Entitlement is a reward

 Thandekile Moyo

I COME from a huge family. My cousins are always laughing about how whenever we cook we must brace ourselves for a second round of cooking because almost all the time, there is need for extra food. Whenever we went to Kezi for the holidays, we would be grouped together according to gender and age; and given food in one plate of starch and one plate of relish for each group. In my group were my three cousins and I. The four of us did everything together, from bathing, eating and playing, to chores. There were protocols that had to be observed, especially when it came to eating; the meat was picked according to age with the eldest going first and the youngest last.

The boys always used to have more food. I am merely stating this as a fact, and not as a complaint. They had more food because for some reason, their appetites were bigger than ours. Food was available in abundance, so I do not know how things would have been handled were there shortages. Would they still have been given more than us, but less than they needed? Would we all have been given the same amounts? Well, I can only but speculate.

I rarely saw the amounts on our mothers’ plates, probably because they would only sit down to eat after everyone else had received their food. I suspect they loaded their plates with goodies for they always used to eat under some shade away from everyone’s eyes. Their excuse was that they were malukazanas (daughters-in-law) so they could not eat with obabazala (fathers-in-law) out of respect.

I remember though that our fathers, and men in general, used to be given the lion’s share. They would get the best parts of the chicken, more meat than everyone else and mountains of ‘isitshwala.’ I also recall, how that always used to work in our favour, as the fathers usually gave us some meat from their plates because we used to eat alongside them and I am sure they just could not resist our longing stares at the precious drumsticks and chicken backs.

Back home, where it was only my parents, siblings and cousins; the setup was similar but because of the smaller scale, everyone would eat in their own plates. The boys still ate more than us girls. I still got more meat than my sisters and mum and dad had the best of everything.

My family was not always eating by the way. There were things to be done between meals and these duties and responsibilities, followed the same protocol. The parents, bought the food, both in their respective homes and whenever we went to Kezi. For the Kezi visits we would meet up and the adults would combine resources and provide everything necessary for the trip. We loved these road trips because we would get to have fancy snacks like fantas, buns, biscuits, sweets and chips. All the food we rarely ate under normal circumstances.

Upon arrival, the men and boys would split logs into firewood and the women and girls would clean up the rooms and prepare the meals. If it was farming season, the men and boys would plough the fields with the usually ox drawn plough and the women would help by leading the oxen or planting. Basically the men and boys took up the heaviest duties; I am sure that is why they would display enormous appetites, come mealtimes.

Us children also had our responsibilities according to our ages. The eldest of the children had the supervisory role of making sure whatever task her group was given was executed efficiently. I remember my father’s youngest sister Bulukani, always held the duty of making sure we were bathed and fed in time. We were an energetic and troublesome bunch and in retrospect, I see now why she deserved to get meat before all of us.

We had no choice but to respect her, because all protocols forced us to acknowledge that she was older than us. She was rewarded for her hard work by the benefit of always having the first choice of everything given to us. But, never before making sure all tasks were perfectly completed. When the adults came back from the fields they expected to find breakfast ready, the huts cleaned, children bathed and everything else to do with housekeeping.

We were her subordinates in the execution of those duties and her word was law. We loved her and respected her and she always treated us fairly, including some of my laziest cousins whose names I will not mention.

Our culture is beautiful. In subtle ways, respect and responsibility, and rewards for those were infused into the day-to-day running of things. I look around me now and I wonder where we went wrong. I see leaders and fathers who demand the best parts of a chicken they never bought. We have CEOs of companies and first-borns who insist on being the first ones to take a piece of meat from the plate despite not executing any of their responsibilities. I am surrounded by Members of Parliament and male children who demand more food than everyone else despite taking up none of the heaviest tasks. I’m embarrassed every time, by mothers who load up their plates with goodies before ensuring that the entire family has eaten; not even bothering to hide their plates from ‘prying’ eyes like our mothers used to.

Everyone feels entitled to benefits but nobody is willing to put in the sweat. The culture of giving the lion’s share to fathers was backed by their responsibility to take up the lion’s share of the work and to provide everybody else’s share. The practice by mothers of dishing up the best plates for themselves was justified by the fact that they only ate after they had fed everyone else accordingly. This was only in times of abundance and was backed by the idiom “indlamuva yinkosi” which means he who eats last is king. In times of trouble, a good mother would volunteer to go without if it meant her children could have a little something in their stomachs.

Big boys were given more food than girls because they would have burned up more fuel from the heavy tasks they were given. Their big appetites were justified and indulged as a reward for being useful around the home. Older siblings were given choice cuts because they had to be respected by their younger siblings who they supervised throughout the day. They were also answerable to everything that happened. If any of the younger siblings were hurt they had to explain how, when the parents came. Whenever they went anywhere with the kids, they were responsible for their safety.

This culture resonates with all Zimbabwean cultures and most African countries. Positions carry and demand responsibility, hard work, productivity and efficiency. When all these are carried out well there is accountability. Only then can anyone be entitled to anything. Entitlement is a reward. Imagine if human governments adopted this.