Bhudhi Simba!!!

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If you have been following my blog then you have  hopefully read my poem Sisi P.Well where there is a Sisi P, there is a bhudhi Simba. True story hey, my mum and dad raised me to never call my elder siblings by their first name, its a sign of great disrespect, there always has to be a Sisi (if it is your elder sister) before their name, or a bhudhi(if it is your elder brother). Now that you have learnt of some African culture you are welcome.

I love my brother! Twenty one year old version of myself can say that, not sure about previous years. For as long as I could remember my brother was this looming presence that I shared a mother, sister and home with. I did not care much about his life until he left for boarding school and I was the television queen again.I do remember Pokemon and marble games here and there but his dark presence out weighs those, as far as my childhood is concerned.img-20151222-wa0029

The last day before the school term was to end, whenever I would make a left turn into our home street, I would be greeted by loud DMX or Eminem music, a symbolic sign of his return. No more cartoons, would be the first thought, but that was not the worst part of it.I could never do anything right, cleaning, preparing breakfast, I mean he even criticized the way I talked. Most may dismiss it as classic sibling interaction, whatever it was, it caused me to deeply loathe him. Almost every day of the school holidays I was assured i would cry, if not this then that. To be frank I hated him and never understood why he was such a miserable man.

In my second year of high school my brother left for University. Before he did he took the time to visit me in boarding school, which was out of anyone’s way. I knew it was by his own will because you can never get him to do something he does not want, ever. I was astonished and did not know what to say or do. It was an awkward interaction to say the least and the whole time I thought I liked it better when he belittled me, because that I was used to.

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Looking back now I think that was the ice breaker, we talked more after that. His repulsive comments turned  more into constructive criticism, a building block for my creativity. Fast forward to now, I can confidently say he is the best brother ever, I always feel that he is the one person who will listen to my melodramatic rants no prejudice. I sometimes forget there was a time I could not bump into him later on hug or embrace him without serious consequence. My brother is a very significant part of my life and he brings with him insight and genuine concern among other contributions.

Why the rant? Well his birthday is around the corner, so I am easing into the best sister of the year vibes, lol. To be honest, it is that time when people actually put in some effort at trying to be better people, new year new me kind of stuff. Maybe my little story will inspire you to reconcile or try harder to connect with your family. Family is very important and you might find it is what you have been missing to make you worlds better than your 2016 self. Happy new year and happy birthday Big Bro.

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Bhudhi Simba, Sis P and I.

Active Poetry

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“Active Poetry”is what I call activism through poetry. It is when you go beyond performing poetry at a poetry night with a cosy and intimate audience, it’s taking to the streets and letting it roar as loud as possible. I have only been to two of them but I assure you there are many more to come. The last we had here in Windhoek was to commemorate 16 days of activism against Gender Based Violence, which is a real problem in this country to say the least. It was organised by Township productions in collaboration with Grassroot Slam poetry, two active organisations in their own right. I just happen to love poetry and a budding activist.

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After all protocol was observed, we took chalk and “chalked ” out our thoughts on Gender Based Violence on the pavement on the space allowed. We encouraged members of the public to be involved, grab a chalk or ask questions, young and old were all invited and I am sure that there is one more person who knows a bit more about Gender Based Violence after our little poetry day out. Though I am not as active on my beloved blog as I would like to, the poetry never stops flowing, neither does the activist in me die. Rebel movement over and out.

 

Being Aunt Fay

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Pure innocence bright

Blinding my eyes

You have this thing of brightening up cloudless days

Forgive me child for I have sinned

Before I met you, I played out a thousand different worst case scenarios

In all of them we sacrifice everything for your well being

This must be love

Hardest hello with all my flaws

And you, little bundle of pure joy

Perfection

Difficult greetings because I am unworthy

Of such powerful embraces

Kneeling before you offering everything I am and more

Saddest goodbye every time

Because just for a while you engulf me in a world I miss

Traces of my childhood

With you in sight you make it okay to be

No questions, no need for justifications

Inhale, exhale, explore

Curiosity, pure curiosity

I need a lifetime to trust as much as you trust our embraces

You unite us

Gogo raised diverse kids

But we all melt for you

Thank you for your mere existence, little carrot

You empower us by enabling us

Allowing us to vaguely bask in your aura

Purity of emotion, of life

Bloom little flower on this canvas we will hold steadfast for you.

Another Random Quote

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I am not aspiring to be of the western world. What you see today is a struggle, where my traditions are trying to survive a way of life forced upon generations of my people. So please do not get it twisted because when I cry my emotions leak and spill out my struggle.

Peace be Still

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I let things be

Let it flow like silk strands through my fingers

Fragile yet strong,I just let them be

Laugh out loud to break the silence

That questions my sanity

Smile when I feel like it

Dance when the legs tap out

In all the turmoil my insecurities create

My feelings become the only genuine campus

So that’s the truth behind my straight face

That I know nothing but you my destination

I run after my heart often

Only to catch it too late

I never scold it because it never stops moving forward

The only peace it finds is it’s quickened pace

Bottom line is no one person determines my balance

I hold the scale with my hands and feet when all else fails

That is my calm within this life storm

Much like I love not because I found someone better

But I found someone better suited

Neither Taller,more beautiful,nor richer

He is just what he is supposed to be

Someone I need right now

Much like I said already

It is about what the heart wants

Not how shattered it was left

Because I reclaimed the power to control my happiness

So if dirty dancing is what we feel like

Me, myself and I are going

I am incapable of waiting around for company

When will waiting ever be overdue

Much like apologising for your every thought process

When will you stop? When you stop thinking

Into the moonlight I venture

For more much appreciated misadventures of Rebel Rouser Bubblehead.

