Modern’s Kindness in My Darkness

Woei T asked today in his story

to all the fellow writers of Illumination to fill the publication with short stories of how they have offered or been a recipient of kindness when they needed it since this new normal came into play.

I decided to accept this challenge with my story of Modern’s Kindness.

It is Pre-Pandemic but I believe it is a lesson in kindness that can be applied at any time of deep loss. This happened shortly after my husband died of brain cancer in December 2018 in South Africa. Modern had the courage to show up and be present with me during some of my darkest days. He had no platitudes or wise words to offer, he simply showed up and bore witness to my grief.

After Mel died in December, I waited until Saturday afternoon, the 5th of January to make the 3 hour drive back home to the farm. It had rained a lot and I worried about getting stuck in the muddy sand getting from the gate to the house. The holidays were coming to a close and my husband’s oldest son and twelve other people spent part of their holiday time in our house. I could not face being in the house I shared with my husband with all the activity of so many other people. I needed quiet. I could not bear the thought of them looking at me and asking me how I am doing.

I arrived without house keys. A friend staying in the skool house nearby while working at another farm put them in the tumble dryer on the stoep for me. I opened the door to get the keys and the tumble dryer door fell off in my hand. It was fine when we had left for Pretoria on 18 October. I opened the house door and walked into a very rotten smell in the kitchen. After getting my luggage inside, I discovered a leak under the sink (I followed my nose) and no hot water in the kitchen. Next, when I walk into our office, I notice many things not in their places. My husband’s computer completely gone. The Wi-Fi not working, items on my desk missing, the safe key not in its hiding place. A few days later I discover the landline is not working because the bill was not paid since October. There were piles of laundry from the holiday guests that Mina was still trying to catch up on. It was all more than I could handle, I just cried that night and the next day. I could not deal with trying to rectify all these issues. I barely knew my own name.

Mina came late that afternoon to feed the parrot as she didn’t know I was there. Being that it was the weekend, I didn’t see her or Modern again until Monday. Their work week went on as usual while I was barely able to get out of bed to make coffee or greet them. Friday afternoon came and it was time for them to be off work for the weekend. I said to them to have a good weekend and I would see them on Monday. They realized I did not know one of my husband’s sons planned their annual leave time for the next three weeks. They each get two weeks off, but he planned it so that there was one week neither of them would be at work. This was contrary to Mel’s annual planning for them in which one went for two weeks, then the other one for two weeks. Their leave time was always scheduled for after we left for the USA, no later than the 18th of January.

It was a surprise to me to find this out on the Friday afternoon Mina’s leave started. Mina goes to her mother’s in tribal land for her leave. But, she keeps a couple of chickens by her house on the farm which Modern would feed and water while she was away. While Mina was away, Modern would walk up to her house, always in fear of walking into the buffalo, to tend her chickens. Then he would walk up to our house every other day to “check on me”. I didn’t know he would do that nor had I asked him to. I was grateful he did.

Most days he arrived middle of the day. He would wait outside until he saw me through the large kitchen window. He would check the water tank to be sure I wasn’t running out of water. The times he thought there was not enough he would go through the bush to the pump to turn it on. Then he would come back to the house and wait for it to fill, then go back to turn it off. In the time the water tanks were filling he would tend the few vegetables and pot plants growing on the stoep and talk with me.

Every day he came, in his soft-spoken voice he said to me “Madam, I came to check on you.”

Modern learned English growing up in Zimbabwe, he addressed us as “Sir” and “Madam” as a sign of respect.

Mel had a rule that everybody knew. The rule was that the pump must run every day to fill up the tanks. The reason for this rule is because the power can go out at any time. It might be out for a few minutes or a few days before the municipality fixes it. If the tank is full we at least have water for awhile.

I was not using much water. I wasn’t cooking so there were no dishes to wash. Some days I could not remember to brush my teeth.

Considering this particular week Modern was on leave, he was under no obligation to come up to our house for anything. He chose to be kind to me. Mina and Modern both could see how distraught I was. They saw my sadness, tears, and grief. I saw in both of them their own sadness. My husband had employed both of them for many years. They were also sad he passed and probably worried about their jobs.

These three weeks in January last year were very dark. Weekdays I was alone most of the time, except for Mina and Modern. The second weekend of the month I was in Pretoria again, this time for Mel’s memorial service. The next weekend, my husband’s cousin and his 21-year-old son and two friends came to visit me. It was a good thing his wife, sent lots of food with them. I was grateful to her; young men can eat a hole in a pantry and I was not up to cooking at all. Our cupboards were almost empty and nothing fresh in the house. I was almost out of money but still needed to fill up with diesel one more time before going back to Pretoria on the 30th.

I’m grateful to Modern for “checking on” me and making sure I had water. He could have chosen to stay away from the crying, grieving Madam. He had the courage to be in deepest darkness with me. This was his act of kindness; however small one might think it was.

The smallest of actions can make a big difference in a difficult time.