poetry galore

i used to love writing poetry in my younger days. i dont know how i lost the touch. anyway i have decided to upload my earlier works in a seperate blog. they are nothing fancy, mostly a product of an overactive young mind which was constantly in "love"! lol i think ever since i entered the teenage years i had a crush on one guy or another all the time. anyway will find that i entered the age at which i was when i wrote each poem. if you can be into that sort of thing, feel free to check them out here

waist-watching

I had a good start to my day today. I managed to fit into an outfit that had been relegated to the back of the wardrobe in the vain hope that one day I would lose some pounds and fit into it again! Ladies y’all know what I am talking about, there is always that special outfit that suddenly refuses to go over the ever-increasing curves but you just cant bring yourself to get rid of it. actually come to think of it, who ever gets rid of clothes? I certainly don’t I just keep pushing them at the back of the wardrobe until it almost bursts. Then I gingerly remove them from inside the wardrobe and pack them in a suitcase and put it ON TOP of the wardrobe! This lady right here needs to learn how to donate to charity. (note to self: go and distribute that pile you are stashing away!) it’s a habit I guess, unless someone actively makes the call at church or something to donate, I just never think of it! shame on me!

Anyway in case you are wondering my secret, I know this is going to be WTMI but ladies, know that myth that contraception makes you fat? Well its not a myth and that is all I am saying!

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And in other news we are a few weeks away from that time of the year that I love so much, holiday yay! And out of their generosity (and desire for us to expend our leave days so that they won’t have to pay for them) we are going on a month’s vacation! From 11 Dec to 11 Jan! Yep I am so looking forward to it! so Sandton here I come, I am going to shop til I drop (literally somehow I always do drop!)

What up for the holidays my munchkins?

important "contacts"

A few weeks ago I was so excited about getting contact lenses I still am but this little beloved motherland of mine has just made me throw spears down (he he kukanda mapfumo pasi!) I went up and down, high and low looking for just one optician who would be able to dispense contact lenses for me and guess what noone does. NOONE! I must have been to 6 practices in one afternoon and all of them give me the same line, well we are not doing them at the moment. Come on! How hard can it be? Does noone in Zimbabwe wear contacts? Is there no market whatsoever for this sort of thing? Ah I still cant believe it.

Lucky for me though the last practice I went I was referred to what they called “the best in the field” and guess what it turned out it was my old school mate! So I called him up and he casually said I can come in next week and see him and he can hook me up! Ah to have “contacts” in high places!

Of fried chicken and man-braids

So I had this huge, uncontrollable craving for fried chicken today! I swear it was uncontrollable I couldn’t stop myself, so I looked around to see if anyone I know was in the area and I dashed into the fried chicken place. Once or twice I almost chickened out (he he excuse the pun) and almost left before I made the order but that smell of greasy fries and coated chicken kept wooing me. It won of course and I purchased my box and left in a hurry.

So as I am walking back to the office (read sprinting) with my loot, I stop at the traffic lights and I recognize a familiar scent. I swing around to see which lady standing next to me has such exquisite taste in perfume (like me) I get a shocker. Next to me is a dude, no man, gently shaking his braids out of his eyes. I do mean braids not dreads, the proper plaited on ones, neatly done in a short bob style, and he is wearing Elizabeth Arden! I could have excused the perfume (maybe he sprayed his wife’s perfume by mistake, it happens you know, I once walked around all day smiling to myself coz I smelt like my hubby! Ok I digress) and maybe the graceful gait was simply his way of walking ( I deliberately walked behind him to see how he walked) but the man-braids??? Come on! To top it all off he had what suspiciously looked like a wedding band on the appropriate finger on the appropriate hand!

Now before anyone starts judging me for being homophobic, I just think my friend at the traffic light just looked plain funny and too old to be sitting down for hours getting his hair braided. And he made me forget for a while all the shame of the bright red box I clutched in my hand!

p.s the fried chicken and greasy fries were divine, thanks for asking!

Last week i was on a roll, blogging like its going out of fashion and this week i just couldnt get myself to write anything. mostly coz i got bit by a suspicious bug, the details of which i am not at liberty to dsclose ( he he its open for all those imaginative minds in blogville to explore and guess!) anyway because its a Friday afternoon and i self-conditioned myself to think that noone as a rule should work on a Friday afternoon, so i found myself floating on blogville. and just as well i came i have been tagged! yay! my first time (thanks Vim) so here goes:

Here are the rules:

1. You can only use one word!
2. Pass this along to 6 of your favorite bloggers.
3. Alert them that you have given them this award!
4. Have Fun!

The Survey

1. Where is your cell phone? Desk
2. Your hair? Braided
3. Your mother? Nurturing
4. Your father? Loud
5. Your favorite food? Chinese
6. Your dream last night? Superhero
7. Your favorite drink? Cosmo
8. Your dream/goal? wealthy
9. What room are you in? Office
10. Your hobby? TV
11. Your fear? Rats
12. Where do you want to be in 6 years? Top
13. Where were you last night? Home
14. Something that you aren’t? quiet
15. Muffins? Marble
16. Wish list item? Baby
17. Where did you grow up? Masvingo
18. Last thing you did? Work
19. What are you wearing? Tunic
20. Your TV? Soulmate
21. Your pets? None
22. Friends? Loyal
23. Your life? Renovations
24. Your mood? Bored
25. Missing someone? Much
26. Vehicle? Spacio
27. Something you’re not wearing? Earrings
28. Your favorite store? Game (lol)
29. Your favorite color? Brown
30. When was the last time you laughed? days
31. Last time you cried? August
32. Your best friend? Amazing
33. One place that I go to over and over? Office
34. One person who e-mails me regularly? Several
35. Favorite place to eat? St Zita

My list of bloggers is very modest so i shall only nominate the following:
Talitha Koum

excited!

Am excited today, and its not even that big of a deal. But anyway for the last 16 years I have been wearing glasses because I have rather poor eyesight. Lots of people have told me I look prettier without them, and I am inclined to believe them. Anyway I have finally plucked up enough courage to go for contact lenses. So in about a month from now I will be having them! Yay! The funny thing is the one thing that I am most excited about is that for the first time in my life I am FINALLY going to be able to wear sunglasses! Ah the simple pleasures of life! And when the new exercise regime starts to pay off I am gonna be looking smoking hot! 2010, say hello to brand spanking new yummy mummy!

guilty as charged

I was in Kenya a few months ago and I met a guy. Now before you go off jumping to conclusions not in that way. He was a chef at the hotel I was staying in Mombasa. He was a cheerful fellow, always smiling. He asked for my African name, I told him and he loved it, he asked if I had kids and I said I had a little boy and he smiled coz he has a little boy too. Everyday at mealtimes he would look for me and everyday I learnt something about kiSwahili culture through their food and his cheerfulness. Soon the whole kitchen staff knew me and they smiled at me and told me if my friend was off-duty. One said she loved my dreadlocks and another said she loved the gap between my front teeth. She said in Kenya it epitomized beauty. I had forgotten all about that, here at home I believe I have heard it being said at one point. On the last day before my departure, my friend gave me his email address, I was touched. I didn’t have my card with me at the time so I didn’t leave him anything. I am sad now coz I cant even remember his name, and I lost the little piece of paper with his email address. I lost that precious link to Kenya. I feel ashamed as well, because I think my subconscious deliberately let me forget him. My elitist mind, embarrassed to befriend kitchen staff, refused to be friends with this genuine warm person. Never mind the fact that it was a 5-star establishment, a tourist resort and he might have been a world acclaimed chef. He could have been I never let my myself find out. Shame on me, I really ought to kick this bourgeois mentality. I am writing this as I am sitting in the coffee spot of a hotel and I have taken time to observe the staff serving me. They are genuine people, brilliant even and I swear from now on I shall look beyond someone’s uniform!

submitted but not a servant!

