Likely Story

I am pretty sure he paid his taxes and ate all his vegetables. Hell, I am even sure he tithed and gave to those in need too. Wreathed in smiles, he was often seen outside playing with the small children that he took care of. It was his duty as the steward to take care of us and to ensure that we were “safe”; a word I quickly learnt meant nothing. People often referred to him as a fatherly figure who took good care of both his kids and the kids in the orphanage that he himself had started from scratch. Even his name, Noel, sounded like a melody. One had to lean over and keep very still when talking to him as he spoke so softly that you could possibly miss what he was saying altogether if you so much as looked the other way. Some said he was soft spoken; I found it unnerving that one could speak the meanest things with a calmness that resembled that of the sea. Once, in the middle of the night, on one of the many visits he paid to the girls’ dome he had whispered that if I so much told a soul about our “activities”, he would see to it that what my mother had started would be done successfully this time. For what novice starts to murder three of her children and successfully kills the two and gets interrupted by a drug selling person who wants to collect the money she owed for the cocaine, pays part of the money then negotiates to get more on credit, forgets she has one more child to kill who is keeping as still as she possibly can in the hopes that by some stroke of luck she will be spared, starts to take the cocaine again and overdoses thereby ending her own life as well? It was then I learnt that sometimes all you have to do is keep still and it will soon be over, so that’s what I did, day in and day out. His saliva, tasted like vinegar and I know that a carpenter needs a good hammer to bang the nail as the old adage goes but in this case his hammer was far too big for my six year old body, except this carpenter didn’t care and all I could do was keep still until he moved to the next bed and the next, not all at once of course, just as many as he could do in one night. The description of a good night was one he didn’t come to your bed. No one spoke about it in the mornings or any other time for that matter. What was there to talk about? Who to tell? His wife who helped to run the place and was fully aware of what was going on? The Pastor whose adoration of this tithe-paying man was obvious to all? And say what? Such a cliché story? Likely story, huh?

This Life

With the start of the new year I am sure most of you have had it up to here with the “New year, new me,  new beginnings” mantras. Not to mention the New Year resolutions or to do lists as it were. Not that it’s bad to do so but lately I have been thinking a lot about death and how unpredictable it is. I suppose it’s the loss of my brother last year that made it draw much closer to home. He was there today and gone the next and throughout the funeral I felt like I was in some sort of trance. It was a hard pill to swallow.

That said, it was also the realization that I am ill prepared for my own death should it come, or the death of those I love most. I want to be prepared though for my death, to have a close relationship with God, spend quality time with those I love and celebrate their lives should they die or have mine celebrated should I die.  I want to make a difference in this world, fulfill my purpose in this life and do everything that I was meant to do in this life with the time I have. When I forget this during the course of the year, I hope this post will be a reminder.

Shoulda,Woulda, Coulda….

The day I had to run with my life I did not know how to run and in which direction to run in. To be fair I had never had to do this before and as such had no experience to bring to the table. Guaranteed, I had read all the self-help books on how to react in situations like these and given the opportunity I could tell it to anyone in my sleep yet at this particular moment all those “how-to rules” I had embedded in my mind had been shredded into a million little pieces and all seemed to be falderal now that I actually needed to use them. 

 Don’t get me wrong, under normal conditions I am as agile as a monkey and often times I had seen people in the same situation I was in and wondered how dumb they must have been to not flee with their lives. The worst part is i did not know that running was in fact the only choice I had to deal with or I would forever regret standing there in my numbness. That said, I did what any normal human being in my shoes would not have done, I stood on the spot, frozen, unmoving as though I had roots going deep down into the ground. No doubt, my brain did its part and sent all the necessary messages, flashlights, siren even and the constant prompt to run as fast as I could, yet my body failed me and I stood there like a house by the side of the road. I kept telling myself no, I did not have to run. To run would be drastic surely? Perhaps I can slowly retreat and maintain my dignity in the process but who would actually care if I ran like a person set alight considering everyone else was busy with their lives? Hang on! Whose dignity and who actually defined it?  I tried to comfort myself and kept telling myself my situation would probably change itself without me doing a single thing. I have heard of scenarios of people being saved by a bolt of lightning (never mind that it wasn’t raining) or a guardian angel.  I blinked sweat in my eyes like a person who had just completed a marathon race. As the torture of my indecision and fear threatened to crush me, I had no idea that the cost of standing there as I did would be paid for many years to come at an unjustifiable exorbitant cost.

