Seasons of Life

Growing older in Africa

We all are all growing older, maturing, becoming.  Aging comes to each one of us.  No matter what we do, how many plastic surgeries, special creams and lotions we might use, vitamins we use...there will come a time when we get a discount at McDonalds, where the Public Transit gives us special rates, and where we are expected to just fade away and go to Arizona for the winter.  The question one should ask.  "Is there another way?" 

I was going along Kampala Road down toward the City Bar and Restaurant for lunch. Throngs of people were all around me. Most of them were in their 20's or early 30's. I had gotten used to not seeing many old people. Here and there was an old woman, her face marked with the cares of this world, lines like the tattoos marking her survival in a harsh and merciless environment.

Rarely does one come across an older man with gray hair. People just do not live that long in Uganda. Life expectancy is 53 in Kampala, but 29 in the north in Pader. Out in the villages you can find some older people who have survived the bouts with famine, bad water and constant attacks of malaria. In some cases they even build up a resistance and immunity to it.

As I was walking, caught up in my thoughts, a young street boy came running up to me saying, "Poppa, buy something?"

I had to chuckle. Often I am I called that here. A few times when I went shopping in the Blue Market in Nairobi with a coworker named Brent (who was approaching 30) hawkers would ask me to buy something for my son. Again I used to laugh, but it was something that made me think later on, as I sat on the balcony enjoying the night breeze and the African stars, "I am getting older." It is a reality that comes sooner or later to all of us. Aging, lines, sags, drags, the muscle tone turns to something else with some, others of us lose some hair, looks, but all of us lose our youth.

That very night I was visiting some friends of mine who lived in a slum just outside of downtown Kampala. I had parked my car and was making my way through some nondescript liquid oozing down the street as some young people greeted me with, "You are most welcome Mzee." Again, it was a reference to my age. My friend was coming toward me and had overheard the remark by the young people and said, "Ah, Mzee, you have arrived, you are receiving the respect of the young people, we are most honored to have a man of wisdom in our midst." (Mzee is a term of honor and respect for an older man recognizing the wisdom gained over the years.)

I had grown up in Europe where we lived together as an extended family. I had always been around old people, receiving their input and wisdom. I used to listen to the stories of the old and sit there in amazement. There, like in Africa were not the retirement communities, there were not old age homes, there was family. (things have changed One of the ironies of African culture is that while women have it tough in their youth, and it is a patriarchal society in the minds of many a man; the reality is that because women live longer than they do and run the real Africa, the family, as they grow old gracefully.

Rod Stewart’s song "Forever Young" in some ways portrays the mindset of the West.

In American society the youth culture rules. Much is done to appear young, to remain young; to drink from an artificial fountain of youth called cosmetology equally applicable to men and women in Western society. Yet forever young can be a reality as a young Ugandan woman once told me, "Jon, age is not a number but a state of mind."

In Africa those who have grown old are sought out for advice - the older man is called Mzee. Jomo Kenyatta, the first president of Kenya was always referred to as Mzee. It is an honor to grow old in Africa. One is seen as having wisdom that comes from having lived the seasons of life. Young University students will seek out the advice of a wizened grandmother who does not even know how to read and write. Wisdom does not just come from books. As a young man I read so many books on knowledge. When I was 11, I read Rousseau and Nietsche. I had knowledge, but it was dangerous since I did not know how to apply it in grace. In fact the apostle Paul wrote, "Knowledge puffs up, but love builds up." Wisdom is an inner revelation in the sacredness of one's soul. A simple knowing brought about by life, by what I would call an impartation and a realization that what we sought in our youth was in us all along.

When I was young I thought I was invincible, would never die, then I reached my 20's and thought maybe it was possible, in my thirties I thought death would come and worried about it, in my 40's I saw a lot of death and knew it would come, so why not live the moment; now as I have turned 64 I am enjoying this season, since the inner striving has ceased, the living out of each day is real. I am enjoying the small things and thankful for each sunrise and sunset.

Here in Africa, I still get the Mzee treatment which I do not mind.  I also get this from people since there are not many 65 year old men or women around in my neighborhood.  I am most likely the oldest, so when someone asks…”they shake their head and say “You are still strong.”  What is strength, only the kind that comes from within, the one that we have been graced with to face the moment, the seasons of life at each stage.

 I have the understanding of who I am, where I have been in the seasons of life, knowing that it is neither spring nor summer, but neither is it winter, but the Indian summer of my life… and here in Africa, there are no real seasons besides a bit of rain at times…there is only today…from Kampala…jon

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