Its not a sprint, but rather a marathon

“it’s not a sprint , but rather a marathon.”

Said a friend to me this morning, and the minute he said it, l knew l had to record these words, repeat them over and  over again, until they were embedded in my very soul.

It was a much needed reminder for each and every one of us as we go along this life. How cool would life be for all of us, if we kept this in mind. Many at times we are kept awake at night, troubled about our lagging progress, worried about how our counterparts seem to be progressing steadily in this race called life, but alas, remember it’s a marathon.

We all have different strengths, different abilities, different lanes and more often different start times. Hence it is important to keep our eyes on the finish line and neither look left nor right, for life is an individual race.

Comparison is a thief of joy! Never make the mistake of comparing yourself, for we are all not the same. We are all destined for different things and the sooner you realize that the better life will be for you.

As for me, l will continue to strive to be

  • patient, gentle and kind to myself
  • not compare myself
  • & be the best person l can be


Exactly a year ago from today l started my Blog and it has been quite a journey.

Why blog?
1. Paper listens. Paper is patient. Paper is dynamic. Paper offers an escape. Hence l always pen my heart out on here.

2. As the very opinionated petty individual that l am, who is always lost in thought, l figured l should let the world into a figment of my mind.

3. Talking to paper is quite therapeutic for me, and if you know me then you know how eventful my life always is. Hence time and again l need to detox.

4. If you have grumpy for a nickname, sharing your opinions will mostly be painted with that brush. Paper on the other hand doesn't stick labels on you.

5. There is just something about words.

How has it been?
When l started l imagined l would write a blog every week. Fast forward to a year later, this will be entry number twenty. I have so much l want to talk about but believe me you l have deleted so many drafts. It is not easy putting yourself and your emotions out there like that. l am not as brave as l thought l am. Maybe l should have gone with ghost mode, but yet again maybe this keeps me human.

How will it be?
We pen on.
There is such power in words and
am proud to be actively part of a generation involved in a dynamic art of writing.

Above all else it is all about the other blogs l come across on a daily basis. My eyes have been opened to a whole new world and day by day l discover just how vast and magnificent this world is through the eyes of other bloggers.

…we pen on!

She is!

                      “Just making sure you know when u go back im coming with, 

                                       but I will be kicking and screaming.”

Said her to l

She is one of the persons l am blessed with

But today l want to talk about how she sees me

Where all others are too scared to step up and say something

She will

She will be the one to say, l see you

She will be the one to say, l feel you

Though they may all see me drowning

Though they may all see the light die in my eyes

She will be the one to say, fine then am drowning with

She will be the one to turn her own bright light off and say, fine lets sit in the dark till you can face day. Let me not torment you with my own flame

& sit she will

Be it days or weeks

Never failing

Never tiring

Never nagging

Never complaining

& sit we will till my shadow has passed

& sit we will till l can face daylight again

On those dark days where l have been failed by own strength

When l have reached my limit

When l tell them l have not left the house in 3 days

When they will continue with the conversation like l said nothing

Either not hearing my cry for help or simply overwhelmed by the weight am putting on their already burdened plates

She, hears me

No matter how faint the whisper

She picks it up

She may not make a sound

But in that silence

She moves and holds me

l see you, she says

I feel your pain, she laments

Hold on, she says

For we are in this together

& she stays

& she holds my hand

Till the morning has broken
When its now so deep you begin to question lf you are gay

Just because she is consistent

Every Single Time

Roller coaster after roller coaster she cruises, if l were to tell you of the things we have lived through

When the going gets tough she will let me take life decisions for her and she for l.

Did l tell you at some point l am going to mother her child

Yea, its that deep


That day when we sat in a room amock with clutter everywhere and she only could take back 30kg of her her German life with her. When after 5 Rounds of packing, sorting and throwing away stuff. She walked out, blinded by tears, and left me to do it

That moment was life defining for me. She found the cases closed and took them like that. Thats how much she entrusted me with her life

You have to be a woman first to understand how deep this is, to let someone pack your suitcase for you for a one way journey, with no return.

