My curly crown!

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My Curly Crown

I had straightened
Plaited it
Washed it
And loved it.
But still it grew with a definitive curl

I cursed it,
Tormented it
Cut it,
Willed it to grow
But with each tug it sprung back to life

I wished upon the heavens
Even borrowed from distant sisters
Played with it
Coaxed it
But it would not bow down.

Till the dawn of my awakening
I understood this not,
That my crown begged to define
Who I was inside
Unique and strong, that would be me.

Now I comb and oil it,
Feed my fingers through its coily maze.
Marvel at its versatility
It sits regal and unapologetic,
The perfect crown for this lovely face.

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Food for thought and Action required. Great read!

iamairoots's avatari am ai roots

Hey folks!

In my first post on this blog, I will be looking at the way Hollywood has ‘invaded’ the African story, stereotypes us and metamorphosed the character and ubuntu of our African heroes. I for one, am grateful that Hollywood doesrecognise some of our heroic individuals and also some pieces of history from the cradle of mankind. My displeasure, however, kicks in when the burly, cigar-smoking, well-heeled gang from Tinseltown decide that Idris Elba, Terrence Howard and Morgan Freeman were better talent to play Nelson Mandela in the various biopics about the great African statesman.

Some proponents of globalisation, by now, are pulling their daggers out ready to attack my opinion, but let me point out that African cinema has for years played second fiddle to foreign studios and handing a big African role to a native African talent is doing the right thing in terms of development…

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Lost and found!

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Just been going through my phone and found this from January 15 2011. No better way to immortalise it, than on the World Wide Web!

 

I love you Chloë!

I see now how children can become the center of their parents lives. I love you with a passion that knows no end . With a definite that knows no doubt.

I love the way you are so beautiful and unassuming. How you are so alive and vivacious . You light up a room with your infectious energy. You are energy personified . I love our conversations where you babble on and I pretend that I know what you are talking about. I hope one day to have a real conversation with you and laugh and cry(now we do!) .

I’m going through a lot right now but I know that I need to fix myself so I can be the mum you need, the mum you deserve . That means the next few days, weeks, and months are going to be filled with so much pain, fear, tears and regrets but I know that through all this I will find my purpose and direction. I will prevail. I will be your mother and I will be with you for many years to come. I am not going anywhere . I want to be there for you but I realize that I will have to let you go one day. When the time comes I know my love for you will guide me and comfort me.

You are my sunshine

My only sunshine.
You make me happy when skies are grey .
You’ll never know dear how much I love you.
Please don’t take my sunshine away!
Be sure to tell the loved ones in your life how you feel about them. Life has no warranty and certainly isn’t guaranteed!
Stay Blessed
B

Morning thoughts!

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Like every other morning in the past 6 months I looked down at my ankle . It looked almost normal and I marveled at how good it looked…. Until I looked at the other one and I realized that as much as it looked better it was still swollen and that now-so-normal feeling of despondency enveloped me.

That’s the thing with comparing. Before I looked left my right ankle was great. It masked the trauma it endured!
But can we go through life without comparing ? How then do we know and accept what’s normal and acceptable, even without a peek at the alternative . True, some things cannot be compared no matter how similar they are .
Like my right ankle; under normal circumstances it should look like the left one . But the left one didn’t break! And the left will never be like the right, probably never was!
So I will love my right and my left ankle; for with each I’m still able to stand!

Happy living!

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That’s my bro, sharing he’s lessons! Much love!

bhaunza's avatarKwela Sessions

THE SONG OF THE BIRD
The disciples were full of questions about God.
Said the Master, “God is Unknown, the Unknowable. Every statement about Him,
every answer to your questions, is a distortion of the Truth.”
The disciples were bewildered. “Then why do you speak about Him at all?”
“Why does the bird sing?” said the Master.
Not because he has a statement, but because he has a song.
The words of the Scholar are to be understood. The words of the Master are not to be understood. They are to be listened to as one listens to the wind in the trees and the sound of the river and the song of the bird. They will awaken something within the heart that is beyond all knowledge.
– Fr. Anthony de Mello

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Me, myself and my hair!

