Abafazi| Celebrating the women in my life #vlogmas #youtubeshorts #short...

Abafazi| Celebrating the women in my life

Village Chronicles Vlog 1

For the love of Cape Town

Travelling Zulu woman

The importance of understanding and addressing Needs in Community Development

 

When I learned about these different types of needs, I understood to a certain extent the resistance my father faced in his community development endeavors.

As much as I understand it, I am still puzzled as to why killing my dad and my brothers was the only cause of action for my community. I thank God for the protection He gave us. God knows I struggle to forgive as it is, I would've become a murderous maniac, had they succeeded to kill my family back then.
As much as we had fun with our youth groups doing beauty contests, ballroom dancing, sarafina, drummies,... At the back of our minds we were fully aware of the dangers and who were the instigators behind the scenes and their true motives, which haven't changed by the way.
I am not so naive to believe that the people who wanted us dead in 1995 suddenly inquire about my little brother's comings and goings for the fun of it. And if someone who hardly ever speaks to him, suddenly wants to know when he will be coming home, to the point of asking 2 different people, it looks suspicious. A red flag has been raised for me! 🚩
I digress.

In community development, you are only as successful as the happiness level of your targeted beneficiaries. Unfortunately the number of schools, preschools, clinics, etc. you build is immaterial if the intended beneficiary doesn't want them.
That's why you find the community members vandalizing buildings, roadside trees and water taps. They feel no need for these and therefore they see no value in them, which makes destroying them easy.
"Nothing about us without us" is a concept that should help community development professionals and communities to work well together, but does it really work?

My Favorite Professors

 These were my favorite professors at UNP. The then Dr Dean Goldring now Prof always used to come to lectures with jokes on sticky notes and I'd start laughing the moment he would reach for his sticky notes 😂😂😂😂

Prof Theresa Coetzee was very serious and strict, she looked super cute pregnant and the fact that she was married to this goofball (Dr Goldring) made her my people. She made you feel welcome to come talk to her in her office.
Other lecturers (who shall remain nameless) couldn't stand black students. The Biochemistry department was so friendly and welcoming. Prof Dennison was a jovial character as well.
These people made the walk from 69 Pine Street (Pmb) every day on an empty stomach worth it. Leaving the house at 6am & walking back home in the evenings meant that I was exposed to many dangerous situations but by the grace of God I made it through! Temptations to end it all were there but I didn't.

I lost a bunch of weight and when my sister M-Jay had insisted that I move to Scottsville, she blessed me with some new clothes and shoes, and I looked decent again.
I knew I had a solid friendship with Luh, when I was at my lowest but she stuck by me and helped me through it.
Low points will show you who's a real friend and who's a frenemy.

This was supposed to be an appreciation post for the hubby and wifey team of Biochemistry. Dr G always used to say: "it's not my turn to watch her" whenever I would go ask him where his wife was.
Wishing blessings in abundance to them🙌

Finding yourself or getting back to yourself

 It's not that I have forgotten, but I am no longer that person and I desperately want to go back to being her but it wasn't ideal.

Without the hard exterior, abantu bajwayelana kabi (people take advantage).
The other day my brother was narrating a story and I was pleasantly surprised to learn that one of the people who used to make my life hell died years back. Had I been a tough cookie back then, he wouldn't have dared to mess with me. Glad he's dead.

Back to my point, I want to be a pure & kind hearted, soft spoken person again but being timid, naive and trusting is gone. Perhaps I am the person I need to be. Perhaps the trials and tribulations were necessary to get me to this point.
Trying to find a silver lining in every situation is what I need to focus on.
I am committing to the examen prayer before bed every night. Why did I stop doing it vele?
#prayerworks #healing #restoration #gettingbacktoself

1w

Gender Based Violence

 What it boils down to for me is that people will lie to women to get consent, just so they can say they didn't rape them. If you knowingly profess love (but you don't mean it) and proceed to use a woman sexually, you are no different to a rapist. Consent based on lies and deceit is no consent at all.

We have fathers abandoning their children because they never wanted them to begin with and they feel no guilt about neglecting their flesh and blood because our society has normalized men using and abusing women.
It's even worse when this is done to young, innocent and naive girls who have no clue what to do in relationships.
The way 'Christians' shy away from teaching and mentoring young people about courtship and relationships results in all these unhealthy situationships and children are judged for mistakes that could have been avoided.
I don't need anyone to agree with me on this, my conviction is sufficient and if the shoe fits ladies and gentlemen, go ahead and wear it!
Namaste🙏
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#StopGBV #stophumantrafficking #stoprape #stopkillingwomen #coercionisnotconsent #coercionisrape

Vacation in Cape Town with the girls

Julius Malema calls Cyril Ramaphosa an 'ICEBOY', AND HERE IS WHY?

