Serena in Rwanda

Sometimes a picture says a thousand words....!

Beautiful Kampala

I woke up in a much better mood and it was great to see the sun shining! I decided to go for a walk to the mall. Seeing all the traffic and people rushing to get to work I was reminded that there's something called the real world and I'll be getting back to it in a week's time. I quickly pushed those thoughts aside and took in the beautiful view. The hotel I stayed at is on a hill. I walked down the hill and past this beautiful golf course. There are these motorbikes called Bora-bora's that transport people around the city. It's great how they whizz past the cars, I made a note to myself, I'm getting on a Bora-Bora before I go!

Found my way to the mall, the one thing that struck me about Uganda is that there are lots and lots of guns. Security guards at the mall have guns, police on the road carry guns, even the security guard at the bus-tickets place has a gun. Big AK47 look-a-like guns. I've never been a fan, I think that something whose sole purpose is to kill, has no place in society, but I also don't believe in hitting kids so maybe behind this bad-ass exterior, I'm a real softie...

When I got to the tickets place, it was 9h10, the last bus to Rwanda was planned to leave at 9am. I couldn't believe it! I went to the lady at the counter, asked if the bus had left already (remember, I'd walked from my hotel, hadn't even packed or had breakfast yet, I just showered and decided to go for a walk), anyways she told me no it hadn't arrived yet. I smiled as I thought to myself, every now and then that African time does work in one's favour! I went outside, found this awesome Bora-bora driver, hopped on and we drove to the hotel. The feeling of the wind in my hair, holding on to him tightly as we whizzed past everyone.... priceless! I packed up within seconds, checked out and we were on our way!

By the time we got back to the bus stop, the bus had arrived but it was a good 30 minutes before it would be ready, so I headed off to the bank to exchange some money. I'd missed out on the hotel breakfast and was Starving! I was touched when I arrived at the mall and this security lady calls me, I'm like: 'Huh? Me?' She nodded and because well, her gun was big and I don't like trouble, I went to her. She asked for my bag, I obliged, handed it to her and watched as she did a thorough search (just like at airports and stuff). Kampala's really big on safety! She handed me my bag back and off I went.

Then I get to the forex place, I don't know if it's just me who looked a bit dodgy but the lady at the counter examined my USD for ages and then was like: I can't take this? I was gobsmacked. She gives me a story about it being old money and no bank would take it, I was actually speechless. Then the other lady who works there is like, 'The exchange is 2700 but for notes less than $50 it's 1000. I was half expecting Leon Schuster to pop out and say: 'Smile, you're on candid cameara!' I've been using USD since I left Jo'burg, all my notes are from the same place. The idea of getting almost a 3rd for my money was too crazy to even entertain.

But I'd had a good night, was loving the weather in Kampala and excited about the next phase of my trip, so I decided to be nice. I smiled at her, said 'No thanks' and went next door. There they gave me my money, with no hassles. I went back to the bus-stop and we were off to Kigali.

*I need to google this, I remember once reading about a country where like 70% of the population is now women because of the war, wondering if that's Uganda. The result was that most jobs usually attributed to men are now being performed by women there*

Diva Tantrum (Part 1)

So there I was, having been on this bumpy bus for like eternity, I finally arrive in Kampala and it's raining. My initial instinct was to 'Keep it Real' and find a decent place to stay, but as we drove into the city, all I could see was motels and everything was just wet and dreary. This is the part where I cracked.

Someone once said that a sign of intelligence is if you can debate a topic from both sides in your head. This is how the conversation went:

Brain: I'm so proud of you, we've made it to the 3rd country! Let's keep up this African renegade plan, find a place to crash for the night and mingle with the locals.

Body: WTF???

Brain: Yes, I know it looks a little scary from the outside but you'll love it! Imagine all the great locals we'll meet and great stories you'll have to share when you get home. This is what we wanted isn't it, a real Africa road-trip,

Body: Ummm, hold up! What's this 'we' thing? I've been good to you Amanda, I lived on raw meat in Ethiopia (which was pretty awesome, but that's beside the point), I've just spent 14 hours on a bus, my knee aching, what the hell more do you want from me???

Brain: Don't be a girl, it's all part of the adventure!

Body: I'm over the adventure, I want a Holiday! Must I remind you that the last time you were on leave was over a year ago. Who knows when we'll get another chance to rest. This is it, I'm putting my foot down, I'm going on strike!

Brain: But, you can't be serious... This IS the holiday,

Body: For you maybe, I'm tired, hungry and I need a break. If you love me, you'll do this one little thing for me....

