Sikiliza

Do you know the countless ways I feel when I think about you.... Let me list some but only ten ... ten because...my ten fingers are free but only for now; and   can only count so far before they ache for you..So let’s begin with... One ...when you look at me, gaze locked.... and your soul recognises my soul. Two ... I knew I was yours once your tiny kisses traced my bare skin my goosebumps standing to attention on cue to her Queen...You reign over my mind my body my soul...the one who conjures these delectable shivers that wash over me at the mere thought, caress or ravishing of me..... but I digress are we still counting?...Is it... Three already because I am now overcome by these exquisite waves at the suggestion of being reunited in your arms soon... what is the meaning of life in the absence of your smooth dark ebony arms to fold myself into..?!! Ohhh but then again I can think of .... Four ... the number of times I un...

I am having a lazy evening. Just got off the shower and thinking of turning in soon after a long arduous day. It’s a dull silence because I am away for work; so none of those warm familiar sounds and motions of you in the house with me. I look out at the hotel room window staring blankly at the dim light at dusk.   Wrapped in my light kikoy, I enjoy twirling my fingers on the partly drawn lacey cream curtains. I should be conscious of the office building next door and prying eyes that may see me but I do not care. It is exhausting constantly worrying about being decent and respectable for neighbours when that is the last thing on my mind right now. Come to think of it, I feel there should be a right to be and feel indecent. Sigh. You would have laughed at that. I smile and remind myself to share that sorry attempt of humor with you when I return. As I loose the kikoy and enter the crisp sheets and duvet and imagine that it is our bed at home. ...

There is a running joke with my friends that I am a magpie. From the myths of our colonizers,  magpies love (and steal) bright shiny objects and hoard them. I have never encountered or heard about these shine-loving thieving birds in the African savannah, so I can only draw references to European folklores. And so if the magpie’s occupation is anything to go by then we have a similar calling. I frequently like the things so called fashion gurus find shiny, tacky and averse. I love glitter, busy patterns, chunky mismatched jewellery, bold colours, sequins and big patterned prints and all manner of perceived fashion faux pas. I never take too seriously those who are scandalised by how people look and dress. I pretty much wear what I like and like what I wear and definitely I enjoy people who are as liberated from fashion faux pas.   And so this got me thinking a little bit about our bodies, adornments, appearances, body images and their significance.   I also t...

  Phalaenopsis orchid I once spoke about the phases in my life when I suffer night terrors. I was terrified of peeking through the window to see the flickers of the lights in the dark; to me they looked and seemed like macabre and grotesque eyes peering in as I lay in bed; watching and staring. I found safety in covering my face with bed linen from the exposure of the night air. I felt a sense of safety in shutting my eyes tight to shut the windows of my soul from the invasion of lurking evil. Mercifully sleep would take me. My nightmares and terrors made me a handful of a child to deal especially when everyone was exhausted and patience quotas were frayed thin. My mother was the only person who could handle my traumatised  self. For one she always sat next to me listened to the gory details of my frightful dreams. As I described the depravity of the monsters that terrorised  me she listened deeply. She did not interrupt or question me as though to fact check ...

my clutches on the dying art of letter writing As a teen I spent my youthful angst writing long bad poetry...... What I really mean is that I trace my windy way with words and clumsy poetry to my teens; often sending long missives to hapless victims and objects of my affection.   You see words put together for me were and still mean many things; they declutter, detox, delight, define, declare, deride and detail my feelings and thoughts You see I really like words; the construction and deconstruction of ideas and thoughts using words make me very happy. And so as a teenager in boarding school words were a life link to the outside world...I likened boarding school to prison time. I remember spending countless hours looking out at the plush tea estates beyond the confines of our school grounds longingly. School years were dog years and I could not wait to break out and be free.   Well I take that back now and in hindsight over two decades later, I...