Waters Edge

I'm sitting alone on the edge of Lake Tana. I've dreamed of moments like this. For the first half of this year I kept dreaming a lot about water. Sometimes it was ocean blue, other times it was this shade of dark, hypnotising brown. I'm always afraid of these dreams. The dark water, coming menacingly closer. I always feel like itàs going to swallow me up. I've even googled the meaning of dreams about water. Apparently it symbolises a leap that your subconscious is taking into the unknown.

This is the first un-shapperoned (mind my spelling) excursion I've taken since I arrived. I just left my hotel room, blasting Enya on my MP3 player and having a moment of solitude in Bahar Dar.

Paradise is so rich to be perceived as so poor, on the flight from Addis I came to the conclusion that people of Ethiopia just want to be left in peace. To tend their land, worship their God, be one with nature and their spirituality. The sun is going to be setting soon. I did not expect to find a personified vision of my fears in the land of my dreams. Listening to *I dreamt that you loved me still the same* by Enya.

I imagine walking down this broken bridge, to reach the edget and just keep walking. I imagine the waves, the cool water on my feet. I'd be in a trance, ready to confront whatever is on the edget of the bridge. This is by no means a suicidal imagining, but one that touches the core of my fear. Like the fear of quitting or dying alone or never being a mom.

Just like this sunset, my sunset to one of the chapters of my life is near. There is something great on the other side of this. The tide is getting stronger, I'm gonna have to leave this spot soon, before the water gets too close. After all, today is not that day. This is not my ending, but I have no doubt that there is something I left home with, that I will not be returning home with. Not sure what it is yet though. The one thing I love about Paradise, God doesn't whisper, he speaks very clearly. In the flavours, the fragrances, the feelings. Not to mention the beautiful visual landscapes. I love Paradise, I really do.

Bahir Dar

12 September 2011 (1 Jan 2004 in the Ethiopian calendar)

I landed in Bahir Dar this afternoon, Salomon took me on a city tour, we went to emperor Haille Selase's palace, there were these kids outside and they gave me these flowers, they really smell nice, I thought that was too cute! We took a drive around town and then I checked in at the hotel. From my room there's a good view of Lake Tana. The next couple of entries will be taken straight from my journal, as I wrote them. I won't add or subtract from any of it, just put them down as they are...

A day in the country-side

After I recovered from my near-death experience, Girma took me out for lunch. I felt really bad making this request: Please get me something I've heard of before. He took me to an Italian restaurant and I had pizza.

Afterwards we took a drive into the country-side, I've been in the city since I arrived and just wanted to experience some of the beautifl scenery. Whilst we were driving, it hit me one again just how much like paradise Ethiopia is.

In Paradise

In paradise, everything is bright and beautiful.
The colours are brighter in paradise, the fragrances richer.
In paradise the master bows to the servant, the poor walk with their heads up.

In paradise, the exotic flavours, the delicious aromas, are all part of a daily feast.
Driving through the countryside of paradise I discovered 1000 shades of green,
I bought beautiful yellow flowers, handpicked especially for me,
I sipped on the honey liquer, only made in the mountains of paradise,
I danced to the ancient melodies of the people of paradise.
We ate, we danced, we lived.

I fell in love with paradise, with it's richness, it's beauty, it's innocence and most especially it's honesty.

2 Parts Salt, 1 Part Sugar...

Cishe ngafa! I know I'm prone to being a little dramatic but this morning I was convinced I was dying. You know that moment when you reminisce on your life and think 'I've lived a full rich life, it's okay if this is my time to go.'
Theatrics aside, I woke up with the worst tummy ache of my life! I was convinced I must have Cholera or some other colourful exotic illness. I drank tons of water but it just didn't help. I lay curled in bed, wondering what everyone would be wearing to my funeral. Then I suddenly remembered, in severe cases of upset tummies the cure is to mix water with 2 parts salt and 1 part sugar. I dragged myself to the kitchen, couldn't find a mug and eventually went to the liquour cabinet in the dining room. Got a wine glass and headed to the kitchen. I was surprised when the concoction worked. For the next two hours I lay in bed, feeling the life coming back into my joints and thanking God for the gift of being alive!

