Trust me she’s got amazing talent. See more of her work on IG: @sthekamsibi
Category: Africa, Poetry and Love
Swooping down in excitement from a tree, A magpie spies the nuts and seeds with me. A squirrel nearby watches the commotion, Its swishing tail plotting paths of anticipation. The bounty descends effortless to the ground, Like wheat chaff in the muted siren of sound. As the magpie dances, delighted at the sight, The squirrel […]
Magpie and the Squirrel – A Poem
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The Lucerne tree in flower
White petals floating down
Carpeting the pathway, and
The front veranda with a sea
Of white, white everywhere
Coming upon this alba sea
As a child; with music in my head
Amazed at the ocean of pearl
Sitting down in the middle of whiteness
Whiteness all around me, whiteness
Whiteness in the air, whiteness
Whiteness everywhere, whiteness
Childlike joy and happiness
Yes all alone to enjoy it
This vast sea of pure white
As a child it seemed so vast
Nothing bothered me there
Just sitting there with the tune
Going through my youthful mind
And the whiteness all around
Even now as I grow older
Memories come flooding back
Of a more innocent time
Taking pleasure in the simple things
That life provides to me
For they are the best.
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Night falls behind the village fence
Last traces of day, shadows fade
Tree lines turn grey and black
While the sky host a million stars
Quiet evening, sound of water
Heard down the waterfalls, by the streamside
And from thickets bullfrogs wade
Enjoying the fresh and sweet breeze
Tree branches play with the wind
Soft singing is heard from huts away
While hill dwellers talk with clouds
The valley people make hilarious jeer
Wood burn in the open fireplace
Sweet smelling dinner cook slowly
Sleepy kids watch, filled with hope
Tonight stars shine upon the hamlet
Laughter follow tales told to children
They gather their small mats for sleep
When night fall in African countryside
Dreams, many dreams aren’t far away
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Sun rays
Hello everyone. I’ve with me a friend and African brother who is passionate about poetry and his motherland.
Please let’s welcome Njabulo Nkambule, a poet from eSwatini. I admire his work so much and if you follow my blog you might have seen a couple of his poems. So on this post I’ll be asking him some questions on his private life and of course his work.
OI: Welcome Njabulo. Can we get to know you better?
NN: Well, I’m Njabulo Nkambule from the Kingdom of Eswatini. Currently, I’m a student at the University of Eswatini studying Journalism and Mass Communication. I’m one person who admires and love art. I breathe it.
OI: Tell us more about your work.
NN: Talking about my work, there’s still a lot to be done and maybe discovered in the near future. But for now, I do both music and poetry. Like I had said, I breath art, I eat it, I live through art and without I don’t find my self belonging in this universe, I just lose the sense of belonging. I’ve done so much right now, I’ve a lot of poems that I wrote and never shared with anyone. I’ve a collection of poems focusing on daily basis challenges/ issues that are faced by the humankind. I don’t just write anything from the air, I write from the depth of my heart, with my mind focusing on everything, reason I do it’s because I want people to relate to my poems and feel the way I felt when writing that poem.
OI: Each time I read your poems it feels like that of black American freedom fighters. Do you think poetry can play a role in gender equality and freedom fighting?
NN: I believe poetry can play a major role in changing the society, changing people’s perception as how they look at things. Poetry can help achieve gender equality. Words are a powerful weapon. If used well can heal a soul. Poetry is powerful, with it’s words and everything around it, it can change the whole society.
OI: What’s your best work yet?
NN: Since I do both music and poetry, so far I feel like there’s still much that I’ve done. Early this month, I and my brother Mpendulo “Roman Dutch” Mdluli released a 6 tracks EP, a kind of music that we believe it can change someone’s way of thinking, the kind of music that heals a soul. So I’d say that for now, I feel like that project is still my best simply because people still relate to our tracks.
OI: Do you think poetry is over rated in Africa?
NN: For me I feel that poetry is underrated simply because they take us poets serious like they do with actors and musicians.
Poetry is not easy like some may think, it’s not good to underestimate us poets because it’s more like they’re testing our intelligence. Africa still needs to do a lot about this issue.
OI: You know Africa is a musical continent, full of sounds and songs. It’s generally believed that poets can sing. Yet I barely sing and funny enough can only play an instrument called whistle. Can you play any musical instrument? Can you sing?
NN: Haha. For me, I’m only good with the words, I don’t know how to use any musical instrument. I’m one person who’s good with coming up with concepts. That’s my field.
OI: Who’s your favourite writer, poet, actor?
NN: I love Emily Dickinson’s writings, her poems are simply out of this world, and also Maya Angelou, she’s good. I admire her work. I’m also a big fan of Prince Ea, his works is out of this world. My favourite is Denzel Washington, simply because he’s just a total package; an actor, a motivator and inspirer. I just love his work.
OI: Have you traveled to any African country? If no, where will you like to go first if you have the chance to?
NN: Only my neighboring countries, South Africa and Mozambique. An African country that I wish to visit one day is either Ghana or Nigeria mainly because those countries feel closer to us now with their entertainment industry being known globally.
OI: What’s your take on grooming young talents on poetry?
NN: When it comes to poetry, we really need to groom young people to do more, write poems that people can relate to, not just writing diaries or watching explicit content that can pollute their minds. It helps one to get over something. We really need young energy when it comes to poetry.
OI: What do you do when you are not writing poetry?