Dealing with undiagnosed and untreated mental illness

So I went on the internet this morning because I simply couldn't deal with my current situation. I found this very informative and helpful. https://www.healthline.com/health/my-bipolar-mother-refused-treatment-for-40-years-how-i-coped

My mom did not refuse treatment, she has never been diagnosed. I don't want to make this a black thing but generally if you can function profitably in society, we tend to overlook your mental wellness. If you are clean, can carry a normal conversation and hold down a job, we look the other way when the rest of your behavior makes no sense. In fact we will be told about an ancestor who had the same antics and how hilarious it was. My sense of humor must be seriously lacking.

It became clear as day when I read Eyebags and dimples by Bonnie Mbuli that what has plagued my mother throughout my childhood and even now in her old age was a mental illness, that has gone undiagnosed and therefore untreated for her entire 70+ years of existence.

I am fortunate that when I finally recognized the signs and symptoms in myself, I had access to a medical practitioner who assisted me through it and I am unashamedly open about my use of Prozac.

People often say that when you go through tough situations, it is preparing you for what is about to come. Clearly I learnt the wrong things from dealing with Fakazile. I learnt to lash out and retort. Something I can never do in this situation. I realize my shortcomings and inability to care for my mom's psychological needs.

Having figured out how to navigate my own healing and wellness by myself, without anyone holding my hand is putting me at a disadvantage because I now have to hold her hand and I am not sure if I know how.

So I will research and learn, I will fail and try some more until I figure it out because I love my mother. She is the only parent I have left. In her own way I know that she loves me, at least I hope that she does.

Healing of Memories Part 8

 

Church ladies, hang on to your hats!

My God mother and I have always had a strong relationship, or so I thought. I didn't wanna speak about it when I was first told about it but right now I am compelled to. Something in my spirit wants to release it.
I watched something on TV that triggered my disdain for the 'church nice-nasty' attitude. We have normalized it so much and we try to look past it because we're all trying to be good "Christians".
Having 'holy' parents put so much pressure on me growing up. I knew I couldn't reach their level of holiness even if I tried. I did try. Very hard in fact. Doing this feels unnatural and a betrayal to them.

Anyway, my God mother is the only nonfamily member I invited to my graduation. That's how close I regarded her and her unkind words about me cut deeper than I thought was possible.
The terrible awful things she was going around spreading about me last year and the things she said about me in 2012 are related in that she's accusing me of fraud in both cases.
Back in 2012 I actually attempted to clear my name and set the record straight. I sent her receipts, which she wasn't entitled to because I naively thought it was a misunderstanding. Wrong! She was pulling frenemy moves nje, just like last year.
{For those who have never been employed, there's certain personal information that you give your employer, like your home address so that they can track you down if you have things to answer to post your employment tenure with them.}
If "they" can find her, they can certainly find me. They have all my details.

My question though is always: "at what point does God feature in the way we live and interact with fellow Christians?". Why do we spread lies about people and then laugh and smile to their faces? This is not normal behavior ngesintu, certainly not a Christian way of life. Miss me with the nice-nasty church madams🏃🏿👎
#nicenastymustfall
#churchpeoplecanbesoevil

Sdudla Fatie Bhumba Ngidlingidli

 

I am fat, I eat, deal with it!

I have come a long way y'all. I just watched a video about the fatshaming this person received from her doctor today.

I have posted about this many times over the years. My own mother has known me since before birth but it irks her that I am fat & she'll be the first one to tell you that I have never been thin, ever!

When I was 12, a neighbor promised to give me wohloza when I turned 15 but they had moved away by the time I turned 15.

My lack of knowledge of how fat is stored in the body at that age led to a lot of mistakes, like vomiting food & then drinking umbhubhudlo (sugar water) for energy. I would take laxatives routinely every Friday for 2 years. Laxa, Epson salt, brooklax... were readily available & easily accessible.

I didn't know there was such a thing as an eating disorder back then, all I knew was that my body size & shape wasn't socially acceptable.

Fast-forward to 2001, where I lost a considerable amount of body fat over 8 months of 1 banana a day and 3 hours of walking from Pine street in Pmb to Agric campus in Scottsville(6,8km) & back.