In Paradise with Kiki

Day 2: Woke up to a beautiful sunrise. I made friends with Kiki today, she's Girma's dog. She sits next to me and lets me play with her fur, this wouldn't be anything spectacular if I didn't have a huge dislike for pets. Since my dog died when I was 7, I decided emotional relationships with animals only end in heart-ache so I stay away. But kiki's good people, it's great to sit in the garden and feel her fur under my palm, she likes it when I tickle her back.

Was left alone for most of the morning, well just me and the helper. Sweet old woman, the only problem was that she speaks only Italian and Ahmaric and I only speak Zulu, a bit of Xhosa and English. So Gogo (as she will be referred to going forward) and I decide to go for a walk to the shops. We eventually found a guy to translate to both of us what we wanted to say. The guy was pretty cool, he gave us a lift in his taxi to the money exchange place. On the taxi ride I met this guy from Nigeria, he immediately asked me where I'm from. Had the urge to say: 'Down the road' but I resisted it.

Gogo and I eventually reached the money exchange place, but it was lunch time and they were out. So we went back home. Trying to make sense of each others words all the way, but in the end we'd just smile to each other. Literally 2 seconds after we got inside the house, it started raining. But like seriously heavy rain. Thank God for the taxi guy who gave us a lift!


Girma took me to Yimchal for lunch. We feasted on traditional raw meat. Lots and lots of raw meat. I love the communal eating culture. 5 of us all eating from one platter. The meat was Divine! Had it with bread, spices and washed it down with traditional coffee. Awesome!

The evening was too crazy! We went out to 3 clubs, the first one had good music but no crowd. The 2nd one had tons of people but no one was dancing. And then.... We hit Platinum. Like for real, the club is called Platinum. OMW! The design is like Taboo, three levels and it's crazy fun! The DJ was on fire! We danced and danced and danced. I think we eventually got home at 3, I never imagined having such a kick-ass party nite in Addis.

Tomorrow is New Years Eve...

The child is the father of the man...

Day 1 - Flying from JHB to Addis. Sat next to an Ethiopian doctor on the plane, such a fascinating character. He lives in Botswana and was in transit. Throughout the 5 hours we chatted a lot about a lot of things, but some interesting things we discussed were about Ethiopia, he told me that someone once described Ethiopia as a God-Zone. I canàt help but agree! An interesting subject we talked about was the value of your upbringing on you as an adult. He told me about this ancient Proverb: The child is the father of the man. This basically means that our behaviour as adults is often guided by what we experienced as children. If you grew up believing that you are inferior, you will carry that belief with you into adulthood.

We also had an interesting conversation about Narcissism and how narcissists hold an unrealistically inflated view of themselves, but the moment they encounter someone they see as superior, they shrink and feel like theyàre not worth anything.

As mentioned, we talked a lot about a lot, but I enjoyed the interaction.

Two things that were constantly on my mind during this flight were: What do I want to make of this trip and What does My African Dream look like? I wrote a bit in my journal about both subjects, but still need to give both questions more thought.

As it turns out, the Banyana Banyana team is playing Ethiopia this Sunday so they were on the same flight as us. I got to meet the captain, Amanda Dlamini *super-groupie-moment*, we took a pic and I got chatting to some of the other team members as well.

Festo (Girmaàs driver) picked me up from the airport, then we drove to Girma's house. The contrast between the haves and the have-nots is incredible in Addis, that was my first view of Ethiopia. We're staying at this beautitful home with high walls and a gorgeous garden, but next door is a tin shack. This is not new, eMlazi in Durban has the same, but I always wonder about this gap and how the 'have-nots' feel each time they see those with more...

Last night Girma and I went out with one of his friends. They'd been fasting so could only have something to eat after midnight. By the time we went out most places were closed. But we found one and had a great platter. We then came home, had a few glasses of wine and sat chatting for a while. Then it was bedtime.

I felt the 'God-Zone sense since I landed in Addis. I was writing during the flight about Joy. It's not a feeling of ecstacy but more a feeling that things are 'grand' (tsotsi taal) and in equilibrium. I felt that sense of peace and contentment when I arrived and it's been with me since then. I'm in my spiritual home here and I feel like I'm reuniting with something I once had...

The Meaning of Life (part 2)

Why do men go to war? The same reason that men fall in love.

