Grade 11 Rena le Lona creative centre
I know of a quiet young man. His name is Jabu, from one of the villages along Southern Africa. He only lives with his grandmother, after both his parents passed on when he was a year-old due to a mysterious virus that attacked their lungs and eye-sight. Since then, he was raised by his grandmother who compromised and sacrificed a lot for him to be a humble villager, like all the other grown-up men around him. But one thing that was different about him was his interest in art and not in any athletic activity. He spent most of his childhood listening to the sweet and magical voice of his grandmother telling him old tales about humanity.
So one day when he was in town, walking on his way back home to catch a taxi, after buying groceries, he was approached by an old man who seemed to be in his late 70s. He was frail and thin. The old man came to Jabu and said, “Afternoon son, will you kindly give me money for bread, please?”
Jabu then took out two silver coins from his pocket without hesitation and gave it to him.
“Thank you, son. God bless,” said the old man.
Jabu nodded and they both went their separate ways. For Jabu it was strange to see a person, especially an elderly person, begging for money to buy food because he never came across a beggar in the villages.
Later that day, when he was about to lay down and rest, he kept thinking about the ‘old-man scene’ from town. That made him wonder why it was that there were people in the streets who had to beg for money to survive. He started to feel concerned about the unfairness and cruelty in this world. Why did the rich keep on getting richer and the poor kept on becoming poorer? After long hours of thinking he slept through the night until the next morning. When he woke up, he refreshened his body and prepared maize-porridge for him and his grandmother. While his grandmother was enjoying her plate, Jabu on the other hand was silent, as if his mind was not there at the table. He seemed like a statue because he had not lifted a spoon to his mouth. “What is wrong, child?” his grandmother asked. “Nothing, Ma,” Jabu responded. “Are you sure?” she asked. “No, Ma. I hardly slept a wink last night,” Jabu said. She sighed and asked, “Were you having a bad dream or is there anything that is troubling you?” Jabu coughed softly and then told her all that had happened when he was in town the day before and how it saddened him to his heart. His grandmother smiled broadly, “That was very thoughtful of you, child- to help. Everything you saw yesterday is all in the past now.” Jabu replied, “Yes, it’s in the past, yet that doesn’t change anything about the man out there who always has to ask each and every person who passes by his sight, every day, for money.” His face expressed anger and pity. It came as a shock to his grandmother to hear such words from her grandson. “That’s how the world is, child. So let it go,” she said innocently.
But Jabu did not feel at ease and pleased with how the world was. So as the day went by, he started to question the absence of love and humanity in his people and he would often paint paintings that illustrated an awareness of humanity and love in diversity. Sometimes, he would gather young ones in the village to his yard and teach them everything he understood about kindness and generosity. He had hope that one day he would conquer the unknown motive behind a heart full of greed, envy, hatred and pride. Simply, through his teachings and paintings, he wanted to show that, “One has to share what one has found to close the gap of what we don’t have.”