Tag Archives: Writing

Black Politics, Politics, Policy Watch

Tigere Tese – The Collection of Knowledge for the Future Generation of Black People

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Daily writing prompt
How would you improve your community?
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Being asked how I would improve my community feels timely. I have been getting more views on my website. I think I have reached the level of content (not necessarily in quality but definitely in quantity) where I come up in searches organically.

I now find that I have views on my page even on days that I have not posted. It’s always a surprise to me because there was a point when the only views consisted of me checking to ensure the post had been published or that the site was live because the views were so little but I digress.

I started this website when I was at college and my aim was to quote me quoting Seneca,

“I am acting on behalf of later generations. I am writings dow a few things that may be of use to them; I am committing to writing some helpful recommendations, which might be compared to the formulae of successful medications, the effectiveness of which I have experienced in th case of my own sores, which may not have been completely cured but have at least ceased to spread”

I spend a lot of time reading and I started learning, like really learning and understanding what it means to be black in university. I had a year or two where I found all I could about Malcom X, which lead me to start reading and listening to some black philosophers and eventually start learning about black history, in the context of “our struggles”.

I have always known the superficial, stereotypical identity and explanations of what it means to be black . I am aware of the fact that people are racist, they have a fascination our hair, bodies and music and culture which always corresponds with a desire to “fix us” and our problematic corrupt african nations. These are the things are easy to see and only surface level highlight surface level problems.

When I started reading and comprehending at a higher level I started to understand something that I think even as a “clever person” I wasn’t aware of. The fact that it is not enough that we are not only hated by “white people” but many so called people of colour (POC) also play a role in our oppression and also hate us because of how any solidarity may highlight our similarities and result in them being compared to us.

I also started to see and understand the different structural systems in place that reinforce our lack of power but the most important thing I learned was the fact that some of the issues that I felt were unique to this this time and place had already been observed and documented. Texts like “It’s in Your Hands” by Fannie Lou Hamer succinctly summarized some of the problems we are having with EDI/POC discussions, which never seem to reduce racism or the marginalization of the poor. Biographies like As I Stand by Paul Robeson also showed me that no matter your position you cannot excuse yourself from blackness.

I realized that I could do my small part in reading, and instead of annoying everyone around me with the often very depressing information I found, it may be best to write it down till another me is looking for information and guidance on what they could learn which would assist in understanding, trying to fix the problems persistent in our community and the identifying the mechanisms that are utilized to reinforce our oppression.

I think I am in the process of improving my community by gathering information and reminding them that:

Reed is dead now. He won no honours in classroom, pulpit or platform. Yet I remember him with love. Restless, rebellious, scoffing at conventions, defiant of the white man’s law – I’ve known many negroes like Reed. I see them everyday. Blindly, on their own reckless manner, they seek a way out for themselves; alone, they pound with their fists and fury against walls that only the shoulders of many can topple – Paul Robeson

Family and Friends, Finances, Health and Wellness, Life

Figure out the root cause

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What strategies do you use to cope with negative feelings?

I think the best strategy to cope with negative feelings is figuring out why you are feeling that way. Is it something that has been bubbling up but you have just been ignoring it?

I was watching a video about getting jealous of friends and of course everyone is perfect on the internet and no-one has ever been jealous of a friend or compared themselves with an acquaintance. I, however, could totally relate to that feeling of wondering “What am I doing wrong?” or “How come this hasn’t worked for me?”

I think one thing that is often triggering is having a wonderful or normal day scrolling on your phone, and before you know it, all you can think about is what is wrong with your life. In these situations I think you just need to sit with yourself and reflect, pray or really dig deep to think why did that make me feel bad? Is this something that I actually want, care about or do I just think I want it because someone else has it.

Another thing to consider is what it represents for you; you may see your friend making more money and think that’s what you want but in reality you haven’t realized that you hate your job and desire a change. So you get that negative feeling but it is really nothing to do with that “LinkedIn post” but instead what you are feeling is a desire for change in your life.

I find once you identify what is giving the negative feeling power it’s easier to cope with it. If you don’t know why you are feeling that way it’s easy to drown in that feeling. Lastly the best way to cope with negative feelings is to know that this feeling will pass, nothing is permanent.