It is that which brings out the strongest and weakest in us that is ever worth pursuing.

An Hour with my head on Madiba's lap

Someone once asked me, if you could have anything in the world you could ever want, what would you ask for? I answered: An Hour with my head on Madiba's Lap.

He is considered the greatest hero of our time, a legend. Some would wonder why I would ask for an hour on his lap. What would you ask him? What would you say to him?

It might come as a surprise that my answer to both these questions is... Nothing. I'd just want to spend an hour on Madiba's lap.

I see the day in my head. The old man, knowing his time is near, opens the doors to a few, they can come and spend an hour with him. Intellectuals would bring their note books, ask him about the meaning of life. Write down every word that left his wise, old lips.

But then I would enter the room. What's your question my child? Nothing Tata, I just want to sit with you for a while, lay my head on your lap.

Surprised at first? Thetha my child, I don't have much time left.

I know Tata, that's why I'm more than happy to just be in your presence. Sit with you, listen to you inhale and exhale. That's more than I could ask for.

I see us sitting there, half an hour goes by, then another 20 minutes. Your time is almost up my child, are you sure you just want to sit here, saying nothing.

Ewe Tata. This is the reason I came here.

Five minutes before I have to leave, he speaks up.

Why did you come here?

I look up at him. Tata, just like everyone else, I came to discover the man behind the legend. I came to spend time with you.

What do you mean?

I'm just a child Tata, I can't for a second assume that in an hour I could inherit your wisdom. So I decided that in my hour, I'd just let us both be. I'm from an African generation that's always looking backwards, we swarm to the house of a 90-something old man, hoping to find ourselves. I was hoping to find some of you, in me.

And did you?

I guess the polite answer Tata would be that I did. You're just a man. You grew up on umngqushu no mxhelo like we all did. You had to go uyoluka, you had your own fears and dreams and desires like we all did. They don't mention that when they name every street and monument and mall after you.

Why did you want to?

Because I wake up every morning Tata and feel like there's nothing Mandela about me. I battle with defining this strong desire, always telling me that I'm meant to lead. Nothing about me is majestic or heroic. But I feel it deep inside me, the truth that chooses to whisper rather than shout. The truth that says, You Are Greatness!

So, why don't you believe it.

It's not that I don't believe it, it's more that I don't believe anyone but Me could believe it. You weren't born an icon, you were just a man. Even a boy, once upon a time. But you chose to believe it. But in my generation, we don't believe that within us lies any form of greatness. We exist, survive, get by. We don't have any heroic battles to fight to prove our worth, we just live.

My child. Listen to me. I am not Mandela, I am not the inflated perception that the world would have you believe I am. I'm just a man, a man who listened to his inner voice, and followed it.

I know. That's why I didn't come here to hear you speak. I came here to listen to your silence. To hear the one thing that your words can never say. That you and me are the same level of both greatness and weakness.

We both sat in silence. Waiting for the knock on the door, I knew my time was up.

As we heard the knock, I stood up, lifting my head from his lap.

The thing is Tata, Africa's children need to know this. WE are the greatness that gave birth to the likes of you. We, inherently have all it takes to excel and achieve greatness. But we've forgotten that. We've become so accustomed to being beggars and slaves and the wretched of the earth.

Thank you Tata for reminding me, for reminding me not of who you are, but of what I Am. God bless you,

I wish to marry a poor man...

I wish to marry a poor man,
A man whose heart is pure, and all he has to give.

I wish to marry a poor man,
A man who writes poems, picks wild flowers, dances in the rain.

I wish to marry a poor man,
A man who will sweat for each penny, a humble man.

I wish to marry a poor man,
A man who knows he’s not God, but there is a God who is.

I wish to marry a poor man,
A man who values hard work, and not just shiny things.

I wish to marry a poor man,
A man who can pay with his pride, so his children get to eat.

I wish to marry a poor man,
A man who sees the beauty of sunrise, even when dark prevails.

I wish to marry a poor man,
A man who knows he is undeserving, but worthy nonetheless.

I wish to marry a poor man.
A kind, honest and simple man, who knows what it is to love.

And if I ever were to die, in the loving arms of a poor man.
I'd consider if a privilage, to have been loved by such a man.

