Trying very hard to listen at the party of 50 year olds

The people were hungry arriving.  Most of them came to the party straight from church. Even the MC admitted that the task before him was to steer the loud-mouthed, reckless-with-time black people through what could potentially be a 5 hour programme to a 90 minute chop-chop so that Bazalwane could eat, and be merry. He did not disappoint. And he was funny too. But I am not here to talk about the MC. Why are the listening skills such an elusive competence?

Ms Party was a MmaMoruti. The first speaker, MmaMoruti’s nephew, led the assault by revealing the childhood history of the couple. ‘Quite often I was made to accompany Ntate Moruti back to his home in the dead of night.’ He said. Apparently, Moruti was afraid of the dark. You know those people who sit on the passenger seat and are forever frightened that car accident may happen any minute? You hit the brakes, they grab the dashboard; you hoot or avoid a pothole, they scream! Moruti. It was also revealed that Moruti was adored by Mme wa MmaMoruti; that he was constantly sent to run errands for old lady. So, as the MC summed it up, old lady “groomed” her future son-in-law to be a loving gentleman he has become.

Many people spoke about what a straight-talker Ms Party is. Some even pointed out that 50 signified the year of jubilee. Amen, somebody shouted. A certain wife of another Moruti – you know mos, pastors are humans too, so they befriend other pastors -praised (not the Lord this time but) Mma Moruti for her kindness. ‘uMaMfundisi even welcomed me when I was uMakoti from Eastern Cape by organising the beds and other things for me,’ she said. Mr MC decided to indulge in that statement. He wandered why Mma Moruti had skipped the entire list of things on the kindness menu to end up single-handedly arranging a bed for the newly-weds to lay on it. Praise God.

Things got interesting when three boys of between the ages of 17 and 20 smuggled themselves into the programme. The first kid announced to us, ‘Ekshili (spelled actually), I’ve prepared my speech right here on my phone, right.' God knows what was going to happen had he received a phonecall whilst delivering the speech. I blame the arrival of iPad for what kids are doing these days. Mr. DJ, another young lad with heavy mop for dreadlocks on his head kept cheering people off the stage by throwing in songs impromptu. ‘You will get your chance to shine,’ said the MC. DJ started to behave henceforth.

Mr Ekshili injected some fun and rhythm into the proceedings. His entire speech was in English. A serious departure from the norm where the oldies were only throwing light English like “praise the Lord” and “oh Jesus” in between plain but corrupted Sesotho. I could see some of the old people grimacing at this. Some were tilting their heads as if to bring their partly functional ears closer to the speaker (ears begin to give up at 50, I think).

Although he was born of the older sister to MmaMoruti, Ekshili admitted that he preferred auntie better than his own Mom. ‘I am here to ekshili tell you auntie that I love you,’ he said. ‘My aunt is so cool; she’s on whattsup and stuff.’ Then he burst out laughing, ‘My aunt shocked me the other day; we were chatting on whattsup you know... I said something funny to her and... her response was like LOL.’ Giggles. He wasn’t done with us: ‘My mom is so old school you know... sometimes I tell her that she should have “made” (had) me earlier so that there was...like... a narrow generation gap between us... she doesn’t understand me, Gaawd.’ The tent was in stitches.

The one who followed Ekshili did not want to disappoint; He even giggled in English (don’t ask me how that is done). The last one – MmaMoruti’s son - castigated his parents for being so blatant with their romantic antics around the house. He just laid things bare. At that moment we roped in our (naughty) minds to assist our ears. You should try that sometime; listening is a full body and soul exercise.

The moment for Birthday girl to speak came. What was supposed to be a 10 minute thank-you speech dragged to a 30 minute orgy (God forgive foul language) of guffaw. She rebuked her sisters-in-law for not visiting her house anymore. ‘I know you don’t like me,’ she said ‘Empa I have been around your family long enough... so se ke le manganga (I have become stubborn!)’ Her trailing jibe ‘Ha ho sa na moo ke yang teng (I am here to stay)’ was shrouded in the uproar of chortle from everyone.

Things came to a head when – remember we’re talking about listening skills – the MC announced that the occupants of the main table and those near it should dish up first and let the order follow until the last table. The buffet was placed right next to the exit. By the time the third table was dishing up, everyone just picked their plates and proceeded outside the tent to form a long queue. What the hell is wrong with people and queues? Maybe we were already listening with our grumbling stomachs when the MC was announcing the proceedings.