Langa My Grandson They Are Not Wrinkles

Anishinaabe elders.

“Grandma, you don’t iron your hands.”

“Iron?”

“Yes grandma. I see all these lines.”

Ooooh! Your mama calls them wrinkles, even bought some hand cream to remove them. Talk about foolishness. I worry about her sometimes, thinks a bank cheque can stop clouds from stepping. That dance is on YouTube. Do you watch it? I do, brings back memories of your granddaddy.

Where was I? Excuse me Langa my grandson, my mind tends to wander when I think I about these lines. They were caused by harvesting corn, undressing it and removing the eyes with our bare hands. We’ll crush it and add it to the flour. We steamed the corn bread, not like your mama, who bakes it in that stove of hers that looks like a sci-fi robot.

Langa my grandson, these lines were caused by washing I did for Mrs. Nash, took it home, washed and ironed it and took it back to her on the bus. That’s how I paid  your mama’s  school fees. I cried when she graduated as a teacher. You don’t know she’s a teacher? She’s had so many diplomas since then, and they finally deposited her on that computer she punches night and day. She tells me it puts food on the table.

Langa my grandson, these lines were also caused by washing your mama’s diapers, hanging them out to dry in all kinds of weather. Why are you squeezing your face like that? Your mama, uncles and aunties all wore towel-like diapers. Not for long though, because I taught them the potty as soon they could stand. Langa my grandson, you love food so much, I think you have worms in your stomach. It has to come out sooner or later so, don’t squeeze your face when I talk about toweling diapers we washed with our bare hands.

Langa my grandson, come closer. Talking about babies, I need your help. When are you going to have a little brother or sister? I know your mama said she’s still building her career, but she left that big job she had downtown two years ago. She works from home now, so she can have another baby and sit on that computer while it’s sleeping. And, she doesn’t have to worry about baby laundry because very soon, babies will be using digital diapers. Hey! Close your mouth, Grandma not crazy. Langa my grandson, anything is possible with this digital thing.

“Except my name.”

“Yes baby. What does your name mean again?”

“The sun. My name is Langa. It’s a Zulu name that means the sun.”

Nonqaba waka Msimang

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