2016 Jan. 31: Muholi’s upcoming mo(ve)ments

Posted on January 31, 2016 by inkanyiso2009

Feb. 2016: Announcements on upcoming exhibition, artist talk/lectures in the US
Source:  Posters provided by hosts and partners

2016 Feb. 6 Zanele-Muholi_poster

 

2016 Jan. 14 Muholi _ ft MoCP Lecture

 

2016 Feb.5 - 26 Muholi @Gallatin NYU invite

 
Previous lectures:

 

2015 Dec. 8:  Cultural exchange from Johannesburg to Sardinia

 

and

 

2015 Oct. 14:  Brief visit to Amherst

 

and

 

2015 Oct. 9:  Muholi presents at Penny Stamps Distinguished Speakers Series

and

 

2015 Sept. 8:  Faces and Phases presented at Hasselblad Foundation

 

and

 

2015 Sept. 2:  When Faces Meet in Gothenburg, Sweden

 

and

 

2015 Aug. 23:  Muholi and Dumse present at Light Work AIR

 

and

 

2015 March 12:  Muholi addressed scholars at Brighton University, UK

 

and

 

2015 Feb. 27:  Announcement 
Public Lecture by Zanele Muholi @UCLAN, London

 

and

 

2014 July 18: Women’s Day Lecture at UFS

 

and

 

2014 June 17: Muholi’s Ryerson University (RIC) Talk

 

and

 

2014 Mar.21: Photo of the Day from Human Rights and LGBTI in Sub-Saharan Africa class

 

and

 

2014 Mar. 18: Sharing South African Queer Knowledge with students in America

 

and

 

2014 Mar.5: More than an activist

 

and

 

2014 Feb.4: Black Queer Born Frees in South Africa

 

and

 

2013 Nov. 4: From Market Photo Workshop to Bremen University

 

and…

 

 

Posted in Activists Act, Africans Abroad, Announcement, Another Approach Is Possible, Archived memories, Archiving Queer Her/Histories in SA, Art Activism, Art Edutainment, Articulation, Artist Talk, Being conscientized, Being heard, Collaborations, Creating awareness, Education, Expression, lectures, New York University - Gallatin Gallery, NYU - Gallatin poster by Ellen Eisenman, Posters, Power of the Voice, Reports by Lerato Dumse, Sharing knowledge, South Africa, Visual activism, We Are You, We Care, We Still Can with/out Resources, Writing is a Right | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 1 Comment

2016 Jan. 22 Lyle Ashton Harris talk at Nirox Arts…

Posted on January 27, 2016 by inkanyiso2009

Photo Album by Lerato Dumse & Sandisiwe Dlamini

Where: Nirox Arts Space, Johannesburg, South Africa

 

2016 Jan. 22 Hon. Elizabeth McKay_0203

 

2016 Jan. 22 Diplomats main_0279

 

2016 Jan. 22 Diplomats2_0201

 

2016 Jan. 22 Elizabeth McKay_0294

 

2016 Jan. 22 Experts 2 _0200

 

2016 Jan. 22 Lyle & Muholi 2_0146

 

2016 Jan. 22 Lyle Ashton talk_0249

 

2016 Jan. 22 Lyle presentation _ portrait_0235

 

2016 Jan. 22 Muholi & Harris_0211

 

2016 Jan. 22 Muholi Harris McKay_0321

 

2016 Jan. 22 Nirox friends & supporters_0284

 

2016 Jan. 22 Puleng2_0352

 

2016 Jan. 22 Nirox friends_0339

 

Lerato & S_0310

2016 Jan. 22 Rudean & Muholi_0261

 

2016 Jan.22 Friendships_0428

 

2016 Jan.22 Yswara Muholi Harris_0244

 

 

Related link

 

2016 Jan. 25:  Creative Artists share knowledge on archiving

 

 

 

 

 

Posted in Another Approach Is Possible, Archived memories, Creating awareness, Power of the Voice, We Are You, We Care, We Still Can with/out Resources, Writing is a Right | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

2016 Jan. 25: Creative Artists share knowledge on archiving

Posted on January 25, 2016 by inkanyiso2009

Text by Lerato Dumse
Photos by Sandisiwe Dlamini & Lerato Dumse

Over the last couple of days there have been numerous news reports about snakes being spotted in residential homes and incidents of humans and animals being bitten in South Africa. So when we arrived at the Cradle of Humankind on January 22. 2016, for the conversation between Lyle Ashton Harris and Zanele Muholi at the Nirox Foundation, my first thought was ‘I hope there are no snakes here.’ The place looks beautiful with a green nature ambience created by the many green trees that surrounded the studio that Lyle used during his Artist Residency at Nirox and the conversation venue.

