The Pigmy has grown...

What happens when I gain weight along with stature
What happens when I have cleared up the pastures
What happens when I'm no longer petite
What happens when attempts at carrying me end in defeat
What happens when I'm no longer an accessory
What happens when you can't control me
What happens when I fill the bed and mess with your head.

What happens when suddenly I hold you down
What happens when you have to dance for me
What happens when I set myself free
What happens when I can now be seen
What happens when you cannot decipher most of me
What happens when I sit on the throne
What happens when you have no choice but to love my fire that warms you to the bone

Maybe you enslave me to  history
Try to separate me from my mystery
Make me a coon
Place me in a cage and change my destiny to that of a buffoon
Create pseudo-science to annihilate my being
Try to keep me blind and stop me from seeing

Hahahahahaha
The pigmy has grown legs that leave eternal prints in the dust
Her breasts are so large feeding is a must
Crowed with the largest of hats for her pronounced head
Massive arms that act as a bed
Ooooh she is so much LIFE Humanity is revived by her

This is what happens when MA truly awakes in ME.

Hlengiwe & Lufefe

Every singer must have her own Mic

Melody guides announce themselves to me as they lead me from across Berea road all the way to the city.
There I find the Buddha with 8 fingers performing miracles on the piano.      

He looks at me ever so gently inquires if I should accompany him in lifting uMoya, without much hesitation I do.
Now it has come to my awareness of late that anything annointed and true, moves swiftly without further deliberation.      
He plays I sing, together we lift uMoya and summon spirits dead and alive .

We transcend and transfigure.
A Madonna appears, this time her child is the Buddha with 8 fingers.

Prophecies are spoken in simple riddles , he whispers ever so clearly to his Madonna "Every singer must have her own mic "

The Buddha bows
The Madonna flees continuing to raise uMoya
 
I on the other hand am forever changed.

Ode to the Buddha Bheki Mseleku

ISIKHUMBUZO

in memory...

And as it was so shall it be. We leave to return and before our cycle ends we would have realised atleast thrice that something bigger blows us into motion.

At the age of 9 a crucial time for any girl child , I would say the winds of change started blowing in my life, shifting the cause of my destiny.

A young seemingly well put together man propelled by an energy bigger than he, came to stay at our home for study purposes or rather inform a study on me that would only be realised 35-9 years later.

The first ever university student with an excellent track record would reside at our home. What an honour, a delight and a great opportunity in the 90's.
My parents ceased this opportunity of a lifetime and begged that he transfer some of his mathematical knowledge onto me, not realising that he would in turn transfer his divine calling also.

These Mathematical Lessons would soon calculate the fate of my life. I frequently became his study as he unwillingly became mine.
I calculated his every move and I knew the exact time he would pay me a visit after every "successful" maths homework session . Instead of algebra, subtraction and multiplication he offered me a chance to figure him out hence the world. He reconciled me with a side of myself I never knew I had.
I knew when he would come, how he would come, when he would leave, how he would leave. He made me aware of cycles, how they are maintained and what happens when they are broken.    
He became my god not knowing that in me he was creating a goddess, who could end up calculating much better than he.

I don't believe he knows what he created as I believe that his calling ended when the bell rang and left him exposed.

The class though bringing much pain gave me lessons I would later use with much passion .
In my art the lesson showed up as I teased and played with the truth in order to invoke and evoke.
In my relationships I could calculate needs, manipulate and multiply them accordingly.
In daily life I understood when to show up, when not to, how and why, I figured out sincerity from insincerity.

Well thanks to those late afternoon mathematics classes that led to such lessons.
Lessons I would carry with me always.

With all of that being said, I choose to call this piece ISIKHUMBUZO
I choose to immortalise the man who taught me early on the mathematics of life

His class may have ended but the lessons live on.

Ngiyabonga Skhumbuzo
Thank you for this moment
This cycle
This life
Equals to this equation....

Ngicing'uBeauty

Sawubona ngicinga uBeauty
Ingabe ula?

Tracking back to when I last saw her
The tracking moves further and further away from this time and space
Ngizithola ngilangazelela omunye umhlaba
Enye indawo
Esinye iskhathi

These days she seems to faintly appear but only in dreams
Real dreams , fake dreams, sold dreams, bought dreams, exchanged dreams, sacrificed dreams....
All these dreams coming through a form of a man
a charming man
a fickle man
Might be dangerous man...

