Just love me!

Every time I leave you my heart breaks but I won’t stop coming because though leaving you breaks me, seeing you heals me.

Its a year in a few minutes that this thing started. I think you know but because you’re so calculated you probably won’t say anything about it. Its been a year… You’ve never held my hand in public, you’ve never just pulled me in for a kiss in public, you’ve never told me you love me and every time I tell you I miss you I’ve always gotten an answer I don’t quite understand. Yesterday was the second time we’ve left and gone somewhere together.

I find it difficult to be honest with you, it’s true. I’m scared though, mostly because I think that once I tell you you’ll leave and give me a time out like the last time I told you about my feelings. I’m not quite sure I’d be able to deal with telling you I think I’m in love with you, and you telling me you think you should give me time to myself. It’s the last thing I need or want. I want you, that’s all.

This is the longest I’ve gone of not seeing you. And this last time was the first time I was with you for so long since I’ve known you. It’s so scary. I haven’t known you for a minute and already my life seems so incomplete without you.

You aren’t even all I want and or need right now! You don’t let me bitch and moan, you don’t hold my hand, you don’t whisper sweet nothings but you’re honest and you’re real and you’re so amazing. I don’t think he makes them like he made you anymore and I hope I get to keep you but I’m scared I won’t.

It’s been about 26 hours since I Saw you. I wanna see you again now. I wanna sleep next to you always. I wanna eat with you every night and watch movies with you and stay dirty together all day and get high together and sleep all day…

I went to the bathroom about six times to look at myself and make sure I looked good and calm as I waited for you at the airport. I kept waiting, looking around for you to just pop up and do something silly. I tried my hardest not to jump into your arms for a hug when I first saw you. I traveled for hours to see you. Its serious…

I slept my best with you even when my sinus was killing me having you next to me was peace. I wasn’t nervous or anxious or scared, I was with you and that was enough. You are enough.

You inspire me.
You make me wanna be better than I am even though you make me a bit insecure and nervous about myself – we need to discuss that one day when I can say even ten lines of this to your face…

I respect you and all you are because you’re so amazing and strong. I know men are strong naturally physically but you’re really so strong, emotionally and spiritually, its incredible and I know you’re only gonna get stronger, I know.

I can’t say anything to you just yet but this is practice. I pray so hard for you. I pray so hard for us.

Ag, Just love me already! Lets love each other and make moves for each other… we’ve already started…