 

2016 Jan. 22 Muholi & Harris_0211

The conversation was made possible through a partnership between Nirox Foundation and the US embassy. In her opening remarks, Elizabeth McKay, US embassy Acting Deputy Chief of Mission thanked everyone for attending the event, “which celebrates the rich traditions of art in South Africa.” Calling Zanele and Lyle talented and proactive, Elizabeth also thanked the artists for bringing their voices and critical work into conversation about art and the intersection of sex, race and gender. Adding that Lyle is the second American artist that the embassy has sponsored to spend time at Nirox.

 

2016 Jan. 22 Nirox friends & supporters_0284

Front row (right) Elizabeth McKay, US embassy Acting Deputy Chief of Mission interacting with audience.

 

This is not the first time that Harris and Muholi’s work have crossed paths. Harris came across Muholi’s work around 2007 when a friend who had visited South Africa told him she (Muholi) was someone to look out for. Shortly after they were part of a group show in New York, which received a good review in the New York Times.
In giving context about his history with photography, Lyle explained that he was an economics major, and it was during his junior year that he visited his brother in Amsterdam and started doing photography. His stepfather Pule Leinaeng convinced everyone that, “they need to let the boy do what he needs to do.” He had his first New York show in 1994 at the Jack Tilton Gallery. Harris shared many of his signature shots, some of which he referred to as infamous. One gender-bending image taken in 1994, remains relevant especially with the Black Lives Movement, “Saint Michael Stewart” (named for a young black man who died in police custody, in the photo Harris wears both lavish makeup and a New York City police uniform. He also projected “Lyle Ashton Harris in collaboration with Thomas Allen Harris, Brotherhood, Crossroads and Etcetera. #2 1994, the image initially spoke to the complications of desires of the body.

 

2016 Jan. 22 Lyle presentation _ portrait_0235

Harris has managed to successfully cultivate a diverse artistic practice ranging from photographic media, collage, installation and performance. His work explores intersections between the personal and the political, examining the impact of ethnicity, gender and desire on the contemporary social and cultural dynamic.

“We Live in Fear” a documentary collaboration between Muholi and Human Rights Watch was a hit with the local audience when it was screened at the event. The activist then explained that the documentary was produced in 2013 and narrates how she does her visual activism focusing on LGBT community. Muholi explained that she has started working with herself, “trying to remember the person she is.” The project was born from an urge to introspect, as she “becomes a different person, aging as a female bodied being, confronting personal demons that we hardly deal with as human beings especially photographers.”

Muholi shoots her Somnyama Ngonyama series at every space she wakes up during her travels and added that she doesn’t need to paint herself because she is already black. The images are on blackness and representing the self, as she wakes up feeling different, sometimes she doesn’t like herself.
Muholi has had two solo shows and one group exhibition for Somnyama and was well received in New York, Johannesburg and Nuoro Italy.
Muholi told the captivated crowd that in this series she uses her body as her artistic response to on-going racism in different parts of the world, but has not divorced the self from exploring issues of gender, class and sexuality. One of her striking images in Somnyama speaks on being the ‘black sheep’ in your family.
“Many queer people are disrespected in their own families, especially when you are a female and there are expectations for dowry or ilobolo to be paid for you.” The activist said she wanted to create an image “that speaks on being the black sheep in a family where you are expected to provide for one to be respected.”

 

2016 Jan. 22 Rudean L. _0226

Apart from the artists presenting their work, a special reading and musical performance was on the programme. It was the first time that Harris’ mother Rudean Leinaeng was reading from her forth-coming book in the African continent, titled Coal, War and Love. It is a fictionalised treatment of a family history based on her grandfather Sergeant Albert Johnson Snr. Albert fought in the Great War, WWI and became one of the famous, ‘Harlem Hell Fighter’ a black area in New York. The story talks about a boy forced to leave school after the forth grade, he travels and makes the world his classroom. He struggles to find his place in early 20th century America as a black man. Albert marries the woman of his dreams and risks his life in the war, with hopes of making a better life for her and their children. He enlists in the 15th coloured regiment of New York and wins many medals. Rudean read from chapter 25, which takes place in 1917.

