Death

On July 22nd 2010 death came into my life. Just after I got to work my mom phoned to let me know that my aunt had died. I didn’t believe her but I knew she had no reason to say anything like that. At that moment, my life became about my family. My life is about them; what they need and what I can do for them. I’ve never experienced death so closely. Rhandu was my aunt biologically. In life, she was and remains my sister and friend. She was one of the few people that had my back, no matter what. No matter what I do or don’t do for them. She was family.



Writing about her in the past tense brings tears to my eyes. Almost 3 months later and the pain is still so raw. There are no words that can describe how I feel. There is nothing that anybody can say or do to make me feel better. I don’t expect anyone to say or do anything. As I said at the funeral, I am waiting for someone to wake me up from this nightmare then I can call Rhandu and tell her that I dreamt she had died and it was amazing the support we got. I’m not waking up. On some days it’s ok, I get along and even when I think about her it’s not that bad. On other days I cannot believe it. When I do eventually believe it, it just hurts. It hurts so much.


Death has changed me. I feel nothing like myself. I’d rather spend time alone or with my family. I know that this is not how Rhandu would want me to live. Sometimes I can even imagine what she’d say to me if she was here. She’d tell me to pray and to not hold on to the pain. How I wish I could pray. Talking to God has become 300% harder for me since she died. I have so many questions for God but I find it difficult to ask. I can’t even get myself to go to church. Church makes me sad. It makes me want to cry.


I don’t want to be all about death and grief. I know that I am not special; I am not the only one who has lost someone special. Other people have been through worse. On the other hand, am I supposed to not feel pain because I’m not the only one who has experienced death? Its like, am I supposed to not eat because other people don’t have food? I think I have the right to feel sad but how long am I supposed to feel sad for? Do I have to pretend to be ok even when I’m not ok? I don’t know what to do or how to feel.


My relationship with my boyfriend has been negatively affected by this. I went for grief counselling to not have to burden him or anybody else. I keep my distance so I don’t just turn on him when the sadness kicks in. Sometimes I WANT to be sad because I feel guilty for having fun, being happy or experiencing pleasure. How can I be feeling all that when Rhandu feels none of it. We all want to believe the ones we love are with God and they are better off. I can’t get the image of her in a coffin inside the deepest grave I’ve ever seen covered with soil and reinforced with cement. We left her there and we are supposed to just go on with our lives. I don’t get it. I don’t get it at ALL.

Losing It

Like Aunty O (Oprah) and many other women all over the world, I have had weight issues for the most part of my life. When I was 15 I was a borderline anorexic who saw herself as nothing but fat. A classmate called me a fat pig and I believed it, so I stopped eating to no longer be fat. The year I turned 16 was my first year at university and I got so fat (yeah, I said/wrote it) that my uncle walked past me. He didn't recognise me. I actually think he didn't recognise me because he didn't know I was home and wasn't expecting to see me, not because I was chubby.

I've been fat, I've been skinny, I've been so fit that I had a stomach so tight it had the outline of a 6 pack and I've been average. Have I ever really been satisfied, NOT really. When I was fat I loathed myself and shopping for clothes cos I couldn't get bras and pants that fitted well. When I was skinny I didn't see myself as skinny. I was too hungry and dizzy to see anything. When I was fit I was so addicted to working out so I could just get that 6 six pack and that toned arm and and and. When I was average I didn't think much about weight but when it did cross my mind I would tuck in my tummy and think "hmmm…it'd be nice if it were like that".

In the beginning of the year that I turn 27 I discovered that I was grossly overweight (ok, maybe not grossly) and that my cholesterol levels were high. The lady who broke the news about my cholesterol levels asked if I did any cardio. When I said I did, she said that if it were not for the cardio the levels would be much higher. That, and the cleaning lady at work telling me I'm getting fat, was a wakeup call for me. Did I mention that the cleaning lady had only known me for about 3 months? Anyway, I thought to myself - I go to the gym more than the average person out there. I eat fruit and vegetables on a regular basis. I have been trying to lose weight but I am struggling. I realised that I needed help, a support system. I needed a lifestyle change. I didn't want to join Weighless because I didn't want to buy special food, weigh food and spend more time preparing than eating the food. I needed something drastic yet more realistic. I eventually joined Weight Watchers. It has been 13 weeks and I've lost 6.4kg. I am 1.78kg from my goal weight and I feel great. They always say they feel great in the magazines and the bill boards. I don't really FEEL any different. I look different. I'm proud of my achievement and it's nice to be able to fit into some of my old clothes. It sucks to not be able to fit into others. The important thing that I'm trying to put across though is THAT, I don't feel like this is a life changing moment. I don't feel like I've achieved something I should be rewarded for. At least that's how I feel today. I feel like I did what I needed to do. I shouldn't have let the weight get out of hand in the first place.

So today, like every other Tuesday after my weigh in, I update my darling boyfriend about my achievement. He's not the type to directly say "well done baby" but he'll tell a story that in some way is his way of congratulating me. This is the part where I'm about to confuse you (yes, YOU, the reader. Maybe some of you!) and maybe enlighten some men. Even though I do not feel great about the achievement, it is and was important to me and my health that I shed the extra kilos that I was lugging around. At the time when it was hard to take it off and I was feeling s%*tty about myself, I imagined that I'd be happy to lose the weight (and sometimes I am happy). The man in my life has been and continues to be very supportive even though he didn't understand the desire I had to lose weight. So regardless of how I feel about the loss (which he didn't know of until now) I still wanted him to say I did well. Cos I did do well. The joy of being a woman is that you can contradict yourself and you can have contradictory feelings about something and still expect your man to support you. It's crazy, I know and you guys don't get it but that's just the way it is. It's the way we are, well some of us.