Black Politics

Reading Location

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Daily writing prompt
You get to build your perfect space for reading and writing. What’s it like?
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I don’t think I have really thought about this but I think my perfect reading space has to be cosy. I get cold really fast so there has to be a blanket, I know that a fireplace its too extravagant and will usually encourage others to come and sit with you meaning no real reading will happen. I think it would have a comfy chair that I can perhaps take a nap on and I think I want it to be private. My perfect reading place has usually been in the bathtub. I am relaxed, I can bring a drink in there and I can stay in there for hours reading or editing my work. Usually when I write a first draft of something on my computer I don’t want to look at it again but when I’m in the bathroom with my tablet I am able to look at it with a fresh set of eyes. I also like starting work in the tub, I can write a draft of what I intend to do or I can read a little bit of the book to determine if I wish to continue with the text. I think therefore the perfect place to read is either a really beautiful bathroom or one of those under the stairs libraries like where Harry Potter lived but they have your books and you can just sit, hopefully with some light coming in to keep you warm or enable you to look out the window when you are taking a break.

For writing I’m not too sure, I think you probably just need the right set of tools, the correct pen the right paper or the perfect keyboard and hot drink and it feels like the ideas will just flow. I think I am more experienced in knowing the perfect place to read than to write so I am excited to read what everyone else says.

p.s. I also like to read by the beach but I’m always too distracted by how beautiful the water is that I never seem to be able to fully get into the book.

Life, relationships, Travel

A Kiss In Joburg – On Love from Africa Selections 

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“Why did you kiss me?” he asked.
“You kissed me,” I replied.
“Fuck you,” he retorted.

I looked out the window, smiling. He was driving me to the airport. I had spent the night at his house because Johannesburg is a dangerous place—especially for a Zimbabwean woman alone with too many bags and no access to Wi-Fi.

The plan had been simple: I would arrive in Joburg, and a driver from my hotel would pick me up from the airport. He would meet me later in a neutral place. We were just supposed to have drinks because I was in town. 

A lady has to maintain some decorum when meeting a man in a foreign country. But things didn’t go as planned. The free Wi-Fi refused to connect, and my phone wouldn’t make calls. I asked a woman nearby if I could use her phone. She agreed but warned me, “You shouldn’t be out here alone. Even I’m afraid to be out here alone.” 

I called him and explained that my phone wasn’t working and the driver hadn’t arrived.
“What do you want me to do?” he asked—not rudely, but in a “what’s the solution?” kind of way.
I asked if he could pick me up. He said he’d be there soon.

So I waited. It felt like forever. My mind started to wander, as it often does. What if he doesn’t come? Is this a good idea? We’ve only met once before this. Sure, we’ve talked on the phone, and I was introduced to him in Zimbabwe, but this is South Africa. Oh boy, how do I get myself into these situations?

Then he arrived—still as handsome as I remembered. He helped me with my bags and asked if I wanted anything to eat. I couldn’t help wondering where his car was. It must have shown on my face because he said, “Unoterwa nematsotsi if you use flashy cars at night.”

We decided it made no sense to go to the hotel—his place was closer. At least, that’s what he claimed.

He was Zimbabwean, handsome, and confident—he had told me he knew he’d already “made it.” Fast forward a year. We hadn’t really spoken since I got back home. He was upset that nothing had happened between us—sulking in that way men do, hoping to make you feel like you owe them your body.

Then, one day, I was scrolling through my phone and saw the news. Someone had been shot. The photo caught my eye. “Mmm, he looks like G,” I thought. I looked again, thinking, There’s no way. A quick search confirmed it: he was gone.

In my mind, when I returned home next, I’d planned to reach out to him. Maybe pick up where we’d left off—or finish whatever we’d been trying to start.

“Why did you kiss me?” he asked.
“You kissed me,” I replied.

Now, maybe we kissed each other. It’s hard to remember what really happened when one person is gone.

Health and Wellness

Walking and Swimming

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Daily writing prompt
What are your favorite physical activities or exercises?
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My favourite physical activities are swimming and walking my dog. I used to think I was cheating my dog when I missed her walks, but I have now realized that I wasn’t only cheating her — I was also cheating myself. Those morning walks with my dog help me get some steps in, which is really important for someone who sits while working or works from home. Now when I see my little dog’s face saying, “Let’s go already,” I also think to myself: yes, let’s go — We both deserve to go outside and get some fresh air.

Swimming is amazing because I love the water, but I always have to schedule it around my wash day. As a Black woman, it’s hard to go swimming every day because black hair is dry. Well, at least mine is. so swimming daily would probably damage my hair. I’ve figured out a routine that works: if I go swimming on Saturday night, I put in some leave-in conditioner and then I don’t wash my hair until Sunday afternoon. this allows me to go swimming twice a week and after my second swim I can just wash my hair and reset for the next week.