These days she haunts me though
Ucela imisebenzi  
Ucela ukukhunjulwa
Ucela ukunakekekelwa
Ufisa ukuziveza
Ngaphandle kosizo lwalamadoda

Ufuna ukuqhakaza      

Ngiyamuzwa
Ngiyalizwa iphimbo lakhe lihlabelela imilonji emtoti Imilonji yothando
Imilonji yokuphila
Imilonji evusa imizwa

She is rising, Oh she is rising
Watch Out
Beauty is rising
From 9 feet underground she is rising
Now on 1st foot.
Oh My feet can feel a tingling
Her rumbling vibrats via  my heart space through to my tongue space

Shaking off her shame she slowly resurrects in me.  
I open myself
Yes!!! Ngena Beauty
Oh! she places herself in me like a missing puzzle.

She is beautiful  Soooo beautiful
Muhle                                  
I am beautiful
We are beautiful

Welcome Beauty
Wamkelekile
You've been resting for far too long
Would you like some tea?  
"Yes dear" she replies "namaqebelengwane only you can make!"  

Our eyes fix, her story is my story
We sing the night away
Imizuzu iba ngamahora
Amahora aba yizinsuku Izinsuku ziba iminyaka
Iminyaka iba inguna phakade

Ngimtholile ufikile and she is here to stay!

A random shadow appears it looks like a man
Oh NO, it's that "might be dangerous man"
I ask "Askies bhuti uthini?"
He mumbles something I can't quite hear
I reply "No I won't be needing you Today Tomorrow or Ever I have company...."

Beauty giggles in me😜

I am light.

I wonder I search deep Go deep into my memorial archives as I clumsily do a plié at the great  Adele Blanks Master Class organised by the Department of Arts and Culture as part of an incubator programme they have sponsored. Here I am, an incubated incubatee feeling hot and bothered like the incubated chickens my father sold, with one question on my mind ,how did these two left flat feet and rythmless shoulders scam their way into the dance world?  I don't understand how for years my name has been associated with the dance world, a world at most times I absolutely detest.  I fail to understand what I'm doing here? I keep consoling myself by pliéing deeper and messing up my worn and torn right knee.
"How did I get here?" keeps throbbing in my head.....
Perhaps I once upon a time charmed a critic or in my previous life  mocked a pas de deux and  I must now pay for all my sins recent and ancient.
Should I just interrupt this class and yell "wait a minute department of arts and culture, I fucken hate contemporary dance especially the trying to fly part" oh but wait I will yet again be diverting attention back to myself and shitting on "holy cows" my what at this moment I think is my claim to fame "complaining and shitting on "holy cows" or worse run the risk of ever being funded let alone employed.
Ek hou my bek and endure on with one thing at my defence my poor pride.
Lest it be bruised I will have to retaliate with a new creation dissing all things contemporary.

In my beyond tired state I breathe in down 12345678 up 12345678 and pop, I am redeemed sanctified re-membered and re-baptised in the holy name of dance. Truly breathing is magic. A trick I learnt from dance

I realise that dance whether I've pulled it off or not in my own personal capacity, it has given a mouthpiece to express and explore that which I could never explain.
It's given me a language only known by my sacred spaces. It's allowed me to be so angry, so happy,so mad, so in love to the point of no return. I thank the Dance Gods, kiss my worn and torn knees, tuck in, play India Aire's "I am light" shake my feathers and drive my sticky ass to yet another DANCE rehearsal...




"I Am Light"
I am light, I am light [x4]

I am not the things my family did
I am not the voices in my head
I am not the pieces of the brokenness inside

I am light, I am light [x4]

I'm not the mistakes that I have made 
or any of the things that caused me pain
I am not the pieces of the dream I left behind

I am light, I am light [x4]

I am not the color of my eyes
I am not the skin on the outside
I am not my age, I am not my race, 
my soul inside is all light
All light, all light [x2]

I am light, I am light [x2]

I am divinity definedI am the God on the inside
I am a star, a piece of it all
I am light

Isikhathi ...

Sekuyisikhathi nokho yagcinana
Unyaka uphelile
Izifiso zishitshile
Amaphupho afezekile
Kwaze kwafika amasha...

Thokozani...