I have suddenly been bitten by this bloggerville bug and it won’t let me rest til I scratch it to the full. One of the things that I never wrote about in my posts is the institute of marriage and today I had a revelation which wouldn’t let go of me. Today I saw my husband in a different light, funny thing is he wasn’t even with me when I had it. I realized that I am his, his companion, his friend, his lover and I realized that his life depends on me in a way that I never realized before. I saw my husband as this constant, the voice that is always there even when we are thousands of miles apart, the voice that always gives me that valuable advice that I always run to him for. I saw my role as a helper just the way God intended it to be, and I saw my vocation to love, and be submissive to him.

Now the whole issue of submission has always been controversial, and I for one am a testimony in flesh. It is a biblical principle and the emancipated modern woman thinks it is an archaic form of oppressing women, but that’s only because they never understood it. I am learning new stuff everyday as I grow and one of the most valuable lessons I have learnt in this ministry of marriage is that being submissive is not the same as being made a servant. I will be honest, I am modern in every sense, I am a professional woman who strongly believes in girl power, I always said to myself it would have been very easy for me to become totally feministic. I am headstrong and for 20+ years of my life I was used to doing things my own way, even my mother had problems with me sometimes. A guy once dumped me because he couldn’t handle the fact that “I always wanted to be in the driver’s seat!” (his words not mine). So you can imagine how much trouble I got into when I finally decided to venture into the institute of marriage.

What I have learnt however is that, we are equal yes, but God intends for him to be Head of the house. But in the same vein the head cannot function without the heart, and I am the Heart of the home. Mind you if the heart stopped pumping blood to the head then all systems shut, so even though he is up there, I am the one who really holds it together. I pump the blood that keeps my home safe, my in-laws happy, our finances secure, my children healthy and our love alive. So I let him be in control, after all the head determines what the hand should do, but the hand still needs the blood from the heart to do it. This is the way I see it and this is the way I keep my home together. Even if we are to move away from the bible, lets face it our men have egos THIS BIG! And we all know what happens when those egos are messed up with. Its how they are made, and for the sake of everyone concerned, why tip a perfectly balanced scale.

So no matter how educated, enlightened, emancipated or how much you earn, if you wanna keep the devil away from your home, give that brother the respect he craves. You certainly won’t lose anything. And one of the things my mother taught is at the end of the day, just make sure he thinks that all the good ideas you come up with are his, and everyone is happy!

Far above rubies!

Something interesting happened the other day. One of the interns in my office came up to me and told me something that really caught my attention. She says one of her friends in Law School is always saying she admires me. I mean ME, Enchante! She apparently has all the low down on me, where I work etc. she has seen me at church with my husband and child, she has looked at the way I dress and carry myself. To her I am the epitome of a woman, and she even says she hopes that one day she will turn out like me! And by the way I absolutely have no idea who this young woman is, I have never met her but she knows me. Now let me tell you that really caught me off guard and that really got me thinking. I mean here I am going about my life complaining yet I have all these blessings that God has so generously poured in my hands. I have them in my hands but I am busy trying to shake my hands out so I can reach for stuff that is not even in my quota. It reminds me of what my pastor always says that sometimes you are the only bible that someone ever gets to read and the way you lead your life has that sort of impact on them.

Now believe me, all my insecurities about my weight, my frustrations with my job etc pale in light of the person that I really I am. I am fearfully and wonderfully made, I have beauty far above rubies. I love and I am surrounded by love. And its time I remembered the basics and appreciated the life that I have. I am a strong African woman, and I was blessed with a heart that’s big and nurturing. I delight in my child’s laughter and my husband looks at me like I am Eve’s twin, precious and pure. I am blessed to be surrounded by strong beautiful women, my cousins and my friends. And its time I appreciated it more, and celebrated their lives more. I am a princess, a queen, a diva, an angel and I dare anyone to tell me any different!

Untitled

I have just been having a conversation with a friend of mine, actually my best friend. She is really going places, she is successful, determined and raring to go. And in all frankness I am really so proud of her, she is an amazing, hardworking person she deserves it. On the other hand I will be frank again and say I couldn’t completely curb the slimy green monster that was threatening to come out. I mean lets face it, we both went to the same Law School and now almost 5 years later she has a Masters degree, and has set up an office and is on the go. And what do I have? Am stuck at a dead end job which is not giving me any valuable advancement of my career and I absolutely hate it. i am keeping the job now because it pays the bills and I do so need the bills to be paid at this particular juncture.

Instead of being ambitious and venturing into the big world all I can think of right now is having a second child. I have no interest in being a lawyer if anything I am more interested in writing than in lawyering. My only problem is I keep telling myself I am not good enough to write something worth reading and I have used this as an excuse. I suppose its time that I embraced the fact that we are all different, what drives us is different and definitely our destinies are different. In fact if anyone would ask me where I see myself in 5-10 years I would say that my law degree would most likely be buried in the back of beyond, I would be shuttling to all my kids’ school functions and I would be a writer, working from an office at the back of the 4 bed roomed house which I shall buy. This is it for me you know, that is what I want to do and I am done feeling bad and guilty about it. I think one of the things that has actually pulled me back is the fact that it’s not the right thing to do, I should be passionate about my career blah blah blah. Well that is I had a career to talk about. So here is my game plan and I will stick to it. I will most likely keep this job for another year or two but after that, I am done baby. In the mean time I better get those creative juices flowing! Maybe I will become a famous writer, maybe I wont, but I certainly plan to enjoy doing it!

Oh and by the way I am totally looking forward to having my hubby taking care of most of the bills while I figure out what to do, I am gonna be a kept woman, sue me!

memoirs from a time past

Part 2

Its amazing how much you bury deep in your subconscious for one reason or another. This morning I just happened to be dusting some inner recesses of my archived thoughts and I found myself humming some song that was sang in my childhood at sports games. It brought back a plethora of memories which I just had to record. You see I grew up as “mwana waHeadmaster” (The Headmaster’s daughter) and that came along with a lot of priviledges mostly, any negatives my still-developing child mind did not immediately decipher I can explore those another day. Anyone who grew up and learnt at a rural school will know that the “teachers’ children” are always treated differently at least that’s what happened where I grew up. For starters, most of the other kids would clamor to be your friend thus they will bring you wild fruits which they picked on their way to school, they brought you delicacies during harvest time. And they would generally be nice to you because they thought that (1) that would make them get liked by the parents a.k.a teachers (2) that you would share with them the luxury items your parents could afford that they could only dream of. Well of course that never worked I will tell you why.

