Not a night so long!

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Yes I know this night is the bitterest yet,
Pitch dark night with no hopeful flame even struggling to burn with a faltering light,
Yet no matter how bitter,
No matter how pitch dark,

Never has there been a night soooo long,
There is yet to be any night so long,
That morning didn't come,
And only those who stay the night are blessed to find that morning came,

Though I know it is painstakingly tough this time,
That can not be a justifiable excuse to quit or let go,
It cannot be a valid reason to stop caring and trying,

The battle must go on and you must go keep fighting,
Your feet may wobble but let your eyes be on the tape,
At the distant even unseen finish line,

Give this moment the best of you,
For I know without a shadow of doubt that memories of times in the valley,

Which I tell you do not last as long an eternity as they seem this time,
Put the icing on the cake and sweeten the experience at the mountain top,
May God help you...

Brussels © November 2014 afesehngwaHilary

Show me your scars!

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He asked his daddy how to know he had loved,
Not for evidence that he was in love for that is a different thing,
But for evidence that he had loved,
And his father said the evidence is in the scars son,
The evidence that you have loved is in the scars,
Show me your scars of love and I will know you have loved,
And he proceeded to tell a true story!

“He looked at her,
And shook his head,
She wondered why,
So he told her how,
How he had waited,
How long his wait was dated,
How he had been there,
How he had proposed,
And with the delicacy and precision of a surgeon,
He dissected the details of how he had been rejected,
Multiple times like an incompatible tissue graft,
He described how every “NO” had painfully tugged his heart,
And brought him to a place where he hoped it wasn’t meant to be,
Because he couldn’t imagine the journey back,
With all the milestones and reminders along the way,
He could not imagine making the journey to that first day,
When he looked at her,
And his heart took a leap,
And did a rhumba dance within his breast,
He could not imagine making the journey back to the place,
When she last said ‘No’ maybe for the umpteenth time,
And his rhumba dancing heart fell with the weight of lead,

He pursed his lips and forced an awkward smile on his face,
Took her hand and fixed a gaze on her eyes,
Wondered why she was back,
As his mind wandered and wondered if he is the spare,
His tear glands opened,
And a river of tears peacefully streamed down his cheeks,
Barely able to speak,
He spoke these difficult words:
‘you ask something impossible of me,
I have been there with you many times,
And nothing about that place appeals to me or calls my name,
Anymore…’
Then after an agonizing pause of screaming silence:
‘I love you and will always do,
I know empirically that while love is never meant to hurt,
It does hurt sometimes,
We both have too much baggage along that path,
I believe sometimes, like now, the painful “NO” is the loving thing to do,
Even though it ached my heart…'

Then slowly and deliberately and delicately,
As if afraid that it will fall off her body he left her hand,
Hugged her as if he will never see her again,
With the weight of the enormity of the decision weighing on his shoulders,
He dragged himself away,
Feeling lighter as he went further,
Towards the seas of boundless opportunities,
Determined to dare to love again,
Convinced that he had done the right thing for love,
For many many many times the proof of love is in its scars,
Remember a scar is the sequel of healing of the wound”

© Houston, October 2013 afesehngwaHilary

An elusive 'happy ever after'

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Beautiful with childlike innocence,

Marked to be princess,

Plucked from the obscurity of naivety,

Thrust into the world stage,

To meet the rising demands of providence and prominence,

Princess to a prince who appeared to have it all,

Stuff only read in fairy tales,

Becoming true in real life...