 

Lerato & S_0310

 

Mixing various instruments such as a flute, rhythym guitar, whistle and vocals allows Lerato Lichaba and Tubatsi Mpho Moloi to create a rich and unique sound. Their style of clothing is beautiful and embraces African fashion. The creative duo makes use of ordinary objects such as pipes, to create unique sounds. Born in Mzimhlope, Orlando West Soweto, Lerato is a self taught Guitarist who began his journey with the guitar at the age of 16 years. While Tubatsi has been performing with Lerato since 2013, he has toured the world on a musical production called Umoja where he was also acting and dancing.

 

Previous by Lerato

2015 Dec. 8:  Cultural exchange from Johannesburg to Sardinia

 

 

 

Posted in A new visual history, Acceptance, Appreciation, Archive, Archived memories, Archiving Queer Her/Histories in SA, Art Activism, Art Is A Human Right, Art is Queer, Artivist, Beauty, Before US, Being conscientized, Being heard, being loved, being recognized, being respected., Openminded-ness, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

2016 Jan. 14: Disowning parents

Posted on January 14, 2016 by inkanyiso2009

by Mandisa “Thozie” Mathe

Nobody belongs to any other person in this life. We only have connections with each other, either you are connected to me because we’re family, friends, partners or enemies that’s if there is anything like an enemy. Life for homosexual people has been hard and still is. The hardships come when one has to compromise his or her being and be what the other person wants them to be. Parents can only have dreams about their kids but parents must be aware that they are bringing lives to earth. Meaning they are bringing souls that are here to manifest, experiment themselves and bring about change if there is anything like that. It shocks me when a parent is so much hateful towards her or his homosexual child. But why Lord?
Why would one do such a thing?

Parents must know that there is no need for them to approve their gay kids, nor a need to disapprove them. Nobody can or must choose whom you should love and no one has a right to decide who you must sleep with.

I don’t understand why parents are chasing their kids away. If one has the ability to choose which sickness you must have then they can choose your sexuality, if one can feel your pain then they can choose your sexuality. If you are not me then stay right there and embrace my presence with love.

It is so painful to even think of homosexuals that committed suicide just because they wanted to be accepted or be approved. There is really nothing to be approved here because all human beings have a right to LOVE and LOVE wins. You cannot convince a person to make love with someone they do not love.

2015 Jan. 2: Families at Durban South Beach...

2015 Jan. 2: Families at Durban South Beach…

If we can try to unpack reasons why some people don’t like homosexuals we would be wasting time. How can a loving parent chase away a child that she carried for 9 months because of the fact that she is a lesbian. Reversible we can conclude that when we are told that these are the final days we mean people have turned to be animals, we mean there is no humanity in us. Families shall part sisters will kill each other simply because we are fighting over the fact that you are not sleeping with a man. You do not want a penis to penetrate you! Simply because you are happy with another women in your life, then that would make some people turn to be animals, people would want to kill you.

Fact is love wins over everything. You can only have hopes for your kids but you can never have dreams for them, they are the only people to manage their dreams. Sometimes we even prefer to talk to “strangers” about our problems. Are we not supposed to talk to family members first?

The other issue is the dress code

What is it exactly that defines a female? Is it clothes? Are you female enough underneath a dress?  Are you man enough under shirts and baggy pants?
No! Does your breast make you a woman? Does having a penis make you a man enough?
No! You may have a penis but it might not be functioning well. You may have breast but as time goes on they might have cancer and they have to be cut does that mean you are not a women now?
Nothing in your body defines you. Your dress code does not tell who you should be in love with, and a vagina or penis does not determine who you should marry!

Under formal pants we still find man who are killers and fathers who rape their own daughters, underneath nice skirts we still find “women” who abort kids and who abuse their kids. What then makes a female a woman? What in life determines who a woman should be in love with?