Looking back now I realize that in our own innocent way we were major snobs. You would find that no matter how much the other kids tried to impress you, invariably your friends would be other teachers’ kids, if not then you would choose your friends among the “smart kids”. I shall define those, they were the kids whose parents (mostly just the father) was working in the city so they had nice (clean) uniforms and proper school shoes and socks. That also meant they had been to the city at some point so you had stuff in common like television programs. Besides it was just better to play with the clean kids! Secondly the reason why most of my friends were the teachers’ kids was because when school ended at 4 I still had a lot of energy to play and the only people available to play with were the teachers’ kids who stayed at the same compound with me, same goes for weekends as everyone else went home. It all sounds very cruel and nasty but I am just telling it like I remember, I guess class divisions one way or the other come out no matter where you are.

The other advantage that being a teacher’s kid had was this; during the “general work” period when everyone would engage in manual labour, the teachers would always give the lighter, easier and less dirty jobs to the teachers’ kids, even those that did not have kids themselves. It was like an unwritten code, though I must admit that once or twice I would run into a teacher who had a bone to chew with my mother or father and they would give me hard labour. But those were rare occasions, after all I was the headmaster’s daughter and everyone wanted to suck up to the headmaster one way or the other.

I grew up in a rural setting but I must say I had a very sheltered childhood, not very much different from my urban peers in more than one way. Of course I had the typical rural bit like the following: my mother would always make sure that my brothers and I helped in the strips of fields that she had such that during the appropriate seasons most Saturdays you would be woken up very early to go and cultivate the field. Of course because I was the only girl sometimes (only sometimes) I would get spared and have some extra hour or two of sleep. Also, we did not have electricity so by the time I was 8 I knew how to light a good fire and cook over it, something which my urban peers never mastered even up to now. That also meant that on occasion I would go with the other girls in the compound to look for firewood (my mother was always uneasy about me going but I did go enough times). That was an adventure in itself it meant that you could climb the mountain and fetch various wild fruits while you are at it. Another thing was we always had to go and fetch water at the borehole. Now this is one chore that I would rather have been spared. You had to go at least twice a day or more if mama wanted to do her laundry. You had to carefully balance a bucket of water on your head and be careful not to let it splash all over your clothes. I don’t believe I ever learnt how to do the proper balancing without holding on to your bucket. It was only fun when you were going there to do the laundry because that meant two hours or more of gossip and listening to stories from the other girls.

As I said before a lot of the things that happened made me feel no different from my urban peers. My parents always made sure they bought us plenty of toys (well they seemed plenty then) in fact more than most of our friends. We would watch cartoons after school or during the weekends so as a result I can happily join in when my urban brewed friends get into reminiscent convos about TV back in the day. I would go into town a lot with my parents, my dad had a nice Renault 12 and the nearest town was only 37km away. We always had new clothes especially around Christmas. Speaking of Christmas every year my parents would buy us the ever popular “lucky dip” which my mom always hid until Christmas morning together with our new clothes even though we had seen them being offloaded from the car! The funniest bit was when she would ask us to try on some new clothes just in case they needed to be returned for size. Then she would say “I am not saying they are yours, just for some other girl your size!” duh I was the only girl in my family! Then she would proceed to hide the clothes only to produce them on Christmas morning! And we always had a huge feast on Christmas and New Year’s Day complete with cakes and lots of meat and those Choice Assorted biscuits!

Ah life was good then!

memoirs from a time past

Part 1
The house we lived in last is the one that I remember vividly, but we will come to the house later. Just next to it stood a big chicken run built into a small house complete with an asbestos roof. A fence surrounded it and it had a nice cement “yard” because you see, years back there used to stand a little two-roomed “flat”(In Zimbabwe it is common for any small dwelling house with an asbestos roof to be called a “flat”) which was used as teacher’s accommodation but it had been demolished. I remember I used to hate sweeping out the chicken droppings but the again I had big brothers who did all the literally “dirty” work for me. Behind the chicken run was a garage where my dad used to park, firstly his lovely sky blue Renault 12, then later the truck that I never quite warmed up to. Right next to the garage was a cage with four compartments which was hoisted up on long poles and I could swear by the time we moved away I still could not be at eye level with the lowest compartment. We used to keep rabbits in there.

In front of the house was a little patch where my mother grew roundnuts. Oh how we used to harvest in that patch, it was tiny but it must have had good soil because it sure produced a lot of roundnuts. As we progressed further there were two other patches which other teachers used to grow their crop. What divided the patches was a path that always used to fascinate me. It was man-made but it comprised of two neat strips divided by grass. In the green months the grass between the two strips would grow so tall that my modest grade 4 height could be hidden completely. Therein my friends and I would set-up booby traps by tying together two strong grass stalks and then wait to see people trip over and fall.

Where the patches ended the school yard began. There was a big Msasa tree which had old logs neatly arranged underneath it to form benches. This place we used to call “kumatanda”(loosely translated- at the logs) and a lot of outdoor school activities would take place under the shade of that tree. The wood of the logs over time had grown very smooth and lovely from all the little bottoms that had fidgeted on them. Right next to the tree was a picturesque Roman Catholic Church. Wow that church was beautiful, it was built of large blocks of stones and it must have been hundreds of years old. My favorite part was the side of the church where the bell was, maybe because we were never allowed to play there. In front of the church was a big yard full of sand where people used to congregate after church and discuss the mass or simply just gossip. Come to think of it I am glad I was too young to have been wearing heels because I can’t imagine how the pretty young ladies with their stretched hair and glass shoes (In the early 90s patent leather shoes were all the rage and they were called “glass shoes” because of their shiny glassy look) used to walk in all that sand.

Immediately after the church was the Grade 1 Block where yours truly spent her first year of formal learning. It comprised of two classrooms side by side and well lets just say all that I remember of it was that it was a classroom block. Behind it was an area where many hours were spent playing. Underneath a Syringa tree (What do you know my research actually shows that that is the correct name for it!) was a concrete block at least one metre high, one metre wide and 8 or 9 metres long. Now believe I have no idea up to this day what those missionaries were thinking when they built that thing because it did not look like anything meant for kids to play at. My mother would always scream is she heard that I had been playing there. The last straw was when one of the teachers’ kids fell and broke his arm; I was forever banished from that “thing”. We used to call it “kuchiblock”, well it did look like just a block.

There is not much to say about the rest of the classrooms but I will give a special mention the grotto and my father’s office. The grotto (I will confess before I started writing this article I didn’t think this was a real word until I looked it up) had the statue of the Virgin Mary in front of it. It was man-made and comprised of long thickly knit trees whose density was never penetrated by the sun. We were utterly and totally forbidden to play in there, but we did not need much persuasion, the place just looked spooky on its own. Now the only problem is it housed the prickly yet surprisingly much sought after delicacy in the form of madhorofiya (Prickly-pear cactus fruit). Now I will not even be ashamed to admit that in all my childhood years I never had the guts to pick that prickly fruit and rub off the thorns myself. The few times that I tasted it (it was not even particularly nice, full of seed inside) was because someone else had rubbed off the prickly bit for me.

My father’s office was the prime building at the school. It was nestled between (and attached to) two classroom blocks. Its roof was higher than all the other buildings at the school thus meaning that you could see it from a distance. Have I not told you? My father was the headmaster! I recall on one wall of the office was a line-up of the legendary great African statesmen. I remember seeing Kenneth Kaunda, Eduardo Dos Antos, Julius Nyerere, Nelson Mandela ( when he spotted his pre-detention side parting that never ceased to amuse me) I recall I always used to go stand by that wall and look at the stately poses and wonder if my father would one day end up on that wall. Wishful thinking perhaps but a young girl always sees her father as the ultimate hero.