But stubborn doubt stole the certainty of her vows,

Yet she was quick to dismiss them,

She had come too far,

It was easier to ignore the signs of future trouble,

Than to confront the begging warning signs,

So in stead of running away from trouble,

She walked down the isle,

Prince and princess,

Set on a futile journey,

To pin down an elusive 'happy ever after',

Neither effort nor time,

Was a good enough ally,

Against all odds,

Despite mind boggling endurance,

In the midst of unspeakable loneliness,

The sailing ship of marriage,

Which sought the promised bliss of prince wedded to princess,

Hit an iceberg of built up deceit,

With damages too serious for the ship to survive,

And once again this was proof,

That fairy tales are fairy tales,

And real life is real life,

And in real life,

Things only work,

Following an indefatigable hard work,

Wedded to smart work,

Powered by the awful grace of God!
Sweet spot to have fun working hard and smart.

Brussels © November 2014 afesehngwaHilary

Lancing the African Boil

http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/5/5d/Ww2-53.jpg

In my mind's eye,
I see a vision,
I see surgeons in the pitch dark night (media portrayed african conditions),
Working tirelessly and doing everything in their power,
Giving flickering stars (Africans hemmed in by the circumstances of their birth),
Their best chance to shine the brightest, 
Enabling them to stand by the brightest sun and still be able to shine,
Able to stand by the sun and make sunlight look like a joke,
Performing surgery and lancing the african boil,
Life saving surgery,
Not some cosmetic stuff to just look good,

In this african boil, 
I see the the antibodies confused by pathogens of corruption, 
Nepotism and all the isms which plague the land,
Assaulting the fabric of the African tissue,
Scarifying the beautiful African landscape and the beautiful African heart,
I see the killing and maiming pus begging for an outlet... 
I see the surgeons using every right sized scalpel,
Employing even the sharpest axe when the job calls for it... 
Lancing the boil... the african boil...
Lancing the African abscess under difficult conditions,

Never a pleasant or pain free job, 
Nevertheless a job which must be done if relief must come...
I can see you in your scrubs,
Taking care of the mess,
Your mess... our mess,
All the mess which makes us less!

Brussels © November 2014 afesehngwaHilary

One big eye!

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Every time it dawns on me,

That I might not get another chance,

I give it my all,

Even if in it I fall,

I strain to constantly hear the call,

To be the very best of me,

So as I stand in reverend awe,

In a simple act of admiration,

Near adoration,

Of this architectural genius,

I transform my whole body,

Into one big eye!

Brussels © November 2014 afesehngwaHilary

Rights and responsibilities to be stupid!

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The right to be stupid, 
the privilege to make mistakes,
is inextricably bound to the duty to learn from it,
the responsibility to grow from them,

you cannot claim the right,
and disown the responsibility,
you cannot embrace the privilege,
and reject the duty,
Be wise!

Brussels © November 2014 afesehngwaHilary

Only six chances to say 'NO'

http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/f/f1/JustSayYeslogo.png

Grandma coming from a totally different generation,
Could not understand what granddaughter was waiting for,
Not sure how she settled on that number but the expectation,
Was that Nchonwie was allowed only six chances to say No,
After that it didn't matter who came next it had to be Yes.

As Nchonwie explained the technicalities,
Of how she is waiting for Mr right,
Grandma lost her patience and rained a scathing yet loving rebuke,
Having been paying more attention than Nchonwie ever cared to notice,
Remembering all those times she watched her coil in bed and cry,
Grandma explained how caution can become an ugly maid courted by incapacity,
Opining on how she thought Nchonwie cautioned herself,
Into lonely beds,
Crying lonely tears,
And hugging pillows and teddy bears,
For timelines which threaten eternity.

Brussels © November 2014 afesehngwaHilary

Great Oaks from little acorns grow!

http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/1/19/Quercus_robur_-_sprouting_acorn.jpg