Oh we have done it all. We have had the most. Partied like Kings. With no cent to our names. Karioked like pope stars with our frog voices. Oh yes and all that too… Trotted around the globe with our non existent budget

You have not known life lf you have not cried simultaneously over miles

Only because the other is bereaved

You have not known life lf you haven’t woken up with a lump in your throat and a giddy feeling in your stomach, only to find out the other person is in distress

You have not known life lf you haven’t discovered telepathy
Surely we live among angels

How can one person always see you

How can one person always be there


How can one person always look over your flaws

& love you irregardless of them

How can one person be bold enough to say that which shakes the hinges of friendship and never doubt the power of the pillars that hold them

How can one person never get tired

How can one person never give up on you

How can one person hold the strength of a thousand man

They may all be amazing, but surely there is a Usain Bolt in your turf

I am convinced that God sent us all down with our guardian angels, each and every one of us

No words can ever describe how l feel
…when u go back im coming with...”

Being Grateful

My last week has been one of those filled with moments that allowed me to slow down, ponder for a bit and put things into perspective.

Gosh we have to be grateful!

So it all started as l was taking a walk down by the Dublin canal. Being the hopeless romantic that l am, l am a sucker for such tranquil moments. And it was during such a moment as l basked on a bench, coffee in one hand, watching the people go about their busines, that l had a serious flashback.

Suddenly l was in my room, in our four roomed house in Nkulumane, a location in Bulawayo, Zimbabwe. Perched on my bed with my diary in one hand and a book l had just finished reading next to me on the bed. l cant remember which one as such because l read anything and everything l could get my hands on back then, lf only my diary had survived l would have checked my read list. But thats a story for another day.

Anyway l suddenly remembered how at that point, studying abroad, going for adventures in different countries, having the luxury to sit on a bench and watch people or read a book, cycling through a forest, going for jogs, participating in color runs or marathons, indulging in healthy diets, having my own unshared space, etc. The list is endless. All these things used to be but just a dream at some point in my life. They used to be things l desired and which l wished to grow into.
Fast forward to ten fifteen years later, and here l am. l have all of that and more. But why then am l so miserable. Complaining about the weather, no sleep, the food, being overworked, etc. Like really though. 

I think at times, we as humans are responsible for our misery with our unending hunger. It is wonderful to aim higher, It is important to tap into ones potential until we have exhausted our limits, but let us not let that keep us from being grateful. 

Because each time we achieve a step, our eyes automatically look higher and we begin yet again to ascend to that which we have seen beyond. But let it not keep us from being grateful for what we have achieved. 

l choose to be grateful, yes l am only human l will always complain, but looking down the road l have come. l should take several seats, stop making much ado about nothing, let go and let God.

Time will set you free.


Time will always eventually run out!

When you have been patient enough, but waited in vain.

When you had hoped, but unfortunately in vain.

When you have tried, but to no avail.

All the sleepless nights.

All the shattered dreams.

The troubled mind.

The misery of it all.

At last the time is up.

I can be content knowing, l tried, l fought, l waited, l was patient.

Time can finally set me free.


 I have a renewed affection for this word. Silence. 

As the year broke, the older me did not reach for journals for the usual resolutions. As much as l love writing, planning and dreaming, this year l just let go.

However here we are eleven days into the year and l have caught myself acting differently. It’s like l have this new attitude to life and l am finally presenting myself in a way l have always desired. 

Silence at last. 

Last year was such a noisy,busy and hectic year. So much was happening simultaneously. I revisited old paths, hoping to take that satisfactory walk they once offered. It didn’t work, those similar curves and views only drained me more. 

I ventured onto new ones, and was thrilled from the taste of something new, something different, something alien. But just like anything new the unknown corners trip me and keep me guessing.

