I’ve made mistakes. More than a few. I haven’t always apologised for my behaviour, for the mistakes I made, the wrong journey I took, the path less travelled. I am broken inside. I sometimes feel numb and dead inside when I exercise. Especially when I exercise. When I’m stressed out, I exercise a lot. I watch films. I read poetry. I write poetry. But these days it just feels as if I can’t carry out the simplest of tasks. I feel that nobody really loves me for me. I think of Elvis, I think of Sinatra, I think of Sammy Davis Junior. I think of their friendship. The bonds between them. They were brothers. They had each other’s backs. They looked out for one another. They loved each other. I do not know what love is. Growing up my mother loved herself. Narcissist I think is the correct term. Always in heels and a G-string. Sexed up. My father was an absent father by all accounts. But, to all intents and purposes he gave me a happy life, a happy childhood. So, I am taking the memories wherever I go. Wherever, whenever, and I mean the happiest memories I’ve had, I still have, are the moments I spent with my father. Eating ice cream, going to the beach, visiting the clinical psychologist, buying the month’s groceries, playing under his desk at work. My father’s friends were my friends. The people that knew my father, knew me from a young age. Precocious and cute, always wanting to make people with sad eyes laugh, and if I couldn’t get them to laugh, I would get them to smile at least. When I was born before the eighties, George Botha passed away that year, from an apparent suicide. Biko slipped on a bar of soap. Then there’s Dulcie.
Dulcie September (I wonder what her
children would have been like, her husband, would she have settled in London,
married a man who had green, or blue eyes. Rick Turner was assassinated by a
man with a gun (they haven’t found him yet), Kevin Carter was killed by a stray
bullet as he was taking pictures of the unrest in the townships during the
brutal heights of the heyday of apartheid. Political activists of colour were
being arrested at every turn. Turn the corner, walk in the opposite direction
someone, someone would be following you. The Americans I think termed that
phrase Big Brother is watching you, or else it could have been anyone really. I’m
young, but I have an old soul. Yes, I read poetry. Yes, I read books too.
Basically, anything I can get my hands on. I love getting my hands dirty in the
kitchen. The cake flour, the dough I eat off my fingers, dust the doughnuts
with icing sugar, or cocoa, keeping busy, busy, busy, trying not to think,
trying not to think of anyone, or anything. It is a long, long way to Rapunzel,
Rimbaud, Verlaine, Proust, Nabokov, Salinger, Rilke, Akhmatova, and Coco Chanel.
It is an even longer distance to Billy Graham, Archbishop Desmond Tutu, Walter
Sisulu, Oliver Tambo, Neville Alexander, Fikile Bam, Patrice Motsepe,
ex-president Nelson Rolihlahla Mandela, ex-president Thabo Mbeki, ex-president
Jacob Zuma, and president-elect Cyril Ramaphosa. Then I think of the land of
the free, and the home of the brave, and the American presidents (the leaders
of the free world), George Washington, Abraham Lincoln, JFK, Thomas Jefferson, Barack
Obama, and Donald Trump.
Nobody knows anything really about
their childhood. Rapunzel, like all fairy tales, like the Native Americans, and
the Eastern Cape poets Ayanda Billie, Robert Berold, Brian Walter, Mzi Mahola,
the late Arthur Nortje, the late Dennis Brutus, Mxolisi Nyezwa, they are all
frozen in the snow of my memory. I want people to love me. Just like my dad.
People love daddy. People loved daddy. But inside I am sad. I am not even loved
in my own home. My mother hates me. How to get over the mental cruelty, her
un-loveliness to me over the years, her utter humiliation of me when she saw
how close me and dad were getting. She was in the house, put on a disappearing
act whenever I appeared. I tell myself that nobody loves me. That I’m a
rubbish-throw-away-type of person. Nobody should associate themselves with me. I
have no self-esteem, then low self-esteem. Sleep around. No, not really. I just
give expert hand jobs, and I never kiss. Never. Too intimate, it makes me feel
vulnerable, and when you kiss someone there are just so many levels to it, you
know. The first kiss. Well, you always remember that. You always remember the
person who first kissed your lips. And after that, after that you open your
warm mouth (I think of everything as an experiment, an adventure, an exploration
of sorts). They have all gone out into the world now. The wives have done what
is impossible for me. Given the boys children. That, that, that right there is
too much for me to take, to handle, although I know I will survive. Believe me,
I survive without cocaine and alcoholism, without sexuality and the sexual
transaction (as Jean Rhys said in After Leaving Mr Mackenzie).
