It all began this morning, after a roller-coaster test week, which involved me spending the majority of the previous week, a 'vac week', studying for final years first major obstacle. The good people in the Commerce department here at UCT do enjoy the odd torture session, so test week is 3 tests in 3 nights on your core subjects. With that past me, I awoke feeling much lighter as the stress of test week evaporated into thin air over the last 24 hours, and a long long weekend ahead to look forward to. So, to rid myself of the self-inflicted test week look,( unshaven, woke-up-on-the-wrong-side-of-the-bed-vibe) I set forth to my barber. Yes, I have a barber as opposed to you elitists with your hairdressers and hair stylists. In the deep dark alleys (not really) of Athlone, a R30 haircut and a post-haircut head massage would be a good way to start the long weekend. As I pulled up to the shop, a man speaking on his phone outside, was visibly happy to see me. This was a classic case of an elderly man spotting me for the dashing young man I am and foreseeing my suitability for a niece or daughter of his ( happens all the time,NOT!), or the number plate of my car was his concern. It would turn out to be the latter by the way...
So I enter the barber shop and greet in an Islamic manner, to which the man and the barber reciprocate. As I sit down at the waiting bench, I can feel the stare of the man on my left cheek, and the tangibility of the forthcoming question very apparent.
"You're from Mooi River?"
Ah,yes, it is indeed the number plate that intrigues people, not the guy who drives it. Suppressing my bruised ego, I respond that I'm actually from Maritzburg.(Pietermaritzburg to be obviously formal). What followed were textbook Indian follow-up questions, put across in a manner that would have Oom Gerrie Nel bubbling with pride. Anyways, this is getting too dramatic, so lets me get the gist across. The man, asked me what was my surname, to which I promptly responded accordingly. Turns out, he had "grown-up" in one of the Noorgat households in Maritzburg and was obviously quite chuffed by his discovery. To put this in context, there is only one Noorgat family that is originally from Pietermaritzburg. My paternal grandfather had 12 other siblings, thus the offspring that pursued was a sizeable amount of people. The Noorgat brothers were renowned entrepreneurs, a trait that is still continued to this day. Businesses like Noorgat Wholesalers and Solnor Supermarkets are names that are entrenched in the minds of the older generation in Maritzburg. He spoke of the legacy of the family and quizzed me about whereabouts of certain family members, as if I were a participant on the Weakest Link.What stood out was the manner in which he spoke about the now late brothers, the absolute awe and positive manner in which he referred to them. He continued to speak about the good habits he remembered, as I sat waiting for my haircut, absorbing this encounter. My movement onto the actual barber chair did not stifle his momentum, as he continued to state that the Noorgats were indeed a dynasty.
As I sat in the chair, reflecting on what had been said to me by this stranger of 5 minutes, I got to thinking. Every family has a watershed generation in a life-time. and these people were obviously mine. The actions of the past generations, socially, politically and financially are what can give future generations steadfastness and freedom. Our time on this precious Earth is but a journey, whilst your efforts maybe limited, your legacy can be eternal and you could indeed give rise to a dynasty.
Fancy that, an innocuous mid-autumn hair-cut trip, in the middle of Cape Town, a thousand painful miles away from the great town of Maritzburg, the memory of a generation who toiled can still be echoed off the walls of a newly-revamped barber shop. By a stranger, to a member of the dynasty!
The scoreboard read: Life 1 - Z.Noorgat 0
Over and out.