It gave me an indication of exactly what it would take for me to consistently lose weight. Even then, I still wasn't thin. I could rock skinny jeans tho💃

And when I finally got a job I started the diet pills, name it I have tried it. Herbalife & Forever, I have been there! Shapewear too🙋.

Until I discovered Chastity & Cece, I was really lost. I didn't know how to accept my socially unacceptable body. And as RuPaul says, "if you can't love yourself, who the hell is gonna love you!"

I became excited about the body positivity movement & even discovered that there are people out there who are actually attracted to big girls, not as a fetish or anything like that but genuinely see big girls as worthy of love, as sexy & most importantly as normal human beings.

I felt reaffirmed as a person & began my self love, self acceptance and self compassion journey. It's not exactly a sprint but a lifelong journey.

I trust that people who struggle with body image issues or adults who feel like they have to settle for bottom of the barrel will find freedom to be through this post. #fatphobiamustfall #BoPo #dietculture #fat

I remember when we attended the Beatification of Benedict Daswa in Tshitanini a few years back and how I had to delay my lunch because the camera man covering the event decided he was going to zoom in on me eating, when throughout the day he had been focusing his camera lense on my other friends. The shaming of fat bodies as people who eat a lot/eat too much/ eat unhealthy foods /even eat at religious events/eat inappropriately comes naturally to most people. 

The fat body joke never tires. Laughing at people for their body shapes is the most normal thing on earth for some reason. The assumption that because you are fat, you must also be stupid and incompetent is so deeply entrenched and embedded in our psyche. I say this because of my experience, living as a fat woman, shaped like a Roman Goddess. 

Let's kind to people regardless of how they look. 

Shalom✌️

Healing of Memories Part 7

 

When I envisaged this journey, I anticipated that 6 months would be sufficient. I even told one frenemy, who advised that 6 months would be too long. I had planned to do a silent retreat for 7 days and then apply the techniques I have learned over the years to unpack and shred the negative experiences and restore my inner self. It didn't quite work out like that.

I have realized that I need to go back to the very beginning, it cannot just start with job toxicity.

Everyday is an unfolding of stuff, some of which I can't bring myself to even type or pen down. I wish I could evaporate this stuff somehow. It's easier to talk about external things than the deep seated stuff.

A part of me even suspects that my inability to lose weight and keep it off for life is linked to some of these issues.

I don't know if this is an actual memory or a picture created from a story I was told growing up of looking for food in people's trash because the nanny my mom entrusted with taking care of us was too busy enjoying life & not doing her job. I think that's why my granny (MaNyova) had such a soft spot for me.

I didn't realize that I would have to go that far back. Current events like the killings in Mthwalume also spark bad memories of people feeling & acting entitled to my body. As much as it is a perpetrator problem, being attacked leaves you with lots of scars. The complacency & empty gestures are not helping the situation at all. Fear based parenting is also not helping anyone. If you are a parent, make sure your child can talk to you about anything. Don't just say it, live it.

This work cannot be rushed. We gotta be patient with ourselves and show some self compassion.

There's definitely a bright light at the end of this tunnel but hardwork is required to get me there.

#healing #journey #process #patience #compassion #selflove #memories #StopGBV #stopkillingwomen #stoprape

Be patient with me, I am a work in progress. Shalom✌️

 

I'm not for everyone. I hate that I'm annoying to certain people. I don't get to dazzle them with my brilliance.

I am so tempted sometimes to ask people to look past the things that annoy them.

My former director once sat next to me, leaving 50 something empty seats in that chapel only to complain about my loud breathing.

I know I breathe too loudly and on occasion, depending on what I'm eating, I can be a loud chewer. My laughs are often too loud and sound like I'm mocking people. I am told that my questions are judgemental and I am judgemental, and I know that I am not - it's just how I sound.

I could spend the next few years trying to change these things about myself or people can learn to look past them or embrace them as my quirks 🤷

Growing up, I never talked much, so maybe some elements of non-verbal communication never developed in me, I am purely speculating here.

I have also noticed that my mom doesn't articulate as much as she gives non-verbal clues, which I often miss - much to her annoyance. Nevermind that she speaks indirectly and phrases things in an unusual fashion, I often miss the unsaid. It's not that I am aloof but I simply communicate differently. When people understand that, things usually flow smoothly thereafter.

Be patient with me, I am a work in progress.

Shalom✌️

Healing of Memories Part 6

 

I have come a long way. I just watched a video about the fatshaming this person received from her doctor today. I have posted about this many times over the years.

 My own mother has known me since before birth but it irks her that I am fat & she'll be the first one to tell you that I have never been thin, ever!

