
Gone but will never be forgotten
Blog dedicated to my late cousin Patrick David Mahima
I remember very well the first day I was introduced to my cousin Patrick, we were only three years old but I can still remember everything as if it all happened yesterday. From that day we were inseparable, he became my brother, my friend and my protector. Our mothers are sisters, also raised in the same house by the same mother and father.
Bigger and strong than me, Pepe was always there to protect me from the rough hands of children who were rough. I never liked the game of soccer, Pepe was more than a fanatic, he knew the game from an early age it was just amazing watching him converse with other people about the rule and ethics of this game. As little boys we got into trouble together and got out of it together.
From when we were young my cousin Patrick was a fair-player, never lied about anything and always kept a smile and comforted me when we got punished by our parents. We shared everything, wore the same clothes, took a bath in the same dish, ate from the same plate, had the same friends, and grew up under the same house. We were inseparable and loved each the way brothers should. I remember sitting with him on the edge of the high-way watching cars pass by and dreaming of driving down that high way one day with the those luxurious cars. Both our mothers were single parents, who worked to support all of us with the little money they got from doing domestic working. We never felt that we were poor, both of us felt loved and were brought-up under a very strict and disciple house. The most important lesson that our parents taught us was to love and protect each other.
We all share a four-room house, I had three sisters, and he had three with one brother. Our grandmother and both my mother and my aunt (Patrick’s mother) all lived in the same house.
The First time that we separated was when my mother bought her own house. We started primary schooling in different schools. For the first time I was alone and had to start making my own friend and he also had a chance for the very first time to make his own. Through-out our teenager hood, we still made time to be together but each of us learnt to live separately. It is not until our working life that I got a chance to live in the same house with my cousin Patrick again. We both started our working life in the same company; we worked together and shared the same room. As adults, we learnt just how much we both mean to each other.
It was clear to other people that we were raise under the same rule, and we had a very stranger bond that very few cousins had. As an adult, Patrick was as gentle as he was when we was a little boys. I do not know any father who loved his child the way he loved his child. We got even closer as adult than when we were young. It is not until the day I decided to leave my first job and move down to Cape Town and we separated for the second time.
Patrick sadly passed way on the night of the 27th March 2010, leaving behind his mother, three sisters and his only brother. All that is left of him is the good memories of our childhood and everything that I have learnt from him: respect, compassion, understanding, his great smile and perseverance.
“LALA NGOXOLO MZUKULWANA WAKA MARIDILI”