I hate fireworks.
Three times a year, New Year’s Eve, Guy Fawkes and Diwali, I spend in the cupboard with my cats, all of us dosed with Rescue Remedy, curtains and windows closed and sound-deadening headphones.
I know, it’s a pathetic picture of a grandmother but the crescendo of raw ragged noise and thundering explosions, to me, has been climbing to the point where, extreme physical reactions aside, it actually hurts my remaining eardrum if I don’t wear my headphones.
How my cats tolerate it, I have no idea.
Perhaps being zonked on Rescue Remedy helps.
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Why in a country struggling to throw off the shackles of colonialism we still celebrate Guy Fawkes, is an utter mystery to me.
According to parliament.uk, Fawkes was arrested on 4 November in 1605 when his explosives were discovered in a tunnel under parliament.
He was subsequently tortured for information and, on 31 January 1606, executed.
And across the world, the prevention of his act of violence is celebrated with a far greater violence collectively than Fawkes himself could ever have wished for.
Yet here we are in South Africa, celebrating the survival of the seat of the British Empire. Make it make sense.
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Diwali, as a religious holiday, is difficult to shout about. We have an incredibly resourceful and proud Hindu population in this country with deep generational ties to customs and traditions.
The Times of India notes: Diwali is often referred to as the “Festival of Lights.”
People illuminate their homes with diyas – an oil lamp made from clay or mud with a cotton wick dipped in oil or ghee – candles and decorative lights symbolising the victory of light over darkness.
Interestingly, it notes for 2023, while fireworks and crackers are an integral part of Diwali celebrations, “due to [the] rise on the pollution of cities, people should celebrate this Diwali as an ecofriendly Diwali”.
Light as a focus for meditation, to carry messages from the heart of thanks and requests for guidance to departed loved ones or into the universe for peace, or even to celebrate the victory of light over darkness is a powerful tool.
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But Sunday night, somewhere in Sandton, was reminiscent of a war zone.
There was no peace, there was no love, just an unending crash of noise.
What about thunder, you ask.
Tuesday night’s 2am crash of thunder after the hailstorm left me with a fat lump on my head when I snap-rolled out of bed, smacking the bedside table with my head and leopard crawled blindly into a cupboard door.
Fun times.
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Usually, if I see the lighting, I can brace for the crack of thunder. Otherwise, I’m on the floor and just deal with it there.
I can’t see the fireworks in Sandton. I’m sure they are very pretty. But all I experience is crash after crash after knee-collapsing crash.
Hence the headphones/rescue/cupboard scenario.
I’m probably one of very few people who suffers extreme reactions to any explosions I don’t have an eye on, or am not expecting.
I’m not saying stop Diwali, not at all.
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It’s a festival all of us should be taking part in as we try to find a moment of peace. And in this tumultuous world we live in any victory over darkness needs to be celebrated.
But do we have to go to war to earn that victory?
New Year is a time of celebration and starting afresh. Enjoy.
I’ll be in the cupboard with my cats if you need me.