Looking back, I guess it was fear of the unknown, if I ran away then what? What awaited me out there? Wouldn’t I end up worse than I already was? After all, it wasn’t as bad as everyone said it was? Surely there was another way? Yet I look back now and realise no! The truth of the matter is no! There really wasn’t any other way. For how would I ever discover the joy and freedom that awaited me?

Choices

I am one of the most indecisive people I know, in fact, it’s so bad that the only thing I am decided about is being undecided. I have however learnt through the years that not making a choice when you need to is also a choice, for it could mean seizing an opportunity there and then or missing it, determining life and death for someone else or even yourself, walking away from a bad relationship or staying in a good one. Not only is it important to make the right decisions but depending on the nature of the decision more often than not your timing for that decision has to be right, that or life will decide for you. How you will decide to deal with the consequences is also another issue. This is the reason why the exact thing can happen to two different people but can mold one and destroy the other.

My hope is that you make the right choices in life, whether it be to change a job, exercise, study, eat healthy or people that influence your life somehow but if not I hope you will have the grace to deal with the consequences and to choose to have a good attitude dealing with whatever life throws at you for sometimes the wrong choices bring us to the right places. If you wish for something to change make a different choice.

Of sharks, pretenders, disguised angels and sorts.

I am not sure if I concur with the notion that first impressions last the longest. I say so because in my life this has not always been the case. There are people i have known for a long time that i NEVER thought i would ever have anything to do with in my entire life but in time, these have turned out to be some of my closest friends. So yes, we have our differences but this just makes for some of the most interesting conversations and more often than not gives me a fresh perspective on things, a much needed one if you ask me. What I mean is when I met these people I literally said to myself “ ummm, I hope this is the last time I’m seeing you” yet encounters with that person turned out to be two, five, ten until you are at that “I can’t keep track of the count” number and guess what? Much to my surprise I enjoyed their company as much as they did mine. Yes, these were disguised angels in a way and if it were my choice to make I would have never known but time has taught me that yes, God knows exactly what we need. All the things he has chosen for me are perfect for me and if I could choose for myself without knowing what he had in store for me I might have settled for much less.

On the other hand, there are people I thought would stay a lifetime but were in my life briefly or for a season as they say, it might have been my fault or theirs, or no one’s really but at some point it was very clear that the relationship or friendship had run its course no matter how hard you tried to salvage it. Some were simply pretenders or good actors as it were, for their first impressions could have won an Oscar only to realize much later they are nothing close to the person they portrayed. Some, conniving as they are, were probably after something you had or could do for them. Sharks I call them. That said, I believe in second chances, even third, fourth, fifth chances because sometimes first impressions are not all you need to know and conclude on a person and no, they don’t need to last unless you want them to. After all, things are not always what they seem, the people you would be willing to take a bullet for are usually the ones behind the gun.

Telephone

Ever felt like talking to someone and they were just not there to hang out with you or pick up the phone or simply too busy to be bothered really? If you were desperate, you probably left countless voicemail messages and later, much later you probably wished u had not left so many. Like I once heard someone say, if they don’t pick it up the first, second and third time they probably can’t or don’t want to so just stop already. I suppose in a way the traditional telephones before cell phones were much gentler on the soul in that if not picked you could easily comfort yourself by assuming there was no one available to pick it up. Now with your number flashing on the screen, call barring, call diverting you just never know what it could be.Ha!