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For as long as I can remember I have had a love-hate relationship with my hair. It’s like for most of my life there was a quiet acceptance that there was something wrong with my locks.Whenever there was a wedding or special event, the stretching comb (hot comb) always came out . On other occasions it was some super market relaxer ( this was before dark ‘n lovely reached the African shores.) I even recall my first, and only perm and how boys looked at me differently then.

Like my mother , my hair was often kept in a short natural style. I had the occasional salon relaxer, braids and corn rows but I always went back to my short hair. But even I couldn’t resist the allure of all the new relaxers that were coming out. I was seventeen and my hair was long and natural then and I remember certain members of my family ( who’s names shall not be mentioned :)) explaining to me how lovely I would look. Sadly, even I though at the time that I looked lovelier but it was expensive and thus maintaining it was difficult. Growth was an ugly word when I was on a relaxer, never mind I actually wanted my hair to grow. But I became addicted to the supposed “ease” of styling it and the feeling that there was so much more I could do with my hair.

Thereafter I discovered weave s and my head of hair was opened up to more experiments. It was only when I got pregnant with my daughter that I decided to go natural. I hadn’t been natural since I was in Uni , and even then it was a just a short spell in order to grow my hair after a very damaging hairstyle.

Maybe the hormones helped but somehow I loved the hair. And thus began the change in my view of my hair. I love my hair but I realise I am only just getting to know it, to understand it and most importantly to care for it. I still have a few bad habits but overall I am learning to embrace it. I still braid it a lot and have the occasional weave but my hair will remain natural. A bigger part of that decision came from realising that it grew quicker and stronger naturally; any other thoughts are work-in-progress.

The Afro hair has come back into the spotlight with a lot of women choosing to wear their hair naturally. This has then raised questions and arguments about weaves and relaxers. Arguments I am not really interested in. For a long time I felt like my hair was a menace and unlovable; I just don’t have the time nor energy to worry about someone else’s choices as I try to erase the lies and hurt I put my hair through. My attention is fully on my hair and my daughter’s .

There is a general feeling that Afro hair is a fad. Maybe it is, maybe it isn’t. But what I do know is what my intentions are with my own. We are living in a society that is probably, more culturally open than it’s ever been . When you were your hair naturally you are prone to a lot of questions. Sometimes, the questions are annoying and exasperating but I realise that whatever I tell them will be taken as as gospel . One thus has an unwilling responsibility of being “spokesperson” of Black girls’ hair. What I do know though, is that a question signifies curiosity and interest and an answer breeds knowledge. Whatever information I give about my hair goes into a knowledge pool. I have a responsibility to ensure that information is authentic.

So whatever your choice of hair be authentic with it, love it and wear it with pride. Having a weave or relaxer doesn’t stop you from being authentic about your hair neither is natural hair synonymous with authenticity. Being aware of the products you choose and how you apply them to your beautiful crown and embracing those choices, that’s authentic! I’m on a journey with my hair and all other parts of me. There’s so much about my hair that’s so much about me and as I learn more about what I really want for my hair , I learn a lot about what I really want for myself.

Stay blessed!

Runaway Mind

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Do you ever feel like your brain works faster than the world moves. You get one idea and before you know it you’ve built a universe. I wish I could keep up with my mind; the things I could be doing . Kind of makes me sound like a scatter brain though!

You get one great idea which in turn triggers another idea totally unrelated to the one you started! Get my drift?

I need a mind bank , somewhere to keep all these wonky ideas and I can retrieve them on the odd occasion when my mind is fairly quiet.
There have been times I am up and about with my own self and a thought pops into my head. I know it’s a great one coz my whole self feels all warm and tingly. And as it grows , something catches my attention and I’m on another path . Only to remember that I had a really great idea. Too bad I can’t remember it. Lol!
I’ve tried writing it all down and unfortunately on occasion I don’t write as quickly as it flows . Maybe recording myself ? Sounds a bit much.
I’m resigned to the thought that the ideas that truly matter always linger and grow roots. And the ones that are gone with the wind, were meant for another time !
Phew I made it.
Stay blessed !

Oh Heaven!