Their eyes were locked in steely gaze,

That briefly froze the blood in his veins,

His heart was pounding within his chest,

So the blood could reach his brains with food,

His pituitary dropped a cocktail of confusing hormones,

As he struggled to decide what to do,

She broke the contact in their gaze,

Helplessly dainty she walked away,

Almost towards the guy but yet not,

Almost completely aloof,

But interested enough in her demeanor,

To hold the mystery in the air,

Then as she passed him by with lips pursed,

And then loosened into a charmingly magnetic smile,

One which lit the air in that southern wing,

Plucking memories from the past,

And painfully displaying them before him,

With a sigh which burned as it eased into the pleasant air of spring,

He remembered how he had called her wicked and the vilest names,

Dismissing her for being no good,

And then now she really walks away in effortless grace,

Escorted to the waiting Limousine,

The poor guy stood there planted,

Unable to move left or right,

Not an inch forward or backwards,

Gazing left him dazed,

Wishing he could right a past now irrevocably gone,

Whispering to himself,

Indeed great oaks from little acorns do grow,

Train your vision to be good to the small ugly looking seed.

Brussels © November 2014 afesehngwaHilary

Ode to a dead mouse!

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Near perfect summer school day,

Everyday could be this way,

Great weather, volleyball, football,

Wonderful company to crown it all,

Right through I kept thinking of all of you,

More than anybody else I prayed for you,

Critical to my sample size and statistical power,

So as soon as I took a refreshing shower,

To get news of you I checked my mails,

Frantically scanned through my sea of emails,

My heart sank with the weight of lead,

To read those heartbreaking words that you were dead,

Though knocked by this umpteenth dose you were cooperative and very nice,

Closed my eyes and could spot you among all the other mice,

No doubt I had surprisingly gotten fond of you over the weeks,

I'll miss you in the next few weeks,

As the study winds through this tortuous bend,

I know you were integral part of the means to an important end,

Sadly you go with a lot of essential information,

Wish there was now a better means of communication,

I have thought about the resurrection of the dead,

To retrieve all that neuro-toxicological information in your head,

The Parkinsonian information in your steps,

I sent you to the doctors for an autopsy,

Cause of death came from one particular biopsy,

What a tragedy for this experiment,

The study will only know detriment,

Adieu dear friend...

Adieu with a heavy heart I wish... I wish... I wish... 

I wish you wouldn't die with all that information in you.

Brussels © November 2014 afesehngwaHilary

mydressmychoice

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In the perfect world with an utopia of freedom, people will be totally free to do and say whatsoever they please, however they choose and with whomsoever they pick. Unfortunately that world is a far cry from our extant reality and the practicalities of living in such are mind boggling and tortuously complex to say the least. We share the world with over 7 billion people, of differing and different births, influences, upbringing, religious affiliations, educational standing, social status, philosophies and beliefs. This almost overwhelming storm of such a rich variety and diversity makes the aforementioned free world impractical. However there is a kinder and more practical freedom which allows everybody to be free as long as their freedom robs no other person of their own right and ability to exercise the same. I argue that it is towards this latter form of freedom that the the evolution of man as a societal and communal being out to gravitate. Of course there are  and will be extreme outliers.

Even though history undenyingly attests to the fact that humanity in relative terms has disproportionately been discriminatory and unkind towards allowing the full and wholesome development of womankind, it is also an undeniable fact that despite the 7 billion strong differences, there are some values of intrinsic humanity which lace the majority of these differences and bring most to common ground. It is wrong for example steal or to engage in a random, senseless act of genocide. Recently in Kenya there are reports that mobs have stripped more than one woman for being inappropriately dressed, a move which has sparked the "mydressmychoice" campaign. http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2014/11/18/kenya-mob-strips-woman_n_6177608.html
 I need to say here that this is not unique to Kenya. Naturally this begs the question... who has been vested with powers to determine and declare what 'appropriate dressing' is and means? How does further body exposure resulting from stripping resolve or make appropriate the dressing called to question?