“I am not a rich man. I’m a poor man with money. There’s a big difference.”
~Love in the Time of Cholera~

Being Different

Being different can be one of the most terrifying things in life. They all look the same, they think the same, they want the same things. But as you interact with them, you know you're different. Being different takes courage, if nothing else. I've been different most of my life. Always been the shortest, with the biggest eyes and (once upon a time, until my body caught up) the biggest head. Maybe when I was a child, I wanted to fit in, but even at that young age, I couldn't. So I decided to accept the fact that I'm different. Embraced it, celebrated it and accepted it as a part of who I'm meant to be.



I am different. Whilst other girls never leave home without their lip-gloss, I never leave home without my camera. Whilst other people define themselves on how much money they have, I define myself on when was the last time I spent writing something that means something to me. To be different is a blessing as well as a curse, compared to how you look at it.



I was the first black head-girl of my school, it was honestly the worst year of my life. But I was different, I'd prayed for it and when I got it, the responsibility and hardships that came with it, were at times too hard for me to handle. But I'm different. I'm a leader and although that year I learnt that leadership doesn't mean popularity, I learnt more than all the years I spent in school and varsity. Then varsity came, I wasn't cool, I had dreadlocks and wore long skirts, whilst other girls competed on who looked hottest in a short skirt, I spent my days studying and writing. I was different. When the end of the 3 years came, I had a degree in my hand, whilst others had regrets.



Being different is not necessarily something you choose, but all those who look at you and are intimidated by your guts, they may make fun of you, but they wish they could be that strong and brave. You owe it to you to go into the scary places within yourself, to face your own self doubt and to go for it.



The world isn't changed by people who maintain the status quo, but by those who dare to be different. Don't let fear and people's opinions rob you of your destiny. Be different, be weird, be yourself.

I Am an African

Today I came to the shocking reality, that I am an African. Not a politician, an economist or even a poet. Today I am an African. I feel the blood pulsing through my veins and I am terrified by the implication. Every child that has lost their life to every war, they are my brother and my sister. Each famine, each war, each political game at the expense of my people, was against me personally. I am an African. The voices that echo from the other side of the grave, they are there to remind me of what I am, I am an African. The pursuit of financial gain, of passing pleasures, they have been designed to convince me that there's more to life than the pursuit and plight for Africa's restoration. What I am, what I am did not begin on the day I was born, it was born the day those molecules joined and the universe was born. I am an African. I am the truth that will not be silenced, I am the voice that will echo in your ear long after I have become dust and my bones have been swallowed by the earth. I am an African. Allow my truth to penetrate your preoccupied mind, allow my relevance to distract your money and power hungry ambition. I am an African. I am rich in all the best that this earth has to offer, I am gentle, humble, have been blamed of being naive and barbaric at times, but after all is said and done, I am what I am. I am an African.

She Was A Lady...

I wrote this piece many, many years ago. Came across it as I was working on my latest book. Thought I'd share...

From the tip of her beautiful hair to the sole of her stylish shoe,
She was a Lady.
From the elegance of her walk, to the sincerity of her smile,
She was a Lady.

She had a quiet, understated strength about her,

She never needed to ask for respect or admiration, it was
hers for the taking.
Never wore a short skirt or bright make up to be seen,
Never raised her voice to be heard,
Never compromised her integrity to get ahead.
Some would call her a wholesome woman,
To me, she was a Lady.

She carried herself with pride, but never arrogance,
She was highly ambitious, but never ruthless,
She stood her ground assertively, but never forcefully.

She appreciated quality, but was never flashy.
She had a light-hearted side, but was never childish.
She enjoyed her life, but always with sophistication.

With each step she took, she seemed to be saying:
‘I will do what I do & I will do it well, but
if I am to do it the best I can, I need to do it my way:
Like A lady.’

Her devotion to God, to herself, made her the ultimate woman.

Yes, as I look at her, I must admit,

From the tip of her beautiful hair to the sole of her stylish shoe,
She was a Lady...

Dedicated to my beautiful mother...

Body Series - Touch

What were you thinking?

