Sunday, 29 March 2015

I will become - Letter to my dream

Hi there

I hope you can hear me as I whisper a greeting to you afraid to speak out loud just now I wake you up and you begin running away from me. I have spend over 30 years chasing on you and the speed you travel with needs more that just endurance to keep up with you. Oh but how pleasant you are, all things I wish for surrounding me, no troubles, no battles and no struggles. You are so sweet that my life tastes like the juice out of a green lemon that still hangs on a tree, but then again I realise that at least you are not an illusion but a possibility. Oh beautiful dream when will I meet you in person, hug you, feel your warmth and comfort? 

Well unlike "Tumelo" my imaginary friend you stuck around and still visit me regularly, still inspire and motivate me. I have had days when I woke up in the morning without food in my stomach, no fuel in the car, days with an ATM card that a machine wouldn't even recognise and felt like giving up. The times when giving in to the little voice inside my head telling me that I won't make it and at those times you screamed out loud; "I'm just around the corner", well my friend it has been many corners that I even lost count but surely the ones ahead are much less than the ones behind me so I'd rather carry-on moving forward.

Where you are involved I become a soothsayer and see things in the future, I love the greenness of the grass I see, the crystal clarity of the skies, the brightness of the sun, purity of the nurturing rain drops that falls from the invisible clouds to feed my happiness. I see the well nourished children of Africa, striving economies of Africa, great leaders, I see cures of diseases and not treatment, I see recognition of philosophers, I see an Africa that is sufficient, no borders, I see an Africa of producers and not consumers an Africa owned by those born of it. Well my friend this vision is you, it is "My Dream" and i believe in you, till meet.  

Sunday, 22 March 2015

You are not my destiny - A Letter to Poverty


Well I don't suppose I should even ask you how do you do cause clearly you are well and striving, Africa, Brazil and many others are in a shameful condition because of you. You are responsible for such destruction, death, pain, shame and I am sure it makes you feel great. What I ask myself is where your origins are? Are you an illness, a condition created by some to control and shame others, are you a state of mind, an inheritance to the unfortunate? Where you reside there is so much taken away from the people there and the indignity to dish feeds the very same elements that turns siblings against each other, plant hate amongst nations and encourage abuse of many by those who are free of you. You turn humans into prey of the birds of the sky, soak healing hands into blood while they turn into murdering hands, your persuasive ways capture even the mind of a child that cannot yet comprehend language and then you turn into their reality.

I was born in an environment where you ruled, the world you had created and as I grew older I knew that I did not want to be a citizen of your country, a resident of your prison. I decided that you will not be my teacher and take every opportunity to remind me of how unworthy I am of anything better than you, I refused to be continually beaten and abused by you while I return for more. So I took a step, a stand against your rule, no you are not my destiny, you are not what I am meant to be.

You can remind me of the times I slept without anything in my stomach, show me a pictures of the same pair school shoes I wore all my high school life, the school uniform that was torn by the washing it received everyday because there wasn't an alternative and remind me of the stomach cramp that became my focal point in class daily because I had nothing to eat in the morning. Well guess what I am not ashamed of that history, it doesn't highlight your greatness to me but my ability to rise above such challenges and no I do not need hands outs. I am what God intended me to be and the greatness in this life is mine, I may sleep without food, sleep in the streets, have no clothes to cover my back but I have the will and the knowledge that you are only a temporary situation and not my destiny.

Sunday, 15 March 2015

Suicide Note


This is not going to be the usual pitiful letter and you normally receive, or should I say the letter that glorifies you and magnify your existence. It is a letter to put things into perspective, to place you in the space where you belong. One thing I will give you is you have taken away so much dreams, robbed the world of so much talent and stolen such lives. I wish I could tell you that your days are numbered but I realise that so long people don't understand their purpose you will remain in existence. 