I did say I would come back to the house, but not today. That’s about it about the place where I spend most of my childhood years. But that’s only about the school and its buildings, what went on in there and the friendships I made, is a story for another day. For today I shall rest my carpal afflicted hands.

oh pen, where art thou?

I made a startling discovery about myself, well if I were to be true and honest I suppose I always knew that about myself yet I was in denial. But not anymore. I discovered that I fancy myself a writer but I have never written anything worth reading. Yeah of course a bunch of immature poetry when I was still a teen and that’s it. In fact I should give my 16 year old self a pat on the back because at least she had the passion and the drive to write, the quality thereof is something else altogether. But who determines what quality writing is and what is trash? Yeah I know there are great literary critics and all that, but isn’t writing a form of self-expression, which sometimes happens to catch the attention of people. Why do people write? Is it to sell books and earn a living or is it a passion? Maybe I shall direct my questions to my newly-found writer friend, she should have some answers. Talking about my new friend, I am still slightly star-struck and I am sure I will be more so when I meet her in person which I hope to do soon. And ever since I started talking to her I have really been doing some soul-searching, I mean I used to have huge ambitions about the literary world, and I think I wasn’t half- bad judging by some of the scripts I have done. Well maybe I should take it up again.

Its almost as if the universe is working in cahoots with some dead literary giant who wants me to rise out of the ashes like a phoenix ( ha ha I just had to laugh at myself there!) I had quite a surprising revelation recently when someone I totally did not expect, revealed himself as the creative-type. I mean complete with film directing ambitions etc, I mean it was quite refreshing and kinda strange too. In a good sort of way, if there is anything like that. But I sure hope he realizes his ambition, it would make a huge difference to me, and give me hope that I too can finally have what I have always wanted. I was watching Chris Rock last night (that dude spews forth craziness and then some but he does have some real good points most of the time). He was talking about how what he does is a career and not a job. And that his job was at a Red Lobster place, then he went on about how those with careers should not go on and on about it since it would make the ones with jobs sad. That was a reality check right there, I mean I have a job and it’s far from being my career. I am sure I still have time, I hope. I know most of the time we make plans about how we are going to do things and think we have all the time in the world and forget that time is one commodity that we have no control over. I certainly pray very hard that I am given time in abundance, I need it

mad ramblings from yesteryear

I found some stuff tucked away at the bottom of my drawer and I realized I was keeping a blog long before I joined blogville, albeit an erratic one. But here goes:

17/05/06
Perhaps I should start writing, no particular theme, no style. But just write until I am devoid of emotion. You ask why I am sure, but then such statements are not answered by a why. They just frustrate you. So better shut up and listen, read rather. If I let you. You think I am rude huh? But I am not, of course not. I write what I like, I am free. I have the freedom to express myself, in words, in tears, in shouts or whatever. I am human. I am alive. Are you? Coz many a times we tread upon the grounds of life, unbidden, yet not noticed. Existing yet not alive. I choose to live. I choose to be felt, to be heard, to be seen. It’s a choice really. This feels good, feels really good. My fingers are shaking with excitement, my page is panting with anticipation. Haven’t done this in a while! Its like an oasis in the Sahara! Aah! It smells sweet, liberating.

I could go on and on. And of course I will. I have started on a lot of journeys, though I have never really reached the destination. It always seems so near yet so far. Oh but the destination is not important, it’s the journey that has the thrill. Even though it’s a solitary journey. Not lonely mind you, just solitary. Through the mazes and the webs. Through the slides and the water. Its an adventure alright. But you have to be in it to enjoy it. And you cant be in it if you are not me. Tough huh? But hey laws of nature. Perhaps if you listen closely to the words from my mouth, even the unmuttered ones. Perhaps if you watch the movement of my body, with true concentration on the language, or if you stop and feel the quality of my touch. Maybe then, but only maybe.
Ok maybe some of it was just hogwash yet other bits make a whole of sense. Of course as you guessed that journey like the rest of them was never completed. Ah such is life. I shall keep digging in my archives!

going retro

I am constantly accused of being stuck in the middle ages when it comes to music. I have stubbornly refused to move past the late nineties in my taste of music and the more retro the better. And I will not apologize for it but that’s just who I am. Anyway I was just listening to Keith Sweat one of the tracks he did in the mid-90s and it swung me straight back then. I remember how it was then, when my view of love was defined by the sweet words echoed by the likes of Keith Sweat, Babyface, KCi and Jojo and the youthful Usher back in the day. I remember I would always imagine my “crush” crooning those words to me. I remember how I would walk alone along the jacaranda lined avenue and dreamt, my favourite pastime was daydreaming. During the daydreaming my mind left my body and I was transported to another world altogether where everything went exactly the way I wanted it to be.

well life happened and even though i still listen to my retro music, i pretty much stopped day-dreaming.

am back!

So I have been off my feet for a while now. I like to flatter myself by thinking that blogville missed me! Anyway I did say at some point to my girl K that our similarities are uncanny so true to form I was wheeled into the operating theatre a mere few weeks after she came out! If I ever discover that the reason was the same I swear I am going to faint. Anyway I always thought I was a tough one and that no amount of threatening me with needles would get you very far. But this experience, oh boy if I never drive past a sign that says Hospital again it would be too soon. Its quite strange considering that this is the person who was hospitalized at 7 to get tonsils taken out, again at 19 coz for some weird reason I had a stroke, and a few years ago I breezed through my c-section like I do it every day. Yet this time….hmmmm I was just plain traumatized. Well as far as moments are concerned the most memorable one was when I was being wheeled into the OR and the last I thing I heard was strains from Donell Jones, how cool is that! I shall never listen to Donell with the same frame of mind again.

What this whole experience gave me was time on my hands, and time to think at that. It made me realize that when all is said and done, your BFFs might be there for you and all but noone does it quite like family. Everyone else will break momentarily and sympathise and strengthen you but at some point they shall jump on back to the train of their busy lives and at that point all you have is family. The people that don’t sleep if they think you are in too much pain and the people that will drop everything to come and sit by your bedside. No offence my BFFs I love y’all and you guys are truly amazing but my family came out tops on this one. And believe I fell so very blessed to be the subject of this very fierce contest.

Anyway staying at home also made me a fully qualified, certified couch potato which feeds on day-time television and bad movies! I swear in three weeks I must have gone through over 50 movies an average of 3 per day including the time that I was in hospital ( I had hubby sneak me a dvd player in there) and at least half of them were really bad movies. But I watched them anyway its like I was possessed and I couldn’t stop myself. At first I was doing my favourites only ie chick flicks, then with time I ran out of those til I ended up doing were-wolves and mafia! Oh and another memorable moment is I finally met Stewie! oh Stewie, yes huggies does make your bum look fat! I do believe I have watched enough screen for the whole of 2009 and I think I should attempt removing the set in my living room (fat chance of that happening!)

Ah its good to be back, I sure did miss y’all even if you didn’t notice I was gone! Stay blessed!