2011 - The Year to Elevate

What does it mean to elevate? I like the idea of going deeper and further and higher than I've ever been before. But with that comes the responsibility of working harder, being more disciplined and expecting more from myself. For me 2011 is the year of hard work. 2010 has come and gone and all it's achievements and failures are now in the past. We now look into the future, roll up our sleeves and get ready to give it our All once again. You can't elevate sitting on your back waiting for things to happen. One of my most recent resolutions is to do things I'm afraid of doing or that I find boring/depressing. If I'm to go further and deeper and higher... I need to overcome my own limitations. By so doing, I'll leave room for success.



There's an episode of Greys Anatomy where Mc Dreamy is faced with a difficult tumor on a patient which everyone thinks can't be operated on. He said something very profound that I've never been able to forget. "When everyone else is running scared, that's when I get inspired." Finding inspiration in the face of adversity is the key to elevation, I believe.



My wish for those I love (and myself) in 2011 is that we do not stand in our own way or become our own worst enemies. Stubborness, laziness, procrastination and excuses are very easy to adopt (as I often do. unfortunately). But just as we decide to entertain these habits, we are free to decide to let them go. I pray blessing, wisdom and perseverance on all my loved ones in the coming year.



But whatever we do, the greatest gift we can give ourselves is to be gentle on ourselves. Each day find time to appreciate what is great about you, what you admire, what you're proud of and what you're satisfied with in your own life.



Ozithobayo,
Mbali Jama

The Desire to Connect

In my life I’ve had the privilege of being counted amongst artists. Those who create and reflect the world to itself. Beautifully packaged and renamed: Art.

I fear the label as it implies that I took what was not and made it into what is. In my lifetime I have never been able to do that. I only connect what I am to what I am.

I see a world of contrasts, of black versus white, of good versus bad. I am both and I have but a duty to connect both to each other.



I have never known how to be anything but what and who I am. A hybrid creature who is truly and essentially what she is.

I dare to take a picture, connect it to a word, reveal a truth and inspire those who are disillusioned to say: I get it!

I have been fighting the contrasts between myself and have found comfort in the truth that is this: I am both.

Celebrate with me the dance of life, devour the diversity of all that you are and forgive yourself for all that you are not.



My greatest desire is to bring harmony to those who seek it.

Spiritually, artistically and physically. To be able to connect seemingly unrelated truths is an art in itself, but a truth nonetheless.

Ozithobayo:
Mbali Jama

The meaning of life...

To love. To be loved. To never forget your own insignificance. To never get used to the unspeakable violence and the vulgar disparity of life around you. To seek joy in the saddest places. To pursue beauty to its lair. To never simplify what is complicated or complicate what is simple. To respect strength, never power. Above all, to watch. To try and understand. To never look away. And never, never, to forget." - Arundhati Roy

The Dance - Oriah

I have sent you my invitation, the note inscribed on the palm of my hand by the fire of living. Don't jump up and shout, "Yes, this is what I want! Let's do it!" Just stand up quietly and dance with me.



Show me how you follow your deepest desires, spiralling down into the ache within the ache. And I will show you how I reach inward and open outward to feel the kiss of the Mystery, sweet lips on my own, everyday.



Don't tell me you want to hold the whole world in your heart. Show me how you turn away from making another wrong without abandoning yourself when you are hurt and afraid of being unloved.



Tell me a story of who you are, And see who I am in the stories I am living. And together we will remember that each of us always has a choice.



Don't tell me how wonderful things will be . . . some day. Show me you can risk being completely at peace, truly OK with the way things are right now in this moment and again in the next and the next and the next. . .



I have heard enough warrior stories of heroic daring. Tell me how you crumble when you hit the wall, the place you cannot go beyond by the strength of your own will. What carries you to the other side of that wall, to the fragile beauty of your own humanness?



And after we have shown each other how we have set and kept the clear, healthy boundaries that help us live side by side with each other, let us risk remembering that we never stop silently loving those we once loved out loud.



Take me to the places on the earth that teach you how to dance, the places where you can risk letting the world break your heart. And I will take you to the places where the earth beneath my feet and the stars overhead make my heart whole again and again.



Show me how you take care of business without letting business determine who you are. When the children are fed but still the voices within and around us shout that soul's desires have too high a price, let us remind each other that it is never about the money.



Show me how you offer to your people and the world the stories and the songs you want our children's children to remember, and I will show you how I struggle not to change the world, but to love it.