Whilst chasing time
For the first time
Time stood and confronted me straight in the eye
She said "hey you
what you doing over there following me trying to play catch up with me."
She slammed banged me in the face
Mind you she isn't very polite
Presenting herself as black as night with smoke signals and fumes chocking my lungs
She repeated "hey you get off my back you too close"

Bang bang bang she kicked me.
I crawled up to her feet begging for a chance to take me back .
But she moves hey, faster than fast
She moves like iqhikiza that she is
Thick legs with heavy izigi
Shaking her ass she moves her waist made of springs.
I like her cause
She warns you giving you ample opportunity to slow down and not step on her izithende.

She says "listen ngizokushaya, pick a fight with me uzobona umhlola."

She is such a temper freak this Goddess of time you would swear she was stood up at the alter.

Unolaka akafuni ukulandelwa eduzane Incase her many lovers accuse her of cheating she runs phambili light years ahead
Spinning around like iginsa fixing his need

She dissappears leaving me behind with aches and pains black and blues fears and illusions
Thoughts and wondering what the hell was u thinking chasing timeless time

The journey between Feeling and Knowing......my love diary entry.

....exactly 10 years ago whilst deeply engrossed in Peter Gabriel's DVD of one of his magnificent concerts, I had  a sudden feel to one day direct conceptual concerts in Mzansi.

I never forgot this desire instead I locked it safely in my desire compartment and left it there for the Gods to handle.

On the 29th of June 2014 I bumped into Dr Simo Lushaba a brother, angel and mentor who would  become the bridge between a moment and that very specific 10yr old desire. His proposition changed my perspective forever.

To cut a long process short imagine... 9 Maskandi groups, each group comes with close to 10 dancers and back up singers , 2 weeks to put together a musical theatre show/ launch, where these maskandi artists would have to double up as actors. Direction by a 32yr old black female who has absolutely zero knowledge of Maskandi music culture and struggles immensely with her own very basic knowledge of existence as a Zulu woman in this space called the world....

now with panic systems good to go the only thing that can save us is Flight or Fight, we all choose to Fight and boy did we all Fight.

We fight for our presence to be recognised in things termed "izinto zabelungu noma abantu abafundile" But most of all we fight to understand and to be understood. Now I find that to understand is not always easy because it requires that "AHA!" moment  (made famous by Miss Winfrey) only recognised if one is willing to search. My Christianised mind starts to seek with confidence to find ,  to refuse to conform instead opt for transformation through the renewal of my mind.

Dare I say that I am in trouble already as I am now on an intellectual/ ego trip. I quickly realise that I would have to ask the Intellectual/ Ego taxi to drop me off at home because my heart is what I will need to cope with this mammoth task.

I go home to my heart to search and never have I found such love during a creation. I learn the extent of colonisation that has taken place in my body, I learn that a mind is not a natural organ but rather a concept, I learn that the only reason I went to school was to teach myself  thanks to Kgafela who makes me aware of this opinion. I learn that knowing and feeling are different emotions used for different purposes and for this purpose I learn that I would have to feel more than I know.

On the 19th of September during a disastrous final dress where the drummer fails to pitch I realise gazing from the lighting booth that I was totally out of order to expect these amazing artists to act to feel,  to them what inhibits them is either alive or dead, they can either feel or not feel but one thing they cannot do is pretend to feel. At that moment I realised that I had to quickly revisit my so called professional education that taught my mind to act feeling and  acknowledge that perhaps this was not the truth for this particular moment.

Conclusions drawn, probably indefinite as life is a long  masterclass...

• Art to the African was never a vocation but rather an expression of worship and feeling

• Truth for the African can only be acquired when he decides to consult with his heart.  The drum therefore serves as the heartbeat.

• I think in English because my mind is made in English therefore it often has the tendency to react in an Anglicised manner causing a lot of conflict within myself and those I interact with.

• I am afraid that Africa might be a concept doomed towards extinction however if we continue to breathe to live, the Truth will always be a part of us.

• I am alive because I can feel and also think however thoughts are defined and influenced by the circumstances surrounding a human being.
• Africa is probably a desperate concept, a concept I am most desperate for.

I wonder if I should have published this ....

Welcome to Sof'town Magic...  Come in chill with us, It don't matter who we pretend to be



Imiyalelo eyishumi neskhombisa My Manifesto My Commandments

My name is Hlengiwe Lushaba Madlala
Briefly meaning I am a Redeemed Elephant Hijacked by the Spirit of  Play... It is by no coincidence that I find myself in this position....

I am an African Child living in the world, living in several time zones, therefore constantly clashing with the now.
with that being said my Manifesto begins...

