Dear Bedridden

Being bedridden. I cannot imagine your pain, especially in spring when the colour green wakes up from the winter slumber. I hope you can see a bit of green if your bed is next to a window, not a chrome and steel facility that looks like a prison.

Green is back in open spaces like parks and bowling greens. This morning was a great day for photography because of the rain. It pricks colors to life. I never shoot pics at 12 noon. They come out gray and harsh. Green must be depressing for you because it represents new life for barren branches and other new possibilities, which seem bleak for you right now.

Being bedridden, you cannot see the other side of green. Which is? Human beings. They are also green because they greet strangers on pavements. Last week, I became immobilized for a second because someone greeted me. I reciprocated but I doubt he heard my response. I looked back to see what was wrong with him, but he walked briskly to his destination.

Something wrong? I’m sorry about my reaction but that is how it is on the concrete jungle of Toronto, Winnipeg, New York, Dusseldorf, Lyons, Moscow, Lagos and other major cities. We don’t greet strangers. That changes when the sun comes out and paints the landscape green. It’s not like in Africa where neighbors report you to your parents that you did not greet them.

Bedridden folks have mental strategies to keep hope alive, that one day they’ll leave that bed, and walk on green grass barefoot and even greet a stranger.

By: Nonqaba waka Msimang.