A dress code and your anatomy cannot determine LOVE for you. It is time we let people be what they want to be, love who they want to love. Sleeping with a man or not sleeping with a man does not make you less of a woman or more of a woman. The fact that I was born female does not mean I need a penis to be more like a woman or to be accepted by the community. To be disowned by parents just because you will not allow a penis to your vagina does not mean you are less of a woman. Gone are the days when one would be loved because of who or what they are. The days of unconditional love vanished too soon. Homosexuality is not from towns neither from rural areas. If God is love, then love is unconditional meaning God loves you as you are.

 

Previous by Mandisa
2014 June 16: Ze ungandibizi

 

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2015 Oct. 14: Brief visit to Amherst

Posted on January 14, 2016 by inkanyiso2009

by Lerato Dumse

While we were attending the Fire & Ink LGBT conference in Detroit, USA, Zanele Muholi informed me that she had confirmed her presence at Amherst College, in Massachusetts from October 14-16, 2015.

We travelled from the Detroit conference to New York City (NYC), where our bus to Massachusetts was to depart from. So we spent two days in NYC Metropolitan, which is home to millions of people from different countries and have different races and ethnic identities, which is not that different from Johannesburg, something that I’m used to.

Muholi and I had an early start to our day on October 14, as we left Brooklyn and headed to 42nd Street on our way to the bus. After arriving at the city centre we were unsure whether to take a left or right turn and opted to ask someone who was dressed like one of the traffic officials. He gave us an unconvincing answer to take the left route, with scepticism in our hearts and minds we took his advice and hoped for the best. We arrived at the bus stop with some time to spare, as the bus had not arrived yet. I took the opportunity to finish my left over ribs from a restaurant in Chelsea and delicious oxtail which is my comfort American food sold at a Caribbean fast food restaurant in Brooklyn.

The bus arrived and we boarded ready for the approximated 4-hour trip that lay ahead. NYC traffic didn’t disappoint even for a Wednesday morning. We were stuck in a bumper-to-bumper traffic jam while navigating our way out of the city. Many of my movements in NYC are on the subway, so it felt like I was on one of those tourist buses (which I always wish to ride) as I was sitting on the top part of the double decker bus. We eventually made it to the high way were the traffic was flowing smoothly. It was a little unnerving looking outside the window and realising how narrow the high way is, my biggest fear was the bus tipping over.
As we neared our destination a beautiful landscape of some of the most beautiful leaves came into our view. Bright, vibrant and happy colours provided a pleasant sight for me and I think its safe to say to my fellow passengers. The place is so beautiful I think it can probably cure depression and turn any grumpy teachers, bosses and parents into happy people. We had a safe journey and just before our drop off spot the driver announced that those who were continuing to the last destination should wear their jackets. He should have given us the same warning as well, as soon as I stepped outside the bus I realised the temperatures were much lower than in New York. We had to wait briefly for our organised cab to pick us up and take us to The Lord Jeffery Inn, our home in Amherst. In the first few minutes waiting at the parking lot it became apparent that not many black or people of colour are in Amherst. I have proclaimed before, I fear for my life when I see white American police, I didn’t even have to see them, my paranoia just took over.

The senseless racial killing of congregants from Emanuel African Methodist Episcopal Church in South Carolina reminded me just how the lack of gun control in the states poses a threat to people with my skin colour. I believe the two biggest threats to my life are my race and sexuality. When I have to travel in an African country I investigate homophobic incidents towards lesbians and their laws. For the USA and Europe I investigate their racism, I say this understanding that homophobic violence exists in these places as well, as evidenced by the high numbers of murdered trans women of colour in America.

When I researched racism in Amherst the one incident that the media has covered is of Carolyn Gardner, a Math teacher from Amherst Regional High School. She has been the target of racist graffiti some of it found in the boy’s toilets at the school. In my thinking these kids must be getting this attitude somewhere, most probably home or other adults around them. So all I could do was pray for protection from my guardians and hope for the best, while in Amherst and the United States. We arrived at our temporary home and rested for the night, preparing for a busy day on October 15th.