 

 

Thou shalt constantly seek Dignity, Dignity of Self and the other

 

Thou shalt always speak your truth and not the truth of your funders

 

Thou shalt be inspired but never steal another artists idea and make it yours without acknowledging the act of stealing and from who it was stolen from.

 

Though shalt make work considering that you have invited people from wherever, they could have stayed there and continued with their lives.

 

Thou shalt not waste your time and other peoples time

 

Thou shalt give thanks and appreciation where its due

 

Thou shalt never be afraid to play

 

Thou shalt remember your era and that which came before yours, keeping in mind the one to come

 

Thou shalt never discourage those wishing to engage with this journey perhaps they come with a skelm key

 

Thou shalt remember Adrienne Sichel's words "Be Honest and Be aware of Self Censoring"

 

Thou shalt remember Khosi Adromat Buthelezi's words "Konke okwenzayo uzenzela wena"

 

Thou shalt remember some Random guys words in Austria " We are not driving buses"

 

Thou shalt consult the Great Spirit whenever you create as it created you

 

Thou shalt try very hard never to impose your art onto other peoples art (this comes with great difficulty) this commandment reminds me of the one about loving your neighbour as you love yourself

 

Thou shalt Live and let Life

 

Thou shalt take care of your team players and check your intention

 

 

Thou shalt continue revising this Manifesto as its only a thought within a moment.

 

 Photo taken by Sdu Majola in Kinshasa

Sehnsucht nach dem Paradies

Esther Boldt interviews Hlengiwe Lushaba

 How did you become a dancer?

Either it catches you or not, you are born with it or not, and then of course you can learn it. With my "flat left feet" I already danced as a kid at the age of four, one had no choice but to because the music was too good to ignore. I studied at the Durban Institute of Technology my initial understanding of the arts was very commercial, all I knew was television and I just wanted to become a star. Luckily, our teacher Jay Pather introduced us to interesting ways of engaging with performance, of thinking about art, There was a curiosity to learn how to tell a  story differently, how to explore images and how to deal with the self.

You are a dancer, singer, choreographer and an actress. How do these things or languages come together?

I am an artist. I use whichever language I need to tell the story I want to tell in the space needed.

The main question I’ve been obsessed with when creating is “how to give the African human his dignity back?” and I experiment with finding this dignity for myself first. In my daily existance it is really hard to do,

(so let’s try it in the arts??) :

Art becomes my solace.

How could that happen?

I don’t know. Sometimes it feels like it exposes my vulnerability, like putting my insides out. And the inside is not always pretty, it could be defined as ugly, many say it is not dignified, However it is beautiful. Thus Hlengiwe is constantly conflicting in trying to find this so called “dignity”. I search for it every day, because it hurts. Every day you wake up with a conscious division, and it is the story of the inferior man. It is the constant search for paradise.

What did you mean by being displaced?

For example: There is this home I have occupied since as far as I can remember, love dearly and whose rules I know and follow. But then someone comes and takes this home saying: “I live here now you will need to be my tenant”. I then end up being a stranger in my own home, in my own body, in my own spirit.

I know that there is something very wrong with this picture; we have to find it, rip it out, for the sake of our humanity.

How did you come to join DDA?

How I came to DDA is really funny, because I am an artist from South Africa and I am here through the recommendation of Faustin Linyekula a Congolese artist, who is the artistic director at Studios Kabako in Kisangani DRC.

Studios Kabako helped produce this work. My collaborator Sdu Majola and I felt that this work needed a Congolese voice so we approached Studios Kabako who then gave us a month long residency in Kisangani to explore the work with two other Congolese artists Pepe Lecoq and Franck Moka.  There is a wall, there is a border on stage, we sometimes catch ourselves colonizing each other artistically. We are our parent’s children, they are leading the carriage, and only after 20 years of democracy, we find ourselves thinking to be superior to our neighbors with 50 years of independence. How we respond to this urge is interesting? Do we allow ourselves to be victims? All these questions come to play.

In your piece “Paradise Road/ Highway to Heaven” you are dealing with the Congo Conference. Why?

We were playing with the idea: What would happen if we all are present in the Congo Conference? Who are the black bodies that were never invited ? We try to invite all of these spirits to help us, our Grandparents, whose hands were cut off because they couldn’t make enough rubber, Bismarck

and?..... His political friends

On stage, are black bodies on a white space and white corridors on a black space, white faces on black bodies and black faces on black bodies.  The presence of the nigger is felt he tries to contain himself but his Spirit is felt. The Congo Conference happened, it continues to happen unless we acknowledge its flaws it will always define us.