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After having written the above, I was settling comfortably to finish off what was left of my slouching couch weeks in front of the telly when something happened. I had a visitor at home, an elderly family member who was seated next to me. He asked me a very pertinent question, he asked me whether my favourite hobby was watching telly. Of course I couldn’t say yes I spend all my waking hours in front of it, I had to tell him that I read a lot (well I do read though not that much anymore) in order not to sound so fickle. He asked me if I ever went to watch any sport well that was a flat no because I have an aversion to sport that borders on allergy. Anyway the point is, he got me thinking. We have (well at least I have) settled into a life where telly practically rules my life. I have ceased to attempt find other things to amuse me. I used to sew (yeah I do own a sewing machine) I used to bake, and I used to be much me out-going (well the combination of saying farewell to my long-time friend Mr B..(ooze) and being a mother resulted in me preferring to just sit at home lets face it, its no fun to go out and risk heartburn by downing litres of orange juice) where was i? oh yes I was talking about how I have given in to telly as my babysitter. I really should do something about it, once I am fully back on my feet I need to find a new hobby, any ideas people?

You know I was thinking when I was writing above, about something that my Pastor said the other day. She said that us women do what is called spider-webbing when we talk. This means when we start to talk about something, we think of something else and stray there and while we are there we think of something else and it goes on until we link the whole story back to the original story. If someone maps the story it would result in a diagram that looks more or less like a spider-web. And that’s so true just look at how I kept digressing in brackets above. Its fascinating really and no wonder men never understand us!

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Ok I am back again, that elderly family member I was talking about then turned out to have been asking from a moral pseudo-religious point of view. He happens to belong to a certain denomination ( whose name I shall not reveal) which believes that their doctrines are the gospel truth and I just happen not to agree with them. So my couch afternoon resulted in us being locked in a weird bible lesson or was it brain-storming session. Either way I wanted to run out of there! And I did, to the kitchen, resulting in the yummiest cupcakes I have made in a while. It wasn’t all bad you see!

Bitching session

oh its one of those days. i feel extremely annoyed and i want to lash out yet i know society ( and the sanctity of friendships) forbids me from doing that. how do i go from perfectly laid out plans which are completely in my control to being at someone else's mercy and whims? call me a control freak if you like but i like to have some certainty and control over the things that i do especially if those things require my financial input!

i am too upset to continue with this thread, dont worry i wont put a gun to my head!

Balancing act

I took a day off work yesterday. I was feeling a bit under the weather so I just rolled over in bed and went back to sleep until 12 midday! Now that is bliss! The time at home gave me a chance to just appreciate life. I mean the usual bustle and tumble of weekend with people to visit, friends to entertain etc always leaves you breathless after a weekend. But a Monday at home, with DH (Darling Hubby) safely at work and my LO (little one) behaving remarkably well was too good not to enjoy. I spent the afternoon curled up on the couch watching old movies with a blanket. I cuddled my LO and smelt his hair (isn’t it wonderful how baby hair always smells divine!) and received a thousand wet kisses coz he couldn’t believe mummy was home for another day. To sum it all up, I had a wonderful restful day and I thanked God for the gift of life.

The whole encounter just makes me interrogate again the thought that is somehow always at the back of my mind. Would I be able to survive being a SAHM (stay-at-home-mum) or would I be bored to my wit’s ends? I know for sure that it would be blissful the first few days, weeks even but I cant imagine doing that on a permanent basis. I mean it would be lovely to be able to pick the kids from school, play with them a bit, help them with homework and then prepare a scrumptious meal for when DH comes home. But lets face it, once you have tasted the freedom of the workplace its difficult to just sit and play housewife. I always think of how my mother with everything that’s going on here absolutely refused to retire from her teaching job, says she would rather work for nothing that drive herself crazy by staying at home. Of course for me the ideal would be the best of both worlds, do mornings only or work from home as some fabulous, brilliant consultant who gets paid loads of money for telling people what they know already in flowery legal jargon, and also be able to do the whole soccer mom scene. I believe that is my ultimate ambition, at least while the family is growing up. I don’t want to be the mom that always gets home after the kids are in bed and leave when they are still asleep, at the same time I would certainly not want to be a frumpy housewife who survives on tidbits of gossip from across the road. So I am going to work my cute bum hard to make sure I become an “expert” in my chosen field and get people clamoring for my opinion, then sit back, watch my kid(s) grow while I do what I know best. Perfect!

So tell me ladies, what is your take on balancing the obviously tricky roles of wife, mother and climbing the corporate ladder?

the one that (thankfully) got away!

i had resolved to stay away from blogville today but somehow i found myself navigating towards it. anyway the reason why i opened up this page is because i had a visitor, a refreshing one but it just made me really think. this was one brother, who impressed me so much the first time i met him that in 5 min flat i was half in love with him! he was suave, charming, articulate, charismatic, great looking, sharp dresser, fervent for the Word of God and to top it all up he was a medical student!now i know packages dont come this good, they just dont its impossible! and i was right!

over time i saw things happen, i saw a dream fizzle out, i saw a light die, i saw a great future just disappearing before my eyes. by the way this is his dream i am talking about ( i never really got to date him- God was protecting me!), 8 years later he still doesnt have his medical practising certificate. so today i sat there and looked at him, the looks are still there though a bit rough around the ages now from all that smoking, clubbing and boozing, but he is just a shell of his former self. i asked myself (and him) how one goes from all that to this? i felt sad actually and i still wonder what went wrong.

but there is hope, i think finally he gets it and he still has a chance to make something of his life. the passion and the drive is still there i can see it, i believe all will be well. but hey, i am happy i let this one get away!

Cry the beloved country!

i have never written about what is happening in my country before and mostly because it has been too depressing.but today i couldnt keep quiet. i attended what was supposed to be a national meeting on the Constitution making process.i felt like a responsible citizen waiting anxiously to take part in my own governance. i had an overwhelming sense of pride as i saw the national flag being put up in all its colourful glory.

well for starters the meeting started 4 hours late during which time the different political party supporters took the opportunity to hurl insults at each other through songs and slogans and at some point heated exchange of words. it started off as fascinating but turned to downright ugly with unprintable words being sent across the auditorium. now after patiently waiting for the meeting to begin i had no option but to stay put and watch the drama unfold. but that was not the most interesting part. just as soon as the meeting formally opened,with the speaker of parliament addressing the meeting, a crowd of supporters from one political party poured onto the main arena and started singing.

the singing got louder, the group got larger and wilder. bottles of mineral water that the hotel had so graciously supplied were opened and the water sprayed on top of the delegates, the distinguished and honourable ministers. i stared with my mouth agape as the ZANU Pf supporters continued to sing and watched as women danced kongonya ( a traditional but-jutting almost vulgar dance) in front of close to 4000 people. i looked at the womem, one in particular, a young woman still in her twenties i am sure, properly dressed, pretty even and on her left hand a sparkling ring on her third finger. i prayed fervently that it was just a dress ring improperly worn. because if there is a man at home waiting for his wife to come home, then as the bible says it is better to live in the corner of the roof than to share a house with such a woman. the profanity that erupted out of her mouth, the swing that her waist did and the heights to which her leg was raised left me scrambling for my jaw on the floor. i sat there trying to imagine what kind of a person she really was outside the brainwashed euphoria of the crowd she was in. it was hard i tell you to imagine her having a normal conversation and worst of all, to imagine her bearing children and teaching them any values at all.

needless to say the meeting was disrupted and broke off which is what they had intended and another opportunity coupled with vast resources went to the dogs. we are still a long way off from political tolerance really and it just makes me sad.

