Pieces of me

I don't think my father was blown away upon hearing that his wife was pregnant again. I do not think he was disappointed either. My parents were a middle class couple with a nice little fenced house, four children and a dog. The 80s must have been a wholesome era. My mother was barely in her thirties but was a responsible and well respected housewife in the community. Here i am, at the ripe age of thirty, and all this is something i can not relate to. Except, perhaps the housewife part, but basically that is all.  My father could provide for all his children, so money was basically not an issue. However, i strongly believe that hearing about a fifth pregnancy from your wife of ten years isnt exactly the highlight of the century. It is news that you take in your stride and just learn to live with. Think of it as buying your first car. The excitement is something that will always make you smile. A second car is great as well. However, when you get to your fifth car, it stops being as...

Noone can ever tell me that wisdom and bravery go hand in hand. My great uncle was a lot of things but wise was not one of them. His official positions in our rural community included village headman and herbalist. Between the two roles he played, i could only trust him with one. Headmanship. This is not because he wasnt a good herbalist, i just was a little sceptical of his unconventional ways of treating people.  My uncle, his son once stayed in bed for a solid fortnight while my great uncle treated his malaria. Growing up in my rural home area meant you had at least once been treated for malaria and also knew someone who had died from it. It was a common ailment, yet so deadly. I was diagnosed with malaria at least twice in my life. My older brother once suffered from something called cerebral malaria which is way worse than the regular one. Legend has it that he, my brother whilst suffering from the deadly disease was given a roasted mealie cob to snack on and he threw it righ...

I feed my cravings and pray for a decent waistline I walk into a room with my head high hoping to outshine I know i deserve nice things without losing a single dime I wish to dance to great music all night and have my gin and lime I want no single wrinkle on me when i travel through time I am woman. I own the fantasy. I make it all mine Give me the highest heels and i will sleep in them all night Grow me the perfect hair and i might just cut it off alright Buy me red lipstick and i will wonder why you didnt think yellow was an option Call me a disappointment and i will not put your name in my love portion I am woman. I confuse myself. That is the only flaw i accept. Find me the world's best author and i might choose not to agree Let me play with your beard and will  take you for a glorious spree Set a table on the floor and i might just lay out your heart on coal Laugh at my bad jokes and i might just see the beauty in your soul I am woman. I enjoy my own company. Ne...

I have never enjoyed celebrating my birthday. Growing up, my birthday was the most celebrated day in my family. I would get the biggest cake ever. Square cake. The cake always had corners. That is alright because nowadays, cakes come in all forms. A few months ago, i saw a cake that resembled a penis. A whole penis shaped cake. Testicles and all. This world can be a very confusing place. Art comes in different forms now and that can be a bit confusing. Even when i was growing up, i always never enjoyed the singing. That high pitched off tune birthday song always had me questioning the vocal talents within my family . Do not get me started on the baloons. However, it is just one day in an entire year. I think the reason i have never really loved my birthday is because I have never been in control of what happens around me on the particular day. I love being fully aware of what is going on around me. It makes me less nervous. Also, i hate parties. Loud music can be really annoying. Peop...

I always refuse to place my spirituality in a box. This is because of a lot of grey areas i have come to witness within religions. Also, i believe that there are a lot of things to believe in so i have decided not to limit myself. When we got married, we moved to Capetown in the Winelands. It was a beautiful small town placed right in the middle of mountains. It was breathtakingly beautiful. It was a high density subarb and very mixed, as far as race was concerned. However, most people had one thing in common. Christianity. The people in this town were Christians. All kinds of Christians. Having been raised as a Christian myself, i kind of could not join any of the denominations because of the language barrier. Afrikaans and Xhosa were foreign languages to me. Often, i would watch people dressed in their best outfits, walking purposefully to their respective houses of worship. The house opposite ours was a place of charismatic worship. Often, the loud music would wake us up on a laz...

When we are old and wrinkles fret our brow When time has put a damper on desire I shall love you more than i do now Even when the years have dwindled passion fire When many moons have slowed our step a bit And grey hairs bespeak our span of days When often quiet around the hearth we sit Upon your face with love i still shall gaze Beyond sweet passion's eager flaming breath A deeper, gentler stronger love will grow My dearest, i shall cherish you till death And after death, my love will further grow Ginny

Tales of the Graveyard A few weeks ago, i attended a funeral. I helped bury a cousin twice removed. I barely new Barbra. Hell, i had never heard of her until the time of her death. I am not even sure i got her name right. However, i had to attend the funeral mainly because my mother was going and i had to attend and be sad. Sad is one thing i can be. Tears would just be dramatic and i am not a dramatic human being. I mean, i have a cousin who just loves to cry at peoples funerals. Once, she passed out at our aunt's funeral yet never did she once pay her a visit when she was sick. However, that is a story of another day. Barbra's funeral was attended by a few people. I have no idea why. The eulogy was in poor taste so i passed time by reading tombstones around. I try to think of the cemetry as a community of people from all walks of life. The young. The old. The poor. The bitter. The rich. All sorts. I would like to think that at some point, they gather around and exchange st...