Thursday, 22 December 2016

Being myself

A friend sent me a link to a video of Madonna’s acceptance speech for the Woman of the Year, in the Billboard Women in Music Awards 2016.

In life she says, there is no real safety, except self belief.  Coupled to this is an understanding that she is not the owner of any of her talents, she is not the owner of anything for everything she has, is a gift from God.  And that the f’d up things that happen to her, are also gifts, to teach her lessons and make her stronger.  I liked that.  A lot.  Because I have come to a realisation, belief and total acceptance of my own gifts and their formation and use is also a gift from My God, purposed by Him.

She is vulnerable, nearly breaks downs as she speaks, about how hard it has been to be her.  To be Madonna.  Controversial. A daring woman, a bad feminist. 

She is thankful for the resistance of the doubters, the naysayers, everyone who gave her hell – everyone who said she could not, that she would not, that she must not - for it made her stronger, made her push harder, made her the fighter she is today.  I liked that too.  Because I have been receiving a large enough amount of censor recently.  About being myself.

Being myself.

I have been told I am too much.  Too this.  Too that. That I care too much.  That I should just let things be, let them slide, not care.  Stop caring.

That it doesn't have to mater that people have different faces, half truths and different truths at different times.  That they show or not show, tell or not tell.  That people can come and go, disappear and reappear in my space, as they wish and as they want.  I should just let things be, I should just let people be.

I've been manipulated, misunderstood, misquoted. 

I have made mistakes, not done what I should have, done what I should not have.  I have been rebuked and chastised.  I have paid some prices, and I’m probably waiting on some bills still to be presented.

All from being myself.

The message, has been so oft repeated in the last few months – that it does get you wondering.  Who am I?  What am I?  Whom should I be?  What should I be?

Yesterday. Today.  Now.  Tomorrow.

Its complicated ainit?  And a process. 

Being myself.

Image from

Monday, 14 November 2016

I will wear me, coz I fit me best

You want me to wear you
Though you fit me not
Too large
Too small

You want me to wear you
Though you fit me not
Too tight
Too loose

You want me to wear you
Though you fit me not
Too long
Too short

You want me to wear you
Though you fit me not
There is just something
That’s a touch something

I cannot wear you
I will not wear you
Because I do not look like me
When I wear you

I do not look good in you
I do not feel good in you
I do not look like me
When I wear you

I’ve tried you on
Worn you
Walked around in you
Been you

You cinch
Where you should flow
And bag
Where you could sheath

It did not work
It will not work
It will never work
It must never work

I know
I’ve seen it
And been told it
You are really good

The best
Of you
Is best on you
And good on you

Your thoughts
Your feelings
Your ideas
Your stratas
Your profile

Observing me
Your mental palm
Feels the kinks in my grain
And catches on my burry edges
Jagged and irregular

Some I can tell you of their origin
Some from places I have long hidden
Some from places long forgotten

I leave you with nicks
And splinters
When you brush up against me

I’ll let you know
That I have tried to smooth me down
So that you could be more comfortable

But then I felt fatigued
My soul dimmed
My spirit darkened

You are beautiful
Stunningly so
You absolutely fit you best

Would you give that up
And wear me
Kinks and burrs

Come on and try out me
Wear me for a while
Perhaps for ever
I tease you
I do not want you to wear me
I cannot see me fit you

And even if you did fit me
Then there would be two of me
And I would not like that

There can only be one like each
Because each is already as each should be
And each is sufficient

Come now, and let us reason together
And agree from henceforth
That you will be yourself as I remain myself

And if you ever do hear
Of any trying to be another
That you will arise and voice a nay

That you will want them to know
That each is singular
Because each fits self best