It was at this point that I realised, I need to listen to my body. So when we got to the bus stop I asked the cab driver to take me somewhere nice. As he drove up to the Sheraton, I was like... Ummm, not Dictator nice, just little ordinary me, nice. So he took me to the Protea hotel down the road. OMW, sooooo what the DR ordered! I can't believe how much I paid for it, but DAYM it was worth it! The first thing I did was take a nice long shower, then I wrapped myself up in a towel, ordered room service and took a loooong nap. I hadn't realised how tired I was! Maybe it was the comfy bed or goose-down pillow but I slept like a baby! When morning came, I was ready to take on the big-bad-world once again, totally rejuvenated :)

Flying in a bus to Uganda

I have a friend who loves to tell this joke of a priest and a taxi driver. The two arrive in heaven, and God lets the taxi driver into the VIP whilst the priest just gets general membership. The priest is upset and asks, 'How come he gets into VIP?' God responds, 'Because when you preached people fell asleep, but when he drove people prayed hard!'

That about sums up my 14 hour bus ride from Nairobi to Kampala. I took the 8pm bus from Nairobi on Kampala coaches. I had the pleasure of sitting right behind the driver and that meant two things. Firstly because he has to keep his window open, I got the refreshing breeze and occasional shower from the rain, secondly I got a full view of the bumpy road ahead. I know no one will believe me, but I literally held my breath for all 14 hours!

Okay, let me not be too dramatic. For the first 4 hours we were on a normal road, actually even better than some roads I've been on back home. After my day in Nairobi and seeing how cool Kenya is, I was starting to convince myself that I might just move here one of these days...

But then we turned left. The image reminded me of the movie Wrong Turn, or this one time my friends and I got lost going to a party at Strawberry Farm. Everything just turned dark and the road became bumpy. Something about the road we were suddenly on didn't seem quite right. The road went from tar to concrete, and we were on a steep slope headed down-wards. It was at this point that our dear driver decided to increase the speed. This might have been normal if everyone we passed coming the opposite direction didn't hoot and flash their lights in an 'Is this guy crazy' gesture. The potholes on this stretch of the road were insane, but our driver, I must say knows his stuff! He was like Schumacher on that road, oh and did I mention that he was smoking? I sat there judging him for the first hour but watching him down that crazy downward slope, I was like: 'Do you! Whatever it takes to get us through this,' He'd be dodging a pot-hole with one hand and holding a cigarette with the other, incredible!

Now my imagination is telling me one thing, if anything goes wrong, civilisation as I know it is up there, we've been heading downwards for like a good 2 hours now, so it might be a while before anyone comes to our rescue. I must remember to google images of the area, maybe in the daytime it's not as terrifying as it was at 2am.

I love being on a bus at night, coz I can cover a long distance and save on accommodation, but I did miss out on most of the Kenyan landscape. From the little I could see each time I took my eye from our driver, it's quite rich and green. I passed by Obama's family's hometown (Kisumu) didn't even manage to get a pic, well all I saw was the Total garage really, no statue of Obama or anything to blog home about,

Oh, and then we reached the border. In the slim chance that my mom reads this blog, I can't actually mention WHY, but I found myself in that awkward situation where this police-man threatened to take me to court (hope no imaginations are running wild, it was the most ordinary thing, but well, at the border it's kinda illegal). I hang my head in shame as I admit, he wanted a $20 bribe and I bargained him down to $5. All's well that ends well, I made it to Uganda! I can't find my phone's cable so I don't know when I can upload the pics,

Nairobi - Family

I've always wondered what it would be like to be a house-wife. My hostess in Kenya is a house-wife and I must say, I found myself quite envious of her lifestyle. Nikki spends her days running her photography business, making jewelry and being a mom. I've been in corporate since I was 20, I've never imagined a life of such leisure, but spending a couple of days with Nikki I realised that I could so do it. She's got a helper, a personal driver and the two most adorable darling kids. I can see how fulfilling a life like that is.

Kenya: East Africa's South Africa

My hostess in Kenya is this lovely lady called Nikiwe, I call her Nikki. We had the most awesome day together today. I woke up late because I only got to sleep at like 4. Nikki is a house-wife, she lives here with her husband, son and daughter. They're both photographers so I finally got to charge my camera's batteries (99% of all the pics I've taken from this trip have been with my phone, looking forward to some good quality pics!)



The best thing about being hosted by a woman is that she gets the whole 'shopping' thing that us girls Have to do. *Thinking of the day Girma took me shopping and within 15 minutes I realized that guys don't quite get the fact that a girl can stare at the same item for 10 minutes, try it on and then as she's standing at the till, change her mind... Girma was a good sport tho, miss him!*



So today, Nikki and I went shopping for cloth. A friend of mine back home suggested that it's better to buy cloth in most places I visit and then get outfits made once I get home, such a Genius concept!

I bought the most gorgeous material, sooo looking forward to having nice outfits made from it, the prices are awesome! We then went to this beautiful mall called Ya-Ya, had healthy smoothies and walked around in the shops, I got some great ideas for dress designs that I'll make when I get home!