Unfortunate incidences like this speak to a bigger problem which runs across the full gamut of the strata of the societies where they are perpetrated, from the hamlets in the village to the presidency. It is pointer to jungle tendencies where the rule of law is a paper tiger. Martin Luther King Jr. said “Morality cannot be legislated, but behavior can be regulated. Judicial decrees may not change the heart, but they can restrain the heartless.” It was Aesop who said that "We hang the petty thieves and appoint the great ones to public office." In stead of stripping women maybe such an idle mob should be stripping bare those bandits who seem appropriately dressed yet are inappropriately ruling and plundering the wealth of their nations... There needs to be structures in place with punitive measures deterrent enough to eliminate or significantly reduce such chaotic and mindless behavior couched in hypocrisy, intolerance, spinelessness and lovelessness. In the case of Kenya I am certain that if one of those girls who was stripped for dressing inappropriately was the daughter of some military general or police chief, minister or president, the heads of the perpetrators will be rolling now. 

Personally I believe that there needs to be a certain manner of dressing when we are in shared public space. There are a lot of companies and jobs which require a dress code for both men and women and I am yet to see a protest about any - you either choose to comply or leave. This can be done right and respectfully, leaving people a choice to exercise freedom as long it doesn't usurp another's. This is a really tricky one. It looks okay for example to be in bikini at the swimming pool or beach which is shared public space but not in the office space.

In many cases agreed societal mores which is sometimes terribly flawed dictates that when we step out of the house into most shared public spaces some things are no longer okay, like running around naked, to use an egregiously dramatic example.... but hey, what do I know? What makes what okay at home or beyond that homely space is shaped by the cultural mores of the time, religious beliefs, upbringing, personal values, the number of scars and skeletons waiting to be hidden and levels of comfort with differing layers of cosmetic masks conjured to accomplish that public space persona or version of ourselves. The arc of the moral universe is still long and it still bends towards justice. 

Brussels © November 2014 afesehngwaHilary

Do not wash your hands with spittle!

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I can give you wings,

But I can't fly for you,
Give you an appetite,
And provide the food,
But can't eat for you,
Give you opportunity,
But you have to seize it,
Make grace and strength available,
But you have to tap into it,
Offer you love,
But you must accept it,
Give you life,
But you must live it,
Give you a vision,
But you must heed it,
Take you to the stream,
But you must drink,
Or else you live in all you ever need,
Yet direly be in want and need,
And that my child,
Is the greatest tragedy of our time.

Do not live by the seaside,
And wash your hands with spittle!

Brussels © November 2014 afesehngwaHilary

Socialized to be lost in masks of perfection!

Socialized to wear masks,

One, two, three multi-layered masks,

Many, varied, colored and bland,

Socialized to always look sanitized,

Prudish and prim and smooth and perfect,

Socialized to always make life seem and look cinch,

And the toughest challenges like an ever welcome breezes,

Who are you?

Who are you today?

Who stepped out of the closet today?

In trying so hard to hide,

Hide that little crazy part of you,

Hide chinks and mistakes and scars,

That imperfect side of you,

In trying so hard to  hide that which completes who you are,

You have hidden all of you,

All of who you really are,

You don’t exist,

The real you is gone, gone, forever hidden,

You are lost,

Lost, lost, lost,

In that ugly mask of  perfection you wear,

So blame nobody for misunderstanding you,
For not knowing you,
For being incapable of relating to you,

Seek perfection but be you!

Brussels © November 2014 afesehngwaHilary

Undeserved gift of now!

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To think you are too young,

Deluded to be too strong,

To syndicate tomorrow’s imagined miseries,

Into many avoidable sorrows of today,

To postpone to live that which could be lived today,

Hoping to live in a tomorrow,

Full of uncertainty and uncontrollable mysteries,

To be steeped and trapped in the drunken stupor,

Of the tragic illusion that the next moment certainly belongs to you,

When you have the undeserved gift of now,

Reality will inevitably sink in,

Either with the subtlety of insidious water currents,

Or with the bang of an overpowering tsunami,

Now is all we got - undeserved,

Let us live in it,

Fully, unapologetically!

