Xiluvaxoxonga

I struggled to find the dictionary meaning of a dwelling place, even though I know, we all know in hearts what that means. It is a place where you belong, a place whether you own or not you can call your home, a place where you can rest, a place where you are always welcome, a place where you need not an invitation to participate or be there. A place here on earth many of us are searching for in various aspects and stages of our lives.  What distinguishes a dwelling place from a resting place, I did not look up in a dictionary. But I know a resting place is a short, sometimes interrupted stay along a journey. It is not a place you can call home, neither is it a place that is most comfortable. Sometimes along our journeys we rest because we are tired, we rest because we need some relief, we rest because it is advised to do so, we rest because the place looked inviting. In between all of that rest we know we must leave.  I don't know about you, but I prefer to dwell somewhere an...

When you are born, pretty, smart and comfortable; you get drama from the jealous ones from crèche! By now am an emeritus professor! I got this

When you have been hurt Not just once but more than twice  The only Love you Love  Is unconditional Love Sucked from the bosom Misunderstood by teen freedom  Trusted by young adulthood Missed during parenthood When you have been hurt You choke on love bestowed You hold back on love endowed When will you love me, love, when -Grace B.

How long Africa How much longer will we suffer Black diamonds and pearls Why do you bleed from every pore Why African child Mother Africa, reel from your childbirth You have given life to black beauty Don't taint the black by the cold blood Stop the bleeding Where is his Father Then let him discipline his sons and daughters Tough rough love Teach me love, tolerance and peace Am turning in my grave while am alive Thula dlozi lam Let them speak truth, let them listen Siyafa siyaphela isizwe esimnyama How much longer Africa Inter-racial relationships yield such beauty  Why then do you hate your brother Afrophobic turn me to an Afrophillic You were not born to suffer Why then don't you hold your head up high Shine like the star you are Shine like the rich minerals you possess  Don't listen to them You are beautiful, Wak You have humility, Mandela You have a bright future, Africa Rise and shine Land of my forefathers  Grave of my mother and father Future of my lineage Yima Jah...

You can always tell from the wrapper if it is bubblegum, raspberry or banana... Before the smell gives it away, the spearmint will be wrapped in a dark green almost wax paper with red and navy stripes! It can be hard or really soft and mushy; depending on how long it has been sitting in a cookie jar at the Spaza shop. The wrapping paper can be stuck onto the chappie and if you are unlucky, you will chew both but won't die. Chappie is a common, cheap brand of chewing gum all colors wrapped in a colorful, blue and red pin stripe intercepted by a smiling squirrel. The burst of flavour when you chew a fresh one, is enough to get you addicted. Did I mention it comes in grape? It expands and fills your mouth while the flavour seeps through your nostrils and your sweetened saliva gushes and swirls around your mouth when you chew it. A really old one, after several teeth wrenching and grinding chews, also gets soft and mushy to a point where you forget it was stale, scaled with a white Lor...

Look at that nose! Look at those lips! Look at that behind! Those feet and those legs! I don’t want to look like that! I would rather look like my father, so lean and so handsome. The innocence of my girl child, so she said I cannot stand her! I Hate her! She possibly cannot be my mother! I am certain I am adopted! How can she scold me like that? Punish me like that? If she were really my mother, she would treat me differently. Be kinder, gentler. These are the adolescent years my child, so she said Your mother is the best, She always lends an ear. I can confide in her. YOU are really blessed! That cannot be farther from the truth. As the clock winds I look into the mirror with blood shot eyes. Crying uncontrollably, surrounded by all these women. My neighbour from next door, the mother from down the street; and the other woman from the corner house BUT my mother - WHERE is my mother through my tribulations? As they leave, she ushers them out, Thank you for coming, she sa...