Xiluvaxoxonga

You make me want to put paper to pen and let my thoughts do the talking. You inspire me, I find myself imagining, creating, writing fathoms and fantasies in THE space blank in time, filled with Khanan inspiration. You inspire me, you make me breathlessly reach for words lost in the corners of my mind not stimulated by such colorful creativity. You inspire me not only to create but to reach for the stars. I want to get lost and loose myself day in and night out. For I have found the fountain of eternal inspiration.

I wish I could tell someone. Scream my lungs out, share my pain, eliminate my anguish. But who...? How do I tell him I sympathize with him? How do I tell him I feel his pain? How do I let him know, am thinking of him! How do I let him know am here for him? Just a few weeks ago, we were in the same shoes. I looked at my father, his face swollen almost like if you were to puncture him with a needle, he would pop. His eyes, nose, lips, neck, arms, legs and feet. I only knew the voice behind the man. He was waddling...no longer strolling...  A few hours later he is in ICU. So flat, so pale, no volume, so dry. Is this the man who was so full in the morning? Now, so empty. I would struggle to get the same pin past his skin. When his life flashed in front of his eyes, it also flashed in front of ours. How vulnerable is this breath of air we take for granted. What does it mean to be alive? What does it mean to be a father? What does it mean to a girl child to have a father? Could it have t...

June 27, 2014 A DEATH IN BENGHAZI: SALWA BUGAIGHIS POSTED BY JON LEE ANDERSONOn June 25th, in the eastern Libyan city of Benghazi, the lawyer and democracy activist Salwa Bugaighis was killed, bringing despair to those who knew her. Bugaighis, a bright, funny, courageous woman, fifty years old, was fighting for a democratic, open society. Along with her husband, Issam, and her sister Iman, she was at the forefront of the uprising against Muammar Qaddafi; later, she sat on the hastily declared transitional council that sought to bring order to the excited anarchy that followed Qaddafi’s fall.As that anarchy turned to bedlam, Bugaighis worked to reconcile Libya’s feuding groups—even as her life was threatened, and as other critics of the militias were murdered. She had been spending time abroad, because of such threats, but came home for the elections.Yesterday, just after she returned from voting in parliamentary elections, gunmen surprised her at her house ...

Today we're outraged and saddened at the assassination of Salwa Bugaighis, a human rights lawyer and tireless activist who committed herself to defending the ideals of equality, freedom and peace. A key figure in the Libyan Revolution, Salwa refused to be silenced by fear and became a one-woman force for political reform. She used her voice to advocate for women’s equitable and meaningful participation in the political process. Her leadership and hopeful vision for a Libya free of oppression, violence, and injustice inspired and galvanized others. Vital Voices was proud to honor Salwa – along with four other women transforming the Middle East and North Africa – with our Global Trailblazer Award in 2012. Salwa has been silenced for her courage to speak out. Her life, and tragic death, reminds us that without voices that demand human rights, societies are stalled and our shared progress is threatened. We at Vital Voices – and the thousands of women in our global network – mourn the...

I distinctly remember the day I realised something was wrong. It was the 28th March 2011. I remember cause it was the last presentation I had to make to my bioinformatics group (so long suckers!) before I left. I was ready for my presentation. I knew my work (well hindsight is 20:20 vision, then I was still not sure). A few seconds into my presentation, I stopped briefly and looked at everyone…they looked back. I thought I sounded like I was talking underwater…but they didn’t seem to think that. That was the start…right there. The start of me turning into a Mr Sir. I was excited about my first pregnancy. I had no money as I was a student again, nothing…but I knew we would be fine (well daddy dearest wasn’t going to let us starve…hehehehe). I was happy that my goal of having a baby by 30 would be realised! Yipeee…also it was good to know that I could bear kids! I was glowing. My skin was flawless and I generally looked very healthy. Until that fateful day, the 28th March 2011...

Am looking for a name for spotted if anyone has a better idea. Spotted is a blog that spots celebrities. I spot you, I write about you... SPOTTED - Euphonik Last Tuesday night (22 May 2014) while I waited in-line at the KLM check in counter, my aunt and I were behind two young men, short in height.  As the line progressed, another young shortman joined them in the queue - it was the one and only Euphonik. Immediately he started chatting, I felt, almost in pretence that he had been in the line a lot longer but had gone somewhere and was now back. I didn't take another glance, only a young moment later to mention to my aunt that we were on the same line with the DJ. My niece, Mbali, upon hearing that screamed 'oh! Bonang's man! Regte wa Queen B.. I cast my mind back to when I saw him, in blue jeans and a black top. I did not pay much attention to his shoes. He looked short, shorter than I had imagined him. I had always heard he was short but I had not placed his height wh...

Oh Shit! The youghurt does not have a spoon! I was looking forward to using the foldable, disposable white plastic spoon. When I reached out for the youghurt in my packet, I felt the sticky glue where the enclosed spoon was stuck onto! Oh well, I will have to wait until I get to Stuttgart because I am not about to pick up my back pack from across the chairs; put on my jean jacket, so I can reduce the small pieces am carrying; unplug my phone from the wall socket and pack the cable - throw away the empty Narvesen Kaffe paper  cup all smoothered in fatal red lipstick since I couldnt care less, while I was sipping my morning wake-me up cappaccino! I just looked up from across the seat and noticed a mid-age/ elderly couple sitting on the other side of the lounge. She was chatting away when they walked in. I gues the silence made me look up. She just leaned across smiling at her husband. Her smile is slowly fading. I don't think he could be bothered. She is lookong around, looking slig...

As the names strolled up in white against the black background, I could not hold back my tears. I struggled to read the rest of the narration because the screen was about 15cm by 13cm and  so close to my face. I could gather, however that the film was based on a true story  - I appreciated my freedom. Could I freely weep in front of these strangers. I looked to my left and time after I looked to my right. I was surrounded by an  elderly British woman and to my left a young Asian woman  - I appreciated my freedom. I cut ten centuries off my current timeline and I imagined myself a slave. A young, beautiful, voluptuous black woman. Intelligent and at times lazy as I am. Whose white married man and farm cotton farm owner's fantasies would I fulfill.  The fact that I chose a strong white man now, would not have been my own then. The fact that he marvels at my full behind would have been an open secret he lived through my every move  - I appreciate my freedo...