How to get out of the pit of national depression

23 October 2016 - 02:00 By NDUMISO NGCOBO

Forget the bad news, let’s find some happiness, writes Ndumiso Ngcobo I consider my job as a columnist to be quite simple. I'm supposed to offer you some reprieve from the infuriating, depressing drudgery that is mainstream, hard-core news.This I'm supposed to do by musing about everyday, mundane observations and anecdotes in an entertaining manner while maintaining a degree of erudition and making you think about things you wouldn't ordinarily think about.While avoiding crass banality, of course. I don't always succeed. That's the reality of writing 50-odd columns per annum.story_article_left1Life is difficult. If you don't believe me, ask poor Pravin. Ask students in our institutions of higher learning during this era of #FeesMustFall. My first-born, Ntobeko, is one of them and I get a blow-by-blow on a regular basis.Ask the folks over at the National Treasury who are trying to steer this ship away from a recession and the almost inevitable junk status.Ask the new public protector who has just been dunked into the cauldron of the state capture report. Ask officials in the besieged Presidency. Heck, ask our beleaguered national coaches, poor ol' Shakes and Allister, what it's like to juggle those hot potatoes.This is why I am using today's column as a reminder that we all have stupid little things that make us happy; that despite life being difficult, misery is not our default condition. Over the years I have learned a trick I use to propel myself towards happiness.I remind myself that a perfectly ripe peach makes me light-hearted with exhilaration. You know when a peach is just perfect? Not too drippy down the chin but not hard either.Staying with fruit; a close second is a soft, juicy pear. Not mushy. Or a crunchy apple. There are few things more disgusting than a hard pear and a mushy apple. But when they're perfect, they're perfect. Do you see what I mean? No? OK then.When was the last time you held a six-week-old infant in your arms, smelling of Johnson & Johnson baby powder? When was the last time an infant's tiny little fingers curled around your index finger?When my 11-year-old was four months old he snuggled up on my bare chest, curled his fingers around my fat index finger. I was so dizzy with happiness, I passed out. I was woken up screaming by the sting of his tiny mouth suckling at my manboobs. I don't blame him since I'd degenerated to a C-cup size at the time.block_quotes_start Sometimes you think you're having a horrible day when in fact you just have a popcorn kernel stuck between your wisdom tooth and the neighbouring molar block_quotes_endOK, maybe kids are not your thing. When was the last time you were in bed, lying on freshly ironed linen, when your spouse/partner slid into bed and snuggled up against you in the perfect spooning position? No, silly. No sex afterwards; just the spoon.Staying with matters nocturnal, have you ever been in the grip of a horrid nightmare for what seems like an eternity? Last week I dreamed that I was so incensed with the horrendous driving of a fellow motorist that I got involved in a road rage incident which culminated in me stabbing him with a BIC fine-point pen and he died on the scene.Ordinarily, the shock of such a tragedy would jolt me out of my slumber. But this one escalated all the way to my conviction and subsequent sentencing. The judge was none other than PW Botha. He wagged a stern finger, banged the gavel and sentenced me to life in Kgosi Mampuru. As they dragged me in, screaming, Oscar Pistorius and Glenn Agliotti were playing football in the yard.The nightmare only ended when my cellmate, played by Ving Rhames, slid into bed with me and stroked my face going, "Shhh! It's going to be alright." In my defence, I'd been watching Pulp Fiction that day. I woke up drenched in perspiration.story_article_right2I had fallen asleep with the electric blanket on the highest setting. I lack the words to describe the elation I experienced as I lay there, breathless, and realised that my hell was not real. Many mornings I wake up hoping that the past few years have been a bad dream.Sometimes you think you're having a horrible day when in fact you just have a popcorn kernel stuck between your wisdom tooth and the neighbouring molar. And then, after 17 attempts, you finally dislodge it. Doesn't the air smell sweeter and the sky seem bluer at that moment?What about the peerless experience of riding home after the purchase of an LP? Does anyone remember those? Taking out the smooth shiny vinyl, placing it on the turntable. Ensuring that there is no fluff on the needle.The very first time I listened to Michael Jackson's entire Thriller album was on vinyl. The subtle snap-crackle-pop, and then that deep, booming bass.I worry that we're on the verge of a mass, national depression. Today is Sunday. Instead of worrying about things you can't change such as the drought, get out of the house and indulge in simple pleasures. Head to a pond and soak your feet.If you live on the coast, dip your feet in the beeg pond. Take the kids out for an ice cream with the last R137.48 in your account. Go and feed the pigeons in the park. Then go home and spoon with your loved one.Follow Ngcobo on Twitter @NdumisoNgcobo..

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