NN: Nothing much, either writing lyrics or doing school work. It’s a challenging world out there.
OI: I have seen you include the #Wegoodbro slang in your work. Do you want to talk about it?
NN: Yeah bro… The #WeGoodBro started way back, I think if I’m not mistaken in 2015, the goal is to feel good in the eyes of everyone, don’t show your tears in public because you don’t know who really is your companion or enemy.
OI: Any advice to fellow African youth?
NN: It’s good that we remain the Africans that we’re supposed to be. Using insults on your craft doesn’t make you better. It’s best to always use words that heal rather than words that kill.
Remember Words can either Kill or Heal…
OI: Can you share links to your work?
NN:. Sure,
Wattpad: https://my.w.tt/uN6j1pqcO9
Writco: https://www.writco.in/profile/Dablu7537
Audiomack:
https://audiomack.com/dablue_kiddie
Facebook:
https://www.facebook.com/DablueKiddie.Nkambule
You are an amazing poet. You have a great future ahead of you and it’s great to have you on my Hangout. I hope to read more of your work. Thanks for your time.
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The Talking Drum is peculiar to the Yoruba people of West Africa.
Musical Africa
You will agree with me that Africa is a musical continent. It’s full of sounds and songs. Every tribe and nation has a peculiar musical identity. As dressing and languages differ so do musical instruments. I will like to share a musical instrument common to the Yoruba people of West Africa.
The talking drum
The pitch of the talking drum is varied to mimic the tone patterns of speech. This is done by varying the tension placed on the drumhead: the opposing drum heads are connected by a common tension chord. The waist of the drum is held between the player’s arm and ribs, so that when squeezed the drumhead is tightened, producing a higher note than when it’s in its relaxed state; the pitch can be changed during a single beat, producing a warbling note. The drum can thus capture the pitch, volume, and rhythm of human speech, though not the qualities of vowels or consonants.
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If dreams are colourless
Then love is a magical dream
That teaches and encourages,
It trusts from the heart
Builds bridges over water
To bring worlds together
True love shared
Fear no colour or creed
I lay my head
On your shoulders
Let’s take this love to moments
Where all eyes see its beauty
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Night rain upon my window panes
While clouds rumble in protest
The lightning picture through my curtains
And shadows dance away from candlelight
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So much gone, so much wrong
So much sorrow in this song
Teary in my isolation
Weary in my desperation
Panting in my desolation
Ranting in complete frustration
So much yearning to belong
So much is gone, so much is wrong
This day
It rolled me like a cheap cigar
Stale inside a crowded bar
Choked me in the acrid smoke
Teased me like a dirty joke
Paralyzed my soggy brain
Dropped me with complete disdain
Soggy butt to clog the gutter
Numbed my tongue and made me stutter
Promised me I won’t get far
And left a stain of sticky tar
This year
A deck of cards with missing queens
A dirty game by dirty means
Lured me with a glimpse of riches
Lying, cheating poker bitches
Dealt two kings and read my face
Laughed and trumped me with an ace
Torched the table and the chairs
Kicked me down a flight of stairs
Left me in my dirty jeans
With tarry stains that nothing cleans
This life
A stranger with an evil eye
Careless curtain, jealous lie
Hopeless hopes by impulse cheapened
Belly flops into the deep end
Sickness, wounds, all self-inflicted
Weak and lazy, drunk, addicted
Laughing at the dirty joke
Floating like a puff of smoke
Hope against the hopeless lie
Pink balloon adrift up high
Raised a torch up to the sky
With a giggle and a sigh
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Breathe again,
Like you have just gained yet another chance to live,
Life is not promised but experienced and lived.
I have grown to be a different person,
Different from normal people who do everything like everyone.
My life is not the same anymore,
I wonder why everyone is worried about it,
I no longer pay much attention,
To what the world brings or take,
I no longer pay much attention to the world ending,
I have seen it end for me countless times,
Going to my sleep with no hope left,
Then beginning again the next day.
I breathe again,
To see the darkness leave my life,
I feel like a small forest surviving off of a moon alone,
But I know that my light is extraordinary,
One that can light up the whole universe.
As I breathe again,
I have seen the world coming to an end,
My mind experiencing too many clashes,
Ideas, thoughts arguments, debates,
As my head goes in circles,
I can’t think straight no more.
As I breathe again,
I have lost trust, hope, love and respect,
I don’t believe in that anymore,
I broke the ocean in half to be somewhere,
Only to get there and I was alone,
Felt betrayed as my world crushed into so many pieces.
I lost a smile,
I find it hard to chin up,
As I bury my flower of innocence,
Because my world has shut down, crashed out yet again.
As I breathe again,
I even doubt that I still exist.
I even doubt that I have feelings.
I’m not the same being anymore,
I’m not the one you used to know before.
As I breathe again,
I learnt not to construct forever foundations,
On temporary people.
As I breathe again,
I doubt I will ever see tomorrow,
I don’t see any need of breathing again.
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Evening skies – sparkle of gold,
Brewing mills across the clouds,
While it may sail to faraway lands
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At times you need to stop everything you are doing to sit by yourself and mend your broken wings.
