ANYTHING BUT ME

So I recently bumped into one of my colleagues whom I had not seen in months thanks to the horrible shifts we endure. This is the same girl whose recent Facebook pictures have left mouths hanging, wide open. Over months this girl had literary turned into snow white. Her lips were the last piece of her once brown, glowing skin.

Judging by the frequency of her Facebook uploads this was definitely a dream come true for her. I could not look her in the eye either because I did not want to give away the look of disapproval and a bit of jealousy. Why was I jealous? I had been a “fair skinned” girl all my life and even though I had never admitted it openly it came with added advantages. I guess “fair skinned” barely goes unnoticed and I enjoyed the envy on “the ordinary women’s” eyes who constantly ambushed me for my skin routine. Nobody could understand how my “latte skin” was all thanks to good genes.

A part of me felt like I’m entitled to my looks and the added perks of course, something more like a talent and sets one apart. For one to fake the one thing admirable about me meant my value was depreciating. It just felt unfair that I could never buy a miracle cream that will make me a good soccer player then why should there be a cream that copies my trait. In groups we would sit and gossip about this girl and her shameful acts. But I knew that a large part of the gossiping was fuelled by jealousy.

Alone in my room I tried to understand the psychology of a girl who wants to look like anything but herself. Read a list of articles where darker girls confessed their life struggles. After seeing how the darker skinned girl who had made it was greatly celebrated, as though it is unusual for “their kind” to climb ladders, I was stunned. Still I battled to under the psychology behind it all. Miss “admirable me” could not identify with the “wanna be’s”.

Next morning whilst I’m smearing cream across my flawless face something came to my attention. If I truly perceived myself to be flawless why do I spend such substantial amounts on sleek, long weaves every month? I was even surprised by the subconciousness of my behavior. Spending hundreds of rands at the salon without thinking twice and never missing an appointment. Interesting how quick I was to conclude low self- esteem on the skin bleaching girls and once the subject in question changed, I was quick to find reasons for myself imposed modifications. And somewhere in my psyche laid a million reasons why my behavior ought to be acceptable. My heart new the truth, whoever rated skin bleaching an offence must have done the same with weaves because both behaviors serve to satisfy a need to look better. There’s a Xhosa saying that say “iqaqa alizizwa kunuka”, one can never spot her/his own faults. It will take time for me to finally accept that I find my naturally coarse, curly, dark hair faulty. I’m ashamed of it and try so hard to be anything but my true self.

Ending Beginnings

She once sang a happy song,” I know you’ve got me and you won’t let me slip”. She jumped up and down in her colourful dress as she got ready for church. In her tiny eyes lay the world, still cant figure out whose world it was.

She continued to sing as though she stood to send a message to “some greater power”. “I know my existence is by the persistence of grace”, she continued humming. Those words pierced my heart, sat and nested in my brain. It was as though secretly she wished to remind me that not all lies within the control of our flesh and that we belonged to an unknown greater power. I wondered whether our existence was not purely by poor birth control and our departure a random event. is our course indeed pre-planned and will we grow weary of running from our destinies? I will not trouble myself with that which no man ever lived to describe.

Couldn’t help but admire the tiny being whose vocal cords perfectly articulated the words of a song that plays endlessly in my mind. i imagine her rushing home one day, screaming mom I want to be a singer and the words “be an accountant first” quickly wiped off the dreamer in her face. She would frown and walk away but I will patiently wait for the day she understands it was all out of love.

And then it rained heavily. Unbearable rain drop sounds against my steel roof. I worried that she would come home with stubborn mud stains on that bright dress. I sat and kept wondering which punishment would best suit “this occasion”. Then the phone rang again, still I hesitated to pick it up, I had heard stories about phones during thunderstorms. Then the door bell rang, I rushed. My eyes met a stranger who’s said “I know nobody wishes to see me in their yard but it’s my job. I have done this a thousand times but I’ll pretend to be sympathetic.” With him he brought the last pieces of the colourful dress and the rest laid covered under the dreadful silver wrapping on some cold street, exposed for all to see the beginnings of my misery. I guess this time grace could not succeed.

LIVING THE NEXT MAN’S DREAM

Being young and working in an industry that pays” peanuts” has left so many questions in my mind. Actually a dozen of these questions have risen from the frequent conversations with my colleagues. They all want to move, they want better jobs, houses, cars and some even husbands.

I often wondered what the root of all this dissatisfaction and low morale was. Then more than half of them decided to take on distance learning,” great move”. The fact that they all registered for the same course kinda left my mouth hanging and feeling like the black sheep. “Bcom is where the money is” they insisted. “What have you registered for” they would ask and in the lowest tone I would quickly answer a “BA” and walk away before I notice the annoying look of disapproval. “Well that girl is definitely headed for poverty” they would say as I exit the room.

