Not Interested....

I sit at the gate of the town and they bring the gossip to me like tribute…I am only one, my ears cannot take it all in and my mouth has no desire to repeat any of it.

The small girl with no behind wore a see-through dress to the event at the new restaurant. They say I should have been there to see it. I was not, and I do not particularly believe it would have cooked my pounded yam any better had I been there to witness this great occurrence. So and So’s husband is sleeping with So and So’s wife. What do you care? Who are YOU sleeping with? Do you know who they are sleeping with? Worry for your own house.

Then they bring me the gossip about my own people. I have to stifle a laugh. You saw my brother in the club with “yellow-bone” Somebody’s ex-girlfriend on the very night and at the very time I was sitting next to him eating rice and curry. I nod quietly and maintain the look of feigned interest on my face. The other day you overheard Patricia say my music grates her carrot, I do not know who Patricia is, why should I care? You bring this to me that I may do what? React?

I sit at the gate of my town and they bring the filth to me like tribute…

When it is about me, that is when it is priceless. My boyfriend is not who I think he is. This said as though you live inside my mind and know what I think. Telepathy now? You know my thoughts before I even speak them. How do you even know that I HAVE a boyfriend??? Facebook??? Lord only knows what stories you come up with as you sit in the salon on your phone texting God knows who about my latest escapades all embarked upon as I lay in my bed last weekend reading a book. But this is good because you create for me a larger than life existence in which I am able to be in two places at the same time, WITH different hairstyles. Really miraculous.

I sit at the gate after you leave, still carrying your basket of fruit to spread more rot within the town…to others who are more likely to eat it up like honey…

I am really not interested.

Who kissed who, who caught their girlfriend in the parking lot with his cousin, who made a sex-tape and how lousy it was, what value does any of this information add to my life? Or more importantly to yours? Do you get paid for it? It matters not to me what the town does when they go out. I do not. I stay home safe and attend their funerals with respect…while you attend their funerals to size each other up and comment on who came with who and what shoes they wore.

It matters not what car little whoever drives, it isn’t his anyway and he has no job to earn an income that enables him to put gas in it…I do not have a car, so I am more concerned with working towards getting one than what the next person drives. I have a job by the way, one I created for myself, what do you do again? Don’t worry, I’ll wait…

You read my tweets, status updates and blogposts and judge them, coming to very wrong conclusions and then discuss them amongst yourselves, comment, comment, comment, on my choice of words, my music taste and what I think is funny, refine your words and then bring them to me in that basket, disguised as the words of others. And have the audacity to think you know me…or understand me…or can walk a mile in my shoes. Honey, I have forgotten more about life than you will ever learn…

And while you are out there keeping me relevant, I am busy making myself a better person and concentrating on what is important.

I do not care what you think my boyfriend is…if it were about researching track records and finding people blameless before you dated them, we would ALL be single, yes, you included. For all I know, you wanted him once as well…I am more concerned with whether he is alive and well and loving me than what you think of him…your opinion is about as valuable as the mud splattered on his windscreen.

Wouldn’t it be grand if we could all just live our lives in peace, mind our own business, hide our own poop so to speak instead of going around inspecting the poop of others? I mean your own poop is smelly enough, what you tryna do digging up mine? I think there is more to life than useless “he said, she said” which does not butter your bread anyway….what they do is not your business. While you are so busy watching them and yammering away, your years are passing you by and you remain a two-bit good-for-nothing gossip monger with bad sources. Meanwhile, they keep it moving and go on to be exactly what you said they would never be.

I am grateful for my friends and loved ones who see gossip for exactly the disease that it is and will not repeat or entertain it. I am also grateful for the people in my life who know me and know what I am capable of, they know my history and my indiscretions and they love me anyway because that is what matters in the end…be grateful if you have people like that….

I am also grateful for the existence of people in this world who like me, sit at the gates of their proverbial towns while you bring the gossip in, smelling like fish, and they too are not interested…

INSPIRED BY SILLY SMALL PEOPLE…

Miss Mahogany.

What's Important....

It's my sister's birthday today....this felt appropriate...

My family is my world….