Do any of you ever go through your day and you have an interesting thought and you immediately start to develop it for your blog but the problem is you are nowhere near a computer or even pen and paper so you desperately try to hold on to the thought but forget it anyway by the time you get to machine? Well I do that now and it can get annoying sometimes and it has just made me realize how I am becoming a career blogger! Yeah right I will say that when I get to 100 posts which at the moment is more like a dream.

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Anyway sometime ago I read some rave reviews on a book by a South African writer Zukiswa Warner called "The Madams". now i tried to get hold of it at the OR Tambo bookshops and the guys in there looked at me like i was talking Chinese in a Greek accent. anyway i want to ask, have any of you read the book? is it any good? should i lose sleep over hunting for it? next time i am in Joburg i intend to look for it.

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its a Friday again, ah doesnt just time work in favour of those who dont like waking up and coming to work. i am particularly looking forward to this one.....the reason why is of course a story for Monday morning! have a good one people!

Gone too soon

(((((sob sob sob)))))) I dropped her today! Wham! Right onto the floor. Now she wont talk to me. Even if I poke her she just sits there staring blankly at me. I try to say I am sorry but obviously noone is listening to me. Ah, poor thing she couldn’t have survived that fall. I will have to take her in for examination, I hope she can come back to me, I had become very attached to her. But at the same time the idea of replacing her with a Macbook is too tempting! Oh what to do what to do, dear laptop!

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As if in consololation the song started to play my song. Now I will tell you folks this is one song that tickles me deep within and and make my insides all jelly. In fact the sensation I get is close to orgasmic! I mean it’s a general fact that I love music but this song right here does things to me. I am sure you are wondering which song it is. It is a song by the group Air Supply (I wonder what happened to those guys??) and its called “Out of nothing at all” man that’s my song! Of coz the fact that the song in a way reminds me of a time when fate attempted to make me fall senselessly for a younger man has nothing whatsoever to do with its effect on me!

So now you want me to tell you the story about the toyboy neh? Well upon reflection now I do realize that there was quite an intense moment but me being prejudiced blindly by this whole age factor I never for once imagined the intensity erupting. So I was blissfully unaware that my “friend” was dangerously on the other side and was wondering why on earth I couldn’t see it. It was only much later when I was already in content matrimony that he alerted me to the fact that I had all but broken his heart! You can imagine his bitterness and my floundering apologies which were years too late! Ah shame, stuff happens.

Ok my amigos, I am now using a tired old hag of a desktop so I shall stop now before it infects me! Cheerio!

Just because its Tuesday

I got bit by the bug! I had survived the last two weeks without so much as thinking about the whole MJ debacle and my sentiments when I got the news were, oh shame! And that was it, I mean over the last decade I had almost forgotten that such a person existed. But yesterday afternoon it hit me! All this frenzy, how his death has turned into a mega-circus and suddenly I found myself longing for his voice yeah! So I looked for my old favourites from him and I have been listening to them since yesterday and I must say, I had really forgotten how the man was once a very special part of my life! I mean I was in love with him at some time in my early teenage years though funny enough (up to now) I never saw him as a hunk/sex-god type. He looked too frail to me and even when he got married I always wondered whether he was able to fulfil all his husbandly duties LOL! In our culture we are taught not to mock the dead so I shall stop now….

Now in other unrelated news!

If anyone has been reading my blog ( I hope so! Lol) they will think that I am a twenty-something (hopefully) single woman trying to get by in the world. Well today I shall reveal it! I was really thinking about it and I think today is the day! I am not sure I have a particular reason why I have not mentioned it for the last dozen or so posts but I guess its because I always wanted to make this space for myself, and myself alone me me me the only place I am allowed to be totally selfish! But anyway I am a doting mother of a very clever, rather naughty and one of the most energetic 2 and ½ year old boys I ever saw. And he raises in me emotions I didn’t know I possessed, from fierce, protective lioness love, to white maddening fury all at the same time. But I would never trade him for all the money in the world. And secondly (though not in the least less important) I am the dutiful, loving wife of a wonderful, gorgeous, sexy specimen of the male species! Oh and his smile still gives me palpitations 3 and ½ years later! I do believe I have been truly blessed beyond measure!

Anyway I have a telephone interview today! I better start practising my business voice! Have a great day peeps!

mon...(yawwwwwn) day

I wore a skirt today! And what in the world possessed me to do that today when temperatures are below 8 degrees Celsius outside (which believe me is freezing by Harare standards) . I wonder if I really thought the nylon stockings I wore would in any way serve as a shield! What a laugh. So now I am working whilst my legs are stuck to a heater, ndichaita mbare! What to do. Now we all know what happens when you get too warm and cozy, I found myself nicely dozing at my desk! Thank goodness I am not in an open plan office!

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anyway i find myself in a sticky situation at the moment where i have to question my own loyalties. why does the world have to put so much pressure on us to choose, decaf or not, black or with milk, cows' milk or....arghhh. why cant we be allowed to say that you support everyone's point of view even if they are at opposite ends of the table (in this case bed he he he). i swear i am suffering more than anyone else in all of this!

eish!

I always said I would write a book sometime and at one time fancied myself quitting my job to do just that. actually my earlier fantasy was that I would get a qualification (in something) get married, quit my job and work flexi hours as I write a book and raise my kids! Ah what a life! But it doesn’t always turn out the way you want it to though it doesn’t mean that it turns out bad.

Anyway I am so happy that my fingers have found their way back to words though. When I was in school I stayed out of trouble by burying my head in books, not academic ones mind. I would write all my thoughts down on scraps of paper and would always make sure I have a pen and paper on my person. When that got boring I would spend hours tucked in dusty, yellow-paged volumes of Elizabeth Browning or John Keats or Yeats in the furthest part of the library. No wonder people didn’t really like me, and no wonder I scared off the boys! But it kept me out of trouble and gossip and the usual boarding school drama.

I hit a break when I was in college. Somehow writing about love didn’t seem as exciting as actually snogging in real life. And all the ideals and lovely romantic thoughts flew out of the window as I realised that men in real life were actually not much to write about! (he he pun intended) and I spent my time following around low-lives who thought a great night out is having your girl freezing next to you at 2am as they drink their umpteenth bottle in an open air entertainment spot, then drive her back in semi-slumber state to the hostel and dump her there. All that took away my precious time from me and clouded my judgment about what I was really about.

But hey thank goodness for small mercies (in this case big ones) I got delivered from that phase. And I grew up! And I look back and I think eish what was all that ish? And I am glad now I am older, hopefully wiser and I have learnt the language of love from a real man. And I have rediscovered myself and I can still write yay! It feels good to just be alone with your thoughts and manipulate words just the way you want.

letter

Today I am low. In fact I bordering on depression but I just think that’s being too melodramatic. So today I am just writing a letter to God, my father, my confidante.

Hey Dad

Oh I guess you already know what I am going to say even before I have said it. And today I just want to come and sit at your feet and look for wisdom from you. you see (well you know) I have been struggling and I have had pain in my heart, and anger sometimes, and regret and bitterness in a way. And you know why I have had all those emotions, I have been bottling them up because I always thought it is not right to express them. And I know you haven’t really sanctioned me to have such negative emotions, because they negate your promise and positive word. But hey I guess I have been stubborn and today the first thing I want to do is to apologise. I am sorry for having doubted your love for me, I am sorry for being angry at things I cannot change and not trusting you to bail me out, I am sorry I lied to myself and to you about what I was really feeling. As you can probably tell I am pretty messed up right now. but I know why I am messed up, because that slimy foul thing the devil has been teasing me and telling me all the things that I cant do. He is busy laughing at my confusion and rubbing his gnarly bony palms with an evil gleam in his eye that his plan worked.