Brussels © November 2014 afesehngwaHilary

Cuba - Unfairly caricatured and castigated by the west, but a truer friend of Africa

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Depending on whether you read history through a communist/ socialist or democratic lens from either side the cold war curtains, Cuba and its revolutionary leaders are either incorrigible villains or welcome pawns in diplomatic and non diplomatic offensives against sworn enemies of the other side of the curtain. The danger is that either extremist views of this latin American nation can suck out objectivity and blind reason during the historical writing of the Cuban story, caricaturing or deifying the imperfect country. Which country is perfect? None, even those who think they have earned a right to judge every other.

The fact that Cuba was the first non - African country which Nelson Mandela visited after his release from prison piqued my curiosity. As I searched and learned about Cuba it became clear to me that Cuba is the only country I know who had any interference or influence in the African continent and its liberation and liberation movements whether proactively or invited, which was unselfish in their mission to the countries on the continent, driven by only one thing, a compulsive desire to help. I am yet to find any evidence any where that Cuba helped in return for any of the treasures which virtually every country beyond the continent came for, oil, rubber,  cobalt, diamonds and countless treasures buried in the womb of mama Africa. When Mandela visited Cuba in 1991 he said: “We come here with a sense of the great debt that is owed the people of Cuba ... What other country can point to a record of greater selflessness than Cuba has displayed in its relations to Africa?”. Many cold war battles were removed far from the land of those who fought them to battlefields on African soil, driven by greed and fought with total disregard for the owners of the land. Cuba was a breath of fresh air and a welcome exception.

Around the 60's shortly after the successful Cuban revolution under the leadership of the Castros and Che Guevara, revolutionary drums and bells echoed across the globe, with Cuba in many ways  helping nurse  the independence revolutionary calls and actions which swept across the continent of Africa. Given the way America views Cuba today and the way it has viewed it for years, it is interesting to come across this account of the journalist Jean Daniel Bensaid who hints that President JF Kennedy was supportive of the Fidel Castro led revolution: "In an article in the New Republic, Daniel claims that Kennedy asked him to pass on a message to Castro: "I believe that there is no country in the world, including the African regions, including any and all the countries under colonial domination, where economic colonization, humiliation and exploitation were worse than in Cuba, in part owing to my country’s policies during the Batista regime. I believe that we created, built and manufactured the Castro movement out of whole cloth and without realizing it. I believe that the accumulation of these mistakes has jeopardized all of Latin America. The great aim of the Alliance for Progress is to reverse this unfortunate policy. This is one of the most, if not the most, important problems in America foreign policy. I can assure you that I have understood the Cubans. I approved the proclamation which Fidel Castro made in the Sierra Maestra, when he justifiably called for justice and especially yearned to rid Cuba of corruption. I will go even further: to some extent it is as though Batista was the incarnation of a number of sins on the part of the United States. Now we shall have to pay for those sins. In the matter of the Batista regime, I am in agreement with the first Cuban revolutionaries.”"

http://spartacus-educational.com/JFKdanielJ.htm . This is however would not be the first case where a supported ally became and vilified villain - Go figure.

Cuba was invaluably instrumental in the wars of independence and African revolutions of the sixties. Patrice Lumumba, Amilcar Cabral, Agosthino Neto, iconic African revolutionaries caught between capitalism and communism, sought or received the help of Cuban comrades with Che Guevara on the ground in the Congo fighting alongside Pro-Lumumbists in the jungles of the Congo. To secure the independence of Guinea Bissau Amilcar Cabral secured and leveraged technical and tactical strategic support of Cuba to topple the Portuguese colonial war machine.Cuba also played a critical role in securing the independence of Angola and eventually Namibia’s,  paving the way for the end of the obnoxious practice of Apartheid in South Africa. This is just to name a few. You can watch both parts 1 and 2 of  "Cuba - An African Odyssey" here:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UE8EBb4CW8A
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WZUptYb_BSE

Castro and over half a million Cubans took part in Africa's revolutionary wars which ended colonialism with no sight on or plundering of  African's wealth. Recently Cuba has sent hundreds of medical personnel including doctors and nurses to the battle against Ebola, fighting daily on the front lines to defeat this monster, again with no motive or hidden agenda related to Africa's wealth. Regardless of what anybody may say, Cuba has historically demonstrated time after time to be a truer and selfless friend of the continent of Africa. Even historians can only be entitled to their own opinions, not their own facts.