They are beautiful girls…

Everyone knows about me…so I won’t even bother…but I wouldn’t be here without my sisters…was looking at these Kardashian people and realised, I have that too and we are great because family is everything…

Cookie…we will call her that for life…her name is Keziah, a variant of Cassia and it suits her just fine….big eyes, set in the most beautiful caramel coloured face, with a tiny nose and dimples….so smart and focused. Body like a calabash and jet black hair…when I am stupid, she is smart, when I am angry she can shut me up…not always my best friend, but we bleed the same blood…I love it when she laughs and when she defends the clan…our very own lawyer/politician in the making…everything about her makes me proud…

Keren…Little Miss Serious….the smart one…she is studying to be an engineer, something I wouldn’t ever dream of…I love her strength and she looks like a mixed race model…long legs like a gazelle and a gap between her teeth…quirky sense of humour, aloof and Queenly, my precious little baby….I will protect her with my life…she has a son, sooooo beautiful I cannot even begin to express how we love him…a symbol of her strength…she is our Phoenix…

Joanna…God made two improved versions of me…she is the first…hair that curls like springs, big dark eyes, exotic and pretty with a heart full of God…she gives me goosebumps when she prays and she is only 15…the funniest out of all of us, our resident Creepy Clown, and when she dances, the earth moves for her…she is so special, our dark chocolate, curvy Miss Something…peaceful, calm and gentle…slow to speak – actually slow to do everything…but she is ours…”Give me hope, Joanna…”

Suzanna…I didn’t know her very well in the beginning…she is larger than life…a voice like the breeze filtering through trees, light a piercing light, she surprised us all when she sang….genuine laughter and real warm love, the most vicious hugs…you would never forget her…always ready to make and keep friends, and so so so so smart…my little helper with the fierce temper…I love her…

Bernice…God must have chuckled when he made this one….we thought she was the last one in for nine years…so pretty…another one with a gap and dark hair and dark eyes…and legs for days…I know someone who agrees with me when I say the men will fall at her feet when she gets there…she is funny and tough, and very sarcastic and a little silly, head in the clouds…but her feet stay on the ground and life would be really weird without her…

ANANDA…our little miracle baby…and the only one blessed with mummy’s name…she is so tough and grown up already, the second remix of me…so funny and enthusiastic and a little bully as well. That we almost never met her and now she walks and speaks is such a blessing…she was born at less than  kilogram, and stayed in an incubator for weeks before she came home…she is our little rugrat, our cantankerous angel, our “Kupela”…

It easy to forget what’ important sometimes…but lately I find myself remembering more often than not that they keep me grounded…

MIZU……roots…my family are mine…

Miss Mahogany....

A Tale Of Three...

The last piece of the puzzle…who is wrong, who is right, nobody is to say in the end every piece of the puzzle has a role to play in creating the final image…

Humanity is a fragile thing. The expectations placed upon the human heart and mind are often displaced, delusional demands made on the innate nature of man. Man is wired to disappoint. No two ways about it. No matter how good you think I am I make mistakes, do things wrong and sometimes being selfish is easier than patience, understanding or empathy…

I could insert a lot of cocky and arrogant statements here. Like I don’t care or I don’t feel. But I do. And everybody loses in this particular case…

I read something today that touched me…someone asking about the price of happiness…funny thing is I asked that same thing two weeks ago and the answer I got was there will always be a price.

“There is always the cost of foregoing one option in order to attain the benefits of another.”

 I memorized that answer because I knew this day would come.

And so, I guess when all is said and done, no amount of looking back at my imperfections or indiscretions will change who and what I am. I am here for a reason and sometimes in life you don’t have to know that reason. None of this makes any sense but I truly believe that one day it will.

My heart beats stronger than ever now. My blood runs redder than ever. I picked up a jewel I found lying in dust and made it part of me. That is all. And the cost of my happiness is still yet to be seen.

And yet…I will do whatever I must to preserve and maintain it because that is who I am. I am earth, I am water, I am fire, I am light, I am everything and I will not be denied.

In all my musings, I have learned one thing, the heart does what it wills. I have been lied to. So have you. But at the end of the day I choose to pick up the pieces of what is left and move on. And I do this with all the dignity that I can muster given the fact that the underdog sometimes has to eat the front runner’s dust. David and Goliath played ball, David believed, David won. But the price in bloodshed was heavy. Like I said everybody loses here.

And in this tale of three, humanity wins…humanity will always win. It is in accepting the flaws of a man that a people crown a King.

In My Mind....

I heard a song yesterday after a long time...The Floacist's "Alright Then" off her first solo album. Apart from the beautiful strains of strings and piano coupled with the mellifluous clarity of her voice and the rich baritone of a saxophone floating through, the words did much to soothe my weary soul...

In my mind I saw a vision of my journey from there to here...All I have done, learned, endured and experienced, has made me this me, this woman, this person. This person who is now defined.This person who has reached the point of exhaustion. I am now ready to embrace and embody my destiny. 

I stand facing my star...

The thing about destiny though is that you don't just pick it up and wear it. You must climb the mountain to reach your star...

I stand at the foot of my Kilimanjaro...the final climb. I am filled with fear and trepidation as I stand facing this one final giant...memories, history and past attachment...this mass of doubt inducing discouragement that threatens to block my path and turn me away from my quest...and yet...my heart holds steady and fast to the hope in possibility, to the belief in now, in a future, in a change, in the beauty that awaits me at the summit of this climb...

