In the intrest of love

I was awaked by love,

But with me, ghosts rose too.

Fears of lusts awakened long before I could articulate why they were wrong

In my pseudo virgin state, I was afloat, threatening to sink me, I felt stuck

But of a truth, He keeps his own, afloat

He got me to the alter

Fears gone.

I was awakened by love,

But with me, smells rose too

Faces long etched in my brain before I could find a place to belong

In my psuedo adult state, the lost infant, I had to trust a Father’s love.

That in His truth He keeps His own afloat,

Chases the ghosts away,

Mind freed

In the interest of love, life awakened,

And with it, hope arose too.

Human Dignity

Our dignity is not found in status, 
the coins that dress us
the tears on our backs
the tears in our eyes
Dignity is not imputed by our senses
the grace in our steps
the sensuality of our movements
the depths of our sexuality
Dignity is a quality of being human
Something never to be gained
Never to be lost
Never to be stolen
Dignity is a quality born in us
It lives even when unseen in us
unrecognisable in others
It is a quality of being human

Bemba pocket dictionary and Giveaway results

I thought I would address this Bemba pocket Dictionary by Reverand E Hoch, WF today mainly because I have had it and have wanted to address it’s issues for a while. But rather than addressing issues, I think I should also state that for a book written by a non- native speaker, it is a tremendous effort. It is also important to note that despite being a native speaker, I am not an expert and these following points are just things to consider. To see my views please watch the video

As for the Giveaway winner; well, I decided to give 2 books away and my 2 winners are:

  1. Monde from Zambia
  2. Chez Noela from the US.

please send me a message on any of my social media sites with details on where to send the book and let me know what you think of the book after reading it

Book review: Life giving parent

I got this book 2 Christmases ago but did not really get the chance to read it. I have recently been trying to rebuild my reading habit and enjoyed reading this book. As a person from an African background, I find that some books sell western ideals as the way of doing things (which I guess is only fair because we all write about what we are familiar with). What I loved about the book was how the tips can be applied to any cultural context and and actually enhance our children’s experience of their culture. It is a Christian book and ultimately, this is all in the context of a Christian home but some points could easily apply in a secular context. I had issues with some of the bible translations used but that might be more of a preference issue and I did not find anything they said heretical. I also struggle with the use of personality tests, which they are big on. To enter the giveaway, comment below or on any one of the social media posts relating to this review. State your name and where you are from, how many kids if you are a parent (or not) and why you would like to read the book.

Relocation in progress

The last few weeks have been a bit rough. Our family lost our Big dad and then my friend from highschool passed away … if you follow this blog, you know I generally take time to process events like these. While February hasn’t been the best, it also came with some good and now, I need to take some time to do a big job relocation because but will be back with a book review and then another Bemba video … stay tuned.

The year of promise …

Today, I was meant to be posting a review …

But I find myself musing over a lived life I barely knew

mourning a man who always brought a smile to our faces

He was funny

He was gentle

And until I was about 8 I somehow was lost to his existence

And ohh that booming voice, gentle voice

He made every moment light

In the short moments we spent, I somehow got to love him

In the short spaces of conversations on skype and messenger.

Twenty Twenty came with so much promise and in a space of weeks,

We had celebrated life and before it ended, it had eaten more joy than seemed possible.

His voice no longer to be heard,

His hearty laugh no longer to offer any warmth

Turn back the time … return to us the promise of a year barely started;

Give us a chance to finish listening to stories of the dynamics of life.

You never finished telling us stories of where you grew up

We never even started writing them down.

Entitled to other people’s art work?

One of the things that irritate me, is people exhibiting a sense of entitlement to my writing … especially when people take a poem that I have written and propagandise it … okay, maybe propagandise is too strong a word … I have, however, had many instances where people have maimed a poem because they felt it didn’t convey what they wanted it to convey. I guess it is different if you are approached to write a poem with a specific theme in mind but even then, people don’t seem to understand that when you write anything, you pick specific words to convey specific messages. That applies to a greater extent when it comes to poetry because a poem has a rhythm to it and this rhythm helps convey the desired message.