Hence I got fed up of trying to defend myself and try to reason for my choice of studies. After spending three years in an engineering class, I had definitely learnt my lesson. I can never forget the feeling of waking up every morning, walk into a lecture, walk out and hate the fact that tomorrow you’ll have to come back. I remember the small voice in my head that constantly screamed “you know where you belong”. Then next to me sat “charles”, the guy who wished that the lecture would go on forever. I would look at him and then it would click that I was an intruder in his world. I was literally living in his dream. I could definitely see that he was made to be in an engineering class and it is all he had dreamt about.

I was too shy to walk away from this world. Imagine a straight “A” maths and science student stuck in a “BA” class. I was too shy to live my own dream. Too shy to be the being that I was truly made to be. I feared rejection and the “you are headed for poverty” comments. I just went by and forced myself to believe that I would fall in love with “it”. I waited a long there years for the love to come and instead resentment grew on me. I hated the fact that I had chosen something that required me to put so much effort whilst I knew there was something out there that I was effortlessly good at. I resented the whole system that promoted and supported only science and regarded all else as useless. “Try to phone around for a bursary and see how quickly they’ll hang up once u mention the word BA”.

I now stand to change the stereotypes. If you are not prepared to embrace me and my calling perhaps cutting you loose is my only option. A “BA” is not less valuable in fact no degree is inferior to the next. We need positive role model in this field who are gonna come forward and prove that even with a BA you can still lead a successful and fulfilling life. Next time you see me racing down the road on my German convertible don’t assume that I have found myself a rich man, just know that those are the fruits of being innovative and following my true passion. “LOL”

Divine Interventions

Screeching wheels,
My life flashes before my eyes
I’m so close to the end I always perceived far.

My breaths get deeper and futher apart
The enemy whose face could has never been described is laughing before me,
His face is the last you’ll ever see.

I lay lifeless
I lay breathless
Ready to give back what had been lent to me,

Then he intervened
Silently yet so powerfull
I could never see his face but his presence I felt

Why I was spared I still wonder.

At the End

WHEN THE SOUNDS NO LONGER REACH MY EARS,
WHEN MY SKIN CAN LONGER RESPOND TO THE UV RAYS,
WHEN MY LUNGS CEASE TO EXPAND.

WHEN MY HAIR BECOMES DREADFULLY DRY,
WITH MY HEART BEATING AT A SLOWER RATE,
AND THATS WHEN MY PUPIL NO LONGER RESPONDS TO LIGHT.

WILL I HEAR A LOUD VOICE LAUGHING FROM FAR,
ALL THIS TIME I THOUGHT I WAS IN CONTROL,
THE WORLD SIMINGLY REVOLVED AROUND MY CLOCK,
UNTILL THIS VERY MOMENT.

IM ASKED JUST HOW LONG DID I THINK IT WOULD LAST?
IM ASKED WHY I TOOK FOR GRANTED ALL THE IMPORTANT THINGS IN LIFE,
WHY I UNGRATEFULLY LIVED FROM ONE MOMENT TO ANOTHER?

I GUESS I FORGOT THAT IT WAS ALL MERCY,
TOOK IT FOR GRANTED,
I THOUGHT I DESERVED IT ALL,
FORGOT THAT IT WAS FAVOUR.

MASTER I REPENT,
PLEASE LET ME SEE THE MOON JUST ONCE MORE,
ALLOW ME TO TOUCH MY SKIN AND BE THANKFULL,
LET ME APPRECIATE THE RARE TASTE OF YOUR WATERS,
AND RESPECT THE GROUNDS THAT NOURISHED MY FLESH.

“THE DOORS OF LIFE HAVE CEASED TO EXIST”
“YOU HAVE MET YOUR END”.

WOMAN, ME

Perhaps it’s time to take a step back,
Visualise myself standing on a hill with fresh breeze waving against my skin,
Let my imaginative eye look down memory lane,
Then let flash backs of my young life flow.

From the little girl with a vivid imagination,
Dreams to reach for the stars,
Ambitions that pulsate on her veins.

Right up to the moments I lost my innocents,
Brought life into this universe,
My daughter whom my heart cannot do without.

Let me acknowledge the eighteen hour day,
Eighteen hours of hard labour,
All because I have a womb,
All because I have a heart.

Moments came,
They put a smile on my face,
They wore me out,
They challenged me,
Burdened my soul,
Yet my wisdom kept my shoulders from falling.

I cry because I’m human,
I fight because I cannot run forever,
I smile because I need to,
I dream because I’m worth better,
I live because my maker’s desires pends fulfillment,
I’m me
And then a woman.

When the Sun Goes Down

The sun has gone down again. I’m left alone with my thoughts and myself. My fancy car is parked away and my expensive clothes mean nothing now. It’s as if the world is laughing at me. I have worn a smile on my face throughout the day, yet I have not managed to deceive myself. My job title does wonders during the day but as soon as the sun sets I’m a nobody. My million dollar fake smile is gone and all that is left of me does not exist. I look straight into my eyes and still I cannot admit how unhappy I am. My worldly portrait has chipped away pieces of the true me. I smile and switch off the lights. I have sold my sanity and I’m still gonna do it before the sun sets.