Demand Thyself Back


demand thyself

I have always been an eccentric. The things I demand in a relationship confuse many a lesser men. I demand loyalty and I demand space. I don’t care much about whether or not you can fly me to the Cayman’s for my birthday, I can make my own way there if needs be. I do demand that a man be loyal to me and that’s not negotiable. When people would say you will die single all men cheat and all that Bullshit a niggling doubt began to form in my head, and take up residence. I accepted that you know maybe they are right. I reduced my requirements to simply the need to, while being loved to be accorded space to be myself.

I have big dreams, I want to change the world, and best believe, God willing, I will. I just required, at a minimum to be accorded space to remain that dreamer because it is the very essence of who I am. You know what? That was too high a demand. So what was left of what I really cared about in the pursuance of a relationship? Nothing. Suddenly I was this person who accepted one and all and had no exacting standard of my own. Did I die? No but little chips of myself fell away in the process. BUT One day I woke up and demanded myself back and the results have been amazing.

Ladies, don’t let no shitty ass nigga tell you what you deserve is less than the fairy tale you want. Hanging onto that person is cheating you of that opportunity to meet that man who will kiss the ground you walk on. Who will jump to his death before he hurts you. Who will not cheat on you, who will do everything in his power to try and take away all your hurts. I’ve learnt in this process that people ( and in this respect I mean men) will give you what you believe you deserve. And more than you thought you were worth only and Ever only, when you demand it.
Demand Yourself back and watch the magic happen.


Blogger Recognition Award


*sniff* *sniff*

Becoming The Muse


Lisa from Rebirth of Lisa has most graciously awarded my blog with a Blogger Recognition Award. This is my first award of any sort since I started this blogging thingie so I decided to play along, thank you very much Lisa and I must say it does give me a warm fuzzy feeling or could it be from the celebratory glass of a sweet red I am having *cheers*

Just the other day I got a notification from WordPress congratulating me on my second year anniversary(makes it seem like a marriage) since the start of this blog, so I will accept this award as a well deserved “birthday” present on behalf of my blog. #WeOwnAugust I was listening to ZiFm and they having birthday celebrations, that’s the tag they have been using  (but how does one own the a month unless you named after it or you buy it but from whom would you…

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Of hippos and Xenophobes #notoxenophobia


Interesting Reflections

MaDube's Reflections

Last night I watched a documentary on hippopotamus. Territorial and aggressive; that is how best one can describe them. Hippos do not only behave violently towards each other, but also to humans and other species . I drew parallels between this behaviour among the hippos and the developments I have observed unfolding in South Africa. For years since its independence, I followed the reportage on South Africa’s “alarming” crime rates recording violence among South Africans; from murder, burglary, armed robbery, and rape to corrective rape of lesbians. The list is endless.

In 2010, I studied the alarming rape trends in South Africa, with up to 55 000 reported cases per year and an estimated 450 000 unreported cases just in 2006. 9 of the 10, experts I spoke with agreed that the rape was symptomatic of deeper problems within South African society.  The emasculation of men , economic deprivation, unequal power relations…

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If I should ever leave


Today it occurred to me that if ever I was required by circumstance to up and leave I would, with just the clothes on my back.
I have always been an eccentric, finding happiness in slightly outlandish things which people of my generation and means generally do not find  interest in.. In my lifetime I have collected stamps, buttons, notes, coins, Vinyl disks and Video Cassette Disks, paintings and figurines, books, feathers, letters, colored-textured paper, potted plants and dead butterflies’. I have two vintique TV’s and the other one is all of 7 cm wide. I have large collections of each and every other thing in my collection and each has a story of its own. For example, the stamp collection I have now would have been much larger than it is now but for the fact that once when I was in form two I had a guy best friend who was everything to me, he knew everything about me and I knew everything about him, and then he had to change schools.

I was devastated because this meant that I would not see him as often as I could, and now every second that passed became a race against time. I wanted to create as many memories as I could for some reason that I never recognized as love until I was much, much older. I wanted him to carry with him a part of me as he went ahead to make new friends at his new school. I spent many miserable nights wondering what meaningful thing I could possibly part with to mark this momentous occasion. I ended up deciding to give him my stamp collection which was a much loved book with carefully stuck stamps from all over the world some of which I removed from my mom and dad’s love letters. I cried for days after he left, I cried for the loss of my friend but I also cried for my stamp collection.

The book collection is non less eventful, I have a Stephen King and reader’s digest classics collection that belonged to my father (bless his soul), I have a Francine River’s book whose owner went to the UK and left behind, I have books that I have brought from the street from one gentleman who loves books even more than I do, we have since become friends. I have books that I have bought from a deceased’s estate: the children wanted nothing to do with the old books that their father read and they just wanted to get rid of them: I got a thirty-six-book-mine for just five dollars. And you will hate me when I tell you there were all hard paper backs.