When I was 12, a neighbor promised to give me wohloza (famous diet pill in KZN) when I turned 15 but they had moved away by the time I turned 15.

My lack of knowledge of how sugar  is metabolised and how fat is stored in the body at that age led to a lot of mistakes, like vomiting food & then drinking umbhubhudlo (sugar water) for energy. I would take laxatives routinely every Friday for 2 years. Laxa, Epson salt, brooklax... were readily available & easily accessible.

I didn't know there was such a thing as an eating disorder back then, all I knew was that my body size & shape wasn't socially acceptable.

Fast-forward to 2001, where I lost a considerable amount of body fat over 8 months of 1 banana a day for breakfast and lunch, plus 3 hours of walking from Pine street in Pmb to Agric campus in Scottsville(6,8km) & back.

It gave me an indication of exactly what it would take for me to consistently lose weight. Even then, I still wasn't thin. I could rock skinny jeans though💃

And when I finally got a job I started the diet pills, name it I have tried it. Herbalife & Forever, I have been there! Shapewear too🙋.

Until I discovered Chastity & Cece, I was really lost. I didn't know how to accept my socially unacceptable body. And as RuPaul says, "if you can't love yourself, who the hell is gonna love you!"

I became excited about the body positivity movement & even discovered that there are people out there who are actually attracted to big girls, not as a fetish or anything like that but genuinely see big girls as worthy of love, as sexy & most importantly as normal human beings.

I felt reaffirmed as a person & began my self love, self acceptance and self compassion journey. It's not exactly a sprint but a lifelong journey.

I trust that people who struggle with body image issues or adults who feel like they have to settle for bottom of the barrel will find freedom to be through this post. #fatphobiamustfall #BoPo #dietculture #fat

Healing of Memories Part 5

I had a random memory flash of a mean boy I went to primary school with. I only  this week that his grandmother was a Jwara.

This person is now late, he died a few years ago. He is the reason I had an extra gate installed at home. He had no sense of boundaries.

He specialized at being teachers' pet or more like impimpi back then. He'd snitch on people who have been in trouble at home, people who are dating & if someone bunked or ran away from school, he would chase them & bring them back. Oh the teachers would send him to the shops on a daily basis, probably why he was not a top performer academically 🤔

My mom couldn't believe when I told her that these teachers used to collect money from us, to buy meat from the shop, which they cooked in our Std 4 classroom, full of hungry kids. 

Ms Mothlomi used to call me Ganpiki (Guinea pig) & Ms Nkukhu called me iStetelegu (I don't know what it means). It was painful and embarrassing enough to be laughed at in class, but he made it a point to call me by these names whenever he saw me. Even at home, after school, on weekends... I would cry about it at night when everyone was asleep and I was always scheming about the best way to commit suicide because I couldn't exactly tell my parents about my problems. Clearly I failed because here I am💃.

So when Nandi gave me the nickname of Snintshi in high school, I decided to embrace it and it lost its power. It quickly fizzled out. What does not kill us makes us stronger. I grew a thick skin as years progressed, and having Alice and Nhlanhla laugh at my outbursts and failed suicide attempts certainly toughened me up. 

I forgive him (the childhood snitch) and wish for him to rest in peace.

I have been advised, or rather told to put a positive story out for every negative one that I publish but I cannot force, nor can I fake positivity. I am on a journey towards healing and I refuse to skip steps for any reason. 

I am simply recalling stuff from my past. I will write about the positive stuff when I am inspired to, for now this is what I am writing about. This is where I am currently. This is a long winding road. 

Teachers have a very important role to play in their learners' lives, it is a serious responsibility and I hope the educators of today are better than the assholes we had teaching us in primary school.

Secondly, bullying is wrong. Whether you do it at home, school, hostel or online, it doesn't matter, nobody should be bullied period.

Thirdly, our brains are wired differently. The way people process negativity is not the same, even people who look strong enough to take it, might be suffering in silence. Let's consider underlying psychological problems, you may end up sending a person to an early grave unnecessarily.

Unlearning what doesn't serve me

 

Unlearning being a survivor and a strong woman, whilst embracing the vulnerability of victimhood!

The most popular definition I could find on the web for a victim was 'a person who has been attacked, injured, robbed, or killed by someone else. : a person who is cheated or fooled by someone else. : someone or something that is harmed by an unpleasant event' 

A survivor is described as 'a person who is able to continue living their life successfully despite experiencing difficulties: He's one of life's survivors. a survivor of child abuse'

So what do you call a person who is not coping but doesn't feel that they are allowed to be weak and to feel the emotions that have? Certainly not a survivor in my book, because to live 'successfully' inspite of your burdens doesn't involve being fearful about expressing your true feelings and pretending to be okay when you are not. 

