Hello Mama

It’s me, Ulwazi…

I know I just spoke to you a few minutes ago, over the phone. But, I felt I needed to write this to you. Besides, it’s not like it’s a problem being obsessed with you. So, let me.

Mama, a few minutes ago, I had something in my left eye. Yes, the one that sees well. At first I thought it was just an insect, but whatever it was felt enthused the more I rubbed my eye.

I lost a nerve.

And, as always I was alone when I needed help, as all the people I could count were out of reach. I found myself even calling on strangers for help.

I didn’t need their money. In fact, I needed their skill to drive. Hell, I could have let them drive my car, considering that I couldn’t see properly to drive myself to the hospital.

While one of the only two people who responded intended to make seconds out of the long drive from far, the other one decided to ditch her fatigue, and plans to merely get home and sleep, and offered to come to my rescue.

Oh, the beautiful souls they are.

Mama ‘am, I panicked.

Abruptly, my mind was filled with thoughts. Thoughts about an issue we never completely discussed; an issue that has broken your spiritual limbs and dented your trust.

It was at that moment that I realised, I am stressed. In fact, that confirmed to me that the breakdown, or lack thereof, I have been questioning will come in pieces. Not in the manner the masses experience it.

My housemate’s mother must have thought I am disrespectful, given the way I figuratively annihilated her out of my way, as I performed the military slog around the house; an effort to pay respect to the ache in my eye.

Mama, what was happening with me? Do you think I need help?

Funny how I always weep when I am happy, yet I seem to have this ability to maintain a straight face when hit with deadly challenge.

Mama ‘am, do you think I am strong or I am good at faking it?

But, how do you do it, mama?

Happy read!

Submitting to defeat

As if to emulate a megastar who has come to a flop, my belief in love has been tainted. The hope that used to be echoed through from each of my eyes has vanished; leaving behind a heart so opaque and broken.

For months, my mind made efforts to convince my heart of the light possibly visible at the end of the tunnel. Blocking all lies and exterminating supporting heartaches, my heart declines and responds only through imperceptible exchanges. It has even become a stranger to its owner.

It’s like I am empty. It’s like my career alone is not enough, anymore. It’s like I have always been in love. It’s I have always been loved. It’s like I have always been love. Of which, the on and offs have always been a big part of my life.

In an attempt to comprehend the crux of the matter, I wonder if it is the recently curved link that has messed me up or maybe the damage has been piling up since the first break-up in 2007?

They can break my heart as many times as they like, but they can never take away my belief and will to love. I used to say. Nowadays, I utter the same phrase, without even a pinch of conviction. Hence I am convinced; my liver is where my heart used to be.

Today, I look at men and all I see is men, not the species I would imagine devouring from my garage door all the way to the sink in my kitchen. It’s like I have just been born and all I can feel is hunger for food and thirst for grinded red grapes. I believe I have lost my ability to love. Actually, now I think I am disabled. Too bad the government in my country does not cater for victims of this sort.

Loneliness has always been here. In fact, he is the only man with whom I have had the longest relationship. I think he has been with me since the day my father escaped life willingly. He has seen me struggle with being a pink black from an early age. He was with me when I enjoyed varsity life and he continued to see me through my first and last times.

I used him whenever I needed a getaway, simply because I am used to him and he understands me more than my friends claim to.

Time to point fingers is long gone. I would know, that is what I do best. Until I cross runways with yet another pink black who appears worthy of me again, I will use this time to set fire to the rain. Simultaneously collect the bricks left of my belief, and reconstruct what is left of my heart.

I may be lacking to conviction when citing strength, courage and wisdom, but I still maintain that in me I possess some flicker that holds the potential to set my life ablaze.

I do not believe there is a light at the end of the tunnel. Hell, there is no tunnel to begin with. However, there are numerous opportunities in this dark hour.

Happy read!