Sit beside me in long moments of shared solitude, knowing both our absolute aloneness and our undeniable belonging. Dance with me in the silence and in the sound of small daily words, holding neither against me at the end of the day.



And when the sound of all the declarations of our sincerest intentions has died away on the wind, dance with me in the infinite pause before the next great inhale of the breath that is breathing us all into being, not filling the emptiness from the outside or from within.



Don't say, "Yes!" Just take my hand and dance with me.

Dear Mr Too-Damn-Good

Sthandwa seyami inhliziyo,
Ngizwa ngishaywa uvalo
Uma ngibheka konke oyikho

Kungabe iqiniso ngempela ukuthi ungowami?

Bathi abanye bephilela ubumnandi,
Wena wakhetha ukuzithanda.
Bathi abanye bephilela imanje,
Wena wakhetha ukusebenzela ikusasa lethu.

Ingabe uyazazi nje kodwa ukuthi uthandiwe kangakanani,
Indlela ohlonipha ngayo, yenza uhlonipheke.
Indlela ozithobile ngayo, yenza kube lula ukukuthobela.

Uyindoda emadodeni, qhawe lami,
Unyinsizwa yoqobo sthandwa sami.

Akekho owake wangithokozisa futhi wangenelisa njengawe,
Ngokwo moya, ngokwo mphefumulo, ndlela zonke

Inhliziyo yami igcwele ukunethezeka,
Uyimpendulo yayo yonke imikhuleko yami.
Futhi injabulo onginika yona angikaze ngiyazi.

Ngibonga iNkosi yami, idlozi lami, ngawe
Mngani wami, Sthandwa sami, Myeni Wami.

(Dedicated to my 'sausage with onions' man)

When it's real...

 

My Happiness (Dedicated to Mr Too Damn Good)

My happiness is your hand on my back
As we walk,

My happiness is hearing the words 'Sthandwa Sami'
When you answer the phone

My happiness is even the fight we had about me needing
To be more careful not just for myself but for those who love me.

My happiness is the warm embrace your family
Gave me when we met & how I feel each time we're together

My happiness is the way you drove for 50km
with one hand, just coz I like it when u play with my hair

My happiness is you, me and Mya Angelou
Reciting 'I have loved you in & out of time'

My happiness is us standing on the balcony,
Discussing why the plot next door is empty,

My happiness is you holding me tightly & saying
'I wish you could see my heart right now'

My happiness is us holding hands as we pray,

My ultimate happiness is bringing you to the part of my heart
Where only you, me and God Reside...

Let me tell you something... (By Q)

This I will write standing angeke ngihlale phansi

This one I don’t need a paper and pen, leyo angisayi phathi.

This one is been in my mind and it’s just itching to come out.

This one I will write standing I need no comfort

Let me tell you something about my girlfriend

My girlfriend is a heroin in the making.

My girl friend is a“black-woman” this has its own meaning.

My girlfriend forever shines.

My girlfriend is strong yet fragile at times.

My girlfriend she is “iMbali”,

She is an all season rose,

She is content,

My girlfriend is humble.

She is inspired,

She is her Mother.

She is open minded,

She is a thinker,

She is blessed.

She is transparent,

I can read her thoughts.

Sometimes I’m ashamed to say I agree,

We share the same view.

She very opinionated,

She is deep.

My girlfriend is a lover.

Uyisingqazu se Ntombi,

Uyathandeka.

She is dark,

She is beautiful,

Uyindoniyamanzi.

She is a woman.

Through her big beautiful eyes

I see the world of beauty.

She is passionate.

My girlfriend is aspirant.

My girlfriend is expressive.

My girlfriend is a writer.

She is much, much more and she knows it...

If God allows,

My girlfriend is my Future Wife.

Black Man I love you... and I hate you

Black man,
For just being you, I love you
You are my better & stronger half.

Black man,
I love you for never complaining or crying,
But I hate you for seeing my own femininity as weakness

Black man,
I love you for how hard you work & sweat to provide,
But I hate you for forgetting that it’s you that I love, not your money

Black man,
I love you for your strength, for being the head of our home,
But I hate how you’ve forgotten to be a bit gentle sometimes

Black man,
I love you coz you don’t believe in hitting women,
But I hate you for the scars that your words leave behind

Black man,
I love you for the beautiful love and intimacy we share
But I hate you for sharing what’s mine with all those other women

Black man,
I love you for expecting nothing but the best from me,
But I hate you for expecting me to live with less from you

Black man,
I love you for seeing that I am beautiful,
But I hate you for not seeing me as anything more.

