A Celebration of Life

It has been a bit over a month since I published my last blog. A difficult month--one that isn't easily placed into words, especially words that are meaningful enough to carry the weight of the subject. 

In April, we had flown Phil's sister, Tina, and his mother, Pheobie, to Wits University hospital in Johannesburg. Although they were never really able to give us a specific diagnosis regarding Mama's condition, we were advised to take her home and to make her comfortable.

We brought Mama Matibe home to Botswana, with a multitude of family members available to help out and keep her company. After a while, brothers and sisters returned to their homes, and Phil and I, along with his cousin's wife, Martha, cared for her. She enjoyed her Methodist music on YouTube, chatting and video chatting on WhatsApp with her children, grandchildren, brothers and sisters, and various nieces and nephews--her voice giving the impression that her mind and body were strong. We moved her bed close to the fireplace (it is winter here) and she basked in the warmth of the fire, drinking her tea, intermittently resting and chatting. She was brave, could be a bit crotchety as you might imagine an old nurse could be, and unwavering in her wish to will herself to health. She wasn't ready to give up the fight, Mama Matibe had that bullishness of an old matriarch elephant, ever guiding her siblings, children, and family members across ancient paths pursuing life, health, and happiness. 

On June 14, Mama's oedema had worsened to the point where the swelling that had begun in her feet crept to her waist, and no amount of resting or propping her legs up reduced the swelling. We called her gracious doctor here in Botswana, who lovingly made house calls especially for her. A Zimbabwean transplant in Botswana, coincidentally from the same village as Mama, he is a large man both in size and presence, and was a great comfort to her. We prepared to take her to Athelon, the hospital here in Lobatse, where they would intravenously give her medication to help with the swelling.  

Once admitted, she had a team of amazing doctors who looked after her as though she were their mother, too. We quietly marked the passing of Phil's 50th birthday on the 16th of June without fanfare, as Mama's condition did not improve. Phil called the family and advised that they should come immediately. Mama stated in her nurse's matter-of-fact tone, she was dying. Precious, Phil's sister from Austin, was set to arrive on Sunday; his brothers Petros and Takalani, and sister Tina, were driving into Botswana from Zimbabwe. Mama's brother, Abel was arriving from Scotland, with his daughter Gwenneth and her husband Jonathan, driving from South Africa also on Sunday. We made arrangements for Percy, Phil's brother from Scotland, to arrive in Gaborone. On Sunday, the family willingly made the decision to process her discharge from the hospital and bring her home. A good friend of ours called the local Methodist minister on Monday night, he came and administered her last communion, prayed for peace and rest, and the family sang the most beautiful, bittersweet hymns. 

On Tuesday, June 20th, Precious came to wake those that were sleeping around 2 a.m. We gathered around Mama's bedside, taking turns holding her hand and sitting with her. She spoke little. It was difficult for her to breathe, even with her oxygen machine, her heart was just not pumping like it was supposed to. She quietly took her last breath around 6:40. 

Words and emotions don't always go together, or match in a way that accurately describe each other, so I'm afraid my writing doesn't quite justify the depth of the family's loss.  

Arrangements were made for repatriation to Zimbabwe, where she would be buried next to Phil's father. Over the next few days, we were graciously showered by visits from friends who have become part of our family in Botswana. We gathered around a big fire each night, grieved, and celebrated Mama's life. Then she went home. 

Because both Phil and Precious have political asylum from the United States, they are not allowed to enter Zimbabwe. The heartache, if possible, became worse as we had to say good-bye at the border. We are comforted knowing she had a beautiful home-going, as her family escorted her, and she was met by her niece, Kudzai, who carried out the funeral arrangements on the Zimbabwean side.

Often times there are people in our lives who play such an important role: friend, confidant, business partner... brother. Davison Charamba is all of the above. Davison, thank you for being there for all of the Matibe's and for Mama, your presence and your words were such a comfort. And thanks to you and Barbara for representing Phil and I in Zim at the funeral. Words are not enough to express our gratitude.

Brother-in-law is a tag that denotes a sister's spouse. Regis Musabika, you are a best friend before a relative. Thank you for your unending, often quiet - never waivering, support.

Andrew, we are so blessed that you were able to spend time with us in Botswana, and with Mama - who also called you "son".

Grief is difficult to describe. It is not just a sadness, but something that is all-encompassing and affects us all in different ways. Healing is not a thing, either, because you cannot replace a hole in your heart, you can only try to fill it with love and remembrance. So this blog is especially for all of us who have experienced loss and grief, and yet hold on to the love that gives us strength to keep on keepin' on. Love to you all.

From the Burial Programme: "Pheobie Matibe was born in Lower Gwelo on 21 May, 1942 to parents Jonathan Bafana and Sophie (Chinhengo) Mpunzwana. She attended Marshal Hartley Mission for her primary school education. After completing standard 6, she trained as a State Certified Nurse at Morgenster Mission, which is where she met her husband, Philemon.  During working life, Pheobie worked at Morgenster Mission Doma between Chinhoyi, Mhangura, Alaska and Shackleton Mines in Mashonaland East, Epoch Mine in Filabusi, Dalny Mine Clinic in Chakari and finally Chegutu Nursing Home. She retired in 1998. Pheobie found her church home at House of Grace in Chegutu where she was a regular member, and loved to sing. Pheobie is survived by her six children: Petros (Tambudzai) Matibe, Chegutu, Zimbabwe; Philemon (Karen) Matibe, Lobatse, Botswana; Takalanai (Paula) Matibe, Chegutu, Zimbabwe; Precious (Regis) Musabika, Austin, Texas; Tina (Herbert) Tumbare, Harare, Zimbabwe; and Percy (Tadiwa) Matibe, Edinburgh, Scotland; eighteen grandchildren: Petros Jr., Rachel, Tina, and Ruth (Petros) Matibe; Phoebe, Mpho (Phil) Matibe; Bradley, Brandon, Ethan, Megan (Precious) Musabika; Nigel, Nadine, Nyla (Takalani) Matibe; Munya, Takudzwa, Danai (Tina) Mahovo; Hope and Tyler (Percy) Matibe; three brothers: Abel (Betty) Mpunzwana, Killian (Lynn) Mpunzwana, and Phillip (Chipo) Mpunzwana; four sisters: Clara (Frank), Gertrude (Elijah) Sesoma; Priscilla (Adam) Samasuwo; Mavis (Patrick) Masilo; and many special nephews and nieces, cousins, relatives, and friends, including Felistas Musabika, Precious' mother-in-law. She was preceded in death by her parents, husband Philemon, brothers Marlon and Pascal, sister Miriam, and one grandchild, Chase Musabika.