A few surprising things about Nairobi, it's sooooo clean! I mean we were down-town, but it was impeccably clean. There are no street vendors, no rubbish on the streets and smoking isn't allowed in public *shocked!*. I love it, there's something so dignified about this city, I could see myself living here.



An interesting that Nikki said to me today was that Kenya is East Africa's South Africa, and Nairobi is it's Jo'burg. I liked that (all arrogance aside, you can tell that this place is the Hub), I will definitely enjoy doing business in Nairobi in future :)

Landing in Nairobi

On the flight to Kenya, I actually felt scared for the first time since I began this trip. I don't actually know what it is that brought the fear on, maybe it's just that seeing Ethiopia has been a dream of mine for years but the rest of my trip, it's mainly based on curiosity and a tiny bit of craziness *as well planned as it might be, it's still crazy to be visiting 5 countries just nje*. Kenya is the first Malaria region I'm visiting, I've taken all my shots and am on the Malaria tablets as well, (better safe than dead if you ask me) so maybe that's why I was a bit scared, a lot of people thought this was a crazy idea, but this was the first time I actually thought they might be right.

When I landed in Nairobi, I don't know what I had been expecting, but what I did see shocked me! This, I guess is the reason I love to travel, to get over my stereotypes and discover new places. It was 2h30am when I got here, in the early hours of the morning. The cab driver was super-efficient, had a printed out page with my name on it and everything. The shock came when we drove out of the airport. The bright lights, bill-boards and modernity (hope that's a real word) of it all. Passing a Steers, Shell garage and a huge bill-board advertising Smirnoff Ice, I realized that this is not deep dark Africa, but a big city with a lot going on. The beautiful tall buildings, adverts for the latest BMW's, I realized that I actually didn't know anything about how progressive Kenya is (well, except for the bits i read about on How We Made It in Africa).

I was pleasantly surprised by this, but a tiny part of me was hoping for a place that's a little less 'Jo'burg' and more exotic (like Ethiopia). But it's good to be surprised, now I know,

Farewell to Ethiopia

Went back to Addis and last night Girma threw a farewell party for me. I was really touched! In the afternoon I bravely went for a walk alone in the neighborhood (bravely because of the rain, but I enjoyed the spray, even met this nice lady who shared her umbrella with me). I bargained my way through the various shops, ended up buying two bottles of perfume, a scarf and this beautiful ring, it's got a brown rock with green lines, reminded me of Tis Issat. I then took a picture of Girma's garden, this place will be engraved in my memory for as long as I live. Such beauty, my little paradise.



In true Ethiopian fashion, there was a grand spread of food at the farewell! The Italian influence on the culture is quite interesting. We had mini pizzas and lots of raw meat. I was put on the spot when one of the guests suggested that I, as the guest of honor should open the bottle of whiskey (Johnnie Black), have the first shot and then make a speech. I did it and spoke from my heart to all the people there as I shared with them how honored I've felt to be the honored guest in their beautiful country.



Then it was time for me to go, I said my farewell to all my new-found friends.I can't begin to describe the feeling, it felt like Ieaving home.



We shared one last cup of coffee and then it was time for me to go. I gave Kiki one last kiss, then Girma and I headed off to the airport.

Hiking to Tis Issat

Don't let me go, I feel safe when you hold me... These were my words to Uriu, my guide on the way to Tis Issat waterfall(which means smoking mountain). The route was slippery and I was wearing the wrong shoes, but he held me steadily all the way there and back.




We met so many people along the way, from 8 year olds to very old, all selling scarves, water and other stuff. I liked this old lady, she reminds me of my gran, the original 1st lady!




Had to take a break, half-way up the mountain, the breathtaking view was amazing from up there.



Finally made it to the top! Smoking Mountain... Beautiful!

Waking up to fog...

Woke up to a beautiful view of Lake Tana. It's very misty here in the morning, it reminded me of Maritzburg, well Hilton really. Around 6am you could see parts of the lake in the horizon, but by 7, the fog had taken over and the furthest I could see was across the road.

I love seeing all the people on the streets with their white head-wraps that stretch all the way to their feet. In my very own wild imagination, between them and the fog, I really keep wondering if I haven't died and gone to the Real paradise *hehehe!*

I just learnt something. There I was thinking everyone around here wears white robes and head-wraps, actually this is the route to church.

Coffee Ceremony

I'm back in my hotel room, I just came back from the Coffee Ceremony, crazy experience. Got all dressed up in traditional clothes and watched as they prepared the grass, incense, burnt the coffee and made it. I felt like I was part of something deep, but none of us there really got the 'deepness'. The ladies were beautiful, I love my new traditional top, but hhay' shame, that guy who was trying to sell me traditional clothes, what a Mashaya-shaya! I've lived in Jo'burg long enough to recognise them.

I wanna fly, it's my time. The fear is great, but the desire is greater. I need to remember to google lyrics for: Only If, by Enya.

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)