But today I will proclaim for all who care to listen (including the sucker-devil) that he cannot take my joy. Oops I am sorry Dad that this has kinda turned into an attack on the slimy thing instead of a letter to you. I am sorry Dad really I am. Anyway today I take comfort in your word that says you make all things come together for the good for all who trust in you. And today I am giving up all pretence of being a superwoman. Oh no, aint nothing super about me. I am rightly giving back all the glory to you coz you deserve it. I am letting you take charge of my life once again and I am content to just sit quietly in the back and let you work the cockpit. I am sorry I ever thought that with zero hours of flying experience I could ever steer an engine as big as my life, what a joke!

It will not be easy to just sit quietly so I am asking for strength and wisdom, and patience, and discernment and all the other ammunition I need to fight this battle. I will always endeavour to stay in the kingdom in right-thinking peace and joy in the Holy Ghost. I shall endeavour to rejoice always and pray without ceasing and give thanks in everything for that is Your will for my life.

Thank you Father, I love you so much.

ranting......

so i start to write this post and i realise i have no clue whatsoever what i want to write about but the urge is there all the same. and since the wheel is already in motion who am i to stop it? my bag got stolen yesterday, i have absolutely no idea how as i found the car locked but all the same the handbag was missing. i was sad but mostly angry. i felt violated, i imagined someone pawing through my personal stuff and rummaging through my intimate things. to all those who dont know, the handbag is the woman's shrine. it contains the most intimate yet inanimate objects close to one's heart.

i found the bag today, minus all my prized and need i say expensive items. but i suppose i should be thankful that my identification particulars were all there. but the sense of loss was no less profound. i doubt i will ever use that bag again, there is a foul smell to it, it might just be imaginary but its there nonetheless. i am just glad i dont have to take the dreaded trip to home affairs to replace documents.

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shocker!

this will be my most controversial post yet, well at least controversial to me because i have never had the guts to admit this stuff even to myself! what if i had no ambition whatsoever? after all those years of learning and working what if i realise i just want to sit at home and be a mummy? is that so bad? in a world where young women are encouraged to be ambitious and be go-getters and climb the corporate ladder etc etc. i know this post would break my poor mother's heart so i will stop. but then again i sometimes think that the fact that i am in a totally wrong field makes me feel like i am unambitious. maybe its time i moved and did what i really want to do. i wish it was that simple....oh life, i think the worst bit is i absolutely have noone to blame but myself. i am caught in a web of my own making and i need to find a way out soon before i suffocate!

Of SPs, deep thoughts, Respect and embarassment

For most of last week I was at a “Strategic Planning Workshop” (one of those!) the setting was perfect, tranquil and beautiful and not a speck of cell phone reception anywhere in the confines of the hotel, ah brilliant for focussed thinking! Well it was a lot of work though half the time I get annoyed by how things are phrased, “strategic intent, frameworks, blah blah” I think people should just learn to use simple terms! Or maybe I am just too much of a simpleton! Anyway during one of the sessions I couldn’t help drifting off (I promise I was participating and attentively listening the rest of the time!) and here is what I wrote:

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So I got to a point (I am not sure how) where I now check what I say. The reason is because I stop and ask myself what my words will do, whether they will come back empty or whether they will hit a home run. And I think I have already avoided a whole lot of conflict which would have been pointless really. To be precise I ask myself if imparting my opinion will necessarily change someone’s behaviour or thinking. if it doesn't no use wasting my breath. And if it does, whether my motives are good in trying to change that.

I believe I have matured amazingly because I have also come to a realisation that there are just some things I can’t change and that are beyond my power to, and in the same vein, there are things that only my God can deal with. ( yeah i know i should have realised that long back, but hey i am here now thats all that matters!) And I have stopped stressing about those, every time I start to fret, I stop and say, “Dad you got that one right?” I also recall every time I get afraid a sermon by Dr Creflo dollar about fear. He said the Lord says I have not given you a spirit of fear, and that every time we are afraid it means we are not trusting God to do what He said He would do. We do not believe that He can take care of it and that’s some serious stuff right there.

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This is one of the thoughts that crossed my mind as I listened to people speak at the SP; it’s a funny thing, respect, it determines what your ears are willing to listen to, what your mind is willing to absorb and what your heart is willing to believe as someone speaks. Never underestimate respect, and should you find yourself in danger of losing it for someone, try to run as fast as possible. If you are going to remain in the company, employ or influence of someone, rather try to keep RESPECT for them in tact.

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On a sad note, today marks the occurrence of the most embarrassing thing ever to happen to me, and it’s too embarrassing even to write down. I only hope when I look back and read this, I shall remember what it was because I know most certainly, today my ears might be heating up from the shame, but very soon it shall become just another faded memory. I hope it shall be the same with my colleagues! Argh!

my crazy unproductivity (is there such a word???)

After spending the last two days unhealthily obsessing over a single blog and doing NO work at all , my browser finally gave up and I am slightly worried that I shall be disconnected from the internet altogether for spending too much time on it, but at this point who cares?

I have been hungrily going though hundreds of blog posts by one person and I find her writing witty and humorous and totally captivating! It’s a good thing I don’t know who the writer is because such obsession can only be shrouded in anonymity. But I am back to reality now and I am wondering whether I should follow her blog or not? Who am I kidding I probably will but I need at least a week to recover from the obvious overdose that I have inebriated my self with.

Anyway now that I am not stalking the poor blog it doesn’t necessarily mean that I am now working. I mean it’s a Friday anyway and half the office is out gallivanting on one mission on another so why should I pretend I have major deadlines? (thank goodness for closed offices!) So I have taken to reading an online version of one of my favourite books of all times Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen. ( those IT guys will surely have my head for this)

whilst on the subject about favourites here is a list of some random things about me:

a) i LURVE Pride and Prejudice- i read the book for my A Levels, i watched the BBC version (all 4 hours of it), i read the book again, i totally fell in love with Mr Darcy ( and Colin Firth in the process) and i still verily believe Helen Fielding based the character of her Mr Darcy on this particular one in her books Bridget Jones Diary!

b) my other favourite book is "The Scarlet Pimpernell" by Baroness Orzcy ( i hope i got that correct) i cant count the number of times i have read it and who wouldnt fall in love with Sir Percy..ahh

c) i think Brownsugar is the most romantic black movie ever made (of coz the fact that Taye Diggs is the lead has a lot to do with it he he he). maybe its because for a long time i had a crush on my childhood friend and i always fantasized that we would end up together!

d) i am a total sucker for chick-flicks and i dont apologise for it. same as i love chick-lit and i even throw in the occassional Mills and Boon when the mood takes me

e) for almost of my growing years i NEVER danced esp in company i would get paralytic with fear and shyness, (growing up does loosen you up- literally he he he)

f) i have an unhealthy relationship with chocolate, no matter how much i try to stop the stuff keeps sticking to my fingers!

g) i am most terrified of rats and bats, to me a bat is a rat with wings and bigger ears. . those things mortify me!

thats it for today folks!

sisters

Someone said that if someone is not discerning enough to notice your worth or yur value then they are not worthy of it. if a man foolishly refuses to see the promise in your eyes, to feel the quality of your touch and hear the love in your voice then he is not worth it. we sisters spend a lot of time thinking it must be our fault, and grinding our self-esteem down to smitherens simply because of a brother who is way too blessed to notice it. i know walking away is never easy but there are times when we owe it to ourselves. there are times when we need to rescue us from ourselves and walk on ahead and never look back. there are times when we just need to stop and remind ourselves that we are fearfully and wonderfully made, that He took His precious time to mould every little finger every strand of hair and we are not here by accident. there are times when we just have to remember that there is so much goodness and promise in us to let anyone just tear it to pieces.

they say its always easier looking in on the other side of the glass, i am sure it is. but in the midst of all the tears, and the hurt and the pain, its good to just remember to appreciate our own worth even if noone else does.