You cannot heal from the pain that you do not acknowledge. Whoever said it was politically incorrect to be victims was not empowering us, instead we got tricked into disregarding our own pain, thus blocking the healing process.

This is just how I feel, I did not read it anywhere. I am simply speaking my truth.

A woman can get raped on a Friday, cry herself to dehydration coma for the entire weekend and come Monday morning, she wears her prescribed smile and survivor posture as if nothing has happened and soldiers on.

Being a victim is not a sin, you're not being negative, you're simply stating a fact. If your husband beats you to a pulp whenever he's stressed or out argued, you my dear are a victim. There are many more scenarios that you can think of, which apply to you. 

It's women's month, so Be as fragile as you want. Be as vulnerable as you want. Do whatever it takes to heal your body, mind, soul, spirit.... That is what it means to be authetically you. Own your story. Own your experiences. Own your pain. Own your dreams and hopes. Own your journey back to self after trauma.

Shalom ✌️

KZN Premier Sihle Zikalala says not all government officials are corrupt

when poor journalism is coupled with arrogance in a racist news outlet, you shall find such.

Time for ACTION!

 It dawned on me! I keep saying that we need organizations like RAINN (Rape, Abuse and Incest National Network) in South Africa but I'm not doing anything about it.🤔
I cringe every time I have to remind my 7 year old niece to sit 'properly'. She's exposed to so much danger and doesn't even know it. I know that rape and/or molestation doesn't happen without a rapist/child molester, and I also know that boys are not parented properly. There is this 'boys will be boys' mentality, coupled with overly protective mothers with toxic 'love' for their boys and just a general lack of or misinformation about sexual assault.
We should be teaching boys not to rape but we are teaching girls to minimize their chances of being raped. We do this by monitoring how they dress, walk, talk and look at people...
There's absolutely nothing a woman can do to avoid getting raped. Rapists can break into your home at night as they did here last year and there's not a single thing you can do if you're elderly, disabled, scared, unprepared... Regardless of who and how you are actually. People can rape you in a gated community with high fences and security guards, because it's not just strangers who are rapists. It's that boyfriend who buys you flowers and showers you with lavish gifts or that suitor who feels like your consent is just a fuss, he is ready to take what he wants because he has 'paid for it' through compliments and gifts. It's that gardener you greet on your way to work because you think you are being polite and practicing Ubuntu, yet they interpret it as an invitation for sex. And then we wonder why some people are not affectionate, it's because they do not ever want to send signals that can be misinterpreted as consent. Don't expect a hug from me!

How can we teach boys about this when we don't know enough about it ourselves?
I say this based on my personal experience with an attempted sexual assault. I was in Mpumalanga with 2 colleagues (male and female) and the wife of the male colleague. A man (truck driver, not that it matters what work they did) jumped into the swimming pool with the sole intention of grabbing me. I had been ignoring his advances, catcalling and verbal harassment for a while and he thought that by jumping into the pool, I was finally gonna give him attention 🤷 or he was gonna get it by force...

I hurried out of the pool and ran to the room, visibly shaken and the male travel companion (and spouse) thought it was the funniest thing they'd ever seen on earth.  I had expected him to at least come to my defense.
He made sure to tell the whole office when we went back to work.
Now I ask you, if educated and religious people are clueless about this, what exactly are they teaching their sons?
I know so many women who have been sweet-talked & begged relentlessly and ended up giving in when they really didn't want to engage in sexual intercourse with their boyfriends & others were told it's payback for the date. Maybe those that take it by force aren't simply trash but DO NOT KNOW THAT WHAT THEY ARE DOING IS WRONG simply because no one ever told them that it was wrong.

A former friend of mine once told me that in Shona culture, a woman HAS TO ACT LIKE SHE DOES NOT WANT IT AT FIRST otherwise she would be considered loose. This was someone who had a masters degree from Europe, who would often brag about having dated white women (a story for another day). What if they honestly and truly don't want it?

I urge you please to watch TonyaTkoShow's videos, especially this one: https://youtu.be/Pqh4ro71vR0

@tonyatkotv wrote this on Fb : "Let us not forget that coercion (unrelenting "persuasion" and/or manipulation) is sexual assault. (Accept her 'no' the first time!)