I endure with the best of them. I love
like the greats. The great singer and songwriters (the late Karen Carpenter),
musicians (Lenny Kravitz, Fiona Apple). I too have been careless with the
hearts of delicate people. Some have moved on with their lives, and have
forgotten all about me. I pretend to wake up in the mornings to the legends
that the boys have become. They are men who rule empires now. They have
forgotten all about me, forsaken me for money, prosperity, prestige, status
(I’m mixing up my similes here). I miss them. I miss them like crazy. I wish I
was back there, not here. Each and every day in Johannesburg was either a
summer-ish day, or winter. I wish I was in love again, but I’m not. I’m a
wreck. Still the same wreck I was 20 years ago. I’m growing older. I’m in my
forties now. What a terrible age. The onset of menopause, flashbacks to a time
and place when you were happier, when you could afford to make mistakes, behave
foolishly, and love, love, love, and dance the night away with multiple
partners on your arms, but I didn’t know about the world. Didn’t know anything
about the world. So, mothers, be good to your daughters. They will learn to
love like you do. I don’t know anything about that. I don’t know anything about
love. I can smoke, I can drink when I hang out with the guys. I love men. Women
ignore me. Women talk down to me. Women humiliate me in front of their
children, mother-in-law, and especially, especially their boyfriends, their
husbands, life partners. You know that kind of girl. You know that kind of
woman. She’s beautiful, exceptional-looking.
She dresses down, she dresses up. I’m
that kind of woman now. Can someone hear my plea? Anyone, anyone? Anyone out
there? All I ever wanted was for my mother to tell me how much she loved me,
how proud she was of me, and she didn’t. Still doesn’t to this day. And I hate
violence of any kind, even in films. I still believe in what Walt Disney
proclaimed. It is my mantra still to this day. I believe in family values. I
guess it is the principle behind it. Norms and values. Growing up with norms
and values. A kind of belief system, even though I did go to Sunday School, and
memorise Bible verses, and was indoctrinated into religion by the Union
Congregational Church, (I’m not religious anymore, although I still pray, still
meditate, believe in reconciliation, and as such there is evil in the world, but
there is also the greater good). Anyway, I am much more of a spiritual person
now, from an early age I believed in angels. Truth for some, but not truth for
all. I believe in the qualities of a good Christian, Brahmin, Yogi, Hindu,
Muslim, Lutheran, Baptist, Methodist, and Catholic. All religions hold truth at
the cornerstones of their foundation. So, instead of making war, think instead
(this is for all the world leaders, mothers, fathers, sons, and daughters out
there), make peace (keep the peace in the house, reconcile your differences,
sit at the table and break bread, talk about your day, don’t isolate yourself
from either your family, or your community). Be kind. You can kill with
kindness you know. Today that person could be your enemy, tomorrow (as the
ancients, prophets, saints, angels say) that same enemy could be your friend.
Money and wealth won’t make you beautiful.
Inner beauty, understanding and understanding devotion to others less fortunate
than yourself, the marginalised, downtrodden, those living in poverty-stricken
areas in dire straits give them your peace too, and something to eat. The game
of life is made up of winners and losers. The loser always forgets about the
lesson that they have learned. The winner takes it all. Always remember it is
how you play the game. Life is precious. People are precious too. We are only
human at the end of the day. Once, they said that someday technology will
surpass humanity. Code breakers, the women and men who serve countries around
the world, and who are willing to sacrifice their lives for millions of
people). I think also of scientists like Sir Isaac Newton, Niels Bohr, Max
Planck, Pavlov, Albert Einstein, Marie Curie (twice-winner) of the Nobel Prize.
I think of researchers dealing with computers, information communication
technology, indigenous knowledge systems, the great digital divide between the
haves and the have nots (first world countries and third world countries). I
think of intellectuals like Pliny the Elder, Aristotle, Hippocrates, Homer, and
Plato. Isn’t every intellectual an authority on philosophy, education, subjects
as diverse and varied (Leonardo da Vinci, Michelangelo), as the holistic vision
of an educationalist, community leader, humanist, activist, volunteer, just as
much as a person can be plumber, he can also be a storyteller (everybody has a
story to tell), and a poet. His name can be Yusuf Agherdien, Ambrose Cato
George, and Shaheed Hendricks.
