Preys of poor systems

Literally, minutes after my two female colleagues and I had a conversation concerning sexual and physical abuse of women by their spouses, and the consequences that follow when the victims retaliate with worse slants, I saw the Brutalised article via The Times.

While my heart bleeds for the victim, and as I drag the course that our justices are yet to embark on this matter, I am repulsed by the way our current justice system works.

Where are we to disappear to when our own homes ululate harm over secured walls and protection bulldogs?

Who is supposed to shield our mothers and sisters when the same men who once proclaimed their undying love for them hold no boundaries in pounding them while their off-springs are watching?

Are we really meant to surrender all our wills and muscles to react to the authorities whose inkling of punishing the guilty is to issue a mere paper aimed to keep the perpetrator away?

Is this how we hope South Africa will develop further? When our own females are not treated with love, respect and care, how then do we expect other countries to invest in our women empowering initiatives?

Seeing that the head of this state is, evidently, doting of women, I would honestly love to hear him share a word on this one issue.  

Otherwise, he will have to choose his next wife from a list of women who have been abused by their formers and have been failed by the same systems he runs.

I am of the idea that fighting fire with fire has no place in life, yet I believe shooting to kill should apply in incidents such as this one.

To think we claim to be proud of the women we share this realm with…

Happy read!

Sorry ma man

This time, he bumped into me at one of my other colleague’s office. He pitched a comic line my way, as usual, and I reimbursed the gesture with what I believe is wit at best. The triangle cracked. The business was folded. We stepped out.

Heading towards my workstation, I applaud him on his fresh endeavour. He laughs at the mothering tone, with a smile portraying approval and appreciation.

I have only been in for less than an hour, but you could not tell. My desk is untidy; had it not been for his death, Osama bin Laden would have appeared from this mess.

We see The Star newspaper. Immediately, he heads for The Workplace. Flip! Flip! He asked what I did last night. Tap! Tap! He is in the know. Flip! He cracks a joke regarding his body shape. Tap! Witty, I cracked.

He cracked another. My mouth widens.

Wait! He affronted her to me, in the presence of another woman. To himself he is funnier. The subject is a friend of mine. I take offence. Mothering scolds in the know. To him I am being funny, his mouth widened.

Had I continued to sit on that desk, I would have lost all respect. Had I left my desk he would not have understood his blunder. I grabbed my newspaper as a whip. He saw the blaze in my eyes. I disappeared.

Emerging back from near, I saw his firm behind flouncing the opposite way. He must have heard my silent reprimand. I sat at mine.

Sorry ma man, he sent me an email. I forgave him, yet my vocals had to be active, just for control and in case he decides to hit on her weight again.

Happy read!

Cloistered muddles

We speak of the ideas concerning shooting to kill and axing one another, in self-defence or absolute persecution, with so much pride.  Our social media accounts are buzzing with views debating the Lonmin issue; with many siding with authorities while a few perceive the miners to have been on correct and legal grounds.

Not so far from public forums, a few days ago, justice pleased the concept of precision, for once, by punishing the slayers of an infamous AWB member accordingly. Acknowledging that the deceased had been a pain to the bums of many people of colour; inducing them to unbearable grief, yet I am ruling out the right to butcher him.

Perhaps, Dion Chang’s confirmation, as per his Flux Trends for 2012, is not at all a discourse; dubbing the current times the fourth revolution – a time where technology is responsible for drastically shaping our perceptions of self and our crafting of identify.

Of course, we cite the apartheid era as an inspiration to the meanness and lack of education as well as our foolishness. We cite the same for government failures; its corruption and poor service delivery.

Our Public Protector hit the nail, trough the Sowetan, when she spoke sturdily in contradiction of the apartheid legacy being used to protect some of the government's failures, particularly the dire state of the country's education and appalling conditions under which some people live, 18 years after democracy.

Happy read!

Never close our eyes

Without a doubt, a number of Christians believe that we are currently experiencing the wrath of God.

Being one myself, I seem to concur. I am looking at the saddest things taking place around me, the disasters claiming the lives of fathers who live their families behind, the fatal HIV/AIDS that steals the souls of young men and women whose potential was once fit for the evolution of this beautiful South Africa.

