Meeting A Self


At the ungodly hour of three ante meridiem, I shot out of bed like a flying fruit. It’s not that I couldn’t sleep or that five random pimples appeared on my forehead. No, no, no. I was actually writing Monday’s semester test in my state of sleep. I kid you not. I imagine myself to be clairvoyant of a sort – past experiences have led to such a conclusion.

Anyway. I dragged my blanket and my person to a living room while the hum of my family’s snores thrummed. In a house like mine , preparing for upcoming tests and standardised examinations at such hours are best for efficiency and effectiveness. Go figure.

The last time my human memory can recall  when I was this worried was in my final year of high school while exercising my brain on trigonometry and calculus sums. Trust when I say I was stressed, anxious and every other words synonymous with worried.

So because I had unconsciously seen the questions, I did a spot study-spot focus-spot test on the scope. It all went well, content was what I was for a moment in time. But I couldn’t stay at home when the sky became orange-mustard in colour. No way, José. Raucous has a picture of my family next to it for a clearer definition. Pretty Self-explanatory. My mum was somewhat surprised at my actions at 9 AM.

I actually went on campus because a couple of classmates decided or rather felt the need to form a study group. I don’t know in which universe such a doing ever worked, but I still went anyway because trying new things isn’t always a bad thing and 2 of 6 people showed up. Can you see how ineffective this turned out to be?

So it was just me and the girl with a name that sounds like paradise. The productivity of two peaceful souls, the determination of two varsity students desiring to ace a test was at its finest on a Sunday morning. That Sunday morning when my father told me, not asked me, but told me that he wants for me to take the church route. Cue in my “what the fucks”, but that’s a topic for another day when I’m not feeling necessary for a second.

Back to the two girls with the tenacity of Zulu warriors in the time of Shaka Zulu, hunger blasted us because thinking decreased our glucose levels. KFC for the win and a filled stomach for the day.

Eden taught me, she was a kind teacher and I reciprocated the help. I don’t know how Sunday would have turned out, I  don’t want to know how the test would have been had we not met up. A blessing in a study group I knew wouldn’t work out, a blessing.

We kicked back and chilled. I can never stress how much I need to be chilled, how much I want to be chilled and how I always need to be chilled. So yes we chilled.

This human, young girl taking glimpses of life has been in some lecture halls along with me. I’ve always known of her existence since she became the class representative but never had I taken the initiative to get to know her.

The people you don’t meet at first are always impressionable, always. I didn’t have an idea on who she was or what her life was about. I know I’ve grown an immense load from the gap year I took in 2014 because I didn’t have preconceived notions of who I supposed she was.

Discovering what she was like was like finding Beyblade toy pieces in Simba chips. Adding more to your collection always made you feel mad excitement.

She writes, but she also breathes.

She links words, one by one,  to write a tale of Nonku. A coffee coloured skin girl with good music – a projection of herself in one light. Da-dum. But if you’ve never known what a Shindig is, you can read it here. As a believer in the law of attraction, I was pretty wowed when I linked my word of the day – the word I kept repeating the whole day- with what she was on about.

She reads, for leisure unlike a lot of lost folks.

Because literature plays an important role in my life, I smile at the world when I encounter people that appreciate the art of thinking and jotting happenings, dreams and adventures on paper.

Basically, she wasn’t a generic piece of faded blue jeans your dad probably owned and I am glad.

I am glad the study group was a fail.

I am glad I met her when I did.

I am glad in general, to have found someone that reminded me of myself and a change I want to see in the world because the world needs it.


Being Gay Isn’t A Contemporary Trend


“for the mouth speaks what the heart is full of”

I can’t recall the amount of times I’ve heard of how homosexuality is wrong. I’m surrounded by people who are kind in nature but the sight and acknowledgement of homosexuals renders them with an acrid taste in the mouth.

Out of all the religious books that exist, the one I read is the Holy Bible. It has some really good advice, good philosophies and intriguing storyline. Revelations and Ecclesiastes, Matthew and John are my personal favourites.

I’m of complete conviction that had the Bible not been made to be what it has been made out to be, it would have been a favourite best-seller book, a must-read book for a lot of people.

In this book I’ve read that one shouldn’t judge others due to the fact that you shall be judged by the same standards and let’s be frank, we’re hardly kind judges. What standards are you going to be judged by? *I’m looking at you Simon Cowell* I try to keep to this but I do forget to give some folks the benefit of the doubt.

Uh, it’s my human nature? I’m putting the blame on my human nature, I was conditioned to a degree to do as others do, so that’s okay.

