This Freedom Day weekend, #SliceofGasant columnist Gasant Abarder rekindled relationships with the dozens of cousins who were his friends from the moment he experienced his first memories. The Cousins Day reunion helped save an otherwise subdued Freedom Day where there was little to celebrate.
On Saturday morning, I woke up with a grave sense of disappointment. The past Saturday wasn’t just any Saturday. It was Freedom Day. And not just any Freeday Day. It was the 30th anniversary of the day my parents and older siblings (I was too young to cast a ballot) voted for our freedom.
I couldn’t forget the wasted opportunity, the squandered billions through waste and corruption and the failure of those we installed into power on that day on 27 April 1994 to create the Rainbow Nation that Nelson Mandela and Desmond Tutu had imagined.
As I headed into the shops, I encountered other South Africans on payday weekend, standing for what felt like hours at shelves making decisions about what to put in their trollies and what they could do without. Every trolley seems to cost R300 more every month while our salaries remain static. And we’re the lucky ones! There are millions who can’t do a monthly grocery shop because they don’t have jobs.
There are millions more who don’t have housing, access to lending from financial institutions or even basic services like running water, sanitation and electricity. The nerve of the same individuals who got us into this mess wanting us to vote for them once more!
But on Sunday morning, I woke up with the promise of a day I had been counting down on my calendar. An annual cousins day picnic and some much-needed bonding. We haven’t had one for more than a decade because we all have our own families now and life gets in the way.
These are the people I have known since my earliest memories – the offspring of my maternal grandparents, matriarch Rabia ‘Mama Rabbie’ Davids and patriarch Malick ‘Darrah’ Davids. Our late grandparents were the best of humankind and raised a few sons and daughters. Our parents produced more than 30 grandchildren. And those grandchildren now have children of their own with some even having children of their own.
All told, the Abarders, Isaacs, Abrahams, Davids and Coetzee clans tallied close to a hundred at the family picnic. This wasn’t even half of us. We took over all the braai spots and a huge chunk of the grassy areas at Wynberg Park. Best of all, while we were reminiscing about the fun we had as kids playing in our grandparents’ backyard in Heideveld, our kids were getting to know each other. A fourth generation who will hopefully keep this tradition alive.
The family picnic was made more memorable as each family wore a specific colour. Even the snacks and food matched the colour scheme. We were the envy of the other patrons at Wynberg Park.
The gees was palpable and not even a tjatjarag north-westerly wind that uprooted and destroyed my gazebo could dampen the spirits. I connected with cousins I hadn’t seen in years and ate hopelessly too much. It was a day I won’t forget any time soon and I’m looking forward to the next one rolling around.
I’m fortunate since I’ve had a similar reunion with the cousins on the paternal side of my family. There is a saying the cousins have since coined: ‘Cousins are our first friends.’
For a few hours of fun, sunshine, eating and drinking, we had the chance to remember what real freedom was all about. The freedom to live in a country where we can connect at any time without fear of conflict or danger. To enjoy a day out that is safe, free and doesn’t break the budget.
We were too busy having fun to worry about how we’re going to fill up the car, the price of peanut butter, the bondage of bonds or having enough electricity to get through the month.
We have to make more of these beautiful moments that life has to offer and enjoy the people who are nearest and dearest to us. It’s the only antidote to the things that threaten our freedom.
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Picture: Supplied.