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In the Desperate Housewives episode of Mike Delfino’s funeral, his son MJ asks where heaven is. It occurred to me that I hadn’t thought much about heaven for a very long time. I recall it occupying my mind a lot as a child especially after Catechism classes. So I have quizzed my 32-year-old self what heaven means to me now.

What I do recall is that as a child my picture of heaven was heavily influenced by those Watch Tower magazines (never mind that I’m Catholic but you know how hard it is to say no to a Jehovah’s Witness) as well as paintings by the likes of Michelangelo like The Last Judgment in The Sistine chapel. The idea of being able to cuddle up with a lion as depicted in the Watch Tower magazines was interesting and I hoped this friendliness could be extended to dogs, for whom I had a grave fear of too. I recall images of people picking fruits from trees, nothing new there for an African child but at that age climbing fruit trees was a big deal. The choice of fruit seemed endless, the grass was the greenest green and everyone looked very happy; a picture of paradise.

Michelangelo, on the other hand provided the image of more spiritual heaven of chubby people in robes and wings ( the nudity however worried me as it wasn’t in tune with the Catholic church of my time ) . This seemed more in line with the heaven that formed in my mind as the Priest spoke during Mass. But I will admit the heaven pictured by the Jehovah’s witnesses was more appealing to my 9-year-old self; that was before I knew they believe only 144,000 people will attain salvation! For a child, the image of floating in the heavenly skies for all eternity seemed dull. It had all the majestic appeal of what I thought heaven should be but presented a rather mundane end to my life. Michelangelo’s heaven, though beautiful was foreign to me. It lacked that personal touch and appeal.

We have always looked to the skies and believed the heavens to be beyond the sky. Science has named this space which is inhabited by other planets within our solar system and other galaxies far, far away. But alas, space travel isn’t quite the picture of heaven for me. So many questions plague my mind just as they did many years ago. What is heaven? Do people go to heaven when they die? What do people do in heaven? I’m seriously hoping that no one expects me to answer these questions, but here is my disclaimer just in case. I am merely going through a thought process which unfortunately has more questions than answers.

Mike Delfino’s response struck a chord with me. For him heaven was the” here and now”, sitting in a diner having a cheese burger with his family; beautiful moments in one’s life. I pause to reflect on mine.

  • When my daughter replaced “You are my sunshine,” with ” You are my mummy…”
  • The first bite into a Magnum White and the sound of the cracking white chocolate, bliss.
  • The smell of a new pair of shoes.
  • Sharing a quiet moment with someone but still feeling connected.

I don’t know whether it is facing a life altering situation or losing loved ones that makes one dwell on the phenomenon that is death. But I do find myself dwelling on it when I hear of someone passing. thus it’s surprising that through the years the notion of Heaven itself hasn’t really passed through my mind. We hear a lot that we are alive for a purpose and our life’s mission is to find this purpose and pursue it. I often felt after Catechism class that, we were meant to trudge through life with whatever we had, do well and get our reward in heaven. But what if this is the reward? Life presents itself with challenges aplenty but is there anything else you’d rather be doing besides living? It scares me to think that I could go through life hoping for something that’s already within my reach.

In reincarnation, the notion is that when we die we come back as a child reborn into a new life. The life we inhabit depends on how well a life we lived previously. Little bit of Karma, maybe? Anyway, hypothetically speaking, the process of birth allows for the state of renewal. We are born, without the hang ups of our previous lives, allowing us to learn new lessons and some we didn’t quite get the hang of previously. If this is the case, the concept of enjoying this life like it were your heaven is essential as is being good. But then again, the benefit of rebirth means you don’t know whether you are better off or not. The pursuit of happiness though, instills in us a desire to be good, and life throws in the curve balls .

If there is a heaven in whatever version, Michelangelo’s or the Garden of Eden, I don’t know and will never know for a fact. But what I do know now more than my 9-year-old self is, l am present and that is a big deal. I endeavor to be happy in most of these experiences, and when I feel other emotions other than happiness, like fear, sadness, anger, I hope to remember that I am able to feel this way because I am alive; I am in heaven!

 

Stay blessed.