Loveprints on my heart

From as long ago as I can remember, the coolest thing about going home was seeing my cousins and my uncle. Now driving home was always a bit of a dramatic trip. My dad would forget to fix something in the car and as a result we’d get stuck in the middle of nowhere for a few hours while he tried to fix it himself and he’d do it. OR the key would just stop working cause it can or like this one time when the wheel just came loose and rolled off. I have no idea how something like that happens, but with our family it always does. Anyway with all that drama and the fact that we always travelled in the evening we never arrived earlier that 1am. Now in the rural areas, 1am is very late! But this was never too late for my uncle. When we were on our way we’d call him every few hours to let him know how far we were and it’s like he could hear the car cause just as we turned the corner he’s come out to open the gate for us. Now this for me was awesome because I really had no desire to be outside alone opening the gate. So because my uncle lived in my mom’s house, life was good. It was never dark when we arrived. The gate was open for us when we arrived. He made sure we were safe and alive and would not rest until he saw us.
Exactly a month and a day ago my uncle passed away and I felt a part of me die. I didn’t know what to do with myself because even though I’ve lost several family members over the past six years I didn’t realise how unclose we were. My mother didn’t even know how to tell me. Her only surviving brother passed away, the only man who was like a father to me other than my actual father. I wanted this man to walk me down the aisle. It was a given that this man would be the main man at my lobola negotiations, he’d vet my future husband, he would bless everything. Without him things don’t happen…
I arrived home to say my final goodbyes to this man who was literally the coolest dude, and the lights were off. The gate was locked and the house sat in silence as though like me, mourning the death of this wonderful man. I broke. His room sat there all clean and so empty. The house was so empty.
I’ve always been my mothers’ handbag so when she traveled to the Eastern Cape alone I was always there. As I sat on my mom’s bed I remembered how much love my uncle had in his heart. I remembered how when I was younger there was no ceiling in the house; my mom and uncle would sit in the lounge talking until around 2am then they’d get tired and both go to their rooms where they’d lie on their beds but keep talking. This was only possible because we didn’t have a ceiling. They would go on for hours talking about their childhoods and the happenings in the village. They’d go on all sorts of emotional journeys night after night and they’d never get tired. They would laugh and cry and it was just so intense to sit there and listen to them. They epitomised love, friendship, family.
Everyone at his memorial vigil spoke mostly of how much love this man had. It was unlike a traditional man like my uncle to have so much love but he did and it wasn’t just for us as his nieces and nephews but it was for anyone and everyone especially if you loved him.
He was very sensitive. He wanted respect and love and attention. He knew his days were drawing near. He said he was leaving on Thursday, he just didn’t know he was leaving for good.
My uncle was handsome. He was tall, dark, had a thick almost curly kinda old school mustache. He was humble but stern. He was my mothers’ brother, the only uncle I ever knew so well and loved so much. My mother’s best friend and the epitome of love. This man would get up in a room full of his drinking buddies and give my mom the biggest hug. He had no shame for his love for us.
In my eyes, in my heart, my uncle is a legend. He is father to many. He is made of love and leaves a scent of the holiest perfume where he walks. He is the greatest blessing.
I cannot begin to express how broken I am but also, how blessed I have been to have had this man in my life and more importantly in my mothers life. Life has changed. We have taken such a blow as a family. I don’t know how to even begin this process of recovery. Waking up is painful, writing is painful and nothing seems to be for anything. I know time heals all wounds and that we too will heal…
The dead are asleep. They feel no pain and no sickness. As a believer in Christ I know that this is a moment of rejoicing and that he is in peace. One day the trump will sound and we will rejoice. Death where is your sting… Be still my aching heart… There are loveprints on your heart.

If you were….

If you were a job you’d pay the most

If you were a food you’d taste best

If you were a sport you’d be my favorite

If you were a painting you would be the only item worth seeing in the gallery

If you were a song you’d be on repeat

If you were a day you’d be the best day of the week and Id live every other day in anticipation of you

If you were a bible verse you’d be the verse that saves me when I’m on deaths bed

If you were a prayer you’d go straight to heart of God and the devil would shiver every time I said you

If you were a teddy-bear I’d hold you close every night and never let go

If you were the road Id be traveling across the world to learn your every curve and crack

If you were a drug I’d be an addict

If you were a book I’d read you always

If you were a poem I’d recite you on the worlds biggest stages, you’d be my entire repetoire

If you were mine I’d love you fully, wholeheartedly, always, forever.

Your safety

Every time you leave my place,  I say a little prayer for your safety. I watch you drive off wishing I could watch until you got home and make sure that nothing touched you the whole way there.

About three months ago you went MIA on me. I called,  I sent texts,  I emailed. Nothing. I went cold inside every time I sent something and got no response. I looked online for car accidents in the areas which I know you travel through. I watched the news and it dawned on me that as much as I didn’t really have you, I could lose you in the blink of an eye and not know it.

You finally returned from your disappearing act and I don’t remember if I told you that I was a lil scared but I was.
Last night after you left I made some food and passed out. Because I knew you had places to go before you got home it didn’t click that you hadn’t told me you were home safe. When I read your email this morning,  I froze.

You are fine. You are alive. But you could’ve been hurt. Anything could have happened to you and I would have never known.
Every day I realise that every moment I spend with you is special and that I appreciate thoae moments. Life is short and although I might not be able to share my every feeling and desire for you with you, I’m glad I get the moments I do.

I thank God you’re alive. I’m glad you’re safe. I pray mental and spiritual peace be with you.

I’m learning
I’m thankful
PetalC

You’re late

I’ve been struggling to write. I’ve been feeling like the stuff I do eventually write is sad and soppy. Trying to get over that.