 Anyway, all these telephone thoughts got me thinking how grateful i am for the gift of prayer and how easy it is to pray at any time, any place. I am glad i don’t have to wait to be called back or leave a voicemail message just because at that point God is not available. In my opinion if anyone should be too busy to take a moment to listen then it should be God , what with all the people of the world to listen to, birds to feed, wars to be stopped and a whole lot more,  yet he is the ever accessible to us or at least those of us who choose to get in touch with him. So next time before you frantically search for your friend on chat, text or call to share a problem, vent a frustration or share a joy just remember to send a prayer first. Telephone God. For too often we run to people that really can’t help us except by listening and sometimes make us regret even telling them whatever news we had in the first place whilst on the other hand God always has a plan, a good plan for your life.

Somebody almost walked off wid alla my stuff

Ntozake Shange wrote this poem, it spoke to me in a lot of ways and i thought i would share with y'all,dont let anybody walk away with your stuff.

somebody almost walked off wid alla my stuff 
not my poems or a dance i gave up in the street
 but somebody almost walked off wid alla my stuff

like a kleptomaniac workin hard & forgettin while stealin
 this is mine/this aint yr stuff/
now why don’t you put me back & let me hang out in my own self

somebody almost walked off wit alla my stuff 
& didn’t care enuf to send a note home sayin 
i was late for my solo conversation
 or two sizes to small for my own tacky skirts

what can anybody do wit somethin of no value on
a open market/ did you getta dime for my things/
hey man/ where are you goin wid alla my stuff/
to ohh & ahh abt/ daddy/ i gotta mainline number 
from my own shit/ now wontcha put me back/ & let
 me play this duet/ wit silver ring in my nose/
honest to god/

somebody almost run off wit alla my stuff/ 
& i didnt bring anythin but the kick & sway of it 
the perfect ass for my man & none of it is theirs 
this is mine/ ntozake ‘her own things’/ that’s my name
 now give me my stuff/ i see ya hidin my laugh/ & how i
s it wif my legs open sometimes/ to give me 
some sunlight/ & there goes my love my toes my chewed 
up finger nails/ niggah/ wif the curls in yr hair/
mr. louisiana hot link/

i want my stuff back/
my rhytums & my voice/ open my mouth/ & let me talk ya 
outta/ throwin my shit in the sewar/ this is some delicate 
leg & whimsical kiss/ i gotta have to give to my choice/
without you runnin off wit alla my shit/
now you cant have me less i give me away/ & i waz
doin all that/ til ya run off on a good thing/

who is this you left me wit/ some simple bitch 
widda bad attitude/ i wants my things/
i want my arm wit the hot iron scar/ & my leg wit the
 flea bite/ i want my calloused feet & quik language back
in my mouth/ fried plantains/ pineapple pear juice/ 
sun-ra & joseph & jules/ i want my own things/ how i lived them/
& give me my memories/ how i waz when i waz there/
you cant have them or do nothin wit them/

stealin my shit from me/ dont make it yrs/ makes it stolen/
somebody almost run off wit alla my stuff/ & i waz standin
 there/ lookin at myself/ the whole time 
& it waznt a spirit took my stuff/ waz a man whose 
ego walked round like Rodan’s shadow/ waz a man faster
n my innocence/

waz a lover/ i made too much 
room for/ almost run off wit alla my stuff/
& i didnt know i’d give it up so quik/ & the one runnin wit it/
don’t know he got it/ & i’m shoutin this is mine/ & he dont 
know he got it/ my stuff is the anonymous ripped off treasure
 of the year/

did you know somebody almost got away wit me/
me in a plastic bag under their arm/ me 
danglin on a string of personal carelessness/ i’m spattered wit
 mud & city rain/ & no i didnt get a chance to take a douche/
hey man/ this is not your perogative/ i gotta have me in my
 pocket/ to get round like a good woman shd/ & make the poem
in the pot or the chicken in the dance/

what i got to do/
i gotta get my stuff to do it to/
why dont ya find yr own things/ & leave this package 
of me for my destiny/ what ya got to get from me/
i’ll give it to ya/ yeh/ i’ll give it to ya/
round 5:00 in the winter/ when the sky is blue-red/
& Dew City is gettin pressed/ if it’s really my stuff/
ya gotta give it to me/ if ya really want it/ i’m 
the only one/ can handle it

-ntozake shange. “For coloured girls who have considered suicide when the rainbow is enuf”