I was at Hoffman Square waiting for a bus, sitting next to two young men, one tall and the other short. They appeared to have attended a health-related event, evident from the branded files they were holding in their hands.“We clapped hands until the palms were red and now they are sore. They should have provided the ointment,” the short one said with palms facing up. They were doing the post-mortem of the event.“Clap your hands for your health if you think your health is important to you.“Clap your hands for your health if you think you need to show your health.“Clap your hands if you think you need to take responsibility for your health.”They would laugh loudly, repeat the words, then sing and laugh. The rhythm was good and I smiled discreetly. I didn’t want the fun to stop. “The exercises for showing our health were quite strenuous. Jumping up and down, singing, laughing, playing morabaraba, and what else did we do?” the tall one asked, while smiling.The short one reminded him. “Walking the runway like fashion models, drawing and . . . and . . .” He quickly remembered and said: “Writing our stories in the journal provided.”“What I discovered was the importance of health. I could not have done what we did without my health. I also understood why we need to be responsible for the health we own,” the other one said. “Yes, owning something is good, but the responsibility coming with that! It’s being said that health is so common we tend to take it for granted. “We do not invest in it, because the rewards are so far-fetched. This is until we experience illness,” the other said. The two young men are dancers at Pacofs and love what they do. “Maybe one needs to do what one loves and what one is passionate about to appreciate what your health can do for you,” the tall one said, now excited.They talked about a man who went to a clinic because of an illness at that time and how he had told the nurse: “Tell me what to do, because you have been trained and I will do it.”They were still talking about it when their bus came and they were gone. It was time for me to laugh freely and I reflected on the words of that man at the clinic.Gosh, such determination and confidence. Give that man a fruit!My bus arrived. Inside I found a seat unoccupied. I looked through the window where we were seated. I clapped my hands spontaneously. Other passengers looked at me with surprise. I did not care. I was also clapping my hands for my health just like those two young men. ) Express welcomes anyone to contribute to the weekly column. There is no payment for writers. Send your opinion piece (not exceeding 500 words in Sotho or English) via email to email@example.com. Writers are welcome to send articles of a spiritual nature.