How did you creat the different characters on stage?

Miss Africa is the main character. She is the base of every character explored on that space. Four performers hide behind masks as presenting this story as themselves could be too hurting and maybe dangerous. We are trying to be good niggers. We are really trying to be good niggers, dancing, popping, and playing with this clichés that come out. All that’s missing is a sunset, a woman with something on her head, the sounds of birds… I sometimes wish I could live in this place, it sounds so pretty. I long to be there someday.

But as you say in your performance: “Paradies, c’est fini.” Are you blaming your grandparents for having been a good host?

I myself have to be a good host in this country in order to make money, to have basic needs, to have people invest in me, to host the World cup 2010. But if we all pretend that things are okay, the guilt will haunt us, the shame will haunt us. We need to talk about this thing, we haven’t effectively started and we are still sugar coating some really bitter truths. My Grandparents did what they could with what they had, I need to do the same. I have consciousness and courage on my side it should count for something.

Obviously, there are references in the work someone in Germany does not understand. Is this a problem?

The work is about how we feel as performers we honor the story and we share it, it does not have to make German sense. We sometimes don’t have to use our intellect to understand as our Spirit transcends that which we have been taught at school.  As human beings we also don’t have to know everything, we don’t have to understand everything, and that’s okay. Open up and let the work touch you and your life however it needs to. There is a work titled “Baron Samedi” that I have been a part of for the last 3 years after seeing it, some lady said: “I don’t believe in God, but after this work I now believe in people” If there is one thing touching you, it is plenty.

 

 

 

 

working title: reminiscence. presence and dreams of the future

Ok! Ok, its been a while since I put probably my feeble thoughts to keypad.....
I am tempted to write in isiZulu, I feel English has taken over my life, my thoughts, my views, my dreams and prayers. So today I chose to dance with my mother tongue.... here goes !!! Wish me all the best.... Hope I don't step on her toes...

Lolusuku lwanamuhla lungikhumbuza an eclipse ( oh oh here goes Mr English forcing his entry...) ngixolele. well lungikhumbuza unyaka ka 1992 ngise Whetstone Primary school, unyaka lapho indlela yami yangicacela. Ngangihleli eklasini ngilalele uThisha ekhuluma ngescience,  ngikhumbula ukuthi imicabango yami yayingekho lapho yayizulile isemaphuphweni ami. Ngisahleli kulesisimo semicabango ngikhumbula ngibuka ngaphandle kwe fastela. O amehlo ami ayengakaze ayibone into efana nale. Kwakusemini kodwa ubumnyama bongamele usuku. Inhliziyo yami yayithukile, umqondo wami omncane udidekile namehlo ami abuthaka engazi noma asefinyelele ekugcineni kwempilo yawo...
Lokhu kwangishaqisa ngezwa ngifikelwa ukwesaba. Ngaqala ngathandaza umthandazo omncane owawuthi " uma Nkosi usuzolanda ibandla lakho ngicela ungangikhohlwa nami" Ngamcela uNkulunkulu ukuthi angixolele kuzo zonke izono zami. Ngalesosikhathi zazibukeka zinkulu kuneminyaka yami kodwa uma ngibheka emuva, isono sami kwakunguvalo ngoba ngalolosuku ngalwamukela loluvalo lwaba inxenye yempilo yami. Sekuyiminyaka ngilwisana naloluvalo nokwesaba...

Uvalo lokungafinyeleli lapho uMvelinqangi angibizele khona ngenxa yokona, uvalo lokungaphumeleli ngenxa yenvelaphi yami, uvalo lokuzenyeza, uvalo lokukhuluma okufiswa inhliziyo yami, uvalo lokungafinyeleli emaphuphweni ami, uvalo lokushiyeka ngedwa ngasemuva, uVALO LOKUVUMA INDLELA YAMI...

Iminyaka isidlulile selokhu lobumnyama bavakashela impilo yami. Okuningi kwenzekile mhlawumbe kuqhutshwa ukwesaba kwami kodwa uMusa Womdala Wezinsuku awuzange uvume lokhu kwesaba kuyithabathe impilo yami. Loluvalo lunginika amandla okubuza imibuzo eminingi esemqondweni yami ngendlela ehlukile nejulile., Angimemezi kakhulu ngomlomo wami ngenxa yokwesaba ukuthi ngingahle ngizithole ngisenkingeni kodwa ngimemeza ngezandla nangezinyawo zami khona uma kukhona omelene nokumemeza kwami kungalula kuye ukuthi acabange ukuthi lokumemeza kwami okomuntu ongenamqondo....

