Honesty always gives you the advantage of surprise in the House of Commons – Yes Minister
Today I sat and was listening to Whitney. I thought about how her daughter died after her and was thinking that some people just die but some die of heartbreak.
The inability to continue without a loved one.
Maybe they are in heaven saying “No father someone must come with me”, “ Someone must help me get this place ready for those that are coming”
A few hours later I’m sitting at work and I see RIP tuku. I think no, I hope it is fake news. You always want it to be fake news when you do not agree with it right?
Then I go check twitter and it’s true the legend is gone. It seems like all the legends are dying my father included among them.
Last year I was so sad when Hugh Masekela died, I thought o man I will never get to see him perform. When I saw Tuku I had been telling my mum that I need to see him before he dies. I guess my dream came true. He was excellent he had his wife on stage as well which was cute.
I remember seeing a video of him talking about his friend Hugh when he died. He was saying he has even come kumusha with me. It’s not every friend that goes to your home home with you. I think if you are African you can understand this.
They died on the same day. To go with a loved one is amazing for those that are going but terrible for those that are left behind. Double the loss but would we have one of our own alone up there? Someone must go first. Someone must go and setup things, tell us how the journey is, make way for us and clear the path.
I have been coming to terms with the idea that it is “God’s will” and I cannot change it, I cannot challenge it, I must accept it and know that it’s for the best.
We can have no ancestors without death, we can never see heaven without death, we can’t appreciate life without death.
All that to say Tuku RIP
May your music continue to connect me to those I have lost my gogo, dadi and to those living my mother and those I wish could have seen you.
Listening to Political Gabfest Podcast he started reading this letter by Amelia Earhart. I could not help but feel this could have been written by me or for me so I had to post it as the year ends and as an informal ending to my selections on Love from Africa.
There are some things which should be writ before we are married — things we have talked over before — most of them.
You must know again my reluctance to marry, my feeling that I shatter thereby chances in work which means most to me. I feel the move just now as foolish as anything I could do. I know there may be compensations but have no heart to look ahead.
On our life together I want you to understand I shall not hold you to any midaevil code of faithfulness to me nor shall I consider myself bound to you similarly. If we can be honest I think the difficulties which arise may best be avoided should you or I become interested deeply (or in passing) in anyone else.
Please let us not interfere with the others’ work or play, nor let the world see our private joys or disagreements. In this connection I may have to keep some place where I can go to be myself, now and then, for I cannot guarantee to endure at all times the confinements of even an attractive cage.
I must exact a cruel promise and that is you will let me go in a year if we find no happiness together.
I will try to do my best in every way and give you that part of me you know and seem to want.