Waaringa

            It's been a long week for me, blooming with heartache and frustration.  Then I came across the hashtag #tweetwithmalelogic; a lens on male privilege. It's heartbreaking and liberating. I'm not the only one who's experienced the absurdity  and finally  someone has said it. For the women, some of the posts will strike home, for the men, allow this to teach you. A few of my favourites 'Hi. What is up?I'm from sub-saharan Africa and everyone, myself included, I've ever grown up with is dark-skinned. However, me and my successful friends won't consider going out with A WOMAN who isn't light-skinned. OHMYGOSH!!! WOMEN....BLEACH?!?!' # tweetwithmalelogic                                 ***************** Her: ...it was the most terrifying experience of my life, I was completely scared when he locked the door & threatened not to op...

What do you desire?   What makes you itch? What sort of a situation would you like? Let’s suppose, I do this often in vocational guidance of students, they come to me and say, well, we’re getting out of college and we have the faintest idea what we want to do. So I always ask the question, what would you like to do if money were no object? How would you really enjoy spending your life? Well, it’s so amazing as a result of our kind of educational system, crowds of students say well, we’d like to be painters, we’d like to be poets, we’d like to be writers, but as everybody knows you can’t earn any money that way. Or another person says well, I’d like to live an out-of-doors life and ride horses. I said you want to teach in a riding school? Let’s go through with it. What do you want to do? When we finally got down to something, which the individual says he really wants to do, I will say to him, you do that and forget the money, because, if you say that getting the money...

On Tuesday,  July 10 th 2018, my father would have turned 60. Which means this October, I’ll have lived 10years without him. The tears streaming down presently are a reminder that the pain of death never goes away. On a good day, it’s obscured by the clouds of life. Today, the wound is bleeding. I tell the new and aspiring mothers that after a child, their life will never be the same again. I forget to mention the same goes after the loss of a parent. Been in battles I didn’t even know existed, others I wouldn’t have thought would land on my doorstep, because my father is no more. Our patriarchal African society is cruel,  especially to those whose male shield is six feet under. I wrote a gratitude post and the hardest line was ‘I’m grateful for  what I’ve become in his death”