And that is what I pray for; I pray for peace in this world and I pray for a strong and caring government in this country…  Martine Whitehead, my colleague, spoke these words and I found myself teary just at the imagination of our homes getting demolished by issues we can effortlessly avoid.

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!

Black butterfly

By Cwengile Gagela

Black butterfly, trapped in your cacoon,

Tainted with thoughts that cloud, confuse you from what could be.  

I almost gave myself to you last night, forgot that u not really mine.

I almost let u in last night, almost handed you my heart,all in attempt to feel.

So we could stop these games and make this fantasy of you and I a reality.

So we can hide beneath these sheets and make that trip to paradise.

Black butterfly I, I almost felt something as you lured me into your world

As u gently layed your lips on mine.

As u slowly undressed me, as you layed between my naked thighs,

As our bodies moved in synchrony, with each breath going deeper and deeper.

I almost , almost let my guard down as u wrap your arms and legs around me

Promising to never let go...

See, this might just be all physical for you

And when you're satisfied you will discard of me and swiftly move along...

I almost forget that you once walked in these same shoes,

And were a victim of another in these sordid lurv circles.

That numbed u from feeling,

But I, I lay here stil believing in this thing called love...

Happy read!

Peace and ease

By Cwengile Gagela

Yesterday I was in this very room when

I caught a glimpse of freedom.

Silently, tiptoeing passed me...

I reached for it, grabbed it in desperation as if I was diseased and needed a cure.

I felt is slip through my fingers and I tightened them wanting no escape.

I'd been searching for it, finally I found it and as I embraced it sensations of numbness fluctuated through my body and I'D FOUND MYSELF...

AT EASE

AND AT PEACE

YOU SEE, GULLIBILITY WAS MY FOE,

BEFORE I WAS MADE TO BELIVE!!!

REPEATEDLY THESE VOICES WHISPERED

"Cwengile let go, give in, give in to these pleasures and feelings"

And as a result I lost myself in this cruel cruel world.

Ewe izolo bendindedwa,

Ndiphoxwe nguwe.

When I caught this glimpse of freedom,

I embraced it, dwelled in ITS numbness,

Freed myself,

From him,

From her,

From them,

From it,

From this bond.

And I...FOUND MYSELF

AT PEACE

AND AT EASE

Happy read!

Oh, Jerusalem

Hello, it speaks. Put me in there.

Obedience bends in kind, we are in here.

Like a freak at the sight of throbbing rigidity,

I find my way to a household so clustered, I am blinded.

We sway lightly, but I am hard.

We are excited.

Oh, Jerusalem, Eve may have been lured by the beauty of prohibited capsules,

But down here we spit to appreciate.

We jump to bite a bun; buttered one side yet dripping both sides.

Slices so sensitive, I am in. I have sunk.

Exchanges in unspoken phrases, minds are inspired.

Weakness is sheltered in the joints.

Emulating animated concepts, a part of me is in charge.

Efforts are met, sounds are heard and marks are made.

Like a coquette approaching royalty, I seek dominion.

He submits. I sign. He receives.

I approve. He is proud.

Thanks to the works, we are wet.

Oh, Jerusalem, some may have dubbed you intolerant.

I find you otherwise.

Happy read!

(No subject)

Like an illusion, life is impermanent.

Bid me farewell and Let the time to part be sugary.

Let this be not the finishing line, but my entirety.

Now let me rest.  

Baby, daddy was happy.

I lived, I wrote and I laughed.

I see, from a distance, a home considered for my kind.

Hold my hand, and know that I possess a mind in love and a place in life.

Child, let me go.

Baby, daddy won’t be home tomorrow, tell papa not to cook.

The trends of temporariness have blown and my sight has stopped as my breath concluded its chapter.

I have been told, I am to rise again. I do not believe.

I have been taught, to believe all things possible. I do not believe.

Without a trace of shadows in it, let my name take my place, in your heart and in the mind.

Let it be in your lips at the sight of grinded grapes.

And, let it remind you of love, music and laughter.

Take it with you when you go home.

I am not really gone. I am on to new beginnings.

I have a deal with destiny. She is taking me away.

Although fear crept in for a while, now I am blithe.

So thoughtless to even worry about what my fate is.

Happy read!