 

 

Glass Half full and Half empty

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Thought I would walk out into Chikwari street early this morning

After  the morning breeze ushered a ghastly wind

Crisp with cold and clouds to make it a winter I have not seen for a while

As I stood there by the window,I thought I would hear my mother bellow in

Screaming about the fire we had not made

But when I lock my door, I am in a hostel far from those memories

As the clouds pass by,they take with them the false sense of home

You have cut me off a few times

When I lose my line of thought to a man he could be

I forgive you,for through your micro-eyes

My glass is neither half full nor half empty

My hair was long just yesterday,but today other locks are better

Because no matter how loud I play my music

There is always one who will blast Nirvana much louder

So when it reaches the dark room where you wait for your spotlight

I will never be the best of anything

Just a bunch of would be’s

It goes back to filling up my love tank

With some much needed love and attention

I wake up to a new struggle to convince myself I am the best version of myself

But you fail to  fall in love with me

I do not blame you,I find it difficult too

As a candle in the wind that guides you before dawn

Though you let the sun erase memories of me

I remain steadfast in the wind

Much like the desert winter I am subjected to

I will not forget to fill my glass

After I give thanks for it being half full

Half the work done

As the cancer of your inadequacy persists

I am  too weary for radical treatments

Just as the sound of silence gets darker

Loving myself grows like a budding flower.

 

 

As I lay my head

 

 

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That as I hold my head with distant memories of your small fingers I am yet to hold

I bid you hello into a world with very few warm places

That I worry not is not to concern you

Because the faith I have shields me from treacherous thoughts

So I pray for your safe passage through this world

For it is not the end nor the beginning

For in a previous life I might have held you and been the rock I want to be now

To be there for you as your father has

Much like I said,I hide behind the notion of another life

Where I am much closer and happy

For in this world

There is not a scenario where I can reach you and be content

So for now I am being selfish and following my heart and dreams

So that when you do the same I will defend you

For I have tasted of the fruits myself

But lately my head hurts

A never ending pounding smothers my safety net

As my thoughts linger across a border to a love I have not known

But the world has familiarized with

And I get jealous of them who can touch,taste and smell that which is mine

Because I dream about it night and day

Now I invest in time to become worthy of such blissful joy

Though it hurts drilling the whole to fill the empty space

There is nothing else to it

I have to get through it

And pray you never know a love so great and destructive

Or maybe you should

I can only make recommendations

When life flashes before my eyes

Just before I leave you for another journey.

 

 

 

Strangers we are

Wonder if you still smell like the version of you from the night I had too much tequila

Held my head up against consequences of misinformed decisions

Estranged as you are

You do not walk as proud as when I trailed behind you

Estranged as I am

I do not have as much pride in wearing my heart on my sleeve

As when you had my back and protected my sleeve to engulf it’s contents

Strangers we are,no regrets, no words

Because I do not see him in you

The young man I dribbled with a bit

Million dollar question is if he ever existed

How else would you explain his disappearance aligning with my departure

A charade to entice and excite my existence

Then there is the uproar that followed

Irrelevant to why I have spent so much time on you today

I cannot help but wonder why I did not sense him the other day when we crossed paths

That unmistakable spiritual energy

The one I was engulfed in for the better part of my Namibian memories

We all just need a little patience

Ran out of musical chairs when the jam had me hooked

Just tell me where he is

I forgot to say thank you, for an alternate reality

An escape,a haven,a dimension customised for my existence

I often find solace in a scenario

Where you finally drink yourself to the brink of death

And I show up to stand by you till I am no longer a crutch

Naturally you ask why, after all strangers we are

Simply to pay a debt to a version of you

That went as quick as it came

To finally explain why I do not look your way any more

Your gaze holds nothing of intrigue

Sad really

So who was he, the one I cannot find in your eyes any more

A glimpse into your future I hope

Because him I could reserve a whole lot of patience

Well son you have a bright future behind you

If not,stop wasting our time

The world is already congested with enough imbeciles

Try something more original

Than the redundant story of how the world has rejected you to the bottle

Or strangers we remain.

 

 

 

Ambush

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I am a struggle child

Born behind invisible bars

Yet their putrid smell nauseates me

That which I can only see

Socialised to second guess my every second breathe

Worthy or not,deserving or not

I am that which was forced out

To run with the wind is to survive

To truly live is to go against the tide

So says the mind of mephitic surroundings

I am a struggle child

With the worst kind of enemy

False freedom, dangling freedom

Close enough for me to see

Feeding my hope and faith

Yet when I run for it, that which is mine

I find I outran my monkey chord

So I am choked back to submitting

The torture resumes, this time freedom a bit closer

I am a struggle child

Stuck in a cycle with blind counterparts

For I had to scrap my third eye open

To veraciously see the truth

In the depths of my struggle

I envy the blindfolds I once had

For they kept me ignorantly consuming their version of events

Safe and sound cuddled in ignorance

I am socialised to be educated

But I would rather be well acquainted with wisdom

Listen brother,start tearing off the blindfolds

The truth shall set you sincerely free.