So, I’m letting you know
That I will not wear you
I will wear what fits me best

I will wear me, coz I fit me best

Image from 

Monday, 2 May 2016

My fears are alive - I am alive

When I was young – I still am by the way, so let’s use the phrase “much younger”;  When I was much younger, I watched the Incredible Hulk transformation scene just once.  And that once was enough.  It terrified me.  So I stopped watching his transformation.  I always knew when the transformation was about to happen -after that David someone had been smashed smashed a bit a bit – I never knew a person who got beaten as regularly as he was, I mean, every week?  Surely?  Anyway, my siblings would start screaming – He’s changing, he’s changing, he’s changing!!  I would ran from the sitting room to a side alcove and wait out the changing, as I asked my sibling anxiously “has he changed? has he changed?”.  The music would change, and Hulk would growl, then I’d know he’d changed, and I would return to my seat, to watch and cheer him beat up the bad guys. As I wrote this, I have googled and watched an Incredible Hulk transformation clip, and I am wondering, in retrospect how did I believe such dot not?  My fear of the transformation is gone, but my fear was very real then.

I was brought up on myths and legends.  There were the handsome ogres with mouths hidden under hair at the back of their heads- that they fed flies into as they walked away with a young undiscerning bride, she completely taking by their glittering countenance.  There was cursed wailing Cain wandering the earth in eternal punishment.  The seeking giants who stepped over whole blocks of houses or from hilltop to hilltop looking for someone to steal and go and torture unto death for their amusement.  The ndiba maï – spewer of water - a creature that waited on kids coming back from the outhouse at night, and covered them in water.  Talking animals, singing birds, thinking oddities.  Wonderful fables, whose messages were at the time lost to me, except for the literal fear they created.

I could not go upstairs or outside alone at night – what if there was something waiting for me at top of the stairs, outside the door.  And the leaves of the banana tree casting shadows in the bathroom window, were alive and must be things like urban hyenas trying to get in through the closed window at me.  You are a scaredy cat, you are a scaredy cat, you are a scaredy cat – they’d sing.  Who cared.  My grandmother always said, ke gwoya kainokagïra nyina - he who has fear, returns home.

And it did not help that at some point, my over active imagination took the horrors of the fables, juxtaposing them into my everyday life.  I created worrying pictures of falling aeroplanes, splitting grounds, collapsing houses, running wildlife, thundering earthquakes - an evil jumanji-like world, that no one else knew about, and where I never knew what was going to happen next, who was going to live, and who was going to die.

Fear is exhausting.  For self preservation, and compelled by other unimaginative factors, I stopped worrying and blindingly lived only for moment, only for the now, because the next moment was when the fear was going to be realised. 

With time and happenstance, my youth changed dimension.  I got hitched and birthed a brood.  For me the worrier, there is nothing like all those responsibilities to set the systems off.  I worried.  Constantly.  On the road.  At work.  At their school.  At home.  In bed.  Asleep.  Too much.  Too much.  Constant. Worry.  That grew into potent fears because some of the worries did get realised. 

My lot of fear is unashamedly bountiful.  Never runs out.  The fear of of being wrong.  Of being right.  Being too bad.  Too good.  Too accommodating.  Not fair.  Not sympathetic.  Not generous.  Not successful.  Successful.  Arrogant.  

My fears are alive. They feed on my experiences of yesterdays, and the uncertainties of all my tomorrows.  I step into them, fearful yet resolute.  I am alive.

Friday, 8 January 2016

Eternity is my limit

Once upon I time [okay – in January 2015], my life changed.  I made a life shifting decision that was right for me.  I left the known, I left the old, I left the secure, I left daily humdrum.  And stepped into seemingly nothingness.  I did not have a tangible plan.  I did not have a place to go to.  A thing to do.  I just had me.  And I had to do me.

I had felt trapped for a long time.  I had been searching for a long time.  I could have done this a long time ago.  But I was doing it now.  Me, with bigger responsibilities and ties than before, but maybe they were what was moving me on?  I was terrified.  I was getting out of monotonous stifling routine, to find something else, to go someplace else.  What was this else was, I did not know. 

It was audacious.  I was looking at myself and wondering if this was the right thing to do.  But a conviction bigger than the life I was leading had set the process off.  I sat down that day, in my God’s presence, and asked for His help.  He was my safety net.  He was my plan.  My only plan.

So what was next?  I nigglingly remembered a list I made more than half a decade ago, about what I wanted to do, what I wanted to accomplish.  I didn’t need to look at it.  I knew that list.  I was that list.  I had accomplished only one item on that list – I was writing.  I had been writing for two or so years.  What about the other things on my list – were they ever going to happen? 