When l was young, l was always so fascinated by those quiet girls. Those capable of going through the day with only nods and grimaces. To this day l always play a game with myself when l meet new people. I always try and act the queit girl who has not much to say to see how long l can keep up the act, but alas l always catch myself being my talkative bubbly self, interrogating the people with unending questions and going on and on about the world. Gosh how annoying l must be.

Anyway finally this year l find myself in the much desired silence. I guess it was not the queit character l yearned for, but inner peace, tranquil and silence.

Nowadays l enjoy nothing more like my company. Am at piece with me myself and l. I am learning to improve myself and work on my dreams behind those closed doors. I am learning to separate myself from the unnecessary noise and drama. Am learning to appreciate those few good friends l have. I am learning to separate myself from toxic environments, because at the end of the day it’s unnecessary 

Cries of a Daughter 

My dear African family, just because l am in the diaspora does not mean my life is the yellow of an egg, in fact if l knew what l know now, l would have chosen to pursue my life goals in Bulawayo, a place called home, surrounded by family and friends.
Stop judging my life through the lens of my profile picture, it is but just a picture, taken from the best angle possible with the best lighting possible brushed off with the best filter possible to give the best illusion possible. Did l mention the makeup? Or how about the fake smile or pout l quickly erase as soon as the camera is out of focus.
Lets talk about finance. Just because l currently live in an economically sound country does not necessarily mean that my finances are in order. As a matter of fact l have to work twice as hard to have half of what my peers have. So stop sending the money requests because quite frankly between my bills and l, l have none.
Dear family, when was the last time you genuinely inquired on my being? I can now sing our telephone conversation like a bad jingle, because they are always the same, always. The usual how am l question which l can hardly finish answering before you have fired your next questions. The when am l finally finishing Uni question, or the most loved am l now working alternative. And last but not least, the when are you coming home question which is usually followed up by your amazingly expensive wish list. For starters l do not work at the Santa factory, and if l ever do get employed in the North pole rest assured l will hand deliver your wish list to Santa personally, how about that?
How about a genuine how am l question for once? How about a simple conversation for once with you indulging me in the details of your new finger licking recipe, sharing details on that new dance sending the youngsters on a frenzy, why don´t you tell me about that plan of yours? About that upcoming trip of yours?
Where is the love?
Where is the care?
Where is the Compassion?
Nonetheless, when it’s all said and done, we are still family, l will always love you dearly and put your first.

Being Black in Germany

Race is a very sensitive topic, one that makes people cringe and very uncomfortable. But unfortunately we have to talk about it. Many at times l have sought to share my feelings on this topic, but the fear of the controversial responses and people l might offend has always stopped me.

But today, that lady who stood up as l sat adjacent to her on a spacious four seater in the train and  instead chose to go and squeeze herself with the bicycles for the remainder of the forty minute journey, touched a chord inside of me. And as l sat there contemplating whether to stand up and go look for another seat so as to allow her the comfort l had robbed her of, l knew this post was way overdue. All l wanted in that moment was to go up to her and ask her why she had stood up? Did l scare her? Was l perhaps carrying a foul body odor from my long day? Did she dislike foreigners? Or maybe she just preferred to sit alone.

Flashback to the time when l was preparing to come to Germany, and everybody was worried about how l would choose Germany, the famous Nazi land in history as my destination of choice. Quite frankly it never bothered me then, and l do believe Germans are not as a bad. People just judge them from their serious faces and way of doing things. Once you get to know them, they are warm individuals just like all of us.

But then, just like in any country there will always be prejudice or discrimination directed at someone because of their different race. Down here it exists but unlike in America where police footage from body cameras or dashboard cameras constantly shocks us, it is subtle. Most of my German friends express shock when l tell them this but believe it or not, racism is everywhere. You have to be discriminated against first to feel it.

Try and be in the bus or train, and have the police head to you first irregardless of where you are sitting to ask for your documents.

