Nos Madiba, Pretoria: Sunday redefined – Where are all our ‘shepherds’?

Where are the purple capes, the ladies in red and white, the ladies in blue and white with pom-poms bouncing so joyfully from their woollen belts? The ladies in black and white with their sheer blackmail stockings beaming in the bright Sunday morning sunlight, where are they?

The grannies, like shepherds, leading a happy bunch of grandchildren to places of worship, taxi drivers hooting at groups of people standing on street corners dressed in their Sunday best, the pastor reading a verse over a PA system loud enough to yank a partygoer out of a babalas…Where is it, that Sunday morning buzz, where is it?

Where are the purple capes…?

What is a Sunday during COVID-19 lockdown? This morning, like a nosey neighbour, I slowly peeked out the window, afraid of what will meet my gaze. Indeed only barren streets lay before me. I swear I even spotted a tumble weed. Not a single taxi in sight, not even a hooter in the distance. Only dogs barking as if in response to each other, from behind locked gates probably wondering what happened to Sunday as they know it.

As if on auto pilot, my sister starts preparing Sunday lunch. I sit silently observing this day, thinking about all the missing pieces, everything that was supposed to have happened leading up to lunch preparations.

Mass in pj’s and gown

Mother was supposed to have woken up three hours before the church bell chimes; go around to everyone’s bedrooms to check if anyone has chosen to renounce their heathen ways and come along to church; have breakfast; get ready in her navy and white; pack her skhaftin — just in case BP issues during mfundisi’s sermon; then head off bright and early with grandchildren in tow.

But here we are…Mother is in her pj’s and gown, impressed by our priest who has shared a short Sunday service that’s now doing the rounds on WhatsApp. Mother says she’s going to take a bath first then settle down and “attend” mass. Cleanliness is next to Godliness right?

Big black book and love jams blaring

Where are the purple capes, the ladies in red and white, the ladies in blue and white, in black and white, in green and yellow…where are they?

Probably in their pj’s, with the big black book on their laps, staring into space while love jams blare through the speakers of the babalas-ed partygoer.