In my mind, my boots are sturdy, my gloves more than adequate, my back is strong and my feet are firm. I will not falter. I have the tools...faith hope. and love without condition...belief in the value of a good heart...that I am here at all is proof enough that if I remain true, steadfast in my convictions, careful in my approach, the possibility of attaining my goal far outweighs the bulk of this Goliath that I grapple with...

I know who I am and what I carry inside me...and because I know this I will look neither to the right nor to the left. I remain, eyes focused on my star, heart without malice, without judgement, only faith....only belief in what my heart knows to be true...truer than the ring of the Archer's golden arrow...I will climb this mountain. Because I am worthy and deserving of the final spot upon its great height in which to place my irrefutable and undeniable mark...never to be usurped, besmudged or erased...

I will reach my star, and it will twinkle as I pick it out of the sky and carry it in my heart...

Everything's gonna be alright in the end......

Miss Mahogany....

My Epiphany....

I have had two "Aha!" moments these past few days...one was the realization that I am too old for games when it comes to love...they do not sit well with me...but that is another post for another day....today I will speak of things I am only now beginning to understand....

 I’ve made a change. Some people call it finding God. Yesterday I was reminded of how inaccurate it is to say that. I knew where God was all long. I just chose to ignore Him.

I have struggled with feelings of failure. I wanted to be a lot of things when I was young, things I have not managed to be. What is achievement if when you look back at your list of goals from when you were fifteen, you cannot check off half of the things you dreamed of being or doing? What is the point of being here when you look around and milestones and years have passed you by without you achieving anything close to greatness?

They say count your blessings. Sometimes that is just a shallow way of comforting yourself. I know why I am not what I wanted to be. I made bad choices, did foolish things that amounted to the longest detour of my life. There were reasons for it…disappointment, youth, lack of knowledge of self…fear of being left out, missing out, looking or seeming or sounding boring…how many things do we do that do not truly add value to our lives, in any way shape or form? I am the biggest culprit when it comes to time wasting on things that I should probably do better to ignore, e.g Twitter stalking someone who is only as relevant as I make them…people concerned will smile at that one…

We know the difference between right and wrong. We often know the difference between important and useless as well. However, Man’ propensity for foolishness and affinity for worthlessness often trumps his potential to be great. So rather than just do the right thing I will go around it and play in muddy grey instead of choosing between black and white.

It’s not an easy journey this one, I struggle with me every day…because me is selfish and lazy and quick to speak and to get angry, hold onto things, plots and schemes and hates, gossips and disappoints, lies, cheats, disobeys, is proud and ignorant a lot of the time. Me wants what me wants and no amount of reasoning will get me to see anybody else’s point but my own. But life is a beautiful journey, full of lessons and I am learning many things.

I’m learning not to talk back so much. Half the time the next person has something to say which makes way more sense than what I was gonna say anyway. I’m learning to take advice, as in REALLY take advice not just paying lip service to what I’m told. I am learning to be patient and to believe that the truth is sometimes just that; the truth. One really important thing I am learning is to listen to the heart of another person and feel what they really cannot say. I am learning that there is nothing wrong with me, that I am the way I am for a reason, for a purpose and that when I am embraced as I am in my entirety, that is when I am at my best.

I’m learning how to pray…it’s so comforting…to know that somebody bigger than me is in control of all the things I can’t handle gives me such great peace. But I was talking to a friend a few days ago and something they said really struck me. They said something to the effect that nothing hurts like the hurt you feel when you realize that you aren’t as great as you think or thought you were. That is so true…and humbling.

I am only as great as I believe I can be and even then only as great as I work at being and in my working I have to always remember that I cannot fulfill my destiny by my own power and intelligence. Jesus walks with me for a reason.

I finally know with all my heart and soul that he sees me and hears me and cares what happens to me. I finally know that when I speak he hears and that nothing that has happened to me has happened by chance. Good and evil. And I am here now because of those things and because no matter what I do his footprints in the sand are always beside mine. To get where I want to go I have to die to myself and live a life that is worthy of the greatness I hope to achieve. I have to make the right choices, listen to the right voices. When the world overwhelms me I must find my strength in retreating to that quiet place within myself where only God and my dreams live.

Today, I choose to live in black and white. If it is wrong it is wrong and there is no justification for it, no excuse. If I do it I will apologize for being wrong. But I refuse to be that girl anymore, lost and on the border between obscure and mediocre fame. I want to be somebody. And now I know that for me to be that somebody I need to draw my strength from the One who gave me life and gave me breath and placed me on this earth. I am no saint, do not misunderstand me, I am merely a vessel of clay, pliable and available to be molded and shaped  the hands of the Master Potter into whatever great and beautiful thing he wants me to be.