I know it might sometimes be hard to understand, but writing a poem is not a 2-minute job … sometimes can be, but very rarely if ever, and … well, I guess for me … the poems I write are an extension of myself; a way of me getting more acquinted with myself, a way of releasing whatever is brewing on the inside, a way of making sense of God — a way of coming to Him — a worship of the master Poet.

This might be something that is hard to understand, but the poems come from me walking out the poem. I sit there imagining each step as if I am either the centre or witness of the story I am trying to convey. I feel the emotions and convey them as I write, make sense of a situation as I describe it … and it is for this reason that I say, I primarily write for myself and not for others; It is a cleansing, an act of surrender but also a gift if I choose to share it. So next time you see a poem or piece of writing, be careful not to turn it into something it was not meant to be.

Are there any poets out there who feel this way? Is it the same with other art forms? Have you ever exhibited this entitlement?

Taking stock of my days

I remember a time when I used to just go with the flow and do things as and when I wanted, but the older I have gotten and with the pilling of responsibilities, I was finding myself forgetting important things and feeling out of control … I hate feeling out of control (yes, yes … that’s despite me knowing that God controls our days.)

Planning has done a lot of things for me, including reducing my anxiety levels (Control freak, anyone?). I love to be in control and planning my days helps me feel in control … however, it can get overwhelming when I move things to hang out with people, or when I feel I am not meeting my self imposed deadlines … but that’s something I am working on because people are important to me and I wholeheartedly believe that I should always be willing to be interrupted for them … and I am interuptable, I just sometimes think too much about the to-do list instead of enjoying the people around me.

Probably the greatest thing planning has done for me though, is help me take stock of my days as the
bible says we should do.

I am a procrastinator and part of that has been me telling myself I have enough time to get things done and then beginning to panic when the day is almost over, and my deadlines are
looming. The other problem I have is I will put 20 items on a to-do list and exhaust myself trying to do them all. What planning out my days has done is shown me just how much I overestimate my time and that has allowed me to be more realistic and made me feel more relaxed.

I started using a day to a page planner that I made and tried to plan my 24 hrs the night before factoring in my 8 hrs of sleep, work and family time. I don’t always get to this, but I discovered that on most days the to-do list far exceeded the number of hours in my day, esp. when I factored in the hours at work. Doing this has also made me realise that in order to achieve things, I can’t sit around
How has planning helped you?

Writing the same story for years

At some point in my life I developed a love for writing stories. I remember being in grade six, slaving away over a story in a creative writing task. If I am not mistaken, Mrs Munsaka was my teacher at the time. I loved telling stories then and I still do — to those who would listen — to those close to me. For whatever reason, when people, especially those closest to me do not listen, it hurts more than I would care to admit; worse though is the feeling when they laugh at an idea … and no, my family are extremely supportive, but for whatever reason, I would rather put my stories out to be judged by those with little or no connection to me.

I have been thinking a lot about what I write and why I put off writing deadlines or the dream to publish. Part of it is the fear that people will find my writing mundane and uninspiring. Part of it is that I am afraid that I might actually be good at it, but the scariest thing for me is that my family might hide in shame at the things I put out. That my dad might not like a piece of writing despite not saying so … that my mum might think that whatever I have written falls into the category of thoughts that God did not intend for everyone to see … Maybe my brother might see it and shake his head, that my sisters might find it heavy, or full of grammatical errors. That people might see it and think my husband married a diva, that my daughter would want to hide her face and not want to be associated with me.

I don’t know if I will ever achieve the goals I have when it comes to writing, but it has become exceedingly clear that I am afraid to drag those closest to me through another failure, another walk of shame … and here I am, sitting in my leaving room, my mum’s voice telling me, “You have gifts that you don’t use …” knowing she is right, I wonder “really what is the worst thing that could happen?” Does anyone else ever worry about such things? How do you fight such hidden, seemingly petty fears?

I recently found out that fear is sometimes … if not most times … born out of a lack of faith. A lack of faith in myself that causes me to question if really God has given me a gift. But more importantly, a lack of faith in God and who the word says He is. A lack of faith in the giver of talents, the one who says even if I fail at this, He will work it for my good.