Unless it’s something like a habit you cultivate later, I think it’s almost Impossible as an African child to become a hoarder. And there’s a distinct reason why. A lot of us aren’t only children. I think as an only child it is possible to want to hold onto things but a majority of us, have that tendency, for those who had, slashed from little.
I’ll use my background.
We’re a lot of girls in my family. And I’m not the last. I’m not the first either and I still have three younger ones after me. So, it was very clear. Whatever you have, get it not just because of you, but with the notion that you’ll share it or hand it over as soon as you use it to your younger ones. From edibles like snacks where my Dad would tell me(that was averse to sharing things) to make sure that even if I didn’t want to share a snack, to have at least made sure I got some for my sisters.
And then to things like books, school uniforms, clothes and even toys. I’d hear statements like, “Make sure to handle your textbooks well. You know your younger sisters may still use it.” The same went for school uniforms and of course, toys. I did try, severally, to hoard toys but they were also given to me by my elder siblings so I just knew there were no two ways about passing them down.
The funniest thing about passing things down is that at least for my family, it had nothing to do with our financial status. If I can recall, we had a lot of fancy outings and things that not many people had but my parents tried and did achieve it, they value of letting things go. Dad would say, “Why hold onto it when you can use it to bless someone’s life instead?” And after a little pause, he’d add with a chuckle. “When you think of it, isn’t that two blessings? Because you know it’ll come back to you.” From then on, a whole lesson on giving and the blessings of it will be launched. Can’t go into it right now though. Lol
Point is, we grew up not just not hoarding, but not being able to hoard. I do appreciate the sentimentality of keeping things, but it always feels more liberating to let it go. I tried hard to think of any person I was close to that was a hoarder but I never really had friends that I noticed that from and even if they may have, I don’t usually get too close to notice.
But I had a friend I was exceedingly close with once, and I’d go to her house almost every other day. She was a regular girl and she lived in her family house. She was an only child but was never a hoarder. The hoarder there was her Aunt, who stayed in the room opposite hers. As her Aunt was quite fond of me, she’d call me over to her room to talk a bit each time I came to visit.
And each time was hell.
She had clothes strewn everywhere. I’m talking from the floor to the bed to even the windows. And it was just clothes. There were a lot of things that each time I came, I’d try to focus on her face alone as daring to look anywhere else would make my head spin. I knew there was nothing I could say to her and usually, we tread on cautious ground when addressing an issue to someone older because the slightest thing can and will be taken as an insult.
But one day, (which was timely because my friend and I stopped being close soon after) I gathered the courage and asked her why her room was like that. Why there were so many things lying about. I forgot to add that sometimes I’d pass by her room to my friend’s room and meet her weeping. She almost always left her doors open so this was easy to see.
When I asked her in my most polite voice and with enough emotion to let her know that I was not judging her but genuinely cared, she said that I probably thought she was a messy person. But that each item in the room meant something profound to her. That each item held memories. Memories that she couldn’t let go. When I asked if those memories caused her pain and she replied in the affirmative, I asked her, “Then why can’t you let them go?”
It wasn’t in my place to pry and frankly, I didn’t need to. I let her know that whatever is constantly causing her pain and not letting her move forward is enough for her to do away with. This happened a few years ago and I didn’t say a word about it afterwards. I don’t know if she did it but I saw a picture of her about six months ago and she genuinely looked happier than I’d ever seen her so I hope she could finally let it go.
How this impacted my ideas of minimalism is that more than ever, I vowed to let go of things, physically and mentally that held me captive. A conscious effort to declutter my mind and my environment is the first step to not just libertarian myself of mental burden but having sound health as well. We can’t stretch our wings and fly, and neither can we receive the blessings intended to come our way if our palms are perpetually in a fist. Let loose. Let Free.
Image is mine.
