The Very First Time

I remember the first time I rode a bicycle - I was nervous but excited. Dad would hold my bicycle so I wouldn’t fall. I was so scared that I made sure that he did not to let go, but somehow, when I was paying more attention on my footwork and road ahead, I noticed that he wasn’t there anymore. I looked back and saw that he was no longer holding me. My heart begun pounding - I knew that since he let go the potential of me falling off and getting injured was greater. I felt safe with dad near, but now he had let go.  But I didn’t fall (at least not that day). I got the hang of riding a bicycle, but my dad had to let go and let me be on my own so I could learn. 

Growing up I didn’t mind being surrounded by people, whether my family or people at my church because I felt comforted knowing that I was not alone and that I wouldn’t ‘fall’ because someone was always around to hold me up. This made me very dependent. As a last born (the treasure of the family if I might add), when the time came for me to be on my own there was a problem. Not only because of my dependence but also because my parents are those overprotective parents. I had never gone to a sleepover; my parents didn’t want me to be an inconvenience to other people (and they were lowkey afraid that something would go wrong). The only time I was away from home overnight was when I went to a school or church camp and even then, mom would call 50 times a day to make sure I was okay. 

After eighteen years of being home, I was tired. I was tired of living my life around the same people, and tired of living in the same house. I couldn’t wait to go to college - I needed a change of scenery; new faces, new experiences, and the freedom to do whatever, whenever. I was certain that once I got to college that I would start ‘living’, but I was afraid that my parents would struggle with letting go of me, but having raised two daughters before me, they realized that they had to let go so I would be able to start building a life for myself. 

This year is my very first time out of the Ndlovu household and boy-oh-boy has it been tough. It’s been 6 months now that I have been on my own, and it has been nice living on my own because I get to be independent and act like I’m adulting whenever I buy groceries or clothes on my own; but being on my own also means being responsible and making my own decisions, and that has not been easy. I know most people my age are excited about the freedom of doing whatever, whenever with no one telling you what to do but that has been the difficult part. I know I said that I was tired of living my life around the same people, but now with every chance I get, I run back to those people, because as much as they have let me go; after experiencing a little of the real world, I wish to be held again. 

Even though my parents (including the deputy parent aka Gugu) and church family are not here to tell me what to do and how to do things, the Holy Spirit is my parent now. He is the wise voice that speaks over my life and guides me through every little decision I must make every day. I honestly expected him to speak in this powerful, harsh voice stopping me from partying or from slapping that one person I don’t like but he is very subtle, almost like a whisper and he reminds me every time that I am the light of the world.

So, like learning to ride a bicycle, I am trying to independently find my balance and move myself forward – with my family behind me cheering me on and my God beside me, leading me along.

“You are the light of the world- like a city on a hilltop that cannot be hidden… In the same way, let your good deeds shine out for all to see so that everyone will praise your heavenly Father"– Matthew 5:14,16 (NLT) 

Aphelele Ndlovu is a first-year Broadcast Journalism student at Boston Media House. An extrovert and born leader, she loves people and loves God. She enjoys singing, talking, and is now trying her hand at writing. You can follow her @aphe_lyion on Instagram