Archives For parenting

Shifting Tides

July 12, 2018 — Leave a comment

As I mentioned in my previous post, change has reared its necessary yet still ugly head this year. I’ve landed in a new apartment that looks and feels transient, mainly of my own doing. I don’t intend to set roots or stay long; I consider it to be a launch pad for bigger, better, and much different things. But right now I miss my comfort zone — and all my now-stored-away prints and tchotchkes that make a place feel like home.

My mantra for this year was — and still is — “All Possibilities.” My mind is bubbling with ideas, and as I crawl out of the shock and grief and hassle of a forced move, I’m getting back on track with exploring a myriad of options. For myself. I haven’t focused on myself for years, since meeting Mtuseni. It’s high time for some “me” time.

Mtuseni April 2018Big change is on the horizon for Mtuseni as well. He’s decided to quit his job at the end of July so he can explore other paths. Or just find something else. This is risky and makes me nervous, given the dire condition of South Africa’s economy and employment scene. But his 11-hour days of work and commuting leave him no time or energy to network, take a class, or do anything that will produce change in his situation. He comes home at 7:00, makes dinner, then collapses into bed and wakes up at 5:00 to do it all again. The job is dull and doesn’t use any of his talents, and the company is dysfunctional and treats employees in ways that would never pass muster in the US. Some of Mtuseni’s stories about the management have shocked me.

He’s been dispirited and depressed all year, which breaks my heart. Despite all the challenges in his life, he’s always been optimistic and hopeful in general. But now he doesn’t talk about big dreams anymore. And he sleeps all the time, because he says he’s getting old. I told him 25-year-olds should have boundless energy, and we’ve talked about depression and some strategies to elevate his mood. He often refers to this stuff as “American psychological bullshit” — but going slow and easy with him, I think a lot of it sunk in. After all these years, I know that getting my stubborn boy to shift attitudes is like steering an aircraft carrier.

So it’s time for him to move on. He needed one year of employment on his resume after finishing college. He now has more than two. He saved a lot of money and got involved with a sketchy investment scheme through his church that I don’t ask too many questions about. The payout supposedly arrives any day now. So he has something to live on during the transition.

We talked last week about putting together a master plan to hit the ground running as soon as he quits. He said he wanted to catch up on sleep for the first month, and I put the kibosh on that immediately. With Mtuseni — and South Africa in general — urgency never seems to be paramount. In this situation, it damn well is.

I’ve done some research and put out some feelers in terms of classes and connections for him. If he can get a DJ slot at a community radio station even one shift a week, it will lift his mood immensely and make him feel like he’s back on the media path. Mtuseni’s “all possibilities” are less expansive than mine. But he also has less access to resources that can make any possibility a reality.

mtuseni photo-walletSo here we go. Change! Mtuseni and I have each been languishing for some time now. It hasn’t been fun. But it feels like the tide is turning and our boats are about to rise. And as always, as my boat rises I’ll do everything in my power to lift him up as well. Because that little yellow polo shirt boy I met nine years ago had big dreams. I promised to help him get there, and I will never break that promise.

 

Advertisements

For the past year or so, I’ve felt the need for a change. Make that changes, plural. Big changes. I added new quotes to the wall in my office: “Your detours may lead to your destiny.” and “A comfort zone is a nice place, but nothing ever grows there.” As they say, be careful what you wish for.

While exploring new career paths, I’d planned to stay put in my place for one more year and write my book. After all, it’s comfortable and familiar. And it’s where my entire experience with Mtuseni has happened. But the universe has decided to light a fire under my comfortable butt, so I need to move by June.

Eager for change but not sure yet how that will look — and not wanting to set down long-term roots in a month — I’m storing most of my things and looking to get a summer sublet when all of Boston’s students take off. I’ve realized that all I really need is my phone, laptop, and coffee maker to function.

Seeing neatly labeled boxes stacked up in a storage locker gives me little frissons of excitement. It’s triggering sense memories of other times I’ve made big moves linked to life-changing decisions. True, part of me thinks, “Shit, this sucks. Now what?” But another part of me grins inside and says, “Okay, universe. Point taken. Now stand back and be amazed.”

