It took a friend’s reminder that Sunday was International Day for Older Persons to make Gasant Abarder realise just how privileged he was to care for his elderly parents – even though it comes with lots of ups and as many downs. In this #SliceofGasant column, he writes that our senior South Africans deserve our appreciation.
Abarder, who recently launched his book, Hack with a Grenade, is among the country’s most influential media voices. Catch his weekly column here.
‘Dad, I’ve asked you before: please don’t take out the dirt. It’s my job.’
This, you’ll agree, is a bizarre request from a son to a dad. Think about the order of things and you’ll realise it’s counter-intuitive; had the roles been conventional, it would’ve been a dad scolding a son for failing to take out the trash.
I was that son. A mommy’s boy. My dad was this mommy’s boy too but not without an awesome sense of responsibility when he became a father. But my mom still does everything for him. I mean, everything. Marriages in their day were characterised by such roles.
My mommy’s boy tendencies may have easily continued when I persuaded my parents to live with me as a bachelor 18 years ago. For 16 of the past 18 years, my parents have lived with me and my wife, who is from a very different background where children don’t usually take in their elderly parents.
It sometimes feels like my wife Laylaa is closer to my parents than even I am, and my mom and Laylaa often gang up on me.
Laylaa and her siblings are different though. When their mom was ill with cancer, turns were taken to care for her. My late mom-in-law, Tracy Nielsen, was a pleasure to have around when she stayed with us briefly and it was a privilege to take care of her. She later moved to Laylaa’s sister because it was closer to her doctor.
Tracy passed away in hospital with her children by her side. I deeply respect how Laylaa and her sisters cared for their mom to the end.
On Sunday, the world marked International Day for Older Persons. It is celebrated on 1 October every year. I would’ve been none the wiser had it not been for my friend Lea-Anne Moses, the executive director of the FunDZA literacy trust, who knows that my parents live with me, Laylaa and our family.
Elsewhere, looking after your parents or giving back is sometimes regarded as ‘black tax’. But for us, it’s more a blessing than a burden.
I’m not going to lie and pretend it doesn’t come with challenges. When, for example, will Laylaa and I be able to cavort around our home naked behind the high walls with mom and pops around? Not saying that we want to, but what if? Will my mom ever stop butting into conversations? Will my dad ever stop doing things around the house before I get a chance to do them?
My parents Achmat and Aleweya Abarder were both born in 1943 and grew up in the starkness of post-World War II. As adults, they raised their four children as working-class parents – my mom a seamstress and my dad a truck driver – through the transitions of apartheid and then a free South Africa.
The world has been changing before their eyes and the values they were taught as children have long since shifted.
When my parents were growing up, children were seen not heard. Now, at the dinner table, my children often discuss weighty issues with them present, like sexuality, gender orientation and questions about religion, which were taboo topics. But Achmat and Aleweya are traditional enough to impart sound advice and open-minded enough to grasp their grandchildren are growing up in different times.
Achmat is getting on a bit and often enters a room only to stop in his tracks, wondering what he had intended to do. (Mind you, I often do this too and lose my car keys several times a day!) Aleweya is the life of her ladies’ gym group and as hip as an 80-year-old can be.
My children are privileged to have their Mama and Papa as their caregivers after school. There is a hot meal waiting and help with homework. There is also a fair bit of bending of the parents’ rules when mom and dad are at work. It is their privilege, they’ll remind us.
Will my dad ever stop trying to put out the bins on refuse collection day, check the post box for letters or wash my car? Probably because you can’t teach an old dog new tricks. But it is the pull and the push of the role of parent and child switching.
It pains me that we often treat our elderly with disdain and disrespect. Their generation paid a heavy price for our freedom. Yet, the lack of dignity shown to them when they collect their government pension grants, for example, is heartbreaking.
I can never repay Achmat and Aleweya for all they’ve done and continue to do for me and my family. Living with us and enjoying the twilight of their lives is our small gift to them.
A version of this piece was written for FunDza. Read more about the NPO here.
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Picture: Gasant Abarder