Cold evening and a To do list
I sit outside. A cold evening out here with me. A community of crickets quizzing through the grassland. A gust of wind upon my face, swinging my helpless lamp back and forth. The crickets, just like myself must be musing over the changes in weather conditions. Before now the noon was hot. Strong wind blew hot air and it has been two weeks since we saw the last rain. So all is dry. The mud on the once flooded road is cracked up, exposing the debris. I overheard an elderly man speak that the harmattan will come a little bit earlier this year. To me it’s too early to predict. Maybe the earth is recovering after all. I think.
The year is far spent and almost over. Memories of New year’s eve still fresh on my mind. I remember my wish to start my graduate education and to support some friends and relatives with their endeavours. Then the coronavirus pandemic struck and had most plans canceled or postponed. In spite of that, I’ve made outstanding success in some areas. But the year is not over yet.
On relationships
I’ve learned many things about relationships (dating). Sometimes it scares the trees out of my head to even think about those.
I’m not an expert when it comes to dating. In fact I’m not into one at the moment. I’ve observed my close friends try and it’s crystal clear that managing another person’s emotion(s) can be one huge task. Toxic people and relationships can suck the life out of other people. I’ve seen it happen. Yet I know that many relationships can change things for the better.
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Sometimes it’s hard to stop a rolling stone, but whenever it may roll, it always seems to find its way back home. Brett Boyett
Home Forever
Dear motherland, I’m proud to call you my home. I’m reminded of sunset, it tells that it ends where it began. From tree branches on the hilly countryside, I see shadows of land retreat with the setting sun. When the sun travels away the shadows of trees and shrubs fall upon the ground, timid firmament blocked by passing grey clouds and day becomes a shadow of itself. Such beautiful landscape and sight I’ll give all to behold every day.
Dancing figures of butterflies and fireflies contradict day and light. Light, dark. Sunlight, moonshine. Beautiful wings spread over this damp earth my fathers walked and tilled.
Everything is magical when I think of you Africa. I truly love you.
Beautiful Land
My beautiful home sits up those ancient majestic hills and spread across fertile green valleys. A land carved by Providence itself, combining both the simplicity of the forest land and sophistication of human civilization. When cold hands of night descend, the beauty is unmasked and seen through mist and moonshine. If you must see, you will wait for the moon. When the moon appears, she is dressed in white. It let’s her light upon the great land and the vast wilderness. Forces of light and darkness may battle. I ponder on what courage that walk the dark night but queer fireflies that fly in droves and glitter randomly. Their light add to the night’s beauty, which words cannot describe exactly. Then I ponder further, fearing for the future of this beautiful land and her people.
I wonder…
I wonder oh Africa, how much gold you worth and yet fall to the wicked hands of poverty. I wonder how you love and in return you are hated. I wonder why there’s so much but yet little to go around. I wonder if I’ll ever grow out of this love I’ve for you. I wonder if I can retain this loving mindset for man and nature forever. But how long should your children wait to become great again?
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Look into my eyes
See how special you are
Feel my heart jump with joy
And that is because you are here
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Beginning and end
Light after dark
Dark before light
Darkened skies
With dancing fireflies
Breezy evening
Joyful moonlight
And glittering stars
A shepherd’s lore
Down the country
Sheep and goats,
Green and gold,
Patches of life,
Water and fire,
Dust and wind,
Heaven and earth
All in fine contrast
But happy unison
Shallow roots shoot
Masqueraded shadows
Of life or death,
Again beginning and end
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Beirut
Beautiful Beirut and AUB
I’m writing about this lovely Mediterranean city because of my connection and attachment to it. I’ve seen several YouTube videos of it’s beautiful landscape and neighborhood. Beirut combines the tranquil setting of ancient history with the thrill of a modern city. I followed some Beirut based vlog channels and it’s always exciting to see another video made in this fine ancient city. Honestly I fell in love with Beirut.
The city lay on the foot of swift flowing and tumbling waters of the Mediterranean sea. AUB videos showed white beaches under the mild romance of sunshine. Date palms and coconuts, typical of such climate stand here and there. Perfect weather for outdoor reflection and relaxation, one unique only to Beirut’s position and location. Tall buildings block away the sun when the day was far spent. And just behind those skyscrapers you will find the view of spectacular mountains. I also saw restaurants preparing mouth watering dishes and surely this appealed to me. I love good food and admire places known for it. Paris and Beirut are my favourite good food cities in Europe and Asia respectively.
What actually brought my attention to the city at first was my application to the American University of Beirut (AUB). During this online application process I met compassionate and kind people who turned out to become friends. One in particular helped to keep me informed of school activities. Fortunately my application to the Master of Finance (MFIN) was accepted at the Olayan Business School (OSB). But for financial reasons I deferred this offer.
Unfortunate events
Few months ago Lebanon suffered from economic depression. The national currency lost its value and inflation went hyper. Food was scarce and cases of suicide was reported. At the background, reports of human rights abuses were rampant. Domestic maids who came from Africa and Asia were abused and many left unpaid for months long. Echoes of modern slavery rang out through this beautiful hilly country.
Early August, an explosion devastated the port and surrounding neighborhood. Hundreds died and more went missing. The wounded was in thousands. Hospitals and medical centres were overwhelmed. It was horrific. The video I saw captured the fumes as it enveloped the port, sending shattered glasses and debris across it. Cars and buildings were overturned and damaged. The cost of lives and property destroyed in this blast was in millions of USD.
Pray for Beirut
I read some heartwarming news. Several countries sent aid to Beirut. Greece, France and others contributed to this aid. Even the French President visited Beirut. This shows that the world stood with the people of Lebanon at this trying time. I also read promises made by other nations and corporate individuals.