Black man,
I love you, for your humble heart,
But I hate you for not seeing just how amazing to me you are.

Black man,
I love you for trying so hard to be everything I need,
But I hate you for not realising it’s not necessary, coz all I need you already are

Black man,
I love you for loving me,
But I hate you for not letting your guard down, and letting me love you in return...

Invictus

Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.


In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.


Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find, me unafraid.


It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll.
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.

William Ernest Henley

21 Wise Ways to Live

ONE. Give people more than they expect and do it cheerfully.
TWO ... Marry a man/woman you love to talk to. As you get older, their conversational skills will be as important as any other.
THREE ... Don't believe all you hear, spend all you have or sleep all you want.

FOUR ... When you say, 'I love you ,' mean it.
FIVE ... When you say, 'I'm sorry,' look the person in the eye.
SIX ... Be engaged at least six months before you get married.

SEVEN ... Have at least one friend who challenges you often.
EIGHT ... Never laugh at anyone's dream. People who don't have dreams don't have much.
NINE ... Travel to a new place every year, it broadens your perspective.

TEN ... In disagreements, fight fairly. Never be harsh, rude or cruel.
ELEVEN ... Don't judge people by their relatives.
TWELVE ... Find your own answer to the question: ‘What makes me happy?’

THIRTEEN ... When someone asks you a question you don't want to answer, smile and ask, 'Why do you want to know?'
FOURTEEN ... Pray often... When you pray, remember to say ‘Thank You’.
FIFTEEN... Say 'Bless You' when you hear someone sneeze.

SIXTEEN ... When you lose, don't lose your dignity. Always keep your head up !
SEV ENTEEN ... Learn to forgive your parents, they’re only human.
EIGHTEEN ... Don't let a little dispute injure a great friendship..

NINETEEN ... When you realize you've made a mistake, take responsibility and correct it.
TWENTY ... Smile when picking up the phone... The caller will hear it in your voice.
TWENTY-ONE ... Spend some time alone.

I Rise...

On Christmas day,

I stared inside a coffin,

My own.

Loved ones surrounded me,

Tears in their eyes,

Grieving.

Watching them lower the coffin,

It was a bitter-sweet moment,

Actually.

Seeing myself, outside myself.

Seeing every dream, every ideal,

Every memory.

Being lowered into a 6-foot grave.

It was over, all over.

The beautiful memories,

Of that beautiful girl,

That beautiful young woman.

They were buried on Christmas day.

As the first pile of sand was

Thrown into the grave,

I started to panic,

I felt myself suffocate.

Is it really over, it can’t just be over.

Somebody rescue me, I’m not over!

I screamed at the top of my lungs,

Begged for them to please Stop!

But I was already covered with sand,

Too deep for them to hear me.

Their cries drowned mine out,

As I screamed, and screamed & screamed.

In that frantic state, I caught a glimpse

Of a beautiful black eagle approaching

In the distance.

It flew in from the blue skies

And landed beside me.

‘Come fly with me’ it said,

‘Let’s explore the heavens together.’

An overwhelming feeling of peace

Washed over me.

I felt myself leave the grave,

Spread my wings and

Feel the wind on my back.

As we flew further into the sunset,

I looked back and in the distance saw

My loved ones,

Still crying, still grieving.

I wanted to tell them,

Don’t cry for that body laying

In that coffin,

Her time has passed,

She’s gone.

But even as she died,

I continue to live.

My pain, my suffering is

What we’re burying today.

But my spirit lives on,

and As I soar towards a new day…

New horizons, new memories await.

I will never again be as I was,

I will never again be who I was.

But as you turn your back

On this fresh grave and

The beautiful flowers on it.

Let go of the painful memory of

What brought me here.

And hold on to the beautiful spirit

Of the woman I was

When we were together.

Because although the killer

Thought it was a life that he was taking,

A life that he was ruining,

Only God gives life &

Only God can take life.