Bese ngiyazibuza, buyini ubudlelwane bokuKhanya nobuMnyama, ubudlelwane bokunqoba nokwehluleka, ubudlelwane bobuvaka nobuqhawe, ubudlelwane bokwesaba nesibindi.... Izwi elincane elijwayele ukungivakashela liyangiphendula lithi "ukuze kubatshazwe amandla akhe"

...........mmmmh now that is Courage!!!

...as we embarked on Highway to Heaven/Paradise Road " a simple tale of colonial exploitation" ....

We took a leap of Faith and followed our heart to the Capital city of South Africa. Passion took us straight to Tshwane formerly known as Pretoria a place I remember as the capital city of apartheid, a place that I was taught to fight taught to FEAR. A place where all kinds of decisions are made, indawo esasiyibiza ngeculo "siyaya epitoli siyaya oh siyaya epitoli." A land so far away from my beginnings but where my birth was recorded, a land I could only dream about.

We carefully looked for Church street where we would meet our "blind date." Thank God for the gift of Vehicle as it became our easy legs in finding this once upon a time Church street now known as Helen Joseph street. God Bless her soul if only she knew that this Divine street would be named after her and that sightless angels would bodyguard it with unending melodies and begging tendencies.  

As we stepped out of a lift from the dark belly of Sammy Marks Sqr's  underground parking lot, we were greeted with an uncomfortable heat probably created by the large group of "darkies"  rushing to get the business of the day out of their way. Now that I think about it angikhumbuli ngibona ibala elimhlophana except for the mixed race woman who spoke fluent seTshwana and kicked her son from behind when He yelled "Mom wa'bora."
What an irony, here we were in the epicentre of white supremacy and we were struggling to identify "white" except for the architectural structure of the STATE THEATRE that stood strong and concrete as if there to keep time of times gone by.

Through all of this Bab' Alfred was on our minds as we knew that with him we would find solice. Haibo we weren't  expecting so many Bab Alfred's in one street. Many men and women with the same name "blind beggars". Some stand so they can be noticed, others sit so they can be pitied. Some  however simply just want to be saved so they do their best to be heard. They sing out loud a song of hope that things on the other side will get better in a place they like to call HOME where there shall be no more death, no more discrimination , no need for sight and insight, where they will find release.

From across the Helen Joseph street opposite Church square we hear our Divine appointment soothing our curiosity and letting us know that "hayo mathata Modimo hale teng." We rush to him with hope and for the first time in this life time I am released!!! Released from fear of being a street artist. The corner of Paul Kruger and former Church Street becomes my paradise as I harmonise to Bab Alfred's beautiful rendition of "hayo mathata." I feel a great sense of appreciation wash over me as people pass by and drop in 50cent coins into Bab Alfred's empty green camphor cream container. I forget about all the different performance spaces I have ever performed in and all the cheques I have impatiently waited for as I busk in the glory of nothingness. No fame , No borders, No fear just love pure love.
Bab' Alfred's lifeless eyes behind dark sunglasses look straight into my soul and awaken my Spirit. I am lost in love and soon I forget Pretoria and remember Humanity. I am re-baptised as an Artist and I feel born again.

After a hour and half of bliss we say our good byes and head straight to Randburg to continue with our mission of finding voices to speak with.

Bab' Martin whose veil covered eyes are full of life, greets us with the most amazing energy. We sit down with him and his wisdom puts us very quickly in our place. We thought we knew but we soon realise that we are blind. His knowledge of life is impressive for someone "who sees no evil" but feels it with great intensity.
When we ask him what he thinks of borders a subject matter we would like our work to revolve around he simply says uVALO loosely translated as "the feeling of Fear". We go on to explain the kind of work we do as Artists and once again without much thought as if he were an angel he whispers 'You mean Healing." Wow suddenly our miniature minds and under developed senses tell us we are hungry and we interpret this as physical hunger. Sorry for us we decide to indulge in Colonel Sanders prescription medication for the black hungry soul Kentucky Fried Chicken baby. 

As much as my insides were getting oiled so was my mind.  I know that the Truths I  was receiving from Bab Martin were preparing the machine in me. I was being colonised with love and truth and it felt so good, I knew that not even the Queen of England could touch me now. I was on top of the world and the world was no longer on top of me.