Oslo © November 2014 afesehngwaHilary

True learning!

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A true and thorough learning,
Within and beyond the narrow confines of classroom walls,
Will magnify your ignorance,
In one breath quench a thirst and satisfy a hunger,

In another breath deepen the profundity of intellectual thirst,

And broaden the scope and boundaries of truth,

Grow an unquenchable yearning and desire for learning  knowledge and wisdom

True learning will tame your pride and humble you,
It will amplify your humanity,
And grow your empathy,
For empathy is better than sympathy.

© Oslo 2014 afesehngwaHilary

Potent Lips

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Lips which unmistakably eventually chime in portentious tides,
Curled into a beautifully potent charm in one instant,
Lips which smile into a brilliantly blinding sun in another,
And with that quick flash while the subject is blinded still,
Lips which house a razor sharp tongue unleash words trenchant like a blade,
Lips with charm enough to deceptively soothe the most savage breasts,
Potent lips armed with ammunition to unsettle and topple the finest men.

Brussels © November 2014 afesehngwaHilary

Down payment with precious 27 years of a Life - Mandela... lessons for my African generation!

http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/9/99/Mandela_Bust_at_Southbank.jpg

Never before in history has the world paused in a moment packed with a flurry of a medley of emotions to focus all attention on the thresholds of a prison gate. Though many a young person may have scant memories of that time,as a little boy of 11 then, I have the relevance of the events of that momentous moment etched on my mind, just as surely and indelibly as they are on the pages of history. Coming from a continent where it wouldn't be so wrong to say it is largely ruled by a cabal of bandits who are driving the continent with an engine of greed to the edge of a fatally steep precipice; 11th February which every year commemorates XX years of Nelson Mandela's release from prison, manages to stir a healthy pride in me for our collective humanity through the African Statesman named Mandela. Mandela belongs to a crop and league of statesmen who only come to a generation every once in a while. He is among the few which Robert F Kennedy talked about when he said "Few will have the greatness to bend history itself, but each of us can work to change a small portion of events, and in the total of all those acts will be written the history of this generation. It is from numberless diverse acts of courage and belief that human history is shaped." 

 As he walked through the doors of his cell, he brought away with him a freedom which to a large extent liberated both the oppressed and oppressor in the despicable apartheid South Africa. Madiba was a political genius, a charming negotiator, an enduring hard worker who despised and mocked the low road of unforgiveness and rose to the majestic heights of forgiving and finding partners in his jailers. Few who know or have heard of him can hold themselves back from having some admiration for the man... Even as I salute Mandela and all his compatriots in the struggle, dead and alive, I must confess that I have caught myself wrestling with some offhanded thoughts of him...Without being privy to the details of their marital squabbles, I cannot help but wonder how he could not leverage and bring to bear his charm, ability to forgive and genius in salving his ailing marriage to Winnie Mandela who in no small way stood by him and made significant contribution to the struggle... Could a marriage be more difficult to fix than an apartheid south africa? that is a question for another time and day. Before anybody crucifies me for having the temerity to even remotely make reference to something so personal of the giant, let me clarify that my probing mind was only wondering ... mostly in order to learn... I have the utmost respect and admiration for mighty Mandela but Nelson Mandela was a man, not God and his failings humanize him...everything that he is, is part of the history he wrote with his life... if we can learn from his strengths, we can learn from his weaknesses...  As I salute the legacy of Mandela I think of lessons my generation and I can draw from his journey.