My disquietened spirit reminded me of what I had always known.  That there was something more for me on this earth, something more than what I was at that moment.  I knew, and I may have let it slip out at some daring moments, those moment when courage coursed my body, those bold moments where there was no doubt at all.  In those moments, I knew that I was meant to be a headliner.  Just what kind of headliner I was meant to be, I was not sure.

I called out for help, after that life altering decision.  There’s great folks who walk on this earth people, and two great girls came to my aid.  After two seemingly unfocused casual chats, one of them - miss organisation let’s get this done – told us of this lady she hears is great at doing this thing that people are doing now, but with a God twist and why don’t we just call her in to tell us what she is about.  If she says something that makes sense - good, if not, oh well, we will have a conversation piece for the next wine meet we have.

So Dorcas came into our life.  Great things come in small packages – clichéd, but true in one dimension and not the other.  I will leave you to find out which, when you meet her.

She came to give an introductory brief on what she does, to what she was told was “just a group of women trying to do something more, than just live”.  Many were invited. Five turned up.  Four remained.  We were in the right space and time for it all.  The initially planned one hour conversation, paused after 4 hours, and was to continue for a number of months.

Dorcas is amaaaaaaaaaazing!!  Amazebombs as one of the two girls says it.  How about that, she adds.  Yes how about that!!  Because meeting Dorcas has led to a three-hundred-and-sixty degree clean sweep.  A clean sweep from the inside.  Inside out total change.  Recalibrational kind of change.

She takes you through a series of classes.  And because we were a group, she also gave us individual sessions for one on one work.  It was revealingly revolutionary.  The things I found out?  Waa!!  Exciting.  And awe inducing. 

I sit sometimes and think - what if this had not happened?  What if I had not left my past behind, redirected my life, sought out help, stood in God’s presence?  But I somehow felt then and now firmly know, at the deepest core of me, that each moment of my past, has been leading to my present; just like this very moment of my present is the lead to my future.  It just is so right.  That nothing that has ever happened to me, or not happened; nothing that I have ever done, or not done, was in vain.  It was all for a purpose.

What was I meant to be, I used to ask myself.  The answer is so simple, it pinches my nose – I should have known it.  It is written in my forever heart.  It has always been there, written there at my creation, written there just waiting for me to eureka it.  My soul and physical self, have longed to be mastered by my spirit, that holds my purpose, that is the likeness of God.  To living a God conscious life.  Living His will for me.  His vision for me.  Him becoming my standard operation procedure.  GSOP!

I have faced my deepest fear.  I can speak it now - I could not have before.  It has always been there.  Hounding me, following me, the shadow of my hopeful thoughts.  It has been that I would never to find the key, that I would be constantly searching for it.  That I would never unlock my life, that I would live a thwarted life.  Like a constant self abortioning kind of situation where you die little deaths until the final one big death. That I would not come into my purpose and be what I should be, God’s headliner.

It is not going to be easy.  I know the easy road is the clichéd [I am using that word too many times – worse than using actual clichés, which I am about to do anyway] straight good intentioned paved road, coasting along fuelled by satan’s profane gas [heehee – look at that].  God’s road is hard.  Crawling weeping sweating suffering strifing hard.  Windy, boggy, down into the trenches and valleys hard.  But one things for sure, I know He’s got me.  We just have to let God, says the third girl in the quartet.  And that is the hardest element.  Letting go and letting God.  If I do let go, God will lead my feet to the  mountains and the high places.  And that is a promise.  To me.  And you.

The process is not for free, and it does has a price, and it is worth it.  How about that [an expression from one of my girls].  Yes – how about that.  Because worth is what its about.
I have not done this before.  Done me I mean.  This is the first time I am living my life.   And neither has God – done me, if you get what I am saying.  So we gota do this right.  Both of us.   He knows the deal – if I bomb he bombs, and that’s not going to happen, not on His watch.

We moving, Him and I.  My life I pray will speak of Him.  My conviction this day, my assurance this day is that eternity is my limit!

image from