We walked away heavy, not just with KFC but with POWER and SIGHT.
The HEALING had begun.  

"Jesus said to the blind man open your eyes and see Hallelujah Amen, Hallelujah Amen"

"Jesus said Nicodemus you must be born again Hallelujah Amen Hallelujah Amen"

A Selfish Silly English Poem by a Selfish Silly Afrikan

Let me recite
Allow me to recite
I beg you that I may recite
The poem that I feel.

Let me recite
allow me to recite
I'm desperate to recite
the poem that sets me free

As I recite
allow me to recite
I'll be happy if I recite
the poem that made me me.

The poem that might not be
because its a poem that unleashes me
the poem that will expose me
as deep as I can be

The poem that bruises you in order to heal me that humiliates me to stimulate you that gives birth to me with promises to kill you......

Fear allow me to recite I need to recite a poem that is not afraid to see me,
A poem that is truly me.

 

"yekela ikhekhe lami ufuna ukulenzani ikhekhe lami " an Afrikan comments at the re visitation of the Berlin Conference in 1884 

Dear Blog

Johannesburg, Jozi Maboneng, iGoli, Kwandonga ziyaduma, The promised land for many and a dungeon of shattered dreams for some.

After much thought and deliberation I opted for this city or rather this city opted for me. It lured me into its epicentre , It trapped my dreams , refocused my vision and stripped my soul naked as it had done to many just like me. It opened me up, showed me my truth my untainted truth, and led me to this very question KONJE NGANGIZOKWENZANI LAPHA? The answer changes all the time.

Egoli ngifike ngathola umsebenzi, ngathola umgogodla, ngathola indoda, ngathola abantwana ngatholwa amakhaza, umoya owomile wangiphashisa, ilanga langomisa, umsindo wangidida, izintaba zasezimayini zangikhombisa ukuthi ukuze litholakale leliGolide elikimina kuzomele ngigujwe to the depth of my soul. At times I feel exposed, opened up, drilled to my core, imicabango namaphupho ami edlwenguliwe, umgogodla wami ukhathele and my values questioned.
 
At times I choose to be moved by sorrow, pain and frustration and I neglect the beauty that is me. The beauty that is God , The Beauty that is in you sorrowful, pain stricken and frustration riddled  beautiful Johannesburg.
 

For the first time after a long time I allowed Beauty to move me

Jemmiro Arts

Dear Mr or Mrs Blog

Now am not sure whether you are man or woman , before I was convinced you were neither.


anywho here are some random Quotes from my mind to feed your habit and take away my edge....


"We keep saying when we are old not realising that we grow older by the second"

"My eyes have perfect sight of the moon and it shines bright towards my direction. So why should I grow weary?"

"Let every moment have its own moment rather than involving other moments into this very moment"

"I chose to see the stars and my eyes began to speak a different language, my heart sang a different song and my night suddenly became bright."

"I have a dream that love shall be set free."

"I may be fooled to think I own this vessel that is my body but even the fool that I am realises that I don't own the content inside of it."

"It seems like my spirit is renting space in my body."

"Faith leads one to stand up and fight, meaning it gives one courage."

"perfection is in the eye of the beholder."

"Temptation the woman with a sweet yet poisonous voice."

"wondering how it would have been thinking maybe it could have been exactly like this"

"I'm thirsty for .... amuse yourself fill in something you would never say. Breaking stereotypes starting with self"

"Position yourself so that the sun shines bright in your favour. having said that don't forget to wear sun screen and give others the chance to also bask."

"I sing with every being of my soul. My heart ululates whilst my feet beat an unforgettable rhythm."

"God is HUGE u can't contain, box or own this Force "

"To END is to BEGIN in this circle of LIFE"
                                                                                                                                       Hlengiwe's Psalms

                                                    

             " Ngiphakamisela amehlo ami ezintabeni lapho usizo lwami luvela khona" 

David's Psalm

Dear Blog

Desperation! Desperation! Desperation!

The Desperation of my black dark mind causes me to seek for Gratification, Peace and Love in places that dehumanise me, in places that take away ubumina and belittles imibono yami nemicabango yami.
I am reduced to isithunzela forsaking my Spirit, my God and my great Destiny.

I wait in long queues everyday to receive a Blessing from a man who himself is desperate for this Blessing.
He gives me water and vaseline to take away my desperation , I believe and viola it works?