No matter what led to the explosion or what really happened on that fateful day; the reaction and aid from the international community proved that Lebanon is truly loved. I only hope that the cruel treatment of domestic workers are stopped and that the radiant beauty of this city shine forth upon her residents. I’ll always remember Beirut in my prayers.
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I watch pretty stars glitter
From this fine little window,
When night a perfect picture
Hung across the wide horizon
Fireflies dance around light bulbs
Mighty shadows cast upon my paper
Distracting a work full of life and art
Yet I stare out to behold stars glitter
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Wasn’t my love enough for you?
In my mind I had concluded that you loved only me,
I thought you were cut from a different cloth,
Like you were not the same like everyone I’ve met.
But clearly, I was lying to myself,
You loved everybody like a campaigning candidate.
I could tell from my basic instincts that the universe loved you also.
You were a loaded gun and I was just a boy,
Because of lust and envy,
They took you for granted, like you were a cheap toy.
Only if I had the courage of pulling the trigger,
I’d had shot you on your head just to blow out your weak brain.
With my mind and heart filled with only love,
I hadn’t imagined my head searching for love lost,
As the absence of love was playing on your mind.
You preferred games over love,
I had promised myself to love you eternally,
I had a feeling that you were exceptional,
Like you were totally different from the rest.
I discovered that I was bluffing,
Only lying to myself, feeding my mind with toxic waste.
You proved me that my love was not enough for you,
I never imagined that you were promiscuous.
You had me believing that I mattered the most,
Of course you were buying my heart.
Our love withered so fast, before the flowers I had on my hands.
It only lasted for just a moment and nothing was left for me,
It was clear that the light was about to reach the night.
My tender love lasted for just a moment,
A moment that cost me,
Had me doubting a lot around me,
I had lost trust on everything, everyone.
Nothing was left on me,
Nothing was left for me.
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Sometimes those who crown kings don’t look like kings and may never become kings but they can help one wear the crown.
A short story
There was a poor man who wrote a book at the age of 40 and decided to launch it on his birthday. He had no money to fund the launching and so he decided to seek help from a millionaire in his community.
He made a visit to the millionaire’s home and after they exchanged pleasantries, he told his host what brought him. The millionaire told him to take out a piece of paper and pen. He said, “I’ll give you a test. If you pass it, I’ll give you the money you need and if you fail, I’ll still give you the money”. He then told him to write down the names of 10 people who could give him 10k each for his book during the launch. Surprisingly, the man could not write even 3 names.
Relationship is a currency
It’s not enough to have talent and skills. But there is much gain in building valuable relationships. A wise man once said, your network is directly proportional to your net worth.
Relationship is a stream of income.
Everything in life actually reproduces on the basis of relationship. Men are lifted through men. Many are talented but lack the right direction and person to announce them.
Who one knows matters a lot in life. There are heights and opportunities one will never attain if one don’t understand the power of keeping valuable relationships. Classmates and colleagues at work may be the ones that will lead one to his/her destiny helper because you have no idea who they know.
It takes just a recommendation to change a story. Don’t despise anyone. They might be needed one day.
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An old man once told me the story of how as a young man, his mother used to ask him: “What is the most important part of your body?” Through the years, he would take a guess at what he thought was the correct answer. First time, his answer was: “The ears.” The mother replied: “No, many people are deaf. But you keep it and I’ll ask you soon again.” Several years passed before she asked him again. His second answer was: “My eyes”. The mother told him: “You are learning fast, but the answer is not correct, there are many people who are blind.”
Then a year later, his father died. Everybody was hurt. Everybody was crying. Then the mother looked at the graveside and when it was their turn to say their final goodbye to their father, she asked him, “Do you know the most important body part yet, my son? He was shocked when she asked him by the graveside. The mother said to him: “Don’t be confused or shocked. This question is very important now and it shows you have really lived in your life. For every body part you gave me in the past, I have told you that you were wrong and I have given you an example why. But today is the day you need to learn this important lesson.” Then the mother looked down at him and threw her head to his shoulder and hugged him. With tears in her eyes, she said “My son, the most important part of your body is your shoulder.”
Wow! This young man was forced to ask: “Mum, it is because it holds up my head?” She replied, “No, it is because it can hold the head of a friend or a loved one when they cry. Everybody needs a shoulder to cry on sometimes in life. I only hope that you have enough love and friends that you will always have a shoulder to cry on when you need it.” There and then this young man knew the most important body part is not a selfish one. It is made for others and not for yourself. It is sympathetic to the pain of others.
People will forget what you said and did. But people will never forget how you made them feel in their crises times. Good friends are like stars, you don’t always see them, but you always know them when they around you. No wonder a wise man said “If you want to be wisely selfish, care for others.” Yes! It will come back for you. Be someone’s shoulder today.
Culled and editted from the ODM.