But something else hit me after piling a few carloads into my square, corrugated metal locker with the sliding garage door — ubiquitous in a country where people have so much stuff they don’t know what to do with it. I realized that the Mdletshe’s shack is not much bigger than the locker. Mtuseni’s mom Nester lives in it with Bongeka and Musa, 14 and 12. Mtuseni used to sleep there as well, but moved into a drafty, ramshackle, wallboard-and-asbestos-tile addition with a dirt floor. Years ago, Mtuseni’s father Samuel and older brother Moses also lived in that windowless, tin-roofed, brick-and-block shack.

Annex room

My books, tax forms, mementos, prints and other stuff are now “living” in the same conditions as Mtuseni’s family — and millions of others in South Africa. The same nondescript box that holds the non-essentials of my life is home to a family preparing now for the arrival of winter.

I know that wherever I end up in June — and beyond — the place will be comfortable and spacious. It will have windows. A bathroom. An oven. A fridge. Running water and heat and electricity.

One thing I’ve learned from my time with Mtuseni is that I have no right to complain about things in my life. It’s good to have that perspective. But I’d much prefer that he, his brother and sister, and his mom had a safe, comfortable home. Someday…. if the universe is listening and willing to work with me…

Mirror, Mirror

March 28, 2018 — Leave a comment

IMG_6220Wow, where did the time go? The past year was pocked with potholes and speed bumps — both in South Africa and at home. All of it was unexpected. But perhaps the biggest, and most unsettling, surprise was Mtuseni’s emotional downturn.

Last fall, he started saying that he was tired a lot. He said he was getting old. I chided him and insisted that 25-year-olds don’t get tired. At that age I had a full-time job and a grueling after-work gig swilling beer and smoking dope. And I was never tired. I’d kill for half of that energy now.

Then his fatigue expanded into chats tinged with sour, hopeless thoughts. He’d been unhappy in his job for some time, but it had turned to bitter resignation. He was now halfway through his 20s and he was still living with mom and the kids in the shack. Still counting pennies. Nowhere near what his expectations were when he was in college. He spent the Christmas Festive Season home alone, because he had no money to visit cousins at the shore in Durban. Instead he cleaned his room, tossing out clothes the rats had eaten. And he slept. Tired. Always tired.

Early on I was concerned that he might be sick. His home environment and diet are always wreaking havoc on his immune system. But eventually I recognized the problem. Mtuseni was depressed.

I called him more often — and made sure that I talked less and listened more. He’s always been a tough nut to crack, with a complex set of defenses. But they’ve softened over the years, at least with me. He trusts me. He would feel better after venting, and I gave him words of encouragement. But it didn’t change his circumstances.

He’s in an almost impossible situation. The dire economic statistics, lack of resources, logistical challenges, and other hurdles to success in South Africa have me stumped. After being Mtuseni’s “magician” for so long, my powers feel depleted.

It’s hard to hear my usually happy boy feeling so down. I realized that when your kid hurts, you hurt.

It seems weird that it took me all these years to recognize this. But from the first day we met, Mtuseni has always been a pretty happy, goofy, idealistic kid. Yeah, he’s had his moody, grumpy, sullen moments, but they didn’t last long. He’d always bounce back with that warm heart, determined optimism, and special sparkle that makes me adore him. I’d never experienced him being in emotional distress for so long, and I was surprised by how much it brought me down. Just as I mirror his joy, I also mirror his pain.

Huh. Another facet of the parent experience. Strange that I never saw that coming. And surprising how much his pain hurts me. But a few months ago this magician still managed to find a rabbit in his hat. We are waiting on what I hope will be very exciting news any day now. And I cannot wait to celebrate and share his joy! Fingers crossed…

 

 

Father’s Day

June 18, 2017 — Leave a comment

Over the years I’ve received some pretty amazing, heartfelt Father’s Day messages from Mtuseni. This is the first year I’ve been in direct contact with Bongeka since starting her in private school last year and getting her a tablet. We don’t chat a heck of a lot — what 13-year-old talks much to any adult, never mind one who’s half a world away? So I was happily surprised to receive this WhatsApp greeting from her this morning.

Funny… after pressing hard on her last week to complete another scholarship application — and a few weeks earlier for not joining after-school activities — Bongeka still comes back with a dose of sweetness. I guess that means she’s starting to understand what I’m doing. And that I’m doing a good job.

Sometimes the stress of helping to raise these kids in South Africa really gets to me. In so many ways I’m powerless; there are so many obstacles confronting Bongeka and Mtuseni. But a silly crown and a few words and emoticons sweep it all away for a while.

Indeed… I’m lucky.


Follow and share updates about the Long-Distance Dad book project on Facebook!