I have always celebrated sentiment and I have struggled to part with a bead and cowrie-shell neck lace I got from an ex who, although it did not work between us, was a good guy and he gave it to me even though it meant so very much to him.I often visit galleries and second hand or vintage shops just to look at old things , feel their texture and smell their scents. I try to imagine what necessitated the selling that beautiful ring, with love love words engraved on the inside: a love gone sour perhaps? A fallen-on-hard-times family may be?.. I wonder what inspired the carver of the table to carve straight instead of curvy lines, I wonder why the artist chose the colors in his or her painting, what emotion was going through them as them put color to paper, I try to imagine the penchants and eccentricities which inspired the vogue in one era as it compares to the other. I read the bold and proud signatures of the artists and I imagine where their descendant’s are. I try to imagine what the stain on the couch could have come from. Sometimes we have conversations; those old thing and I and I glimpse the people behind all those things I marvel at.

I have introspected to find what motivates my need to collect and I have not found a truly satisfactory answer. What I do know is that I have often felt that I have a duty to preserve what those generations before us cherished. The best of all reads for me have always been that correspondence between my parents. I am glad they were preserved in that shoe box for me to read and appreciate where their love journey began and how that contributed to their relationship and ultimately to who I am. This is why I write in my diary; I owe it to posterity to chronicle my life, my foibles, my warts and thoughts.

In spite of all this today I had an epiphany: If I had to up and leave for another life I would leave it all behind. Why you ask? I guess I realized one profound thing today, things will not go with us to the grave-even if they do; they will not be with us in the next life. However, we can leave them behind for others to enjoy what we did enjoy, to appreciate who we were and why. We leave a part of ourselves when we leave behind a part of ourselves. We influence times and thought, we guide the way.

Another Ode to my teacher


When I was in form one a very handsome teacher by the name of Fish Topia (pronounced Eish-I don’t know why-and yes I also thought his name was weird. And Cool) landed in our nest. I am not sure he was really handsome but he sure was dark and tall. The handsome bit could be that my mind sought to import on him that because he was such a refreshing deviation from the male teacher norm; the middle-aged teacher wearing with panache a hungry potbelly, a trimmed white beard, a trouser whitened by one too many washes, a torn collar shirt, a fringed tweed jacket and begging shoes. The walk was a dignified shuffle.
Mr Topia was a new generation teacher. He wore shiny label suits and his walk was a purposeful stride. What further set him apart was the street lingo he had, it was so cool to have a teacher who spoke the same language. I remember him saying,one afternoon after one agriculture practical ‘wakapfeka bra here iwewe’ to Chiedza Chideme. It was scandalous to say the least but it made us laugh and we idolised him even more. I remember one afternoon the boys crowding around a pornographic magazine which had been supplied by yours truly, Fish. The boys loved him and we girls would have died for him if only he had asked. He is the first adult crush I remember.

He then had a salacious affair with Ruvarashe, a form three/four student, I don’t really remember. What can I say. It was the best thing to happen as far as I was concerned. At my age relationships did not equate to sex and the impropriety of the relationship was not something I was aware of on a fundamental level. Mills and Boon assured me that they would have the greatest love affair against all odds and eventually get married and have their first earth shattering sex the night of their wedding. Needless to say it was the story of the century. In the dormitories, in the classrooms, in the Dining hall, at sports, in class, everywhere.

I toast to this unconventional teacher for not following the rules of rigidity. For being in a class of his own. For inspiring us to dream. I guess I just liked him, no noble reasons there, just pure like and least of all for his good looks

Ode to good men, i receive.


This is a beautiful post.

Thoughts of a humble narcissist

Funny how most of my blog posts are inspired by the articulate ramblings of others and this one is because of the post by Lee which can be obtained at the end of this link (via @LiyaJemina). In the article, beautifully woven i must add, she talks of how she was awakened from the false reality she had lured herself into by wanting to lose her virginity by her boyfriend. The said boyfriend recalled her to her senses and for that he was a good man.

Thoughts immediately run to an initial post i wrote about the decision to be chaste and celibate and the initial troubles i had expressing my position. Well, Lee, I am indebted to you because your experience has awakened a new sense of clarity and objectivity. Here goes.

I am celibate. I do not think sex is a taboo or those who indulge in the…

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When an elder’s fall becomes epic #MugabeFalls


MaDube's Reflections

Growing up, the cardinal rule of my existence was that elderly people- all elderly people- deserve respect, by virtue of being old. The sense of respect for the elders is a part of our African cultural values, centred in our belief that the elderly are repositories of wisdom and history, carrying the knowledge of the hidden trails of our journey as a people from centuries past. We respect and obey our elders, deferring to them to make critical decisions because we believe they inherently wise. Aging is symbolic of personal growth, personal strength, and resourcefulness and as such is considered an achievement. Spirit mediums such as Sekuru Kaguvi were revered, and, in consulting them, my people believed they were consulting oracles, trusting in their wisdom and foresight to provide guidance and direction.

As Emeka Emeakaroha argues, quoting William Conton: “Africans generally have deep and ingrained respect for old age, and…

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