To easy adult friendships

I grew up struggling with friendships. Which is odd, considering that I went to one school for twelve years; which is one way of cultivating friendship: forced proximity. The one consistent friend I've had throughout my life is my sister, Athi. Some might say that doesn't count because we almost had no choice but to be friends. But it's also possible not to be friends with siblings (which is fine) so when one does find a friend in a sibling, it's a special kind of magic. I think my sister and I had to be friends because we simply needed each other to make sense of our crazy childhood. And without this foundational friendship I don't think I would know how to friendship (yes, it's a verb) as an adult. One of the lessons of the friendship has been the ebb and flow of friendship. It goes without saying that friendships morph and change over time. Athi and I went through a phase where we hardly saw each other. If we managed to see each other three times a year it felt like a miracle. We do not even talk everyday. In fact, it's thanks to whatsapp that we speak as often as we do; but none of this has diminished the bond we have and the awareness of the need to cultivate a friendship. It's doesn't just happen.

Another lesson from this friendship is what has inspired this blog post. Friendshipping with Athi has taught me about holding friendship lightly. A metaphor feels necessary here. Our friendship is like a flower; a succulent to be more specific. Succulents have very basic needs and by and large don't need a lot of attention. In fact, the less attention I give them, the more they are likely to flourish. It's almost impossible to kill a succulent. And this is what it means to hold lightly: it is to understand that the succulent needs water and sunshine but by and large it will grow without much of a fuss from me. This is how I have navigated my friendship with Athi and I've been applying to more of my adult friendships. Holding friendship lightly is trusting that it will do what it needs to do in order to exist. It does not need to be coddled, it doesn't need too much water and yet it will grow and flower. Succulents are the only plants in my garden which flourish best when I am away from home for a very long time. And when I realised that they continue to flourish without too much effort on my side, I loved them even more. Perhaps I'm in the season of wanting to hold love lightly and trust it more. And friendships have helped me do that.

A few years ago, Milisuthando Bongela and I had a podcast uMoya: On African Spirituality. One of our episodes was "The spirituality of friendship". I love all ten episodes from that season but the friendship episode has been coming to mind a lot. I won't regurgitate the episode here because I think it's worth a listen. One of the issues we covered in that episode was about our early lessons in friendship. My grandmother taught me about friendship. I remember her one bestie, uMamtolo, who always seemed to be around. I have memories of them sitting talking, no funfare, just being in each other's lives, sharing resources and their children being friends. While Mama didn't have a lot of friends coming in and out of her life in a regular way, there a friendships she spoke of so regularly, I couldn't tell if she mourned the friendships or understood them as passing phases in her life. Growing up with these examples of friendships, I learned the importance of allowing friendships to change shape and sometimes to let them go, like trees shedding leaves.

Fast forward to the past four years. I won't go into how 2020 changed friendships and became a threshhold for many relationships. When I moved back to Cape Town in 2021 I had to recalibrate friendships. Old and new. When I look back on the past four years and look at the ways in which new friendships have formed and old ones have changed, I am grateful for the foundational lessons I've shared above. Starting new friendships as an adult has often felt like it needs a new manual. Friends and I have often laughed that our 30s feel like the adult version of adolescents, istage, where everything can sometimes feels like it's in transition. And there's been a weird thing about insecurity in adult friendships. Because I've moved to different cities and friends have moved to other cities, I have observed the need for some kind of security in certain friendships. 

(I realise I have used friendship here without fully explaining the nature of the friendships as there are many categories for friendships: work/school/childhood/church/acquaintances etc.That's a blog post for another day.)

And sometimes I don't know what I mean by security. Perhaps it is akin to a safety that the friendship is still meaningful even with the passing of time. The friendships which have endured the transitions of adulthood are the ones which wired in security from the beginning. I have friendships which I intuitively knew from day one: this person is here to stay. I haven't had to force the friendship, it just simply is. Some of these friendships I have left alone for months and years and when we return to each other, we pick up right where we left off and laugh about everything else that we may not be able to get to. Some of this happens in quick deep dive conversations at the airport or an event followed by a long catch up and then silence again. Nothing is lost. The love is still there and the familiarity is still there. But there's a recognition that there's been a lot of growth. 

At the heart of these thoughts, is an appreciation for easy adult friendships. Friendships which endure with time and allow changes to happen to the friendship. I guess I am also interested in the nature of love and what time and place (particularly distance and proximity) can do to relationships. There are some friendships that need proximity in order to survive. Others need time and more breathing space. The trick is perhaps to know what each friendship needs in every season of our lives. A bit like a garden (gosh, I'm really taking this metaphor too far!). Some flowers disappear in summer and return in winter. Others remain throughout the year and are always at the risk of being taken for granted. 

Having moved from Joburg to Cape Town, I have been quite torn about how to navigate some friendships in this transition. I have decided not to make too many plans when I visit Joburg. Otherwise I get overwhelmed. Each trip has different purposes and different friends will be cultivated with each trip. I used to feel the need to touch base with as many people as possible and now I mostly tell my host (usually a friend) and one or two other people. I have decided there's a magic in leaving room for surprises. Not that I am not intentional about who I reconnect with in every visit. But rather it's the only way I can friendship with those far away right now. I have to believe that my friends love me enough not to hold anything against me with the passing of time. That with every passing month and year there's a grace that allows the friendship to grow and reshape into something we can wake up to one day and smile when there's a phone call after many years, or hug each other deeply every time we see each other.

I had imagined this blog post would have been a poem. I have been ideating an ode to my friends since I listened to Safia Elhillo's "Ode to My Homegirls" on Poetry Unbound. One last lesson these transition years have taught me: I hit the friendship jackpot. Every friend I have made, kept and let go has shaped me in the most profound ways. I have new friendships that leave me thinking "gosh, I didn't even know I needed you and here you are making me laugh!". I have old friendships that leave me feeling warm and fuzzy because it is so edifying to watch people grow over decades. Yes, I now have friends I've known for almost 3 decades; what magic!