Thinking out loud

That's what they call me. But I'm not free. I was just born after one oppressor took over from another. It's an unspoken rule where I'm from. We all know it; young and old. We simply don't speak against those in power. No jobs, no healthcare, no money, no future. But we just remain silent because those are the rules, don't you know? If you speak you're unpatriotic, disrespectful to the struggle, a puppet of the West or subversive (wish they'd stop using that word).  Why can't I just point out that I feel like the whole system has failed me without fear of violence or incarceration. I'm supposed to be grateful that I don't live with South African crime, the dark cloud of terrorism over Europe or the demonising of my Christian beliefs in the Far East. I'm supposed to believe that if my children fall ill today and I cannot afford a pint of blood it's because of sanctions and not because those in power have failed. I'm supposed to cel...

THERE Something is hanging in the air Looming, threatening, frightening It's locked my limbs to inaction Closing my eyes and bracing myself It'll have to find me right here Can you feel it too? Choking the promise that once was Making me dread what will be Stifling, the air too dry to breath Not even shade under the trees Nothing for free To free me, no one Surely this is not how it should be? Comfort in ruins Delight in despair Pray tell what took me there? Laughter in disaster Will I even have a heart hereafter? A book with covers A few pages Not chapters Empty Shelve it, burn it No matter No one will notice Eyes closed, self braced It'll have to find me right here. FINIS

I was up and about much earlier than usual. Nothing reminds me of times gone by like the darkness just before sunrise and that chill on my cheeks. There is something quite magical about that time. People up at that time have purpose. Women carrying heavy loads, already toiling. Men carrying the dreams of entire families on their shoulders, the strain etched distinctly on their brows. Little children making their way to school. What time did they get up? What time did whoever got them ready wake up? Then the joggers, the walkers, the exercisers. Determined as the sweat drenches their clothes; to run further, walk faster. Each one determined. He is determined to sell those tomatoes today. He stacks them into a precarious pyramid and steps away briefly to marvel at his handiwork. She carries an IKEA shopping bag on her head. The name almost rubbed away from overuse. So many miles it took to get there, so far from the aisles of build it yourself furniture and so many kilometres she will wa...

Have you ever forgiven someone? I mean really forgiven a person; who has caused you pain, humiliation and that yucky feeling of having the rug pulled from under your feet. Have you ever bundled those feelings in a neat little package and thrown them away only to encounter them again when you were innocently taking a walk round your own mind? Do you know the feeling of immersing yourself in that anger afresh and wondering what you ever did to be treated that way? Your heart feels heavy again, bruised anew. Offended again, ego raises its ugly head and declares that no one has the right to hurt you that way. You wrestle again with the when. Consider the how and slip frightfully back into trying to unpack the why. And then you realise, you never forgave them at all. You chose to walk away because staring pain right in the eye burns your eyeballs. That neat package of ill feeling was all you could do to stay sane. But absolving that person of their crime, expunging their record forever, wis...

There are some things about the festive season that make me rather uncomfortable. Like that old saying 'Compliments of the Season'. I never remember to say it and I often feel like a dunce when I just say the non-season specific 'Hello' and the person responds with 'Compliments of the Season'. I never know what to say back. 'Compliments of the Season to you too' is rather long and convoluted. It's like saying thank you when someone says they love you. I've said it (compliments of the season to you too) and it often leaves the other person with the glazed look of information overload. So what are you supposed to say back? Thank you? Then it means I haven't given back compliments of the new year. Will the lack of reciprocity mean I have damned that person to a compliment-less year? Perish the thought. An even more troublesome animal is that old Zimbabwean way of shortening things that shouldn't be shortened. Forget the confusion of 'C...

You know when you haven't seen an old friend in a long time and you eventually meet up?? If you're like me you (and I doubt you are!) you probably have a list of things that you must discuss to catch up. And I mean an actual written down list!! Lists calm me. We will talk about seeking therapy later. Anyway I'm thoroughly mortified at how long it's been since I blogged and like meeting up with an old friend I feel like I should list a few things that we must chat about. The first and most important thing is that I'm now a mum. After a trying pregnancy God gifted hubbz and I with the most beautiful little girl. She is far more beautiful and engaging than I could ever imagine  and she stole my heart from the moment I met her. I was petrified of becoming a mum and I've overcompensated by reading up and getting clued up on baby stuff more than I've ever been on any other topic. I can already see bits of me and hubbz in her and I can't believe she wasn't ...

I really cannot believe how long it's been since I last blogged. Sometimes life takes over, grabs you by the scruff of the neck and drags you into submission. Pausing to write about it all was the furthest thing from my mind. Instead I just licked my grass burns and pulled through it with all the energy I could muster. To be honest 2013 wasn't all bad, in fact it was pretty fabulous. I didn't do all I'd set out to do, I did some things I could have never envisaged and grew in ways I know will be useful for me in the future. So this very first waking moment of 2014 finds me sitting on the cold floor of the balcony of our apartment. I cannot believe how neglected my hanging strawberry baskets are. These once astoundingly fertile and beautiful baskets of fruit and plush greenery (that always reminded me of the fruit of the loom logo), are now in dire straits! There must be a metaphor somewhere in there. Where there once was promise now grow weeds. Not even impressive weeds...