You’re late

You’re late
You said you would arrive tonight. You said you would come see me. You’re late. I’ve been up and waiting on this chair for three hours now. I’ve shed about four or eight tears. I’ve cleaned my room extra (I do that when you’re visiting), I’ve found another light bulb for my lamp so we don’t have to have the lights too bright when we start. I don’t like the light too bright,  in fact if I didn’t wanna see your face and your wonder of a body I would have the lights off completely. I don’t think this needs lights… its our mouths locking,  our hands feeling,  our souls searching,  our bodies on fire from the inside out….

You’re late. I wanted you to get here three hours ago. I wanted your laughter filling my room,  I wanted to talk. I wanted to talk about that conversation we had the other day over the phone but really we ended it. I just wanna go on. I wanna tell you that I can’t wait till we are both on leave and we can spend all day together watching stuff and talking and learning each other.

You’re late!
I’ve made sure I don’t fall asleep, Well I’ve tried. I’ve sat here watching stuff, reading stuff,  googling stuff and it doesn’t feel like you’re getting here fast enough.
I look forward to telling you my lame stories and even though I feel you thinking they’re dumb, I wanna tell you. 

I actually had a dream about you a week or two ago. I dreamt it was September and I found out I was pregnant. I called you and you were so cool. I then two weeks later went into labour and I went through some tests and the lady at the hospital said I was all good. Then I went to get you and we went back to the hospital and I was about to start the birthing. That’s when I woke up.

When I woke up I was so heavy and wanted to be held and cry and I have no idea why cause I don’t really want kids but I can imagine…

Thats one of those stories I’m not telling you. But it’s one of my stories.

You’re late! I keep thinking just don’t come through anymore but that’ll break me cause I want you to come….

You make me mad.

You’re late. Please get here. I know you didn’t really give me a time,  but you’re late. Get here. Please

Prison Preparation

Prison preparation workshop day

So for the past two weeks I’ve been going to a women’s correctional facility in the area to conduct a popular participatory theatre project with the women there. We’d been preparing for about two weeks looking at the history of prisons in South Africa and the patriarchy and sexism involved in the conviction of women.
We’re writing journals so I’ll be sharing from my journal… this is a big learning and growing experience for me.

We had a workshop before we went in. I generally have trouble with starting group work. It’s just a bit awkward for me. Also I was wondering how when there are only four of us in this class we’d conduct this workshop.
We sat anywhere in the studio and were given three pieces of paper. We divided each piece into four sections. 

On the first piece were four things we would take anywhere. Sort of what would I save if my room were burning I guess: ring, bible, devotional and cellphone.      

2. What roles do I play in my life: aunt,  sister,  daughter,  confidant.       

3. The most important people in my life: my mother,  father,  friend and myself.                                                      
4 . Things I enjoy to do: Reading,  sleeping,  acting and sex.                      
5.. My dreams/aspirations: buy my dad a car, build a home,  become a successful working production guru,  actress,  writer and director.  Be with my one (whoever he is).

My lecturer then went on to tell us what we’d be allowed to take in, what would be dangerous for us to take in and what we just could and could not do, roles we could no longer play and dreams we’d never see realised. I went a bit cold.
I imagined not being able to have my ring on my finger which is sentimental to me. I imagined not being able to call and text my mom whenever I want to,  or my special friend. I’d never be able to make money and buy dad a car or build a home. I got scared. As much as it seems far fetched that I could end up in prison,  it could happen at any moment and I would lose so many things and people whom I hold so close to my heart.
I began to feel a bit more nervous about going in that Monday. We speak so freely about the things that mean a lot to us and the people who mean a lot to us that I was nervous I’d speak too freely and be insensitive to the women.

I felt nervous about facilitating a project with women much older than me. I was scared I might undermine them and look like I think I know better than them when they’re the ones who are incarcerated and not me.
I’m looking forward to going in but I’m still a bit nervous.

These learning things
PetalC

SANKOFA

Last night I was going through my blog. Reading other blogs and thought of changing this blogs name. I ended up doing some other stuff and figured I’d do it today. I want to call it SANKOFA. In the Ghanaian language of Akan it means “reach back and get it.” Now I’m trying to be a consistent blogger but I’m not always ready when its time to post something so I go through stuff I’ve written for plays, for fun, for release. For me this is going back and getting it; my thoughts, my lessons, my writings, my feelings and all of that stuff that belongs to me.

