There is a sense of nostalgia hanging heavy in the air; yet, the irony being, that the majority of the guests present are yet to experience this stage of life. The dining hall is filled with murmured conversations – grandparents eager to share the latest gossip doing the rounds in the retirement village. Entire families file in one after another, some comprising three or four generations. Mandatory introductions are executed, reluctant grandsons being dragged from table to table to be shown off for being accepted into Honours. Handshakes are soft and papery; kisses on cheeks like warm silk.

The venue feels almost clinical, not in the least bit due to the frail care wing situated across the courtyard from the dining area. There has been an attempt to contrast the stark white, tiled floors by painting the walls teal green and salmon. An interesting choice but it does the trick. Breaking the harshness of the bold walls, intricate oil-pastel drawings of tropical birds and butterflies created by one of the residents hang proudly. You can’t help but be completely distracted by their beauty – perhaps intentional? And despite the comforting aromas of this Sunday’s buffet offerings, there is a faint smell of disinfectant that would appear almost obligatory for this type of setting. It is notable, not because it is off-putting, but rather because it is unfamiliar. A gentle reminder that this is not an ordinary restaurant.

Glancing around the room, which is no bigger than a hospital ward, it is possible to pick out the most striking of familial resemblances at each table. Deep-set eyes that have been passed down from generation to generation or perhaps a long lost furrow between the eyebrows that has re-emerged in the face of a newborn great-grandchild. Most are alive with excited conversations, but dotted amongst tables of ten are tables set for two, exclusively occupied by aged couples, eating in silence. Perhaps they have nothing to say. Perhaps they don’t need to. Canes, walkers and mopeds are placed neatly next to the tables, like extended family members. And although everyone tries to keep conversations within earshot of those seated amongst them, every now and again someone lets out a bellow of laughter or a shrill of a giggle from a little girl pierces the air.

Elegant old ladies wearing pearls and gaudy, clip-on earrings transports one back to a time in which nothing but wearing “Sunday best” would do for a family lunch. And, lest they be overshadowed by their wives, the gentlemen don no less than a suit jacket and tie. There is something quite humbling about being surrounded by the elderly. The food, although embellished with fancy names, tastes wholesome and comforting. One could almost be persuaded into believing that Gumbo tastes better pureed.

And yet despite the unconventional surroundings for a traditional family lunch, smiles and laughter are in abundance, much like the food. The occasion seems, at first, to be a simple gathering of families but it is much more than that. So much more.

 

A written assignment for a short course at the University of Cape Town – 2017