In this book I’ve read of how gossip is so tasty, we love to swallow it and an awful lot on how women are not entirely “good”,  it makes sense why some feminists are atheist. I’ve also read a bit on the law of attraction and the results (the miracles). This book is just an interesting bundle of a variety of things.

In this life of mine,  I’m really trying to be chilled, as I mentioned in my about page. To wake up feeling sated and content what with my being here. Sometimes it may seem like I’ve got my shit together with the smiles and good grades, but fuck it, I’m confused behind this façade.

It bothers me how there are questions I’ve had – like others – that aren’t answered.  There are just copious amounts of POVS being shoved down my throat with nothing to wash away the horrid residual notions which none are ever answers.

In the past months the world’s been more accepting of gay people from what I’m seeing despite the various resistance from different walks of life.

It’s the buzz in mainstream media, therefore portrayed on all available platforms from books to cartoons.

Girls keep saying they want “a gay best friend”, heterosexual males keep thinking homosexuals want to “do” them and that lesbians need to be “taught” a lesson. I’m stuck as whether to pity the logic or laugh at it, mind you I’d stab a person because of correctional rape.

Through this all, it seems no one is willing to wake up and smell the coffee as the older generations perpetually repeat the fact that the newer generations are going to the gutter because of such “liberalness”. Everyone keeps thinking that being gay is a novelty, a new trend.

Didn’t they know sodomy laws are prehistoric?

“It’s not part of God’s plan.” They say but I know they don’t know God’s plan.

I’m not saying I’m for it.

I’m not saying I’m not for it.

It’s something that won’t change your life if you know it.

Someone asked Jesus what the greatest commandment was and he answered “Love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your mind. That is the greatest and most important commandment. The second most important commandment is like this: Love your neighbour as you love yourself…”

Who is your neighbour? I am and not just because of globalisation. Your neighbor is anyone around you. Not just that one next door. Someone who breathes the air that you’ve exhaled even if you’re miles apart. Your neighbour lives somewhere in Laos, somewhere in The Gambia or Serbia. And all you need is love, all they need is your love. But love is something else on its own. It tends to be easy to write about and that’s where it stops being easy. I won’t say much right now.

To the Christians that despise homosexuals, what do you want them to be like? You’re not usually asked what you want when this topic is brought about.

What do you want?

You want for their thoughts to resemble yours?

You want for them to be delivered?

Hadn’t it occurred to you that they’re not made in YOUR likeness? You say they’re going to hell and that’s just mean, but maybe they’ll take your place in heaven because they’re delivered of hate. Before I get carried away and rant, who confirmed your place in heaven and their supposed place in hell?

Did it ever occur to you that maybe homosexuals exist because Jehovah wants to see if you can adhere to the commandment he decreed as the second most important?

Being gay didn’t start in the 2000s and slightly before that. It’s not modern. It’s not what liberalism is doing to the world. It’s just what it is and you don’t have to like it. If it bothers you so much, stop thinking about it because I’m not losing sleep over it and I truly hope homosexuals are not either.

If this is a battle, revolutions take place and evolution gets favour.

But remember this as you go on with your days and nights; for people you despise, they’re the essence of your life because what are you without the thought of their existence? They command your emotions. In some sort, you’ve made them your masters.

All the rappers keep saying do you and I agree. Do you because flowers don’t bloom by gazing at the flowers around them.

10 Things I Believe In

Beliefs change over time. It’s necessary that they do, I noticed they frame a character and gives an in-depth to your being.

They’re for the most part futile from a pessimistic point of view, like the Philosopher repeatedly repeated the futility of life itself, but whatever. Beliefs are comfortable and great to hang on to for a while. Like these,

1) I believe that equality is a dream.

Strike me if you want. Strive all you want, you were not made to be like the person next to you. Dreams do come true, I just don’t know if this specific one has the potential to..

“Let us live and strive for freedom” is a line in the South African anthem. We have freedom, well basic freedom. Now we want more freedom, but from what? Had we had equality, we’d experience the same miniscule details all day long, all year long for the duration of our lives.

Men don’t have vaginas and women don’t have penises. That’s a given and that’s not equal. I want fair treatment in general. Who says men have the upper hand and who says women have the upper hand?
Think what you may.

Do what though wilt.

2) I believe in past lives.

People are born rich. People are born poor. It’s all for a reason, they yearned for it or got ‘cursed’. Opportunities are given to people, people get opportunities. Maybe you were a starving child in East Africa in a past life and wanted to live like the Westerners so badly, you’re living like a Westerner right now. Who knows?

3) Mythical creatures exist but I not in my reality.

Ghosts, mermaids, demons, faeries, sphinx, phoenixes, etc.

4) I believe in lies.