I found this tonight. The instruction was sex… Now I personally think sex is great but its not always great for everyone. So I wrote the following on behalf of a character I was gonna play…

Last night I asked my partner if we could stop having sex. Not because I stopped liking it, because I love our sex life but because it was so good. My sex life is everything a girl dreams of. My man is like a sex god. He has talented hands, a talented and a mighty talented you know what else. On top of all the talent he makes me feel so good. Not only in bed but everywhere. I know he loves me because he is not afraid to show me.

Last night after we had sex or made love. Whatever makes you feel better about this, I completely broke down. I felt a pain in the pit of my stomach that I could not explain. I felt my soul rip into pieces and I fell, I broke, I felt like I was dying. I felt like I was dying for everyday that I’d pretended to be happy and for every hurt I had had to overlook. I broke and I didn’t understand why.

I lay there in his arms sobbing, my whole body shaking and I was so confused. I was certain of the way I felt but I had no idea why I would feel the way I did. My job is okay, it helps pay the bills, and the kids are all well and good. My husband loves me dearly and makes me feel like a goddess but still I feel like my world is crumbling and I cannot explain it.

I can hardly sleep. In fact I fear sleep. Especially when I am alone. Not because I’m scared of nightmares but because I have to face myself and the way I feel but once I’m asleep I never want to wake up because then I must face the world. I must be a mother to my children, a partner to my man, a committed employee at work, an activist and at the end of the day I have to face myself.

There’s this song… only know you’ve been high when you feeling low? That line is so real for me and that’s where the sex thing comes in. sex is my happy place. I love it. I’m at my weakest with the one I love most and I’m okay. I’m safe in his arms, naked with him, real with him and he loves me and accepts me for all that I am and I satisfy him with just me and enjoying myself while being with him. I can’t explain it. It’s a place where I’m in no control and I’m okay with it. I’m exposed flaws and all, and it’s ok. I’m in a world of passion and love and romance and I come. I come emotionally, I come physically and then I come down and it’s back to the reality which is my sadness. I’m not a sex addict. I don’t use it to forget. I use it to be happy. I don’t use him I love him. I love it. I love us but I hate my reality though I love it because I do I just need to get to know my enemy like I’ve come to know my lover and then my lover…

 PetalC

Not in love

This weekend I took an impromptu trip and needed a place to stay for two nights. My ex took me in. We dated about 6 years ago but have remained friends. This year we had a minor slip in our friendship, lines were seriously blurred and we slipped. For me that slip was okay because it was like reading the last page of a book and having that aha! moment and it being okay for the book to be ending.

For him though this was not the case. I will not assume I know what he thinks when we’re together but I know this man was in love with me and though I love him, I am not,  nor was I, in love with him.

I realise that it is difficult to be friends with someone you were once in love with. It’s painful and its dangerous. This man is one of my closest friends. When I got that call last week that I needed to leave I knew he would be able to help if he didn’t have other plans. It’s this love thing. For someone you love,  you help.

Now as I’m writing this I realise its hard for me to let go of this man as my friend. Many of the men I know don’t agree with friendships with exes but how can one just be expected to let go of one who loves them fully with no judgement,  who’s always honest and is always there and whom they love? Also,  there are so few good men around,  and even though I do not want to pursue a romantic relationship with him, I want him here. I wanna know I still matter to someone good and someone who actually shows that they care and someone I care about. I find it so difficult to confide in someone I don’t care deeply about myself.

The thing I’ve now been asking myself today is why? Like, why can’t I just fall in love with this man who always,  always catches me when I fall. Who is waiting for me to fall in love and ready, Who knows by the sound of my voice that something is wrong, Who is always honest with me and expects the same from me? My answer: because I’m not in love and its okay. I’m not gonna force myself to love him because then I’ll screw it all up. I’ll hurt him, he’ll be angry and maybe even hate me and most importantly I would be standing in the girl he is supposed to be withs way and that is so wrong. It’s okay to have great men in our lives and not see romance as the only option. This man was my first boyfriend and though I’m the one who got scared of how serious we were and ran, that relationship and conversations with him have helped me sooo much in discovering myself as a lover and also with understanding relationships and the importance of communication.