(The writers of the book South End: As
We Knew It, although District Six in Cape Town is more well-known when it comes
to the promulgation of the Group Areas Act). They can even be the curator, and
a writer-visionary-maverick of the world-famous museum, the South End Museum,
that has its roots in Saint Helena. An island in the middle of the ocean, that
could only in the past be reached by a Royal Mail Ship that sailed from Cape
Town to Saint Helena. Are we still slaves, our minds enslaved by oppression and
racism, prejudice and gangsterism, the abuse of alcohol and mental cruelty? It
has become a global phenomenon. It has become a buzzword. In my mind, we are
all then victims of circumstance, of trauma, of incidents that happened in our
childhood. And yes, we fall prey to evil deeds, and evil thoughts, we sin, and
sometimes we pray and ask for forgiveness, and sometimes we don’t. We don’t
learn the lesson; we would rather abscond. Go our own way. For some of us, this
is all we know. Running away from loss and grief, denial and instigation, and
when we do that we are motivated by our own fear, anxiety, even insanity (which
means two things, break from reality, or non-reality). When you’re in high school all you want to do
is hang with the popular crowd, go out with the most popular boy in school,
obtain high marks, achieve on the sports field and inside the classroom. I was
an obsessive-compulsive achiever, and the only people I wanted to impress were
the women in my family. The women make babies, and stay at home, cook and
clean, raise their family, but in my world the husband was always marrying the
mistress.
We know the affect that climate change
has had on the seasons, harvests, running water, rain, sanitation, and it
spells disaster in all areas. Floods, tornadoes, tsunamis, storms, drought
which affects our farmers, and particular our agriculture all over the world. I
digress. I come back to those two words again. Global phenomenon. We are
reaching a climatic stage of events in world history. Ask yourself these
questions, think about them, ponder them as you would any project that is
highly creative, and imaginative, that needs you to focus, and concentrate. Put
all your energies into it, as you would your children’s lives, and your
husband’s or wife’s welfare. What is your legacy, will it be hidden from view,
or be there for all to see? What is your calling, your purpose in life, what
are you extremely passionate about (I must have asked myself these questions
thousands of times, and so, no, I’m not exaggerating)? What are your empirical
dreams, lofty goals, pre-imminent plans? Are you concerned about the spiritual
welfare of others, as I am?
The Hammer and the Dance
The hammer and the dance
in this atlas of the world,
in the season of pandemic,
like two stanchions on a court;
between, a tightening line
like the imaginary line
on the cartographer’s expedient chart,
on one side, the dutiful girls,
on the other, boys in masks;
around them hung a wall of distance
that surrounds them like a fort;
at their feet, forgotten tasks.
And the hammer beats the time
for the young ones as they dance.
What of the future? What of the past?
What of the present? You may well ask.
There was something to be done
now forever left undone.
Where there once appeared a mask,
now a flawed map hides its face
in a hand scarred by this place;
now there is a face of ash.
And the hammer beats the time
for the young ones as they dance.
Deep inside the twisting globe
opens up a burning robe.
And tonight the silence hurls
into darkness its moot sign
like a banner never furled,
like the alchemist’s alembic
charred with his defeated gold,
like the future’s gathering dark
and the iron in the heart.
And the hammer beats the time
for the young ones as they dance.
Spiritus
When you see it, you will know.
The shaky camera, the kneeling
men in midnight blue:
they look at first as though
they are praying, pious
as three altar boys,
caught in an innocuous crime, perhaps
stealing holy wafers or consecrated wine.
But they are not.
The shaking camera stops,
and you hold in your breath,
like clutching at a hand,
not quite believing that you see
what it is you think you see.
Underneath their knees,
in the brutal sun,
a dark form. And a voice from the feed:
"I can't breathe, I can't
breathe! I can't breathe! I
can't breathe!" For four minutes and
forty-six seconds,
as the altar boys pray
in the shouting glare.
Then it stops. The video
stops. The voice stops. The praying
stops. The breathing
stops And you breathe,
too late. But you seethe, you seethe.
_____
Christopher Bernard is co-editor and poetry editor of the webzine Caveat Lector. His new collection of poems, The Socialist’s Garden of Verses, will appear in the fall of 2020.
The Unseen Blossom by Zlaikha Y. Samad and L’Mere Younossi
L’Mere Younossi and Zlaikha Y. Samad’s The Unseen Blossom
The Unseen Blossom is a story that is both magical and a love story. The story is about Princess Zuli and Lamar, a shoemaker in Kabul. They are both chosen to go on an enchanted journey to find the elusive blossom of the Fig Tree. Along the way they go through gardens of enchanted trees, plants, animals and fish. They have realized that in another life, their souls have been interwoven to be soulmates for eternity. Their role is to learn how to bring unity and peace to their world. This is the most wonderful and delightful story that is perfect for any age. The message in the book is completely relevant in today’s world. We can all learn from its message of unity, peace and love.
