You’re locked down by the virulent Corona-19 virus, confined between four walls of fear and boredom. You’re edgy, tight as the strings of an Indian Sitar. Frustration pounds and throbs; it’s the tic-a-tack-tack of the tabla drumlets, the migraine throb of the African voodoo drums and the din of the orchestra’s kettle drums booming and booming in your head. It’s not going away. When is the nausea finished, destroyed, gone? When?
Open a window. Peep through the door. The sky is blue, the clouds are white. The earth is wet with rain, green with grass dotted with autumnal flowers, yellow, blue and red. They are soothing colours for the soul. There is life out there; the future will come. But what must I do to spark light for the present?
The setting sun streams through the window, vermilion, yellow, pink, and purple. It warms your belly and dazzle your eyes. ‘Why have I never been conscious of this before?’ The walls of confinement have clicked them into focus. All the miracles of the world are now lit for you. Even in the darkness, the moon shines for you in a firmament of stars. A little light moves across the sky. It is the Space Station. Inside are men and women confined in its belly locked up in solitude, unable to open a window for cool fresh air. No family, no feasts. No wind humming through the trees. Some have endured the eternal darkness for more than a year.
‘I can’t write.’ Writing is not just about long stories, poems and treatises. Stories can be fun. It can be done on paper, phones or I-pads. In the absence of books and paper, the isolated communities the old people wrote ditties to amuse themselves, only a line or two. ‘Ou Tanta Kubba is so dom, sy roer haar koffie met haar groot toon om.’ (Old Aunt Kubba is so dense, she stirs her coffee with her big toe) Some were rather risqué. Write letters to people, friends and family you have not heard of or seen for a long time. Write your life-story addressed to yourself, just leave the juicy bits out away from prying gossipers. Write on paper. Write on the internet. Nobody will be critical of your thoughts or prowess. Tell them about fond memories, your achievements or expertise. Share funny or humorous episodes in your life. Exchange recipes for lazy cooks. PS: Don’t read diet books: you need all those wicked calories/ kilojoules to survive. Everyone has slipped on a banana peel, so don’t be coy. Be brave.
‘I don’t read.’ Now’s the time to catch up. Read one of the same books that Aunty Mariam gave you two years in a row. Or saunter into some of the books you’ve had on your bucket list to read for umpteenth years. Read short humorous books. Laugh out loud. Biographies and deep emotional stories will stimulate the serious souls. Surf cook-books. Bake that cake only you can make. Use up the baked-beans in soups and stews.
Plastic Flip files are cheap. Use them to store self-help clippings, phone numbers for emergencies such as police, fire and burst pipes. Municipal complaints: blocked drains, electricity problems, and garbage/rubbish removals. File your wish list for the next year. Store precious documents, the family tree, photographs or just beautiful pictures you adore.
‘I can’t draw. I can’t paint.’ You’re not Leonardo da Vinci of Mona Lisa fame. Just take a pencil and doodle Aunt Mina who eats six koeksiesters every Sunday morning. Doodle all the fruits and nuts you’ll eat after Covid-19. Use a ball-point pen and draw a simple daisy, then graduate to a vase with many different flowers, an apple, a sunset, a landscape with a house, trees and hills. Dish out pencils, coloured crayons and paper to the young ones and ask them to draw the animals of the jungle or the farm or the members of the family. Let them do things: stack tiles, stick things in books, knead dough.
My daughter Shameema, an illustrator, published colouring-in books on the Asmaul Husna for adults and Arabic alphabet and numbers for kids. I spent many enjoyable hours colouring in these books using inexpensive colour pencils. It’s ideal for everyone, especially for the young, elderly and frustrated idle hands. (Contact: visit www.shameema.co.za or email info@Shameema.co.za).
Adults are innate moaners; keep them busy. Couch potatoes can gorge themselves with the superb wild-life series of David Attenborough: Blue Planet, Life on Earth etc. Dust off old DVDs and watch the golden oldies of Taj Mahal, Boot Polish, and the tearful six- handkerchiefs Mother India. The Richard Attenborough epic Ghandi is grand. David Lean’s Lawrence of Arabia is a masterpiece of spectacular photography, acting and story-line. See it at least twice. His Dr Zivago is next. After that just sit down, close your eyes and meditate. The CD of the movie Caravans, so popular at weddings some years ago, is still magnificent.
Switch off the endless macabre Al Jazeera news of Corona deaths. The old stalwarts of table-top games and activities can still entertain. Carving wood or clay, knitting blankets for the poor and sewing for Aunt Agatha’s third wedding can while away fruitful hours. Resurrect the Monopoly Boards, Dominoes, Snakes and Ladders. Scrabble gets your word-power going. Card games like Snap, Solitaire, Gin-rummy, fill empty hours. Get the traditional Kerrem board out of the garage. The Indo-Iranian game of strategy and deep thought, Chess, can eat up hours of mind-power ending in: Checkmate (Shah-mat, the King is dead).
Sweep the leaves of the autumn garden. Prune the roses and turn the compost heap. Sow seeds for spring planting. Take cuttings and trim trees. Clean the gutters and the drains. Drool over the pictures of English gardens and, Japanese Cherry blossoms now going unseen in Covid-19 lockdown. Muslim revere gardens of swaying palms, green plants and reflective pools of water and the soft tinkle of fountains. Marvel at the geometrics of the tiles that adorn their architecture in the Alhambra of Granada. A glimpse of ethereal Moroccan stucco art can be seen in the Gatesville Masjid Quds. It is complemented by Agmat Soni’s gorgeous dome calligraphy.
Throw down your prayer mat. It’s probably adorned by a Persian motif. Sit down. Say a prayer or two. Breathe. Meditate. Be thankful. Be brave. Life must go on. The story Gone with the Wind ends with the words: Tomorrow is another day.