My lesson? 
It’s okay to love and not be in love. Its life. Its also natural.
PetalC

Waiting

I’m in a work-shop production called UN(Muted). A story where the world is dark and grey and art doesn’t exist. We all write before rehearsals as these five youngsters who meet in a secret space to sing and dance and write and paint and all the things that add art and color to our lives. This is my current offering:

I come from a line of waiters. We waited for something or someone to come around and save us from our backwardness and our lack and suffering. They came and they left us stranded and needing and wanting and suffering. So we waited for someone else to come and save us. Someone to free us from the shackles of colonization and white dominance and oppression and segregation and all those things that okhokho bethu(our great-grand parents), carried to their graves. We waited. We waited for freedom, for democracy, for better education and better homes and better everything and then it seemed they were near so we waited in long lines to cast our votes and be heard. Our votes count they lied. They lied everywhere about this; schools, homes, governments, work places… your opinion counts. Raise your voice and be heard they said. And we waited for it to count and be heard and be recognized. We waited. Little did we know that we were waiting for this. Waiting for the only thing that ever truly belonged to us to be taken away from us, leaving us poor in the worst way possible. Leaving us lonely and abandoned in a way only our souls can tell.

If you take away my music what do you expect me to do? How do you expect me to live? How do I breathe if not in melodies and rhythms and poetry that makes sense to everyone? How do I speak if not in cadences and terraced dynamics and legatos and staccatos and if my words can’t be described as harmonious? What sense does love make if I can’t sing about it? If I can’t write him poems and symphonies of my hearts desires? I can’t say everything I feel? I don’t even understand everything I feel without a song or even a dance.

What sense is praise without song? In heaven they say the angels are always singing. Is this how we know it’s over and we’re living in the darkest day man will ever know? It can’t get darker than this. If I can’t sing to God in my loudest boldest voice in praise and I can’t cry out to him in song when in need him what sense is my life? How will I heal now? Is there hope for healing?  How will we live?

I come from a generation of waiters. We were always waiting for something or someone to come in and change our lives. We waited for someone or something to happen so that things could better. We waited too long for the wrong thing. We should’ve prayed to awake from our slumber which kept us tied up in the unreal anticipation of the arrival of change from a stranger, an imposter really, a foreigner. What were they thinking waiting? What were we thinking waiting? We waited too long. Now we wait for death, a promised death, a definite death and death that has already started, eating us from the inside… our souls disintegrate before our bodies in this story. We won’t make it.

PetalC

Exchanging fear for faith

Last night a friend asked me to be his partner in a two man kids show. First show is in about three weeks. I didn’t say yes. I was flooded with thoughts of am I good enough?  Will I learn fast enough?  Will he feel like he’s made a mistake two weeks in and wanna replace me?

Two weeks ago a friend called me for a job opening. I thought it was a birthday prank but I went there anyway, CV and ID in hand. I got the job.

A few months ago a friend asked to direct me  in a one man show and take it to the national arts festival next year in July. I freaked. I agreed.

I’ve been having a lot of these thoughts. This fear, the thought that I might not be good enough, that I’ll fail, that something will go wrong. These thoughts. I think this anxiousness might have been a part of the cause of my recent attack..

Before I go on stage I say a prayer hoping that God will shine through me and make my performance that much better, hoping he’ll shine through me and make it all that much better. This is my way of eliminating those thoughts in those moments.

I was in devotion a few hours ago and read a verse about how as people we must exchange our guilt for freedom. This made me think,  I must exchange my fear for faith. There must be some faith in me from my employers and my friends and all those who come watch my shows and tell others to watch my shows right?  So there’s something right… I must see it and if I don’t I must believe it is there just as I belive God is there in every single one of my performances.

There are many lessons I learn daily and there are many things I need to remember daily in order to survive;  not everyone wants the the best for me. I must always be humble even when I am convinced I know better.  Some battles are better unfought. Gods got it.

I need to remind myself that I am good. I have been given a gift and if someone sees it its a good thing. I must remember that i too am destined for success and must work at it and take every opportunity given to me. If i fail, I’ll learn from that and be better next time. I must learn to see in myself what others see and more. I will pass. I will succeed. I will win.

Lessons I’m learning.
Exchanging the bad for good.
Being conscious.
I’m learning.
PetalC