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The Winds Asunder
Dark clouds slowly grow and gather,
The fast wind starts her grim asunder,
Along her path, she flung away things; rooftops and paper
So that unhappy owners may come looking for them later
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Mechanics of Savings and Financial Intermediation
Savings as described by financial analysts are the portion of income which are not used for consumption expenditures. They are referred to as investments, because huge portions of such savings in financial institutions constitute the capital extended to businesses, governments, individuals and other entities as loans. This is done through the process of financial intermediation. Financial intermediation involves three key parties, the Surplus Economic units, the Deficit Economic Units and the Financial Institutions. The SU’s are the economic units that their current income exceed their current consumption expenditure thereby leaving them with more funds. The DU’s are the economic units that their current consumption expenditure exceeds their current income thereby arousing their desire to borrow to supplement their income. The SU’s and the DU’s do not have direct contact, rather a medium or some kind of intercession is provided by financial institutions. Both SU’s and DU’s can be governments, private individuals, businesses or firms etc. Savings is an important factor in any economy and as such its role can not be overemphasized.
What the Bible says about Savings
The Bible teaches that saving money is a wise practice for many different reasons. God is our source and provider for everything we need.
“And my God will meet all your needs according to the riches of his glory in Christ Jesus” (Philippians 4:19). One of the main ways God provides for us is through money, and it is our job to steward that money well (Matthew 25:14– 27). We are accountable to God for how we use everything He gives us in this life, including money. Saving money demonstrates good stewardship of the resources God gives us. Saving money allows us to be prepared for the future, and being prepared for the future is good. Proverbs 6:6–8 shows us that this principle is lived out even in nature: “Go to the ant, you sluggard; consider its ways and be wise! It has no commander, no overseer or ruler, yet it stores its provisions in summer and its food at harvest.”
Planning ahead and saving money makes it easier to accomplish goals and allows us to be more effective in ministry (see 1 Corinthians 16:2). When we don’t plan ahead and save money, we are more prone to go into debt, which the Bible tells us is unwise (Proverbs 22:7). Of course, there are plenty of wrong motives for saving money. If we’re saving money out of
fear of the future, it shows we’re not really trusting God to provide (see Luke 12:7; 2 Timothy 1:7). Miserliness is sin, and it’s foolish and arrogant to make money our security. “The wealth of the rich is their fortified city; they imagine it a wall too high to scale.” (Proverbs 18:11), yet riches “will surely sprout wings and fly off to the sky like an eagle” ( Proverbs 23:5). 1 Timothy 6:10 warns against greed, saying, “The love of money is a root of all kinds of evil.”
Some people, eager for money, have wandered from the faith and pierced themselves with many griefs.” To fully understand the value of saving money,
we must remember what the Bible says about giving. God desires His people to be cheerful givers (2 Corinthians 9:7). It’s impossible to out- give God! “Give and it will be given to you. A good measure, pressed down, shaken together and running over, will be poured into your lap. For the measure you use, it will be measured to you” (Luke 6:38). Sometimes when God gives us things, be it money or something else, it’s intended for us to give away. Other times, He gives us things that are meant for us to keep for ourselves and use in His service and for His glory. It’s wise to hold everything God gives us loosely so that we can give it away if He asks us to.
More Study Texts:
Proverbs 6:6-8
1st Corinthians 16:2
Proverbs 21:20
Proverbs 13:11
Proverbs 10:4-5
Proverbs 13:22
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1
When you call, your sound rent through the wind
Whispers, songs of the wild, emissary of mother Nature
You send birds, they ‘caw-caw‘, they fly the blue clouds
Making the skies their tuft, and you: their leisure
2
Green trees, red flowers, purple feathers, all in perfect unison
You call to your own, you Baobab, Bee and Flamboyant, you Cheetah,
We listen, we write, we dream of the call, we listen and write again
The days run out, they run fast into the current of the river
3
From wild palms, monkeys dance and display their weird talents
In your joyful reverie you laugh at their circus and happy lust
Each day they play, each day they lived and so each day went
You engage all, blue clouds, buzzing bees and seeds that will burst
4
Down below, beautiful, fine and awesome things exist
Crickets and hoppers play about, worms crawl on the clay
In the quiet mornings the sun must rise to take off the mist
All day and night, there is your song, one we can not say
5
In summer, the hot sun shimmer and shine all day
The blue skies are unperturbed, alligators lay lazy
And mid day, snakes beat the traffic, they make hay
All and all, at the end, you make your lively circus busy
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When shadows are seen around
It shows gathering or dispersing,
Dancing or wrestling, singing or talking.
Shadows clone for good or evil
As a hefty hoe till the soft soil
Her shadow strikes things dead
Under the moon’s watchful eyes on this land,
Shadows of branches on the ground
Were green trees during the noon
Timid skies tower over all, they shine on fair nuns
But they become darkest of witches in the night
Fruits on trees seem round like metal pots,
Suspended from tree branches
Its shadows draw teen pregnancies
Yet life is magnified under the shadow;
A reality or farce, made of a shadow’s sorrow
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– Friends are family we chose for ourselves.
Didn’t forget
I didn’t forget about the World Friends Day. I do write about friendship because it’s dear to me. I was extremely busy with personal and family errands. I also volunteer online for a company based in North America and so had little time to pen my stories, thoughts and poems. At the end of each day I’m left weak and tired. So I sleep earlier nowadays.
Friends are Family…
I’ve so many friends. Strangely, my friends are not limited to street, school, church pals or any human acquaintance made. I’ve adorable friends too: babies and little children, dogs, birds, ants, even plants and trees. To me friendship goes beyond the physical. It’s a mutual thing ordained with understanding, respect and loyalty. It falls in-between trust and love. True friends can give up anything even their life for one another. Take for instance the story of Antonio and Bassanio in Shakespeare’s Merchant of Venice.
