant labourers bring to those they left behind in search of a better life. We blast Bra Hugh Masikela’s Happy Song and sing along as he says “Qho mangifik' ekhaya, uMama uyajabula” (When I arrive home, my mother is pleased). We are a people of “ukuvela”, our gift is in our presence. We go home to reinforce the communal life immerse ourselves in the traditions and participate in the wellbeing of our loved ones.
We sit under the mango trees, we discourse less and connect more, we don’t speak over each other and all is well. We gather as cousins and siblings and our elders are at ease with our presence. A malume will ask for “coldrink”, and you better demonstrate that you too have a share of the gold. The fire is never out, the braai meat and liquor stay flowing while the multicoloured food plates are a staple.
Some traditions holding our communities together with love, laughter and cheer are not rooted in culture per se, but are an extension of who we are, our existence and the spirit of ubuntu (friendship and giving) within all of us, expressed in the many different but similar ways we spend time with one another during the festive period.
In the villages few care what job you do, the money you spend will surely communicate it. It is here that you will be harshly reminded of the “important” things in life. Whether or not you have declared that marriage is not for you and that childbearing is a thing of the old ways and not your choice, one way or the other you will have to account for the progress in these matters that may seem far removed from your everyday city life, but are the things that matter in the village. It is the season of aboMakoti (maak ons tee), and performative womanhood is the order of the day.
The marking of the New Year brings about a whole new level of bargaining. Some are reviewing their goals to see how far they have come while also setting new goals for the New Year. For many, this is a time of shame, regret and pain as they may not have been as successful as they had hoped in the year. Meanwhile, the realisation that there is “nothing new under the sun” settles as they are either unemployed, in deep poverty or battling serious life challenges. The new year is just another 365 days they have to survive.
The fireworks provide some solace but also bring exhilarating joy. Every household has its set and they crack at the last hour while keeping their ears tuned to the radio to hear which song is winning the title of song of the year on their local or national station, as voted by listeners.
The holidays are never over until the money starts to run out, the liquor flows less and someone brings up an old wound, a family secret or a trauma we are desperately avoiding — then the fights ensue and we head back to the city. Some traditions holding our communities together with love, laughter and cheer are not rooted in culture per se, but are an extension of who we are, our existence and the spirit of ubuntu (friendship and giving) within all of us, expressed in the many different but similar ways we spend time with one another during the festive period.
I suppose this is why most of us look forward to the “Dezember” because it is these moments that remind us of our humanity and connectedness to this land. From Limpopo and KwaZulu-Natal to the Eastern and Western Cape, the Free State and Mpumalanga, all across the country, December truly is the time for people to come together and just be.
Here’s to wishing everyone a safe journey back to the cities and a prosperous 2025. Until next December season, take good care of yourselves “bo bhuti base-Goli, Ma-Grootman, bo my rich and sister mang-mang”.
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