A woman who WANTS to do it, does not need a man to cajole, convince or coerce her into doing it. (But eroding a woman's defenses and maneuvering himself in is some men's whole sexual strategy) " & in the video I screenshot for this post.

My Queen Indlovukazi MaWalawala Jwara

In her prime. 

This post was prompted by a memory flash of when I was 12 and struggling to cope with the bullying at school and at home. I went through a lot in my childhood but especially when I was 12, I was even hospitalized at one point. I found out that khulu Manyova wasn't my Dad's actual mom at 12. Grown men with beards, wearing Brentwood and ish started pursuing me at 12. I grew boobs at 12.

But back to this memory flashback, some people told on me and I think it was Skhanyile and maybe Mpume or Mso, I am not sure who accompanied Skhanyile on her snitching mission. I don't even know if it was done out of concern for my well-being or to get me into trouble... (The incident with Miss Mothlomi had also been reported to my folks by these girls, but I honestly still can't tell you if they were trying to get me into trouble or what.)
One of the girls from school actually wrote me a letter when I came back from hospital but I just didn't wanna deal with her, so I tore it up and threw it away without reading it.
So, both times when these girls had told on me to my parents, I would be made to take a day off from school the following day.
So after the pee incident snitching, my mom took me to Ixopo for grocery shopping but we had a detour. We got off the taxi kaDumisa eStation and had a long talk whilst walking on the disused railway spoor. We agreed on some remedial actions, which actually made a huge impact on my emotional and mental well-being. I am not sure if I had experienced my mom's softer, tender side before then. I wonder if I was always such a needy person. I really needed this from my mom.
I had always wanted my mom to be there at home every day, so I could feel like other kids but she had to work, so she could give us a better life. I understand it now, but I didn't want to back then.

My mom, Mdu and I were always in the garden together back in the 90s and we talked a lot about life during those gardening sessions. Mom is very conservative and a prude of note, so I couldn't tell her everything... if you know what I mean.
And when she worked at JV clinic from around 1996, which is when she was studying at UND, guess who visited her the most? Mdu and I!
Those were fun times. Mdu enjoyed the hot baths, heater, oven, tv... Things that were a luxury at home but basics at my mom's work cottage. Even there, she had a vegetable garden. Garden to table has always been her way!
My mom loves the garden. When she retired from nursing, she became a full-time gardener. Whether it was sunny, windy, rainy or any other type of day, you knew where to find her. She and Daddy decided to buy a few cows and goats, and she relished looking after them!
It wouldn't be an exaggeration to say that my mom could do it all. She was a speedy gonzales on the road, taxi drivers would always beg us to ask her to slow it down a bit.
One thing that my mom's not good at is communication. My brother Mdu laughs at me whenever I try to teach her to speak normal IsiZulu and not speak in riddles.
The next best thing is to translate when she's speaking to the grandkids, cause they really don't have a clue. Even Guji, the Zuluest of them all needs my translations!

We disagree on a lot of things and sometimes she surprises me. She enjoys watching Somizi on tv! She has zero problems with homosexuality.

Mommy loves her boys, her princes!

Usually daughters love daddies and sons love mothers & vice versa, which has always been the case but I made a conscious decision to love her unconditionally and I intend to do just that.😍
My dad used to quote proverbs when describing her, he loved her faithfully and accepted her exactly as she is. They were partners and a united force, always ruining our fun.🤦This is probably the reason why we can detect bs and distance ourselves from it promptly. We know what love looks like and what men are capable of for their partners. Daddy showed us in how he loved mom.

She has always been overshadowed by Daddy as if Dad did all these things by himself. Behind every successful man...
The 14th of July isn't just my dad's birthday but the anniversary of her stroke. I always talk about my momma being hemiplegic and stuff but I don't think I have ever unpacked it.
The first posthumous birthday of our father was a difficult one for all of us and I thought that mom being her forgetful self, she won't even remember it.
I had just moved out of Loreto convent (a story for another day) & moved into a super expensive place around the corner from the office, which meant that I had paid admin fees, deposit and first month's rent to City property and bought electricity units, groceries, a new bed, curtains, you name it. Hlengiwe and @sibomkhize dedicated the whole day to helping me get settled. I was over the moon but broke!
The next day I got the news of my mom's stroke and I immediately thought that she'll make a full recovery, she was not fat, she was active and she took her medication accordingly. Wrong! She lost her ability to write as her right hand side was most affected by the stroke.
Listen, my mom was running her NGO, raising a 2 year old, running the shop, working the garden and doing the usual household chores at her age and she made it look easy. In fact she started to feel the symptoms on her way back from the garden, someone had come to buy amadumbe after the shop was closed.
Her life and that of my then 2 year old niece changed abruptly.
I got on the bus (didn't even have money for buying a coffee on the way) after work on the 20th I think it was a Friday. I was glad to find out that her speech and mind weren't affected. It turned out that it was a serious stroke actually!
We arranged for her rehabilitation after we realized that she needed around the clock assistance. Thanks to my big sis Jules and aunty Albina, they did all the heavy lifting.
My sister had to take care of our niece too.