I wait again for a desperate 5 years to be given a T-shirt and a promise yokwakhelwa iRDP (reconstruction and development program)  house ngiphinde ngikhushulelwe imali yeqolo ngo R10. 
Ngoba I am so desperate I go ahead and once again queue from dusk till dawn to cast my vote for a man who is oh so desperate, resorting to desperate measures for power and recognition. This leaves me truly reconstructed and in need of a program to develop my sense of pride.

My desperate black dark mind supresses my own reasoning causing me to say yes its fine that another person of a different ethnicity and background should determine how I fix my hair, colour my face and adorn my body that is uniquely mine. So I find myself once again queuing to be told by a Chinese man what hair extension I should fix on my crown of glory. Thinking that this is going to extend me to my Glory I go ahead use imali yeqolo lami elingalali lisebenzela abantwana bami and buy this hair extension only to realise 5 yrs down the line that it has stolen my crown and left me bald.

Ok now I'm bald my head is a playground for foreign ideas and philosophies. I leave umuzi wami nabantwana bami ngiyosebenza emazweni ngisebenza amashift awu 3 ngelanga ngisebenzela imali yetransport nerent kanye netax. hooweee!!! ngaze ngakhathala ,ngaze nga desperate for someone to touch my feet, massage iqolo lami and listen to the blab that comes out of my desperate lips.
Its not long before I find a man or a woman who is desperate for praise, love and a mat to wipe his or her feet on. She or he kneels and I jump up and down saying "yes, yes, yes  I will"  only to find that his or her knees are now resting on my neck causing me to suffocate.

Perhaps if I'm lucky I will be found resting my bald black dark corrupted and twisted head on the fast train to neverland but if I'm not I will be deported back to my black dark mind never to return.

             Lost in the stars "Trouble Man" the Baron Samedi interpretation

 

Dear Blog

 

I guess perhaps this medium serves as a higher-grade diary which gives me permission  to speak my thoughts.... well I think alot about my Blackness "Ubuntu bami" or perhaps Ubumnyama bami. So if I should go on and on and on and ON about this it should be OK because these are my thoughts and Dear Blog isn't that what you're about "Peoples thoughts".

 

So today I thought about my Blackness again!!! It should be a boring thought and subject matter in my head now, somehow I wish my brain could just reject it and quickly move it to the spam mail session in my gut but hey it feels like it's been saved forever and not about to be erased any time soon.

 

"OK get to the point Hlengi". Well taking a taxi from Kya Sands to Roodepoort made me realise once again that the Black mind is so "suppressed"  ucindezelekile umqondo womuntu onsundu, this just makes me wanna yell out SHAME! SHAME! SHAME!

SHAME! on me for being a 31year old mother of four with a diploma and a job and yet still subjects herself to taxis well rather to the taxi mentality "I don't get this".

SHAME! on that queue Marshall who keeps pulling kissing faces every time he sees a pretty woman, I wonder if his face doesn't lock into spasms.

SHAME! on that rude taxi  driver who assumes that everyone who climbs into his Boss's taxi knows exactly where they are going and that the person sitting in front has a CCD "Counting Change Degree".

SHAME! on that old Baba who is so opinionated thinking that the taxi is his house and that he should dictate to everyone exactly where to jump off, and Finally since it is Women's month a big SHAME!!! on that woman who finds joy in putting down another sister, embarrassing her in public.

SHAME!!! SHAME!!! SHAME!!! on this mental slavery that continues to dominate our thoughts and actions. Today I felt sooooooo ASHAMED!

 

Isende indlela, ngiqalaphi ukucabangisisa okomuntu okhululekile. Konke engikwenzayo nengikucabangayo somehow has a direct relationship with my blackness. Ngisho nokucabanga ngolimi lwami kuyinkinga. But wait a minute luyini ulimi lwami, yingabe yilolu oluhalela imagnum ice cream eyenziwe eUnilever in La Lucia. Noma yilolu olungayidli inyama or wait a minute mhlawumbe yilolu oluthanda ucheese no fish wase West Africa... Kwaze kwanzima Maye ngilamuleleni!!! Singing- "Ngaphesheya Ngaphesheya ,Ngiyakphumula ngiyakujabula, Ngaphesheya Ngaphesheya Mhla ngifike zweni Ngaphesheya"

 

Highway to Heaven Paradise Road "a simple tale of Colonialism"