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"If we only cry that we are perishing, we teach them how to die. If we plant, we teach them how to remain."
Mme Masechaba stood up, her joints creaking like the old gates of the village. She didn't offer a prayer of mourning; instead, she walked to the center of the circle. Chaba Di A Fela
She reached into her apron and pulled out a small leather pouch of heirloom seeds—sorghum and maize that had been in her family for generations. She reminded the elders that while the elders and the strong were falling, the children—the orphans of the village—were still watching them. "If we only cry that we are perishing,
The village of Manyeneng was once a place of "many waters" and endless laughter. But the seasons had changed. It wasn’t a drought of rain that took the people, but a silent thief that stole the young and left the old to weep. She reached into her apron and pulled out
The phrase (or “Ditshaba di a fela” ) translates from Sesotho or Setswana as "Nations/Tribes are perishing" or "People are dying." In Southern African literature and oral tradition, this is a somber and powerful theme often used to describe periods of great suffering, such as the impact of the HIV/AIDS pandemic, war, or social decay.
"We say the nations are perishing," she began, her voice thin but steady. "And they are. But a nation is not just the people who stand; it is the seeds they leave behind."
That afternoon, despite the grief, the remaining elders of Manyeneng did something they hadn't done in years. They took the children to the communal fields. They taught small hands how to turn the soil and bury the seeds. They sang the old songs, not as dirges, but as rhythms for work.