I remember how our niece would climb into bed with her Gogo as soon as we got to the hospital and the drama when we had to leave! She stayed there for a while and even made friends.
My niece and mommy are still very close and I see my now 7 years old niece taking the parent role in their relationship. Gogo resists but I think eventually she'll give in. She asks my mom questions like 'are you full? did you take your medication? are you cold?  do you need anything? ...' They have such a tight bond.
Mommy loves knitting! She makes about 3 beanies or 2 scarfs in a week, we all have different sets. In the beginning she made and donated them to her NGO, to be distributed to orphans. I think I wanna start selling them 🤔
Umuntu akaqedwa. There's plenty more I could say but I leave it here for now.

Jn 10:10 "I have come that they may have life, life to the fullest"

My journey of faith is a very long and confusing chapter in the book of my life.
[Disclaimer:
Beloveds, please know that I am merely just sharing my thoughts and feelings with you at this particular point in time. I have dealt with some of this stuff internally and to a certain degree I think that I have healed. I am simply documenting my journey.]
For starters my confirmation classes lasted 4 years, I had to watch in shame as my friends wore their white frilly dresses with long veils and white heels with stockings to match. My parents were so disappointed in me and they let me have it too.
So, because I was now repeating my confirmation classes, I was not gonna get the new dress, shoes, veil ensemble like my classmates, who were all younger than me of course. The embarrassment of wearing my mom’s old work uniform made into a skirt and those R2 lace hair bands they sold at the mission. The only thing I was happy about were the cool (brown) shoes that my God mother had given me for my birthday!
I couldn’t even laugh at the bishop’s lame jokes, I just wanted it to be over and done with.
I still believe I was robbed. I wonder if Fr Tenza would remember why I had failed . So after that, I wasn’t big on church until it wasn’t forced on me.
When I chose Catholicism, I participated fully. Joined the choir, attended conferences, became a BEC member… I even became a sponsor for a catechumen. She never pitched for her baptism and I was wearing all black for the occasion coincidentally.
And then someone duped me into ukusindiswa (being born again) . I am telling this story for the very first time. Abi was my roommate at SASOL for the mandatory vacation work (I had a bursary, long story) in December 1999. So we are praying ke before bed and she decided to lead the prayer 
Next thing she asked me to repeat after her and I did, so when we were finished praying she told me that I had just become a Mzalwane and that she was going to mentor me.
Tried to explain but decided it was easier to go along with her thing for the sake of peace (I knew how to choose my battles back then). She would ask me not to pray but say ‘yes Lord!’ when she prayed and Amen at the end
I had to stop hanging out with Lwazi and all the non-believers that I was hanging out with, she demanded. I used to sneak out to the tv room just to get away from the holier-than-thou condescension.
Funny thing is, she was dating her pastor and would kick me out of the room when she was on the phone with him. I didn’t even want to know what they were doing that was so private. She made me swear not to tell UND people about her courtship.
Fast forward to me working for the church! I got introduced to Education For Life and I saw myself grow spiritually. But as I moved from diocesan level to conference level… Hheyi that’s when I really needed God in my life and by my side at all times. EEver so faithful, he carried me and saw me through some tough times.
With time, the tough times intensified and I started to see the church differently. I felt forced to separate the church from God.
With time I started feeling like I was in a one-sided relationship with God and that it was time for Him to fight for me. Sadly that’s when a big rift happened between God and I, to the point where I was so spiritually poor, I couldn’t pray out loud. If I tried, screams and cries would come out of my mouth but no words.
I got invited to participate in the retreat in daily life program called ‘encounter with God’ by one of my dear friends. I think the new relationship I have with God is largely as a result of the encounter with God journey. Bra Thabo had his hands full, mentoring and guiding me.
A lot of people have left our church wounded and not knowing who to turn to because of who had hurt them and the positions they hold.

I, on the other hand am less interested in church and more focused on God right now.

Titus O'Neil's mom on having her son when she was 11 years old: My Son i...

