“Know thy self”

Photography-Emily Tsui

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Why is it so hard to find the correct words to describe (explain) yourself?

“It is almost unfathomable to think that creatures as egotistical and as intellectually advanced as ourselves are often stumped by one question – Who am I? It may seem simple enough but, one soon discovers that the answer is not as forthcoming as expected. The initial responses to the question often answers a completely different question all together. “I am Xhosa, South African” or “I am a son (a daughter), a brother (a sister) and a student (a consultant)” these are the first things to spring to mind. These, however, only serve to describe what you are and not who you are.” Qaqambile Mapukata
Continue reading ““Know thy self””

The mother who chewed her tongue Pt2

Read pt1 here

“Ngoba,” she said at last, “why do you ask?” A bubble of soreness burst in her throat.
That was the only word she could muster.
“Ngoba?”
“Why do you ask” she answered us with a question. She gulped. Swallowing her voice.
Her very children were pulling clogged nets from her spirit. Awakening demons she had laid to rest. The day he passed, she had vowed to herself to remember him in secrecy. She quietly shelved their precious memories, chewed her tongue and said to herself, “hide this.”
******************chew chew***************************

end of Pt 1.

The mother who chewed her tongue Pt2

Flashback a few months ago…

Pelisa is driving us. We are going back home now.

Mama is looking out the front window taking pictures of the rows of faded grass sprawling over the winding land on the roadside. My fingertips gripping on the stick, pulling out my sucker from Zweli’s mouth. He clenches his front teeth making a g’dlhe sound. I raise my eyebrows, mildly agitated by his excessive suckling and the thought of his moisture-laden tongue surfing on my stock-sweet. I blink then look up and catch sight of ma as she reviews her amateur images. She’s hoping to find a colorful capture.

But..we already know there is none to be found.
Not only owing to her photo taking skills, but also ’cause no orange buttery sunset or thin silver twilight will suddenly stretch over the bland rows of grass to melt into the horizon of  her images.’ Continue reading “The mother who chewed her tongue Pt2”

The mother who chewed her tongue Pt1

 

acimbi
© lindelwa.ccaprojects.net

“We’ve been friends for at least three years,” Sinako said. Astonished.

“You’ve never ee-ve-en men-tion-ed that to me?”

It seemed strange to me too. I mean. Hmm.

Three years is a fairly long time. In all fairness, I never sat and actively thought: this, I will hide!

If it is that I have consciously hidden this part of my life, it must be because of the “poor little fatherless darlings” narrative. I have heard it too often. It wears me out.

On reflection, it must have been in those moments that I wrote a note to self. To remind me to hide this.

I am not sure why…

I may have done so to break away from the stats: the behaviour problems, higher aggression, more likely to go to jail stats. The girls without dads are more likely to become preteen mom stereotypes.

Thinking about it, I quietly laughed to myself in amusement. Wondering if a more academic word had been coined yet for daddy issues. Continue reading “The mother who chewed her tongue Pt1”

The joy of breathing among angels

Overnight we begin to refer to you as was and used to be

What remains in the now are the moments in the memory

What rests is the joyfulness in the laughter shared,

Like the yellow in the sun.

Continue reading “The joy of breathing among angels”