Missed calls


I don’t play dress up with Mr Man

Our time will come, for now I’d rather not explain why

Because I don’t need to convince you of my heart’s convictions

That’s the problem isn’t it

We hurt each other so much we burn bridges that could’ve taken us back

Home where I’d look forward to seeing you

Now we’re indifferent, not callous, but still from love to indifference

That’s a painful fall

Not the one you cry from

But the one that convinces your mind to never look at cliffs the same again

Or horizons for that matter

I’ve gotten used to enjoying my chai latte alone

I don’t play house with Mr Man

Just like I don’t believe a word you say

I always thought when my world crushed I’d find my way to you

But I did nothing of the sought

My body wouldn’t allow it

As much as I cried inside

No missed calls meant no missing

No missing means moving on

Moving on means no confiding

No confiding means I’ll never catch up on doomsday

It came I survived, missed calls.


My battles are not your entertainment


Here I am, your everyday Zimbabwean girl. I am a typical story really; left home, much like most people, to work and study. So far so good, only because I set some ground rules until now.

First and foremost, I am all about Pan African ideologies but more at a fundamental level. That is to say we are all one people who all understand the concept of Ubuntu and i ignore borders as much as I can. Let’s take a moment to reflect on how much less xenophobic attacks would occur especially in South Africa if Africans saw each other as one people, not foreigners.

Secondly, I do not talk about home politics for fun. It gets me all riled up if we ever really talk about it. People’s favorite question since the recent ‘coup’ is “Where are you from?” Tata ma’chance hoping I am Zimbabwean. Well I am not comfortable with people hunting me down for entertainment, sounds exaggerated but how many of you actually ask a stranger coming from an impoverished country their thoughts on the home situation out of genuine concern. Most of you get the kicks because you get to hear it from ‘a live source’ . If you think about it, most of us have been gone so long, we are actually watching BBC news just like you. Some do still have family they talk to if they didn’t move them out of the country already.

I speak for myself when I say I prefer talking politics with serious game changers or people who are woke and see the bigger picture. I however never shy away from correcting misinformed simpletons if hopefully they are not so ignorant that I deem the task a waste of energy.

In conclusion, because I know people will always ask, I have mixed feelings about the tension going on. I am unable to make an assessment because there’s too much speculation going about :I am happy for as long as there are minimal civilian casualties. I am waiting this out because I have been Zimbabwean long enough to have the politics exhaust my emotions. When you have my state of mind towards the matter your emotions start giving you wrong signals. You get angry at the wrong people and always get your hopes crushed after every election. So if I am not willing to share any further thoughts on this matter with you, ask yourself why. Trust me I am in no way ashamed of my country, I have just grown to understand the human Psyche a bit more. Happy politics reading.

Confessions from the past


I finally understand the reason why you grow beautiful by the day

The longer I stay, the more I understand 

That we’re both growing and evolving

And not many can applaud in agreement

When they’ve imagined  what we’ve seen

I have never felt so free and yet not alone

There’s nothing restrictive about your arms

Dear arms, please hold me as long as you’re able to

Yours forever faithful to just these biceps giving me this unrecognizable comfort

I am free, not from burden or worry, but to just be

I’ll come back with my findings, here not now but to the here we will make

I can go and on but only at the cost of inflating your ego

That’s a genuine fear, panic attack kind of thoughts

The longer I get to linger in this space we’ve created

The more I realize the fault in the stars I aligned back when it wasn’t this pretty

You aren’t all to blame, I brought my own baggage for you to sort out

That wasn’t fair 

But hey she’s gone and we are both waving goodbye, we can’t stop smiling at just how far a distant memory she’s becoming

Unfortunately he is still locked up within you, or at least I assume

Sometimes he screams out loud enough to make me cry on occasion

He’s not to be tamed but destroyed, if we’re to go anywhere

But that’s for you to realise, it’s time to get him packing

Forgive me lover for I have sinned

Confessions of unfair accusations that came your way.

The gun replaced the half heart


It wasn’t about how I’ve never seen you devote yourself to the cause like I did

It wasn’t about my need to see the cause through

It’s more or less  how the wind still calls my name the same way

Regardless of your presence

So it is now more about how the voices howl just the same

So why wear your heart when it does not protect me

I got myself a gun instead, I’m on that tip

You know, self sufficiency, till I’ve mastered the art of making wine out of my tears

I’m not her you know, the girl you know 

I see her sometimes in old photographs with your heart

But I wouldn’t say I recognize her

She’s, I don’t know , a different kind of acquired taste

And to be honest I am getting tired of explaining her actions

And the obvious contradictions

It’s a pistol, in case you were wondering

I’d love to play Russian roulette with you some time

Feeling lucky son?

I got death on my side, try beat those odds

Exhale, you looking a little pale

Holding your tongue because you do not know what kind of explosive I’ve become

I’m the one that knows which battles to fight

And baby, you aren’t worth it sometimes

It’s addictive, this level of self love, leaves you alone, not lonely

Look it up

I still love you, and often whisper a prayer for your good keeping

But I shan’t force matters

I’m beyond your realm of understanding, and I’m at peace with that

My focus now is to protect my peace, gun and all

As I work towards a more gentle wind whisper my name in peace.

The girl floats



Dreams float along with dead goals

Seize one or two, embrace them, kiss them

Recite a poem or two

They might just come back to life

And we can move on

Move forward, just gotta keep on keeeping on

I like the indifference with which you lovingly caress my hopes and dreams

She slouches, feeling too big

Sullen eyes, feeling too small

When she is not floating with glazed eyes

She’s missing your skin

Just to feel it is okay

She’s gotten to understand your body more than your words

She wants to hang upside down

And have the sun block out her blemishes

Sigh, exhale, slouch much, stare into oblivion

She floats a few paces above me

With most of my heart and soul

In these times of uncertainty and vague knowledge of self and destiny

I exhale and stare up

Phase, in heat again

But I procrastinate the labor pains

I just want her back with me

So we slump in the beauty of our majesty

I grow weary of inhaling just to exhale and gawk.