Everybody is capable of friendship
Someone, somewhere look up to you. It might be a person or a pet. It might be the old milkman walking by your window to see you smile and say good morning. It might be a pair of rose flowers dangling in a vase waiting for its daily dose of water and care. It could be anyone.
I ask that you check on your friends. Times are tough. A simple call or chat can bring back hope to the heartbroken or depressed. Hope is a strong force. Remain a loyal and trustworthy friend to someone. You might be the reason someone looks forward to another day.
Here is to wish you my friends and family what I should have these past few days: Happy belated Friendship Day. And I love you so much. Stay safe.
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Love
As a growing Sunday School kid I learned a lot about love. Love can be defined when we explore it’s qualities or characteristics. Yet love is complex in every angle you chose to view it from. It is a mix of emotions, behaviours, and beliefs associated with strong feelings of affection, protectiveness, warmth, and respect for another person.
My dictionary offered some definitions about it:
- An intense feeling of affection and care towards another person.
- (uncountable) A deep or abiding liking for something.
- (uncountable) A profound and caring attraction towards someone.
- (countable) The object of one’s romantic feelings; a darling or sweetheart.
What is love from a Poet’s view?
Poets have different opinions on love. Let’s hear what some has to say.
Lucky Johnson puts it beautifully thus: “Love is loving those that hate, visiting the lonely, catching those that fall, being selfless to the selfish, forgiving the unforgivable, helping the helpless, and travelling long for a short visit to someone in need of a hug.” Elseta Campbell says that love is selflessness. The courage to show care unconditionally. The ability to see the person first before seeing their faults. Love is maturity. Love is forgiveness and freedom from bitterness. Love encompasses the physical and tops in on the spiritual. Love is purity of heart. This is insightful. Kiid Kgothi has this to say, “Love is hurt and disappointments that always break your heart. Love is a dangerous thing that has the power to build a relationship and a lifetime of happiness together or it can make someone give up their life because their hearts never stopped bleeding”. For Sara Elizabeth, “love is a term used to describe the deep underlying affection that is always there regardless of how you feel on the surface. To be in love is to be in thrall with one another in a psychologically and yes sexually satisfying way. To fall in love over and over means that you mean so much to each other that you always come back around to that place where you are in thrall and experiencing the release of oxytocin that draws you into that person. To love is to nurture, grow and find contentment within the lives you share. Being in love is a cycle of thrall that diminishes and swells on the hormonic wave of nature and passion”. Maybe you will agree that Sara is being too scientific with her definition of love. Tebogo Mogashoa said that love is a mystery unsolved. For Saul Mendo, love is connection. Everyone is an individual but we need to come together, out of love. Tina Layne said “the indescribable and unfathomable dance of the spirit.”
Marachimso Ajuolachi Chimenka said that love is a feeling that occurs unnoticed. Eduardo Ibacache Rodriguez opined that love is the reason poetry exists at all. Siti Atie Atka says that love is a noun and verb. Masiye Theledi supports Siti in this view. For Ntombi Vutomi Monareng, love is putting someone’s needs before yours. Love is a doing word not a naming word, you can’t always say “I love you” without action. Lulama Mbonambi puts it thus: it is starting to feel like nothing than an idea which materializes into whatever I imagine it to be. Pity most of my imagination is influenced, but the beauty in it is the infinite possibility. Like everything else in life. Joe Hall has this to say about love: “If you can confine it accurately, it’s not love. If it can be manipulated, to conform to desires it’s not love. We’ve box love; categorized, villianized, sexualized, therorecallized, all purposes of love until the purest form of love is invisible humbly before us in innocence and humanity. Steve Rawlingson says, love is as real in a poet as it is in any other person, only the poet may describe it out a little better. For Chris Hiatt, love is just a word. It’s the feelings of those people close to you that the word invokes which defines our karma. Nikki Jauron says love is learning to turn your failures into flecks of gold. Michael Munroe shared his thought: I believe that for anyone, love is when you put something or someone else above yourself. Tamar Millernas said it depends on which poet. There are as many different kinds as there are poets. As for Hudson Roper, love is ambiguous, there are many different types of love e.g. The 4 or 5 Greek words for love.
Latoya Chinnery offered that love is something you can’t explain, because words are unable to define love. No words can give love enough justice that it requires. “Love stands firm in the face of adversity… It’s not something that revels and shine during the sunshine and hide during the rainfall.” For Santa Flaviapa, love is a feeling that is usually over-imagined and over-stressed. It contains so many elements of feelings and emotions that its most important ones are often overlooked, such as commitment, perseverance, caring and caring for, union of spirit and soul, longing and needing each other. Things like joy and happiness and desire may be present or not, but are not love. Honestly I loved this particular definition. The Dreamy Idealist said that, for poets, love is accessible to all form, all perspectives side by side, love is deep emotions, feelings, for someone. Poets imagine their love in a way that no one could ever see. Unity of soul and body do not describe love in its completeness, but probably love is that part which forgets everything in the world except the soul mate. Poets imagined their love and live their own way.
Featured Poetry
Josh Gold, (untitled)
Love is not that great
Love can love to hate
Love can hurt and cause tears
Love is an alcoholic and their beers
(With all fairness there are lots of good things about love, but I think people miss the fact that it’s more like desire than universal principal of goodness)
What is love to you?
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There’s a symphony of joy,
See it roar up bright skies!
Emissaries of the aging day
Graceful flights over Africa!