I’ve been given a second chance at life,

And like this black eagle on my back

I will rise.

I have always risen,

And will continue to rise.

Lion's Den

I walked into the lion’s den,
Hoping maybe he wasn’t hungry.
He licked his lips as I entered,
& slowly came towards me.

I’m neither naïve nor ignorant
So I already knew what's coming,
I saw his sharp yellow eyes glisten,
As he fixed his gaze towards me.

He circled me a couple of times,
Relishing the moment.
His sharp gaze burnt into my skin,
He couldn’t believe his luck.

The rest of it seemed to happen in slow motion,

As I recall, as he lunged on me,
he first went for my eyes.
Blinding me from the nightmare
That was surely about to come.

In my semi-blind state,
I felt more than I saw,
& with each bite that he took,
I knew I’d known it would end this way…

In the distance I could hear a friend shout;
‘Mbali! What are you doing?
Get the hell out of there!
He’s going to kill you!’

But what she didn’t realize,
Is that I’d made the choice to come here,
And I was going to let him have his way.
I was in the lion’s den after all,
So of course this had to happen.

He pinned my hair down with his paws,
& surprisingly I didn’t fight him.
I felt his nails slicing through my skull,
But I didn’t utter a word.

Then I felt him pause for a second,
‘What’s wrong with you’? He asked,
‘Shout, cry, scream. This is meant to hurt.’

It took all of my power to be still,
And let him have his way.

He saved my heart for last,
Hoping to devour it
As it lay bleeding & beating in his paw.


As his sharp teeth lunged
at my beating heart,
I heard a great big Howl,
And then a sharp tooth crack.

It was only then he realized,
My heart was made of stone.

I’d known that when I came here,
So I knew that I’d be fine.
He limped away into a corner,
Grabbing his bleeding jaw as he went.

I strolled out of that lion’s den,
Knowing I’d won the fight.

Like Vodka, Like Fresh Water

be it psychological, financial, substance or emotional,

i often compare abuse to heavy alcohol consumption

once you've consumed too much of it,

it's hard to tell the difference

between fresh water and vodka

if you were given fresh water,

you'd probably think its a less potent vodka

his behaviour is a typical example

of "he's too good to be true"

when all have mistreated you,

why is he being different?

if he's different and shows a sign of respect,

does that mean he's too good to be true?

it could be that, like a real scout, he can can see true potential

it could be that he thinks you deserve better,

it could be that he's "God-sent"

to make your life a bit smoother,

or he just believes in treating people fairer,

it could be that he's a "God-send"

to make you realise life is not a ferry

but just like heavy alcohol consumer, he's fresh water

she seems to think he's a less potent vodka

why is he willing to sail rough seas just to be with you?

why is he walking into a lion's den to rescue you,

when he could walk-on-by and live his life he did?

why is he treating you special, if only "okay" can do?

why is he walking into rebel's territory just to free your soul?

but again just like heavy alcohol consumer, he's fresh water

she seems to think he's less potent vodka

Those Hands

In the spring of my 21st year,
I met a boy, or rather, a man.
As beautiful as he was arrogant,
As addictive as he was charming.

Those eyes, that smile, those hands.
I must admit that I fell in love with those hands.

With his hands he held me,
As we watched the beautiful sunrise,
After the long nightmare

With his hands he held me,
Through long walks by the sea,
As we played, laughed and

washed the past away

On endless nights of loving,
& love making, he held me.
Caressing my body,
Celebrating my being.
Always holding me.

I’d been held before,
& I’ve been held since.

But when he held me,
He held my body,
Held my heart.

He held the most intimate
Parts of me,
Gently caressed away my pain,
Calmed my fears.
He reminded me
Of what I’d long forgotten.

That I am something special.

Yes, I’d been held before,
And I’ve been held since,

But when He held me...

The Perfect Man...

I met the perfect man once,
I didn’t recognise his face,
But for as long as I shall live,
His memory I can never erase.

I spoke to a perfect man once,
He didn’t blow me away,
But the perfect love he gave,
I still reminisce about today.

I loved the perfect man once,
I had gold yet I didn’t know,
And I took it all for granted,
That I was all he’d ever want & more,

I left a perfect man once,
Chasing dreams & the superficial,
But I cannot still deny that,
His love was something special.