Rest in peace Fr Sizwe Nxasana

Fr Sizwe Nxasana Rest in Peace ·From the Southern Cross

By Fr S’milo Mngadi – At 8:30am on Sunday, June 21, the vibrant Fr Sizwe Wiseman Nxasana of Mariannhill was called to rest at the age of 39 at the Westville Life Hospital, Durban, after a short illness with pulmonary oedema.

Fr Sizwe grew up at St Alphonse parish in Umlazi under the mentorship of the late Fr Reginald Vezi who instilled in him a deep Marian spirituality. He was quoted as saying: “My wish after death is to see Our Lady.”

Having completed a BA in social sciences at the University of KwaZulu-Natal in 2001, young Sizwe joined priestly formation. He studied at St John Vianney Seminary and was ordained a priest in 2009.

Fr Sizwe served for a short time at Mhlabashane mission before being appointed priest-incharge of the small, rural Einsiedeln mission station.

With fewer than 50 parishioners, he formed a vibrant community. On the occasion of the parish’s 125th anniversary celebrations in 2012, Bishop Mlungisi Dlungwane of Mariannhill publicly praised Fr Sizwe’s exceptional organisational skills.

Remote as it was, Einsiedeln had become a resting place for many priests thanks to Fr Sizwe’s great hospitality and excellent culinary skills.

In 2018, he was moved to the more cosmopolitan Mariannridge. Within a short space of time, he had impacted on so many lives that a young man who had almost lapsed, reacting to the news of his death, said: “I had become so proud to say that I am Catholic even in public due to his inspiration.”

A man of great creativity, Fr Sizwe last year organised a parish mission of a kind. Over and above the normal spiritual side, he invited speakers from different sectors to address socio-economic challenges and ills affecting the parishioners.

A Facebook post on May 20, just a month before his death, puts this into perspective: “We need to work quickly and selflessly to change people’s lives, for the time is short.”

Fr Sizwe was also involved with Justice & Peace work in the diocese. For years, he was a diocesan catechetical director going around forming catechists in parishes.

Though generally a jovial and easygoing person, he was firm when it came to matters of Catholic faith and teaching. One prominent catechist said: “He never minced his words when it came to matters of faith which he knew so well but simply articulated.”

He was also the diocesan chaplain of the Catholic Women’s League, which loved him dearly.

On May 31, the feast of the Visitation, Fr Sizwe led a vehicle rosary procession with a hail-speaker around his whole parish, saying that he misses his parishioners. He blessed those who could not join him in their vehicles as they stood in their driveways. It was the last time he was to gather them in prayer.

Fr Sizwe was laid to rest at Bishop Paul Themba Mngoma Clergy Home, Port Shepstone, on June 26 after a private funeral due to Covid-19 lockdown regulations.

Take it to the Lord in prayer!

I'm so happy and appreciative that I am now at a point where I can declare my self love openly and not care what anybody else thinks about it.
I have received all sorts of advice from well-meaning individuals who were embarrassed on my behalf about how God made me. As a child, I took it all in even though it hurt but when I turned 15 something snapped. Blame the hormones!
I went off on Magubane at the Std 10 study room for calling me 'inguxumba', a word I have never heard again since. I knew exactly what it meant, even though it probably was a made-up word. It fulfilled its purpose. I read her for filth and I have never stopped delivering lines that punch people harder than my fists could ever do.
I remember the advice 'to pinch my nose' whenever my hand was free, so that it's not so flat. And to put my glasses on the bridge of my nose to disguise my wide bridge. Oh and how can I forget about the widow's peak correction by shaving my hairline straight every day. Can you imagine? The one I fell for at first was the use of different contraptions to enhance my silhouette. *clears throat*
Oh I fell for this one and even introduced my sisters to it. It had come from a very unlikely source, our always drunk cousin Eli and he wasn't discreet about it. Asked me why I don't use a girdle in a taxi full of people. To his defense, he was drunk.
We called it islender, I had all sorts of different ones. I still do actually.
The simpler route didn't occur to these individuals, accept the person exactly how they look. An alternative is to avoid looking at people who are not up to your standards, you know some people accuse God of slacking off in the creation aspect. Maybe he's too busy answering your prayers or trying to translate the tongues that you have been bombarding him with. I don't know 🤷
My tip for you dear reader is to refrain from giving unsolicited advice about people's bodies and faces. I owe nobody a flat tummy, big booty, narrow face and facial features. I love what God gave me. If you have complaints, direct them to God via Jesus. Okay!