Does the Bible mention anything on not lying? I know they say that the truth shall set you free, but what does it say about not lying? That woman lied about her baby being the one who was alive and wanted it killed. Lies have saved people and nations, to a point but they have also caused dangerous circumstances.

5) I believe flies spy on me.

I hate being in an enclosed space with flies. They have like a gazillion eyes, someone sent it to watch me right? Fudging pervs.

6) I believe in superstitions, to a point.

They make life interesting. If your hands itch, you’ll get money. If your left eye twitches, some girls are talking about you. I’m not too sure because I tend to swap it around. “You get what you think about whether you like it or not.” So many people have said this.

7) I believe Pretorian weather is moody.

It’s insane. It’s crazy. It’s my home.

8) I believe you matter.

Your thoughts, your opinion, what you want, what makes you happy, it all matters. I just hope it doesn’t affect the way I breathe or live my life.
I don’t have care for it.

9) I like to believe that I believe what I want.
Honestly, everything everyone says creates what I believe in. All in all, your opinion subconsciously affects the direction of wind in my reality.

10) It took a while for me to acknowledge this.

Come to think of it, it was actually typical, like in the movies. I wasn’t sent out on my own but my family did move to the countryside. Life away from the city really did change me in the short span I was there for. It changed my way of thinking and made way for a personality, my personality of some sort to develop.

I became outspoken, thanks to the toastmasters did the previous year without any peers and peer pressure which is so prominent in primary school. It’s unbelievable. You say yes to a lot of things before you can even breathe.

I was a child, I didn’t pay much attention to looks except for that of boys I found cute. I didn’t know if I was cute or not, I just had fun you know? Until dating started. I didn’t date because I was scared that my mother was going to find out.

I didn’t think I was pretty until one day, in the bhundus (bushes) – it’s what I call the countryside, I stared at myself in the mirror before going to school, wondering why people at my new school were obsessed with me. I smiled at the thought and my beauty smacked me in the face.

I knew I beautiful after twelve years of being on earth. That’s a long time, give or take. I realised it anyway and it’s saved me. I don’t let people’s words make or break me anymore. People don’t deserve power over my emotions, no matter who they are or where they come from. When I confirmed that for myself, when I accepted it and myself for the way I looked, I believed I was beautiful. I am.

What are the 10 things you believe in in the now?

To The Girl I First Acquainted Myself With

I don’t remember you much. I don’t think about you much, especially since I crossed the bridge of puberty. Crossing the bridge saved me in so many ways.

I am beautiful today.

I am grown, the pint-sized lumps I had on my chest ten years ago are no more. In their place, now reside two oranges. Developed bosoms that have caused conflict in my eyes, nevertheless, right now, I am fine. I am good.

When I look in the mirror, and smile, I wonder where you’ve gone off to. You’re not awkwardly etched on my face anymore. No more blemishes on my cheeks, my freckles compliment me – slightly – upon closer inspection.

I have this weird laugh. It’s so weird, I don’t recognise it in its natural state in terms of nonchalance and octave levels. When I laugh this laugh, I tend to cry a bit, clutch at my sides and it happily hurts. Some people find it obscene and others find it ridiculously cute. I don’t know what it is and I’ll leave it at that.

I’ve become rude.

I’ve become rude?

Can you believe that? When I was six, I was sweet. I turned sixteen and I was semi-sweet. Because I think on my own, I have an opinion, and it has the potential to matter.

I matter and I speak out, it’s different and unconventional and that makes me a butt, it makes me rude. Ha-ha!

I don’t listen to everything my parents say and my siblings still talk a heck load. I swear and I don’t care that much. I wonder what you’d say, though I probably won’t care either way. Caring hurts. If ever a person discovers how much you care for them or how affected you tend to be in regards to them, they take it for granted. No one really knows abuse until they’re abused.

Ignorance was bliss because I never heard it was. I now wish I was ignorant to blissful ignorance. I now wish I never grew up so fast. 365 days is barely a week, I remember a few highlights and the next years knocks on my door.

I yearn for Neverland. Why did I want to grow up so badly? I swear I just wanted more clothes, more money and the ability to do what I want, when I want. This opportunity was begotten all at the cost of compromised relaxation and nothing was the same. It seems like I got cheated because now I keep asking myself questions of my purpose on in this life. It’s futile.

Younger me, I remember the recipe for muddy samoosas:

  • more than x1 toilet paper roll
  • x amount milliliters of water
  • x amount of milligrams of sand

Younger me, I tend to be insecure.

I remember how I was made fun of.

I’m trying to move on to nowhere. I’m writing to you because I regret not remembering you much. You were really sweet, weren’t you?

You should have been more than an acquaintance.