While Mandela made the down payment with probably the most precious 27 years of his life, there must have been some who shamelessly watched from the sidelines of passivity as the apartheid drama unfolded to the finale which saw the beginning of their emancipation, yet savored the prize for the price payed with precious lives... as many toiled for change at home, there must have also been some who gave the struggle an invaluably important voice from exile... So as young people whether at home or abroad I hear a call today for us to become a little more selfLESS and give a little of our brains and time by thinking constructive, bold, actionable ideas directed towards the self healing of Africa, a request I believe any and every young person can meet...

Mandela could well have easily traded his jail time for a life of ease abroad...Mandela had a plethora of choices.  If you read South African History well you will also notice many many many blacks ran away from the country. In fact Mandela had more choices than we have today as a people of Africa yet he walked the hard road.  "Although considering Mandela a dangerous "arch-Marxist",^[172] in February 1985 Botha offered him a release from prison on condition that he '"unconditionally rejected violence as a political weapon". Mandela spurned the offer, releasing a statement through his daughter Zindzi stating "What freedom am I being offered while the organisation of the people [ANC] remains banned? Only free men can negotiate. A prisoner cannot enter into contracts."^[173]"-  http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nelson_Mandela

It would of course be naively akin to wanting to live forever to expect to find a path which leads to the mountain top which was obstacle free. When a people are bent on developing, if they don't find the path they will make one, and both involve an indefatigable hard work... When Mandela dreamed many years ago it would have been easy to say he was living and dreaming in sky-scapers of a future which he could not afford... it was not a passive inactive dreaming even against the barrage of pessimism from within and without which probably came his way... it was an active waiting which never lost hope and which was never idle even from a jail cell. We will only become noble and develop by the things we do... one thing however which the way forward cannot tolerate is any excuse for not giving or for not participating... inaction is always the easier road and great men and women never walk that path...Many Africans have walked down that path long enough and we have the results to show - needless to name them here but we can begin to say, not any more... inactivity will always seek to stand in the way of action, we can not let it, not any more... As a bright future beckons our generation to put our act together and step up, steering away from the mistakes of our forbears, history is watching and will judge us... No action is small, none is dumb, all is important... we can belong together and whether we realize now or not, we can rise together... the ball is in our court, the choice is ours...

It cannot be easy... It takes time and I am painfully aware of our impatience as a young people. We cannot be in the process of building an airplane and flying it at the same time, so it will be important to go back to the drawing boards. We cannot expect results before the work is done... We cannot expect a harvest before the planting season has come... The failures of yesterday cannot stop us from succeeding today unless we choose to... If there is any hope for Africa, we must stubbornly press on and we must, together with like passion driven minds, from within or without Africa either find the path forward, create one or die trying, God being our helper... We will like to see results in our lifetime but lack of results in our lifetime and potential for change only in another must not stop us from acting today in anyway we can... I am convinced in the power of ideas, I have seen their magic, their charm enthralls and the right, bold, actionable, root cause removal oriented ideas to real problems will always attract their funding in the long run... I believe, I am a believer in the things unseen, that is where tomorrow's reality is... those who wait to have enough to give never really give... Today let us begin to drive the last nail on the coffin of selfishness and burn it so that like a phoenix selflessness might rise from the ashes in stead. This is for me and you and you and you, wherever you are, from there, we can begin to make a contribution to turn the tide of avoidable suffering which plagues our people and collective humanity. Each and every one of us needs to ask ourselves - what can I do? and do it knowing nothing is too small!

Brussels © November 2014 afesehngwaHilary

The sweetish bitter taboo - NFL (Nebaniko Fribenwi Lemu)!

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Uncertain what the next move should or needs to be, struck by several episodes of tormenting guilt she decided to send him a note.

