I am a proud of where I come from. I love my home village, my family, my country, my culture. This is my identity, my pride. Having said that, I have a problem with my culture and identity becoming a prison, a shell unbreakable and hell, for lack of a better word. Culture can become prescriptive  to the extent that it hurts and strips its very people of dignity and pride. There are known cases of marriage breakdowns owing to cultural beliefs. The worst is experienced during lobola negotiations; some parents use this opportunity to make the lives of their children so miserable they may begin to have second thoughts. In the name of culture, a family that has lost a loved one can be subjected to the most cruel treatment hence this question; is there a formula for grief?

I have prefaced my discussion with culture because I believe it has a direct correlation with our perceptions and stereotypes.We have all been told how people who are grieving should handle themselves. There is a myriad of do’s and don’ts, which when not followed as expected will result in frowns, stares, punishment and perennial gossip.The nightmare starts on the day the news of death breaks. A number of ‘supporters’ will gather and observe the mourners, while at it, the same mourners are expected to prepare them meals. The context of this observation entails watching the movements of the mourners, the extent of their grief; whether they still chat and laugh or they are totally broken. This may sound dramatic but I believe most people who come from my society will agree with me.

Let us consider a woman who has just lost her husband. In the name of culture, the poor grieving widow will be expected to lie on her stomach for a whole week or more, covered in blankets. She has practically zero or little say in the funeral arrangements including where her husband will be buried. She literally does not have control over what happens in her own house for the duration of the period before the burial. Who decided on this culture? Is it a demonstration of sympathy or empathy on the poor widow? What purpose does it serve? Does it not, if anything, drive the widow to further affliction and pain? It should be noted, however, that the widower does not endure the same treatment. Well, that’s a subject for another day.

In our culture, somebody who is grieving is generally expected to suppress their feelings in demonstration of strength. People are not allowed to just be. If one cries, they will be quickly whisked away or, if they are older, told to keep quiet lest they make the children cry. Why? Would we rather they face the battle alone in their houses? Have we considered the dangers? No wonder we end up with cases of depression, stroke, mental illness, etc. sometimes culminating in death. Some even commit suicide.

I am glad that a few people have began to express themselves in times like these with the advent of modernization; albeit with a full dose of criticism from ‘culturalists.’I have attended a funeral where the widower spoke of his late wife; I left the place encouraged and thought to myself ‘who better to speak about her than her husband who spent decades with her.’ In the neighbouring South Africa, I have heard of a few celebrity widows who spoke at their husbands’ funerals and Lord, the amount of hate spewed at them by  the supposedly grieving society!

Social media has also liberated our fellow countrymen. It is becoming acceptable for people to grieve openly and talk about their dearly departed. However, there is no shortage of those who throw in the culture card during such times. The bottom line is people have found a space to release themselves from the ensnarement of grief through social media.

My advice; Let people be! Let us love others enough to let them be.