*
It float above the countryside
Leaving to fresh, green fields,
Above those endless forests
Where hope still lived ahead
*
Each journey is to an unknown promise,
Somewhere between joy and pain
But fly they must: the fair geese
Up the blue clouds, a life only known to them
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The breadth of earth lay wet
But the sun rise from the east,
From vague sights and mists
The dark jungles, hot and serene
Yet lions stride through the green
Fearing neither man or faun
A shriek up the skies…
Eagles soar high; many miles
Hopes high, they seeth thru’ times
The wind surfs wild oceans…
Whale’s horn blows far beyond
All tremble, sea-dwellers and stray crustaceans
Now if the skies were conquered by a bird,
And the jungle by a fearless king, crowned,
And the waters by a giant strongly revered
Then this little piece is written specially for you
To bring you a blessed combination of these virtues
This is a thank you poem for all my readers and followers. You guys are awesome. Let’s do more.
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I stand by these rocks and hills, ancient
To enjoy again a beautiful moment of sunset
I’ve a new song to sing each time I behold the sun set
A song sang by my father and his father’s father
A song that echo through the hills,
Like smoke dispersing from mills,
Ancient like mud where palm trees grow
Cherished by all people who till and sow
A song enjoyed while treading this blessed path
One that my father and his father’s went
I am glad to sing for my hometown,
To make sense of everything around,
To dance alongside happy leaves of cassava
Or to admire the beautiful butterfly larva
When the skies are blue with her painting
I hear the sweet voice of evening wind sing,
With her multitude of insects, bugs,
Wailing infants and barking dogs
Happy palm wine tappers sing this song
When they wait on raw wine that trickle into kegs
Vast clouds sail across the horizon
From those heights they sing along
I watch while the blessed sun set
Down the hills that kept my path
Now familiar faces greet ndeewo
I’m ready to hear a good story or two
I stand by these rocks and hills, ancient
To enjoy again a beautiful moment of sunset
I just saw a beautiful sunset here in Ovim. Normally I would take an image. But it’s much better to experience this than to word it.
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Memories become tales untold
Hope are dreams in soft shield
If all passes into a sort of legend
Then let good paths never fade
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Grandma’s Cooking Stove
Grandma was a good cook. I always enjoyed her meals as a little boy. School holidays was fun for me as I had to travel home to her. She contributed immensely to those happy times. (God rest her soul.)
Whenever she made her delicious soup I usually sit by her traditional stove. I watch raging fire lick the wood. The metal stove is constructed in such a manner that there are spaces to plug in firewood and charcoal. I remember the way she worked expertly on her stove. Thrusting wood in and out, knowing when to pause, when to add more ash or charcoal and so on.
Well this little reflection is not just about my Grandma’s cooking but the lessons I got while I observed the burning wood in her stove.
Five woody brothers
Once I closely observed Grandma’s cooking method. She placed many little sticks and five strong firewood on the stove. When she lighted them the flame grew hot, gradually. It wasn’t long when the flame became fiery. I noticed that the five wood pieces had a stronger flame and whenever Grandma took out one or two to adjust her stove, the flames died down.
While reflecting on this, it dawned on me that unity is a powerful force. When the wood burned together they produced a huge flame but take them apart they can barely give much heat. I took home this lesson on the power of unity. We won’t make much progress while we are disunited. Unity is a powerful force indeed.
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Rain drops on the Glass
I love the sound of rain when it hit my windows
When multitude of rain drops descend from the sky,
Splattering, crushing the Earth’s crust, moulding her clay,
Throwing up sweet scents, one unaccustomed to man
The beats create a regular rhythm that may turn to a song,
Caressing window panes, pushing mild airs upon them,
When rain fall on glasses droplets merge into balls,
Which silently rush off in joyful ecstasy and haste
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When I wait under the old mango tree
I count the glittering stars far away
And laying on soft sandy soil
I get a better glimpse of the dark skies
The wind is my guest,
She rent her cold self to me,
She whispers tunes of nature
And drag tree leaves to fan me,
It’s an evening of quietness and cold,
Moments of thought wandering,
Of travel through stories and time,
Now the cold night draw nearer
I will watch my beautiful stars glitter
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I like to watch the sun rise, to wait while she cast her beauty on earth,
So I wake early to fly my kite, to gather the stray bugs, worms and locust,
The fields are my playground, a partner to hides and seek,
I watch the sun, her golden smile, and light it brought to my community,
I adore pretty butterflies that dress in fine hues and dresses,
I dig holes for my little flower stalks, hoping they grow in no time,
I wait for the moon to rise at night, peeping through the window
With hope that when it comes, it will wait far into the cold night,
And if she came I would watch her shine through those dark skies
I danced alone in loud evening storms, raise my hands
To grab slippery raindrops as they fall mildly upon me
Even when lightning sang and her cousin thunder clapped,
Each day and night was always a new beginning
Memories of home are joyful and happiness
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When twilight came
I took a walk, for some air
And down the roadside I went.
There a young man stood
Bearded heavily unlike myself
Throwing corn seeds into his mouth
And grinding them with such relish
That his brown teeth showed off
He stood a little close to my fence
And I decided to go chat with him
He smiled when I came close
He doesn’t look like someone from here
Yes, I seen those tribal marks somewhere
He must be from the North,
‘Sannu!‘ I hailed
‘Sannuku!‘ he replied
Eying me carefully
‘Do you wanti some agwado?’