An Ode

Do you remember exactly what you were wearing that first day right down to the fancy design of your shoes? Do you remember how we stood by the doorway and promised to keep in touch albeit academically? Do you remember orientation week when it was so good to see a familiar face in the abyss of freshers feeling all important because they had finally “made it!”. Do you recall that providence just happened to place our rooms in the same corridor when we could have been in different hostels altogether?

I remember it all very clearly, especially the vision of you dancing on top of your bed the morning of the conveyancing exam. The day I was beaten by the GBs as I was coming from your room at around midnight, oh gosh I have never run so fast in my life. I remember bunking a boring class so we could go chill by the mall. I remember leaving the library at night because we suddenly both had a craving for fried chicken. I remember dancing the night away at my graduation party and then getting crazy at yours.

I remember so many things but the most important thing is I remember you being always there. All the time, my forever constant. The one who knew how I felt even when I wasn’t speaking to you. The one who would talk me out of a bad decision or giggle with me over a silly crush. Its been 8 years but I know you are still there, I don’t even need to think about it. Thank you for putting into practice for me 1 Cor 13 love, even when I did not deserve it. My girl, my partner in crime, my anchor. The one who ALWAYS had my back, ALWAYS. Thank you for taking this journey with me from giggling girlhood into mature womanhood. For being my sister, my confidante and my punching bag. I still don’t think I would have made it without you. I love you babes, I always will.

this is me

I went home last week. Wait a minute I am not sure what I mean by that now. I mean someone will say home is where the heart is, in that case I have several homes coz my heart is in several places. Logic would tell me that home is where I have my husband and my children. But society tells me that home is where my mother and father lives. Again culture tells me that home is where my mother-in-law is since I have married into that family. To confuse the whole absurd situation more, ancestry tells me that home is where my father originated, his roots, where his umbilical cord fell off and was buried like they say. I shall not give myself a headache by considering all these semantics, simply put I went to visit my folks. And oh what a visit. You see my folks live in a rural part of the country, which (thanks to some momentary madness) is electrified, so I will be glad to say I never cooked over an open fire, nor did I have to look for firewood. But I could have and I can actually. In fact this is the person that I am, you can find me one day in my (ok not so fancy) office, wearing killer heels and a sharp suit, arguing a matter with a colleague. Then the next day you find me clad in flatties and a long dress and cooking over an open fire. I am dynamic like that, I am not ashamed of what I can do. No offence to my new-age peers, but I have no qualms about slaughtering a chicken for relish, or cleaning the inside organs (matumbu) of a goat. I don’t like the smell but I can do it, I have embraced my roots and I am not ashamed. I shelled maize while I chatted to my mother and sat in the sun watching my son running away from chickens. Poor thing he just couldn’t get over his fear of those creatures.

I went to see my mother-in-law. She stays in the urban areas but she might as well been in the rural area at the rate at which electricity goes. So I did cook over an open fire. And oh I did do all the cooking, and cleaning up. In other ways I was a traditional daughter-in-law. And I didn’t complain, I have nothing to lose, its only for a few days. I am an African woman after all, so I am not going to pretend that all this education made me any different. I came back to my house, muscles aching in place si didn’t know had muscles, washed off all the dust from the visit and put on my favourite tight pants and curled up in front of the telly and let my maid serve me supper. I was me in a different mode now, whoever I was during the visit was only a passing phase. It comes and goes and I embrace it when it comes.

This is me, and I don’t apologise for it. Neither do I judge anyone who is not like me, because after all everyone is unique. And the sooner we stop measuring ourselves by a certain standard the more we will all recognise how unique and special all of us are.

i love me some ME!

I took off my clothes yesterday…((((((giggle)))) that sounds like it was the first time I was doing that in a while! Well its just that yesterday I did that and I stood in front the mirror- jeepers creepers why on earth would I want to do that? Anyway I stood to my full height and looked straight ahead, I turned to the left and then to the right and you want to know what I saw? Beauty beyond measure, fearfully and wonderfully made.

I realised that I had been at the brink of falling into the same trap that most women fall into. That of comparing oneself with unrealistic, untrue images of beauty. I am an African woman, I revel in my curves, my strength is in the thickness of my waist, life bounces in the heaviness of my breasts, every single stretch-mark is a reminder of the wonderful life I carried inside my belly. You want to know something, I fell in love with that woman in the mirror, her image is permanently imprinted on my mind, I see the corners of her mouth lift slightly as she starts to smile, to appreciate the view in front of her.

I put on some clothes today… comfy and in my world stylish and I felt good about it. I don’t have to wear skinny jeans and stilettos and paint my face red, pink and blue to feel good. I like my style and I will stick to it, it defines me.

I think of one of my favourite songs of all time, from India Arie, and I just had to get excerpts from the lyrics to make the statement:

Sometimes I shave my legs and sometimes I dont
Sometimes I comb my hair and sometimes I wont
Depend on how the wind blows I might even paint my toes
It really just depends on whatever feels good in my soul

Im not the average girl from your video
And I aint built like a supermodel
But, I learned to love myself unconditionally
Because I am a queen
Im not the average girl from your video
My worth is not determined by the price of my clothes
No matter what Im wearing I will always be india aria

When I look in the mirror the only one there is me
Every freckle on my face is where its supposed to be
And I know our creator didnt make no mistakes on me
My feet, my thighs, my lips, my eyes; Im lovin what I see

If i had met me now i wouldnt recognise myself

its been almost a year since i even visited this blog in fact i had all but forgotten all about it. but something pushed me to llok for it. it is this illness that has gotten hold of me that has sent me looking and searching for my roots, for myself in fact. i sat wondering who i was, who i had become and where i was going and i was shocked by what i learnt. i have no clue whatsover who i am, i am not evne sure what name i answer to at the moment. its all a bit blurry and i think it has been like this for the last two years i was jut too wrapped up in it to realise it. dont get me wrong i love being a wife, a mother, a daughter, a sister but i guess i just forgot how to be me. and the revelation broke me down to tears. i used to be passionate about life, set in my beliefs, poetic, romantic, idealist, sentimental, i sued to be! now there are just not enough hours in the day and when by some miracle they are there, i just dont have the energy or the drive to pursue anything else. how did i end up in this rut? i mean honestly to qoute carrie Bradshaw in SATC-the movie " If i had met me now i wouldnt recognise mysel"