Lies my mother told me



He was the first I told of my afflictions

It must be love, mummy’s little girl told herself

Confusion whence the thoughts are repeated

Break the heart, pick it up; sigh,monotonous exhaustion,drop it

It must be perseverance mother’s bosom comforted

There is no greater agony than feeling lonely when in love

It must be you never him, you’ve always expected too much, mother’s shoulders will carry you

We do not speak the same language

It must be that your language is too demanding, momma raised a translator

“He is perfect for you, hence it must be you ruining everything”!

Fundamental thoughts planted by a misguided love.




Do not owe any man your existence

Nor a species

Get your papers sorted

Be bullet proof when they drive by

Hiding their faces in the low rides

Smile and wave: You got you

Network, you can not float my Island

Don’t let the strings strangle you

God save me from the razor

Rather save me from myself

Never loved myself more

Than when I’m naked, blade and I

Water and blood percolate along my frame

Ear plug out the gentleman drunk on power

I’m over the complaints routine

If you are so unhappy, do something

Instead of drowning me in pools of what ifs of a lazy illusioned man

My sister gave birth to my love child

I have nothing to show for it

Mondays tuned out to be Sundays, the puppet strings go

Looks like I am slipping away

It’s just time for my book away

Shed a few close friends in my peeling

Sad, Rest In Peace girl I used to know

All in all I am Mining for patience

All the while being confused

By whether or not I should wait out destiny

Create the perfect moment yourself…eye roll

I don’t rhyme, I procrastinate

On a mission to kill this physical body

Riddled with fears and excuses not to share what the third eye contemplates

Death of self equals world peace

I know nothing.

Sunflower Day 2017




  My TOPE (Tube-Of-Hope)

I first stumbled upon the Sunflower fund in 2014 after a failed blood donation left me frustrated. I do not know why but my sort of charity is primarily health related, I do what I can. There are a lot of ways to give back but I was particularly struck by the Sunflower fund’s focus on building an efficient South African Bone Marrow Registry.

Why a bone marrow registry? Well we all know that cancer has become rampant across all ages and races, one way which was found to help is bone marrow transplantation. Bone marrow transplantation and peripheral blood stem cell transplantation are procedures that restore stem cells destroyed by some types of cancer, and other blood diseases like sickle cell anaemia. The odds of finding a match are 1:100 000, so there is an urgent need to get as many people (not necessarily South Africans) as possible tested, evaluated and registered because with cancer, you honestly never know.

It takes just two test tubes of blood to become registered as a stem cell donor, but it the tissue typing of each sample at the required molecular (DNA) level currently costs The Sunflower Fund R2 000 per test. Donors are asked to make a voluntary contribution to this expense, but most of these costs are covered by The Sunflower Fund’s fundraising efforts.

Once the blood samples have been analysed, the individuals’ genetic information is then stored on the SABMR’s (South Africa Bone Marrow Registry) searchable database until the prospective donor turns 60 years old, which is the mandatory retirement age.



So let’s say for some reason you are unable to donate some stem cells, worry not. This is where the Sunflower Fund gets creative. For some years they have released bands and other items available for purchase usually from any Pick n Pay across the country, which goes to the fund. You can also make a direct donation on their website  http://www.sunflowerfund.org.zaThey also run school competitions to get children involved in the fight against cancer.

This year there are the Topes on sale in different colors, they are multi purpose so the whole family can join in. They can be used a sweatband, mask, scarf , etc and if you happen to be my size, you can wear it as a boob tube like I did in the featured photos.I like the I AM HOPE caption that comes on them, it appreciates the little you spend and how that is part of a bigger picture that can save a life. 15 September 2017 is Sunflower Day, save the date and look into what you can do to support an organisation set on saving as many lives as possible.


love how I made this to work for me

Women’s month hangover


I took to the underground, deep depths of my day to day routine to find out what I am most proud of as a young woman in Africa. I took to my own reflection to get answers of whether or not I am doing past struggles for equality justice. 

I am trying but there is still room for improvement. I still need to find a more positive response to those questions, you know, the ones your male friends always assume you have answers to. The ones that go like ‘why do you women…’ it’s never a good question. It groups us all into a little cluster and now I am judged by another sister’s actions. Like now I am healing someone else’s damage as I hold my brother/friend in the bosom of whatever selfish actions women took.

I am lending cash to a brother who’s girl won’t hear no for an answer to having her manicure session sponsored, that cannot be cancelled because your understanding of love includes his wallet.

I am babysitting nieces and nephews of women walking away from overwhelming ‘drama’ of the consequences of not only your choice in men but using the child card to get him to stay, only to find out he wasn’t the one. Ehhh excuse me but if you felt the need to get pregnant to pin him down then you were done for to start with.

I am exhausted by fake smiles and sexist comments that are whispered afterwards, because I prefer alternative clothing. I am tired of friendships that only last until the next best guy comes by. Also my shoulders hurt from all the sisters and brothers I have to console after having been backstabbed at work by some female who found a short cut to a means.

As a young woman, I have every right to call out some inconsiderate behavior (to say the least) expressed by some women out there. Some justify their actions because it’s towards men, and apparently all men are trash, but sister that man is my brother and a good man and I have to clean up your mess. Own up to your struggles, don’t beg for anything and nothing worthwhile comes from cheating your way to it.

Women’s month hangover thoughts.