Dear Nkesang,

Under better circumstances this is a discussion I would have loved to have in person face to face, but extant circumstances leave me no other choice. I write for two reasons: Firstly because being the father of my children and the man who first made me feel fully/wholly a woman, you deserve to be released and liberated from the countless questions which hold you hostage regarding the circumstances of my departure; secondly because it is my hope that we both learn from this as we go forward with our  lives either together or separately as the case may be.

Once upon a time there was a rush of adrenaline which came from a constantly innovative expression of a mutual loving which made our union possible - we even loved dangerously. Then we got married and busyness vacuum sucked the innovation and routine rushed in the space innovation's disappearance left. Over the years I learned repeatedly that a sustained romance is buried where innovative love leaves and drab, boring, uninspiring routine sets in. With every reinforced lesson of this truth, I grew a deeper and deeper longing to know that rush of adrenaline and feeling of specialness which once made me yours, that kind of dangerous loving which is sustained by sparks of innovative magic. You dropped your A game while competition upped theirs. In an unsuspecting manner Afohnui showed up, made me the singular focus of his attention and satisfied that longing in more ways than I can tell, while your busyness consumed you, made you distant, aloof;  further complicating a relationship headed down the dangerous slope of a busyness partnership.

The aim of writing is not to make a case for why this is right for I do not think it is. I wrestle with many emotions and thoughts and just felt is it important for you know why I slipped and how I slipped. Hopefully both of us can learn a thing or two for the future.

I am sorry!

Sincerely,

With a love that has waned but is waiting to be fanned to life again!

NFL.

Brussels © November 2014 afesehngwaHilary

Nothing like the love of a mother!

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For nine months they carry an extra load,
To work, to the toilet, to bed,
With all the sickness it comes with,
Never complaining, only enduring,
Focused on the glee of that day,
When the life God incubates in them,
Transitions to earth,

Then with very excruciating birth pangs,
And all the strength and grace only God can give,
They push to birth the life they nursed in them,
A push usually accompanied by squirms,

Squeals, cries and groans too deep for words,

They cried long before the baby cries,
In that first drink of earthly air,
The evidence of new life,

Yet after birth motherhood has still only begun,
It is more about the raising and upbringing than the birth,
More tiring days and sleepless nights set in,
Painful adjustments to accommodate this new call,
A woman's noblest call,
A call to rock the cradle,
And as she rocks the cradle she rocks the world,
The mothers shape the future of the world,

With every life in them they love,
They nourish and care, fiercely protect,
They nurse and hang in there,
Through the bitterest storms,

Through human imperfections,

Through the messiness of growth,
They stay in there to savor,
And share our best accomplishments,
Yes, there is nothing, nothing in the whole wide world,
Like the love of a good mother,

She may not have a biological child of her own,

Yet a precious mother all the same,

To one and many,

This is why even in the evening of my life,
At a ripe old age,
I will still be mama's boy,
I celebrate you moms,
And if you know a mama like mine,
Pomp a fist of celebration in the air,
Find the time, make the time,
Tell and show mom you appreciate her love,

You rock mom, you rock,
You are better and stronger than a rock,
Yet soft like a drifting fog,
There is nothing like a good mother's love.

Brussels © November 2014 afesehngwaHilary

Poetry is not the reason I write my love to you.

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I was going about my business when I heard a nightingale sing,
Dropped everything and came to join in the praise and worship,
To worship He who created she who opens her mouth;
To stir and whip up a storm of love rivers running through my being,
Love for the beauty of poetry is not the reason I write my love to you,
My love for rhyme is not the reason that I write this poem for you,
Sweet poetic prose is not the reason,
Melodious rhyme is not the reason that I recite this love ballad for you,
For out of a sudden my love for any other thing but God,
Is diminished and pales in comparison to my love for you,
I offer my heart stripped and bare to you,
Literature is not the reason that I plan to serenade you,
The reason is love,
The one you draw me to,
And until you reciprocate or retaliate,
I'll bask in the dangerously soothing fires of your love!

Brussels © November 2014 afesehngwaHilary