The silly season shuffle

Once again, we tumble cheerfully into that time of year called “the silly season.”

It is that magical period when we all pledge to be reflective and grateful, while secretly calculating how many days till payday. The air is thick with the smell of roasted chicken, braai smoke, pine needles, and debt lurking behind the tinsel.

This is the season when we let our hair down, if we still have any, and shop till we drop or until our credit cards puff out smoke like a taxi on Fields Hill.

The shops are ready for us, they have been advertising “bargains” that would make a grown man weep. The kids must be pacified with toys that last about as long as New Year’s resolutions.

And then come the visitors, from Jo'burg, from overseas, and sometimes from two streets away but still arriving with luggage like they’re emigrating.

The Aussies and Brits arrive with their accents and mighty currencies, tossing rand notes around like confetti. But for once, we can smile without calculating the exchange rate, our economy is finally showing a pulse.

Gold is up, markets are steady, and as a nation we’re strutting a little taller.

Why? Because this year, South African sport has been on fire. Our rugby and cricket teams are world champions, and our beloved Bafana Bafana have qualified for both the AFCON Cup and the World Cup.

For a nation that argues daily about everything from potholes to petrol prices, we suddenly all agree on one thing: we have got our swagger back.

South Africa is also gaining a reputation as a global peacemaker, apparently, we can get people who normally throw missiles at each other to sit down and share tea. Not bad for a country whose potholes occasionally look like small dams.

Of course, a hiccup or two still pops up. The water may disappear for a day or two, but we push through with watercress, watermelon, and bottled water priced like perfume. And when the lights go out, we have the sun, the moon, and Eskom’s favourite invention, the candle.

And in this land of endless commissions, we may soon need an inquiry into why we have so many inquiries. But optimism, my friends, cannot be load-shed.

December also brings fruit, mangoes, lychees, pineapples, and extended family.

They roll in like seasonal produce. There’s always that uncle who eats too much and snores loud enough to rattle the windows. The nephews provide musical entertainment, rap battles, off-key carols, and lyrics that would have sent my late granny sprinting to all religious establishments for immediate cleansing.

 And then the beach. From Durban to Muizenberg, men proudly display knobbly knees and fading tattoos in floral Bermudas. The surf barely reaches the ankles, but we emerge looking like we have conquered the entire ocean.

Spare a thought for Christopher Columbus, who set out for India, missed entirely, and still got statues. If it were us, our GPS would sigh and say: “Recalculating… please avoid pothole the sizeof a toddler.”

South African Christmas food is a buffet of cultures: potjie kos, braai, curry, pickled fish, pap and vleis, samoosas, and perhaps a bunny chow for Boxing Day.

Forget turkey, our gravy comes with masala, and that’s the way it should be.

But this is also the season of goodwill. Nothing beats the look of gratitude when someone receives a little kindness.

Maybe that’s what the silly season is truly about, the small flashes of generosity that remind us we are better together.

So as we wrap up another year, bruised but proudly standing, let’s carry this optimism into the next. Let our laughter be loud, our compassion steady, and our humour fully charged.

And if the lights go out? Look up. The sun, the moon, and the stars never need rebooting.

So as we round up this year, keep your curry hot, your braai hotter, and your South African humour hottest of all.

Vedan is an attorney, community leader, and social commentator based in KwaZulu-Natal. 

POSTPLUS