“Mulungu sama gona…”

Unforgettably Yours,

Miss Mahogany

When I Think About A Man...

I was asked once what I defined as a real man. My definition is not a checklist. I looked around and saw what could be seen, compared the experiences I have had and the men that I know and I think my young mind has come to an incomplete definition. I think I will only ever be able to truly answer this question when I am much older but for now….

My earliest memories of a man are those of my headmaster at Nkhwazi Primary School. His name was Mr Bowden. He was English, lived in Zambia forever and wore glasses atop his pointy nose. He had blue-grey eyes and sandy blonde hair, very thin hair, people used to say he wore a toupee. He always spoke carefully, never too loud and was always polite. My favourite memories of him are the days he read aloud to us, I will forever love the story in “The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe” because he read it so well. I used to think that if I ever met God he would look and sound like Mr Bowden. In those years being such a little girl, if you asked me what a man was I would have said, Mr Bowden. He kept us safe, he disciplined us, and he cared about us as if we were his own little children. I will always remember him smiling. That is not to say that my other male teachers were not men but nobody was better than Mr Bowden.

At secondary school, I didn’t care, boys were annoying…somebody kissed me in the ninth grade, I absolutely hated it, vowed it would never happen again. It really was disgusting though, saliva everywhere. Men never really mattered even after that. I was surrounded by boys, cute boys who wore Theirry Mugler’s “Angel” and told me pretty lies they copied from song lyrics. A bit of this and that and more boys in university, with no direction and nothing real to offer. Looking back it’s been a long road to here, and all along, I ignored the definition of a man. I should have listened to my mother.

Now I am 25 years old, been through a lot of ups and downs and seen a lot of things in my own life and in the lives of others. When I think about men, I think about my father, who took the time to help raise his seven daughters, cared about everything we needed and made sure we were disciplined. My father has never been cruel to me or my sisters. Even our beatings were always mum’s responsibility. He prayed for us and watched over us closely for as long as I can remember.

When I think about men I think about my grandpa. He used to work at the bank and came home every night like clockwork, always after 5pm and before 8, in his suit carrying his briefcase after a long day at work earning his money to take care of and provide for his family. Always prayerful and kind. To this day he is still my favourite guy. He doesn’t work anymore, but he stays at home quietly and firmly steering us through life, being a pillar of strength for my grandma, making us laugh and loving us in every way he can from the awesome hugs he gives all the way to sitting down under a tree with me to talk about heartbreak.

When I think about men I think about all the great people I have met in my life who stood up for their manhood and what they believed in and where it applied loved and cared for their wives and children.

Don’t get me wrong, that isn’t all there is to my definition of a man.

Family time and working tirelessly to provide are only part of it. Single men these days are a problem; especially where I am from. A typical young man these days has this kinda thought process where if he is in school, he studies to pass and spends weekends drinking, smoking, womanising and wasting time. The type that does anything different is rare. Once they get outta college, they get jobs, work till Friday and do exactly the same thing they did before, then at some point they add a woman to the equation and marry her. Then their life becomes, work to take care of wife, drink, smoke and womanise at weekends, go home to fight about it, maybe beat her up and then start again on Monday. A monotonous cycle that their poor sons will watch and then one day probably emulate. It has a lot to do with the culture in which we live.

When I think about my sons I want them to grow into real men, raised up in a different culture. Young men who will get a good and relevant education in the things they love and are good at. Men who will know the difference between leisure and recreation and time wasting.Men who will be polite, respectful and hardworking; who will fear and love God, who will love and respect all the women in their lives and cherish and protect them because women are bringers and nurturers of life. Young men who will plan and prioritise their lives, make right choices at work and in play and move with direction and focus into the destinies they are meant to fulfil.

When I think about a real man that is my definition, the type of man who cares, loves, protects, tells the truth, is well-spoken, educated in the things if life if not educated in books, because some great men never really went to formal school. When I think about a real man he is the type who provides for his family, finds a good woman and treats her as such, does right by her, tells the truth to her, makes her part of his essence, will not beat and abuse or misuse her or take her for granted or leave her at home to go chasing after children who cannot keep the homes they themselves are kept in.

When I think about a real man he is the type of person who knows himself, recognises his weaknesses and faults, knows what he wants and where he is going, someone who can lead and hunt for success and for peace and happiness for his soul. When I think about a real man he is a whole person, not a person struggling with demons within himself and punishing those around him for his own inadequacies and shortcomings; he is the type of person I want to have around because I know he will protect me and love me and live his life in peace with me because he has found and he knows himself and he is perfect in his imperfections ad going exactly where he is destined to go.