Push him down. Crack his head like an egg, blood yolk on the cement. Push the old man down on the pavement.
Dominate, so shameful. Was that worth it? Really? Is that your training? Push old men down. Protester down, peaceful protester down, his blood on your hands.
A slap on the wrist, paid leave, is that punishment for assault?
Captive Wind
You cannot hold the wind captive. If it dies, it will kick back up later. It will pick up the pace in a hill, gently at first. When going downward, pity to those who stand in its path.
Do not take it lightly. You cannot hold the wind captive for too long. Its ghostly breeze will topple you. Its memory will be imprinted in your thoughts. If you fear the wind, you better bundle up to the neck.
It will leave you in misery. It is a sea wave on land, and it could strike softly or with immense cruelty. It will slap your forehead like a backhand. The wind does not play. You cannot hold the wind captive. It will make a great escape and bring silence a world of sounds.
Drowning in Fire
As if drowning in fire, burning through and through, it is clear that passion and desire are running through my veins.
No amount of water can slow down this inferno. Night cannot cool me off. The water in the moon is not cold enough.
Like a burnt stone under ashes I remain. I am a shadow of flames burning like stars. My passion and desire are burning for her. I throw myself into a lake of fire and I go down to the deepest depths. I come up still burning from head to foot.
I take my agony to the frozen lake, halfway from the frozen mountain. A flaming shadow follows. I close my eyes and she is still there, the woman that I burn for. She is there when I am fast asleep in my sub-conscience, in my dreams, she is the burning woman, and I am the burning man, burning in splendor.
Author Ike Boateng, performing spoken word in his hometown in Ghana
The
Genesis of what commenced in a suburban community of China has been described
and called by some as Wuang Wild Fire
– WWF spreading across the length
and breadth of the globe. Thus, like invisible terrorist causing unbearable
soul damages and demise of the entire human race from Asia to America, Europe
to Africa, beside across the oceans to Australia as well by the airwaves of
flights to countries of the continents. Indeed, the news of its occurrence and
how lives were affected in Wuang, China dated December of 2019. In fact, its
severe deadly approach to multitudes in China made the ‘Word Health
Organization – WHO’ came out with a name Corona
Virus – CV as simplified
initials. However, ‘Corona’ as a literal parlance means ‘Crown’. Well, in terms
of how it relate to this virus still unknown and vaccine undiscovered. Once
again, WHO also came out with it short pronunciation name CoViD-19 which is explained: Co
= Corona, Vi = Virus, D = December, 19 = 2019. To some world medical Doctors the
‘D’ stands for Disease though. As far as this article is concerned then CV simply means Corona Virus as I used to title a Spoken-Word poem recording
dubbed: ‘Oh CV!’ which can be
listened to via the following web-link: www.soundcloud.com/ikeboatofficial/ohcv
– Of course, not the CV many known as Curriculum
Vitae attached to some employment application letters.
Around
the world over, in everything there is good and bad, right and wrong, or even
positive and negative. Therefore, The CV
Effects brings to bear both the Negative and Positive sides of this
global CoViD-19 pandemic as it
pictured in African perspective. Although, many lives have been lost in Europe,
America and other continents than Africa, there is still need to bring readers
to the CV positive and negative
effects. Lo, to the curious minds, Positive in this context is not when someone
is tested and he or she carries such fatal virus in the blood stream coupled
with its symptoms of the body system. Aside, not negative when a person has
contracted the virus. But contrary, in view of right conditions or states it
has brought human-kind and made many, especially on the continent of Africa.
The Positive
Ten – TPT (+10)
1.
It has taught both young and old the critical need as well urgency to wash
hands thoroughly with soap under running pipe-borne water or usage of ‘Veronica
Bucket’. Hitherto, some proceed to eat meals without regular hand wash even
after visiting nature’s call, be it public or private toilet.
2.
To the religious minds, in the Christendom – It has established the possibility
for the faith-oriented ones to learn to pray on their own and for themselves
even to intercede for others respectively. Thus, no dependency on Pastors or
Priests to pray for them in times of critical spiritual conditions as there are
no social functions or gatherings such as Church service, crusades etc.
3.
It has also changed peoples habitual drunkenness as some often go to secret
spots, bars or even pubs at even dawn times to engage in alcoholism
i.e.(Excessive in-take of alcohol). That means positively there is nose-dive of
people being piss-pots in order not to affect their health status.
