Let me tell you a story, a story about a feeling, an experience that may perhaps eternally exist within me now.
I don’t know where you’re reading this—could be in the comfort of your bedroom, on your sofa, or in a taxi home after a long day. Someone’s gotta make some money, right? The great thing about reading is it can catch you at any time, and if you’re curious enough, it can grab your attention. Five, ten minutes later, you’re like, damn.
That’s how I’ve been for the past two decades—caught by reading. Books of any kind can be encapsulating, finding yourself lost in the words of the author, but more so, imagining the world of the author. Let me for the next few minutes of your time be an author to you
I’d like you to picture this image: you’re in the hood, the township (my township). Your view is a mass of different houses, all spread across the land—a mountain, really, according to my friend Mlondi. Honestly now that I’m explaining this view, I fully realize the truth in that.
Rows of houses are lined up like ants across each heap of the mountain. If you imagine a road with many speed bumps, and on those speed bumps are random houses, yes, that is my neighbourhood. To think, many years ago, there weren’t nearly as many houses, but it shows how life has expanded.
As you imagine this, squeeze in trees between these houses. These trees are perhaps the one piece of nature that gives off a fresh breeze in the hood, especially when you’re looking from my vantage point.
If you want to imagine using other senses, picture loud music blasting from a random house, this is daily. I won’t tell you what type of music—you can imagine that for yourself, perhaps something that will give you a sense of ease
I only get a sense of that sound when I take off my headphones. With them on, to be in my head, you’d be hearing 2000s music or East Coast Radio if I’m feeling nostalgic, and a mixture of Taylor Swift, Zandile Dlamini (Doja Cat), and Chris Brown in this 2024 timeline.
But let’s be outside my headphones for a moment. You’re watching the hood through my words and your imagination. Birds from the trees, chickens at my house, and bleating goats—do goats bleat?—well, the sound of random goats can be heard, those are mom’s goats. I have no idea when she started becoming a “farmer”
It’s a rather beautiful sight, in its own weird way. In the far distance, depending on how far your eyes can see, there’s smoke covering the sky. That’s where city life is—not many trees there, it’s very evident.
That’s my neighbourhood in visual format. Now, where am I? If you’re imagining me as a young man in my teen years, I’m sitting atop the roof of my home. This place has always been my sanctuary. When everything gets noisy, which it often is around here, I jump onto the roof with a book, or without, put on my headphones, and get lost.
It’s beautiful.
I don’t really remember when I discovered this. Perhaps it was the times I’d sneak onto the neighbours’ roofs to try and retrieve a ball that got trapped there—I was the only one with the ninja skills to do it. It might have been then that I discovered the silence the roof could offer.
Sometimes I’d find myself falling asleep there, only to be woken by some random person walking in the street, the battery running out on my listening device, or the intense heat burning me up. No wonder I was so dark, I was getting cooked my whole teen life.
Yes, my house is literally right by the walking road, so people would often be confused about this kid sleeping on the roof, like, what the hell is wrong with him?
Fast forward to now, and I’m perhaps still doing the same thing, just in a different way. I’m still high above ground, watching the neighbourhood like a hawk—only this time, the house is a little bit taller. I’m sitting on the second-floor balcony, doing what I’ve always done: observing and learning. I’m still reading about the world, but most of the time, I’m writing about it.
I see how it moves, how it smells, how it sounds, how it changes during the day and night.
There’s still so much noise, but being up here almost tunes it out. It helps me focus. Every day, I watch the same faces come and go into my home, drinking liquor for hours on end. The night passes, and they come back again the next day—it’s a never-ending loop, really. My nephews wailing and/or causing chaos
On the roof, I’m an all-seeing eye, a listening therapist. The hood is my client in some weird Shitty way. I love being on the roof because it gives me peace. I can think, I can breathe, my mind can breathe, and then ideas come on how to navigate myself or anyone around me in this busy world.
I mean, if you ever want me to give you ideas, catch me on the roof—or in the toilet—and I’ll have plenty of shit to say, haha.
I guess it’s no surprise that when I was growing up, I was in love with climbing and the idea of being up high. It just makes me feel alive and free
Now, having read this, I hope you can paint a picture for me too. Paint a picture of a place that gives you peace. It could be anywhere. Just take your time and share with me—how did you discover that you find peace when you’re there? Actually, please simply answer what gives you peace the most?
I can’t wait to be in your mind… to imagine.