‘No thank you.’ I replied
I saw his garment flow up,
Sailing with the mild breeze
Like a kite on rampage
The dress leaned deep into his flesh
And his muscles exposed
‘Kai, do you speak Hausa?’ he asked
‘No, very poor in that regard,’ I answered
‘Okay oh,’ he turned to call his cattle
Then I realised he was a shepherd
I relaxed a bit, wearing a new smile
My new friend must have something
To tell me about his travels and animals
He saw my smile and grinned
‘Tell me about your best and worst times,
Of shepherding and your herd’
I started without thinking…
‘My best time is when my herd feed
On a valley full of healthy green grass’
He said in nearly perfect English
‘When the sun is high above the firmament
When cows give birth in the dead night
And when I hear my favourite calf moo,’
He closed his eyes to remember more
‘What about your worst moments?’
It seemed I shoved him back from his dream,
For he suddenly opened his red eyes
And shot a blazing stare at my mouth
‘Why are there wars in Africa?
Why men kill each other?
Why are streams dry
And oceans rising?’
He asked with a frown.
‘I was born into such society
That settle disputes with violence
There’s hate, tribalism and distrust
Tribe against tribe, people against people
And hate is substituted for love…’
He pulled a twig off the long grass
‘How can we live in a society without love,
Without faith and trust for one another?
Why fight and not dialogue to achieve peace?
Why bomb a land already stricken with drought?
And cause lack of food and drinking water?’
The air grew colder…
‘I tell you I have seen things. It is time to go home…’
He said painfully, holding his stick back
‘Well as for my worst moments
I see people suffer, Yes I have
For nothing sake, I hate to see children suffer
And people suffer for other people’s crimes and atrocities
It makes little sense to me but that is the world,
We love and live in. Injustice, inequality, intolerance, ignorance…’
I could see through his pain…
‘It is only love that can save us all,’
He said as his flock gathered together
Tssski-ing, he called them, making a clicking sound from his tongue,
Hanging his long stick and hat behind his back,
He waved heartily and marched off, leading his cattle away,
I realise that the world still have some beauty and good in it
Commentary.
Sannu… Hausa salute
Agwado… Corn in Hausa
The Hausa/Fulani is a tribe spread across West Africa and predominantly in present day Northern Nigeria. They are known for their unique culture, tradition, arts and food.
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eSwatini: meaningThere’s an African country with a name that sounds similar to Switzerland. Swaziland now eSwatini has its name changed to celebrate its 50 years of independence from Great Britain. eSwatini means land of the Swazis or a place for the Swazi. In April 2018, King Mswati, the third announced the change. eSwatini is sandwiched in-between South Africa and Mozambique. Notice how the country name is spelt! History and geography scholars might want to take note that this country’s name start with small letter ‘e’.Here below are images from eSwatini’s beautiful parks and nature reserves from Njabulo Nkambule. They were taken from the following parks and reserves:- Hlane National Game Reserve
– Mlilwane Game Reserve
– Mkhaya game Reserve
– Mbuluzi Game Reserve
– Malolotja nature reserve
– Mantenga Nature Reserve
– Mlawula nature Reserve
– Sibebe Rock resort
Njabulo NkambuleNjabulo Nkambule which means happiness is an open minded and hardworking poet from eSwatini.
Njabulo Nkambule
A Prayer for Healing by Njabulo Nkambule
As days goes by
My life racing, my whole body aging,
While my bones are getting exhausted and cracking.
My heart slowly beating,
To realize that it’s just a new day,
Yet another day on a calendar.
I’m overwhelmed with so much sorrow,
As the darkness still haunts my soul,
Questions asked but answers still pending.
2.
There’s still so much hidden,
As my life is still unfolding,
Unfolding the dreams you sowed in my heart.
Permit me to serve you,
All the days of my life,
Raise me to do your bidding every day.
3.
It’s a prayer for healing
I ask you to grant me the serenity
To accept everything I cannot change,
The courage to change the things I can
And wisdom to differentiate between both.
I know, hardships are a bridge to peace,
I accept them as they are.
I surrender to your will,
For I know you will definitely make things fall into place for me in no time.
4.
I need you by my side to light and guide,
To rule and guard my life,
Create a smile on my face,
A heart filled with so much love,
Strengthen all my weaknesses,
Remove all the burdens on my shoulder.
I have so much to be grateful for.
Show me the way
This feels like a night
I ask for a light in my life to free me from everything.
This is a prayer for healing
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Just before moonshine
Three little mice ran,
Up the hills they went
Six pairs of legs fast,
Working tirelessly
Towards safe solitary,
Away from barn owls
And every lurking evil
This poem was inspired by A. D.
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Looking at the plum tree.
Seeing the dark bare,
Skeleton like branches,
Black against the dreary clouds.
Stripped by Winters cold,
Of its blanket of leaves.
The ashen, dingy clouds.
Are dripping raindrops.
This fine misty rainfall.
Is moved forwards by a,
Languid, lethargic breeze,
Coming strait from Antarctica.
This bitterly cold midwinter day.
But! You and I my love are,
Sitting together on the couch.
Our arms are around each other.
Bodies snuggled close.
In this warmly heated
Lounge room, in love.
You smile at me.
I smile at you.
No need for words.
Two happy contented people.
Very deeply in love.
Deeply in love
With you.