4.
Generally, those in Africa particularly the sub-region often refrain from
covering their nostril even though pollution of different forms in the
atmosphere hinders respiratory process. Thus, regular usage of ‘Nose Mask’ or
‘Face Mask’ has prevented many from inhaling other poisonous substances in the
atmosphere through the nose or mouth.
5.
There has been decrease of over-population problems in some countries of
Africa, America, Europe, Asia etc. It obvious over-population bring about other
economic hardships to the human society, thus some sort of positive death
effect any way.
6.
To those seeking ‘greener pastures’ in some European or American countries
there will be many job or work opportunities for them to travel in enhancing
their human resource-based when the
whole pandemic pass away and people have freedom of movement.
7.
Nowadays, there is reasonable usage of handkerchiefs and tissues to cover nose
and mouth when sneezing or coughing, as in times past some folks thought it was
just some sort of involuntary action in life.
8.
People have learnt the act of physical or social-distancing and isolation when
it comes to buying and selling at public places as some form queues during
customer service i.e.(Food Joints, Banking Halls and other places) which are
often crowdie and congested, aside demands proper-spacing at public areas.
9.
Being frugal on funeral and burial services in Ghana particularly has advantageously
changed as those dead are buried quickly like the ‘Islamic way’, not kept in
mortuary or morgue. Also, without mounting canopies and organizing of
wake-keeping, playing music during funeral-related activities.
10.
Similarly, those who spend huge-sums of money on wedding, engagement and
birthday parties has changed dramatically as only twenty-five (25) people are
accepted during social gatherings with regard to government directive.
The Negative Ten
– TNT (-10)
1. Obviously, the bad or negative impact of Lock-Downs on some sub-Saharan
countries such as Togo, Ghana, Burkina Faso, Nigeria, Ivory Coast has been a
bitter pill to swallow, especially those working from hand-t0-mouth on daily
basis. Both, the partial and total Lock-Downs
have made many remained hungry at various homes since they couldn’t reach-out
to work so no means to make money for their livelihood.
2. The death of individuals, some known
relatives abroad and those popular show-biz celebrity and other professionals
such as Musicians, Actors, Doctors etc. have left sad indelible marks on the
minds of many as grave-yards are equaled to ancient castle-gate or door-way
of no return to life.
3. No regular cordial forms of hand-shake salutation so some have sense
of emotionalism and unseen feud of hatred being a negative sign rather than CV symptoms itself.
4. Badly, no classroom form of education to study as schools and other
corporate institutions, supermarkets, malls have generally close-down for so
many months in Ghana, and other parts of the world. But, those with no
knowledge about computer-related online learning or studies that means when
there is possibility of examination it will be to their ‘negative’ disadvantage
since they can’t fathom certain topics in the curriculum. Aside, would need
professional teacher’s assistance.
5. Some company employers have also laid-off workers, staff members and
abrogated or cancelled contracts of personnel as consumers are not patronizing
products and services rendered to the masses. More so, the international
Airline industries as well Maritime agencies of ports and harbours are not in
regular operations affecting the entire global economy.
6. Family members and friends who have made monetary promises to send
financial support to relatives in Africa are facing hard times due to uncertain
Lock-Down restrictions and
conditions.
7. There have been sky-rocketing prices of products at market-places,
especially sanitizer becoming mostly sought after CV preventive and protective product on the continent of Africa and
beyond. Unimaginably, it has also affected some other food stuffs and products
previously on little demand.
8. The increase of pre-paid electricity unit buying, as school boys and
girls supposed to be at school during classroom hours are at home watching
television and using other electrical appliances to the disadvantage of parents
suffering to pay other utility bills. To some parents, noise-making at home has
been on higher-heights as children playing and hitting objects aimlessly keep
disturbing them.
9. Unknowingly, some government officials and those at front-line of
work to ensure cure or possible healing process of the CV disease are rather making money to engage in different projects
and use during political campaign rallies season. A couple of weeks, whilst at
an audio recording studio at Top Hill of Kasoa, information revealed that some
people with negative test of the CoViD-19
are falsely quarantined in order to ensure more donors funding support.
Unhealthily, monies giving by both local and global organizations are channeled
to different projects to the ‘negative’ disadvantage effect of the global Corona Virus – CV pandemic.
10. Last not but least, some of us with other talents in the Arts performing industry are not getting events gig booking coupled with other benefits due to the negative side effect of Corona Virus – CV pandemic as there are no special social shows and programs to ensure participation or performances.