So this is what I'm gonna say to you:
Your rope will not get tangled around my neck and overpower the beautiful scent of my cologne with the dark smell of death, it will never get a chance to replace the gentle smooches that caress my neck with the tight squeeze that will release my last breath. My legs will never shake with fear from the wrath of the grip your rope delivers when one kicks the from underneath their feet.

Your blade will never taste the sweet taste of the blood that runs through my veins, it will never cut the flow of power that runs through my wrist, the wrist that joins the blessed hands to the powerful arms that are made strong to hold life together. No I will not drink your pills nor poison as this stomach is filled with the fruits of hard work and the only hunger I experience is the hunger of success and a fulfilling life.

I will not jump down from any place you place me as the only direction appealing to me is up, I will not let you deceive me that where you put me to jump from is the highest place I will ever reach, no I am not jumping under nor in-front of anything but above what you make me to be. No I will not scatter my brains out for you, they are too precious and gifted, I will not send a bullet through my skull. No no no

Suicide you have made many write sad letters to their loved ones, well here is one to you. I wish I knew what you really are; a spirit, demon, state of mind, addiction I couldn't care to research. You have claimed too much that is not yours, a thief of note you have been, a liar but yet a looser and I win, do you feel defeated? good cause you messed with the wrong one I am #TheChamp...

Sunday, 8 March 2015

A letter to a Warrior

To you my warrior

To some this letter will be a dedication, a memorial but to you it is the instruction to fight, the song of war. Life is a battlefield it is not paradise, at times it will be unbearable and worse than a terrifying description of hell that we always hear. This is war, everyone wants to win to triumph and will take against anything on their way. 

This is war my friend, no-one is here to take care of you they are all here to fight their own battles. There will be blood shared, guts spilt and if you are not a victor you will be a victim cause there are no by-standers. Those you rescue will turn against you and stab you in the back, stand up and fight on, die proud. You will not know who your enemies are at face-value, they will disguise in a friendly skin for their survival, so listen to your heart and careful who you sleep quietly around at night when you gather your strength. There will be informants all around you so seal your strategies within the security of your mind lest you share with the enemy. This my friend is war and your sympathy will mean nothing, the offsprings of your enemies will grow to be warriors to fight against you one day so show no mercy to any of them. This here is war, go out there and fight, beg not for bread, protect your fields and surround your rivers.      

Choose your commanders well, search for loyalty in them if you cannot find any with one then find the most vicious dog and train it to lead your armies. This is life my friend your dreams are more important that anything else so stop at nothing to achieve them. Give your best in everything as if you life depended on it. The only choice is fight or flight... If you feel blows and they hurt, that is called pain, it means you are still breathing and alive so fight... Let us die in this field as warriors and not as beggars.

Sunday, 1 March 2015

Unfinished Letter to My Father

Dear Daddy

Can I call you that, Daddy? Pardon me for asking Sir but I am not really sure what to call you nor who you are to me, I battle to relate to you, don't know what you like. Just the other day many years ago when I was approached by a very kind lady selling fathers day merchandise I tried to pick up a gift for you, so I thought initially that tools will be great but was unsure if you enjoy fixing anything I mean our relationship has been broken for years on end now, thought of a cd but I don't think you do listen to music cause my heart has been singing with a very sad voice a tune begging you for a hug but never received one, a melody to guide your feet tapping towards my direction but am still waiting. I took a very long time thinking of the gift and finally, finally yes I gave up.

Oh dear father, how much of me is you? how much of your failures will shape mine and fears will haunt me. How much I wish to be an apple that falls and rolls far away from the tree, the one picked and packed in the box to be sent to a place of great appreciation. The fear of being my fathers son paralyses me everyday cause I do not know how to be or even if its who I want to be.

How confusing are the feelings of love I feel for you in all this confusion, how I want to make you proud of me, how much I wanna measure up to you but yet again be able to respect a woman and never use my fist on her. How much I wanna feel love from you but realise that I have to give love to my own children from the place of emptiness. 

Oh dear father how much I wish I could finish a letter to you but like many attempts before have no words to complete one........