Try and be the passenger when that ticket controller comes around to check your ticket with an expectation already written all over his or her face.

Try and sit down next to people in th train and have them stand up, make nasty grunts or purposely cross their legs and turn their backs torwards you.

Try and walk in into a store and have the security person tag along you immediately.

Try and check in at some fancy place, and be questioned of your identity and if indeed you are the person on the reservation.

Try and have the store alarm beep as you walk out and see how vigorously you will be dealt with.


Many at times we are subconsciously acting as racists and we dont even realize it. I do it too at times. As for me, l have found a way to make myself small and not attract too much attention. As soon as l walk out of my door, l am like an actor in a movie. Fitting in, being cautious and going out of my way to belong, so as to avoid these terrible moments.  When out there, do like the Romans when in Rome is my motto.

Sometimes l wonder if the verbal outspoken rasicm is preferable in comparison to this silent subtle one. But thats a question for another day, for now,

This is being Black in Germany.

Ctrl alt del

Just the other day i shocked myself. Yet again.
At times i fail to recognise this girl in the mirror. Her aggresive strength and demenour scares me. At times i look in the mirror and ask, “who the hell are you?”

Anyway, on that evening l lay in bed, watching my current series Vikings. Earlier on i had sat at my desk for hours catching up on work. The house was still messy with my unpacked luggage. Calmly l enjoyed my me time. I am one of those people who enjoy their own company. So yea, there l lay indulging while scribbling tomorrows schedule. And then i got up to go to the bathroom, and on my way i caught a glimpse of a happy me in the mirror, and l was like wait a minute.

So l retraced my steps and stood infront of the mirror studying myself. I had just come back from a physically, mentally  and emotionally  draining situation. Not to mention the life changing decision that had just went down.

So yeah, there l stood in disbelief.
How was it possible, that my face had no trace of pain, emotion, exhaustion or even empathy. Again i asked myself, who the hell are you? Was i not supposed to be on my friends laps, sharing the gossip, crying my eyes sore, reaching for chocolate, making much ado about nothing. Oh well i guess thats what normal people do, not me. At that moment, it dawned on me, i finally realized what made this girl infront of me so scary.

I was living the first few days of the “ctrl alt del” mode aftermath. My life was on a fresh page- yet again.

See, i have this ability to shut down ,wipe off any unpleasantatries entirely from my life. Just like people who undergo traumatic events and shut that episode out of their lives. Its sad really  because the truth of the matter is i do not forget, l simply convince myself i have. Once a friend and l were reminiscing our hey days episodes, and to this day am struck by how deep i have mastered the art of delete mode. Like i literally sat there listening to her like someone being told a story for the first time, only occasionally thinking, but why does that sound so familiar.

Anyway, this Ctrl alt del button in my brain scares me, really bad.
See my brain may think its clever, but my heart has never been formatted. All this baggage is there somewhere inside, and if it ever explodes…so help me God.

I know how dangerous a bomb this is, because on that day , as i stood infront of the mirror, i tried to reach down for the emotion, pleading with my heart to let go. Telling it its ok to be human, you dont have to be perfect. Streching my hand like one saving another from falling off a cliff. Pleading with my heart to take my hand and let go.

For a second there was hope. I felt my cheecks burn from the fire within. My heart went still and l trembled at da momentum of the Emotion that was about to erupt. Just at that moment she took over- the girl in the mirror. I met her stare, a fierce non shaken warrior like look, queitly challenging me. At that moment i knew l had lost this war again, i would have to try another time to salvage my can of worms from the dungeons of my heart.

Starting afresh is ok sometimes. Like with that math exam i flunked in first semester. Like with that cake recipe i saw on youtube. But yet again, “ctrl alt del” is just a temporary coping technique for my driven self. I have a dream, and l refuse to be a coward,

one day, l will fish out my can of worms from the very depths of my heart and pen them out with the title, ” the Girl from Bulawayo”. And boy oh boy what an emotional rollercoster it will be.