Letter from Limpopo: Makarapa is the word of the month for December. They are coming home and we will be merry all month long, writes Thabiso Sekhula
The word refers to those who work out of the province and come home on holidays and special occasions. It is rooted in times of colonial oppression, when men had to leave the home villages for the big city.
And celebrating this homecoming is testament to the power black people have in turning pain into a beautiful phenomenon.
All around the province we host festivals and parties in their honour, I kid you not. Dressed up to the nines, we show our beloved that we may be separated by distance, but our hearts are one.
Every major holiday and every single month end, the N1 to Limpopo is packed with hundreds and thousands of cars making their journey from Gauteng and other provinces.
Families have taken part in this ritual, sending their kids away out of love and hope that they will gain the tools to prepare them for life, for financial freedom, and many families sacrifice everything for that one family member to make it out there in the hope that their success may forever change the trajectory of the clan.
There’s a lot riding on it. On you making it out there and lifting us higher as you climb. It is taxing, it is sometimes unfair, but I know so many people who have the entire village to thank for their success – including me.
And even when I barely have, I would still share it with my family.
And so you will understand that when these people who are our everything return home, we will pull out all the stops. It’s a celebration, and the streets are packed with all the new cars we are coming to show bomma and receive blessings.
They are buzzing with sound systems and laughter because once again, being back home is like teleportation to the old times where even though there was struggle, those days were so sweet.
And the stories get better each time they are told – like we haven’t heard the same one tens of times before.
Each year it sounds like a new story, one your soul longs for without you knowing, until it cracks out after a family get-together.
And in the villages, this time together is blessed with harvests of mangoes, litchis and all the summer goodness worthy of the kings and queens of the north.
While we prepare for them here, our favourite makarapa brings Gauteng and the world’s finest in drinks and clothes, because don’t tell us about saving in December.
Spending time with my six cousins and our now 16 kids and all the expenses that come with it is most often our version of a family holiday.
One that remains in the heart forever, because as we grow older, life throws us curveball after curveball, and we’ll take as many moments as we can that transports us to this beautiful place where we can be together.
To a place where they know you by clan, and there’s always someone who can tell you a story of how your parents, and even you, were as kids.
It’s no wonder no matter how rich people get in my neighbourhood and in the city, we always build a homestead in the village – just to stay a part of this magic forever.
Pictured above: A family gathering in Limpopo
