‘I am happy,’ declares
What’s in a Name
‘Hello, my name is Keitumetse,’ greets Keitu. ‘I was taught that’s how good mannered girls introduce themselves, but most people call me Keitu. Their opinions differ about whether I’m a good girl or not.
‘My name means I am happy, ironically enough because my mother was immensely depressed when I was born. Her depression was brought about by a combination of sleep deprivation (I was a chronic cry baby) plus I was born a Gemini. My mother’s reasons of why she doesn’t like Gemini’s are hers, but I always protest that I am nothing like those people she told me about – two-faced and cold? Never!’
State of
So Keitu, born in Mmabatho, carried around this heavy name, always trying to achieve a state of happiness. She sought it in drugs and horrible, horrible boyfriends. ‘And the good boyfriends who made me happy, I thought don’t make me happy, probably because they said I mustn’t take the happy drugs.
‘Thinking they were the ones who were disillusioned, I’d break their hearts to go be unhappy. I have since learnt my lesson. Ask my good and happy man.’
Narcotic Bliss
She looks back now thinking narcotic bliss was silly, but back then she was at her saddest and it lifted her spirits high (pun intended). ‘The man who was my hero, my be all and end all, my saviour and my biggest fan, my father, had passed away and I just didn’t know how to put the pieces back together.
‘What was a fatal heart attack for him seemed like a personal attack on me – I deduced that God got a kick out of fidgeting with my joy. My father was super special – he didn’t indulge me in empty praise, but he submerged me in attentiveness and genuiness. So his death brought about an incredible sense of emptiness.
‘Plus I felt really, really angry – contemplating that my family had suffered years of political complications through the turmoil of what was then Bophuthatswana and now they had to deal with further distress. I tried to be strong for my family, especially for my dear mother – my assumption was that we are all in the same amount of pain and we are all dealing with it. But that was denial and disillusionment. Big time.’
Reawakening Trauma
When her father passed away Keitu started having dreams of a trauma she experienced a decade earlier. Her therapist at the time explained that current trauma reawakened old trauma.
‘Wow! Like I needed more shit in my life,’ she responded to her.
The pinnacle of her erratic way of life came when she had to announce to her mother that she was pregnant. ‘I was 21, in debt, lonely, scared and broken from legacy issues I had not yet dealt with. The light in her eyes faded when the severity of what I was saying sunk in and every dream she ever had for me she buried right at that moment.’
Another Statistic
‘If she felt that bad, imagine how I felt,’ she says. ‘
‘“That can never ever be me!” I dared the universe. And because of the pregnancy (or perhaps it was the sick thought of getting handouts from a government that put my family through an undignified treason trial that put me off) a slow mind-shift started happening. I will make it. I have to make it.
‘So you see, this search for happiness doesn’t always go as planned and as much as there have been times when it seemed like a dirty old lie, there have also been times when I have been nestled within the heart of this feeling. It usually has something to do with a glass of Boschendal 1680 Shiraz Cabernet Sauvignon (don’t be fooled, it is the only wine I can name because it is my favourite), dark Lindt chocolate and a quiet, mild evening.’
Quiet, Mild Evenings
‘These quiet, mild evenings I speak of are rare given that I have an energetic, but contrastingly emotional son. He is the coolest kid ever, not hip cool, but calm and collected cool.
‘When I am low in happiness he flashes his dimples knowing they will bring back the joy I have lost. Rather obviously this is someone I guard with all my heart and whose privacy I cherish so let’s move onto something else’
The Heart of the Poet
Keitu knows how alike we all are. To make sense of this she writes fiction and poetry.
In some way or another we all speak the same language.
Through the joy of a new birth we feel the force of optimism.
Through the pain of death; we all suffer matching misery.
And in the years in between.
We grow up to seek the same destiny.... to find our state of contentment.
Some reach this. Some don’t.
But the yearning was there.
At some point in each of our lives.
It’s hard to escape.
This language that we speak.
Speaking the Same Language
For Keitu, the idea that we all speak the same language is a conviction, possibility to the point of religion. ‘My goal is to speak this language to you (and I suspect this is where the intensity of my happiness will lie).
‘I have no doubt that what I write will be my own talk moulded from my hurtful or happy moments – but I just know you will understand it too. That’s all I truly want out of this life. To speak to you and have you speak to me.... and we actually ‘get’ each other.’
Black Scribe
Part of how she is doing this is through Black Scribe (see box on left), the writing services company she has founded. She writes a weekly column for us; corporate commissions; and personal services such as assisting with memoirs. Her passion is to find the essence of a story and ensure it is captured.
‘Starting this company has been an overwhelming achievement for me. The joy felt is a lot more surreal. The aim is to reach as many people as I can through writing and considered communication. I want to capture moments, truths, realities and ideas so that what we share today never ever dies.
