Dear S’duko*,

I lost you months ago. But, no day will ever be sadder, epitomizes despair and confusion, than the one where I realised I had to submit to the loss and let go. For a while, I chose to turn a blind eye to you pulling away; taking with you all the memories, the life along with the company we both had.

 Sure, as evidence recited, I fucked up. And me, being my mama’s son, I owned up to an error you, for reasons I still don’t know, saw as a middle finger. But then again, you had your lover’s eyes while my views could have been swayed by my millions former lovers.

 Silly me for actually believing there’s such a thing as forgiveness.

 Had it not been for the man I had, at the time, I would have lost my mind. Most likely made a fool of myself. His view was and still is that I have wronged you a million times before. How I wish you could tell him he was wrong.

 Today, it has hit me: you left with all the silver while I remained with the soul. Your shadows glitter and your presence are echoed, as I continuously gain emotional stability and physical growth. Yes, I have become fat.

 The voices in my head are correct to think I still love you. But my mama is dead-on to guess that I never meant much to you to begin with.

Happy read!

Daunting simple escapades

Less than a week ago, a woman held pride in being a mother to a petite, and incontestably, pretty young girl. Today, that woman draws a black veil over her naturally-haired cranium as she mourns a life that has escaped; not so much prematurely, but gutlessly.

Surely, the universe is better at bestowing indelicate ideas with imbalanced solutions. As a result, fledgling men and inexperienced women have come to disregard the affirmative capabilities that lie in their strengths.

Today, our minds teach our hands nothing, but to tie, properly, a rope around the neck.

Our view on life has changed; from that which maintained an upright perspective on all things but failure, to promptly appreciating the quick effect gorging pills have.

All of a sudden, the anguish instigated by a horny individual is enough to push someone’s Mexican-weaved sister over the edge. And, an unexpected slap, from the man whose sperm created the image one has become, holds the potential to lead a young boy to strive to kill himself.

We live in very challenging times.

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!

Dante’s last blog

Two hours ago, I received a call from an old friend of mine who is based in East London. My friend came across a blog that mentioned my name in it and he suggested I take a look at it.

He refused to go into detail with regards to what the blog was about or who it belongs to. He forwarded me a link; a link I followed.

The link he sent me led me Dante Bello’s blog - Raison d’être! - on a post that seems to have been his last one before he died.

What my friend does not know is that I knew Dante and I knew him very well. To me he was like a brother, to some degree and although I only met him a few times, I feel he left me, and the voices he inspired to speak freely, too soon.

Never mind his short-stay; he definitely made a mark in the lives of many black Africans.

A few dubbed him provocative and philosophical, but I saw Dante as a man of principle; a soul that craved absolute good in the continent.

Since the day I saw a tweet that confirmed his death, I have not been to his blog. So, today I went back to a place Dante introduced me to, a podium I used to challenge his ideology and a platform he used to shape views on certain political and social issues.

In my view, he used this blog to speak his mind in an effort to inspire change and build character in black people, especially those who were close to him.

Having gone through Raison d’être!’s last post, I felt the need to have that same piece on my blog. Of course, not denying the late brother of his credit in the blog.

It appears Dante wrote this post about a year ago.

Postcard From Freetown - Reflections!

Moments have gone by and time is still relatively waiting for no man. This is the reality we are faced with as earthlings. I sit on a chair on my balcony reflecting and reminiscence the thoughts that flow through my mind, words lingers to chaste.

It has been a while I put pen to paper and I can’t say it’s a writer’s block but rather I’ll succumb to the sentiment that it was a wilful decision to stop writing, read more about what others are writing, immerse myself in these spaces to acquire more knowledge, ideology, views, opinions, sentiments and indulge in the literal thinking of others.

Read more here...

Happy read!

Abandoned advantage

For me personally, 2012 is the year of (certain) dreams coming true, while for my country the pressure is boiling its tail to abandon Iran and source crude oil from elsewhere, despite the difficulty we could face in securing new contracts. No need to clench round rings and cross fingers, South Africa will make a plan… I hope.

However, for institutions such as the University of Johannesburg (UJ), 2012 appears to be a year of mortification. Not so much of an enthralling entrance, considering the stampede that claimed the life of a mother, leaving several people battered in January. Couple that with the death of the 20-year old girl who passed away last weekend due to an alleged illegal abortion–gone-wrong.

This is a university that has produced a large number of professionals, decision makers and prodigies who have contributed immensely towards the development of the South African economy.

Therefore, the problem could not at all be with the lecturing method. Yet, as my former employee would have assumed, the issue possibly lies in the way the school handles its liaison with the outside world through public relations.

Surely, such incidents do occur in other academic institutions. Perhaps, what distinguishes the others from UJ is the rigid seriousness and value these institutions hold for their communications departments; not just a matter of mannerism, but by employing competent entities to help shape and protect the image of the university.  Especially from the vultures news agencies are.

Often, we interrogate the ability; some entities have, to survive horrid scandals in the face of others failing dismally to escape the results of not-so scandalous actions; yet such consequences are capable of ruining one’s image and reputation to the maximum.

My humble index finger is keen to dub the communication or PR department of an organisation, which experiences such indignity, the abandoned advantage. Having said that, a number of companies still see acquiring public relations expertise as waste of time and money. Yet they tap their cheeks whenever a small issue, that could have been easily controlled, spurts out of control.

Of course, I am no better, given the fact that I am a product of Walter Sisulu University.

Happy read!