 

2015 Oct. 15 Muholi sharing her work with students, curators and researchers @Amherst College... Photo by Lerato Dumse

2015 Oct. 15 Muholi sharing her work with students, curators and researchers @Amherst College… Photo by Lerato Dumse

The following morning we made our way to Hampshire College, Muholi had a classroom lecture with students from the Department of Film, Photography and Video. The class was an intimate number of less than 10. Muholi conducted the session in a roundtable setup, which enabled everyone to face one another and contribute to the discussion. The intimate session allowed students to have a conversation with Muholi and ask her different questions, including the popular one where people ask if she is not worried that her work puts the participants at risk. The session also helped us to get some insight from another guest speaker, Jennifer Bajorek. She spoke about the sad reality of many African families that sell the photographs of their deceased relatives at the fraction of the price that they are then resold for in Dollars. Bajorek is a researcher and the founder of a non-profit organization called “Resolution” it is dedicated to photography and photography collections in Africa.

Following that enlightening conversation, we had a little less than an hour to make our way to another campus and meet with students from the Department of Feminist Studies at Hampshire College. Female students dominated this class; we found them already seated and waiting for Muholi to present. With the lights dimmed, students watched silently as Muholi projected a documentary and her photographs. The only disturbing sound came from a student who kept taking aggressive bites from an apple.

Although we were tired and starving, our minds were on the last event of the day, which was a public lecture at Pruyne Lecture Hall later that evening.

The lectures sponsored by the Department of Art, the History of Art, as well as the Interdisciplinary Studies Institute at UMass Amherst College were a success and well attended.

 

Previous by Lerato

 

2015 Oct. 4:  South African Visual Activism open eyes in Liverpool

Posted in Another Approach Is Possible, Archive, Archived memories, Article by Lerato Dumse, Conversation, Creating awareness, Education, Expression, Fire & Ink LGBT conference, From Johannesburg to Massachusetts, Guest speaker, Hampshire College, Intergenerational mo(ve)ments, Jennifer Bajorek, LGBTI politics, Life, media, New York City (NYC), New York upstate, Photography and Video, Power of the Voice, Presentation, Pruyne Lecture Hall, Race and Sexuality, Resolution, Students, Travelogue, USA, We Are You, We Care, We Still Can with/out Resources, Writing is a Right, Zanele Muholi Amherst College visit | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 3 Comments

2015 Dec. 27: Qhawekazi Elihle (Memoir)

Posted on January 6, 2016 by inkanyiso2009

by Tinashe Wakapila

Knight and shining armour come in the image of males, who are strong and powerful. These men fight and correct problems every now and again. My article is a grieving article, a poetic article filled with flashback memories of a Knight and shining amour who came as a woman and turned my life around. If I forget to mention anything on this article, just know that it is all recorded inside.

Qhawekazi, Ndlovukazi, Siwiliwili, Ngane yeZulu!

The day I stepped my feet into VMCI I experienced anew life changing moments spiritually. Get me right dear reader or article viewer, what I am about to write is not what VMCI is only about, but rather the circumstances that befalls this wonderful church.

 

2015 April 25 MaGesh _ frown_1040

2015 April 25 MaGesh Zungu, Brooklyn, New York City. Photo by Zanele Muholi

MAGATSHENI MAGESH ZUNGU

My hand and heart ache as I type
THE LATE…….

Like a Rose that has been plucked out of the fresh valley of different bouquets, very addictive yet healthy scent/ fragrance that passes its fresh molecules around. So was her warm welcome to the children of the Lord in the house of God VMCI. I do not know how she might have made you feel. My encounter with her, I as a foreign national in Durban, queer gendered woman, youth, believer and lady prayer, she taught me that love covers a multitude of sin. Regardless of how you may feel towards your life never miss the important thing which is Praising and Worshipping God, she said.

I am getting carried away with Myself, Magesh. The second time of my coming to church, my IsiZulu was not up to standard, I went up to her to pass my greeting she looked at me with her warm eyes and an understanding nod of encouragement and said to me “I know you are not from around I spoke to ubaba (Pastor Zungu) ukuthi siyenze i plan for us to have an interpreter.”

She placed herself in my shoes with my obvious confusion of the language. I felt at home, even when I was far away from her with her everlasting care, love and encouragement.

She taught me the way to hold myself high and she said “Njengoba Indlovukazi iyagqoka umqhele we glass, uyayisabela ukuthi if it drops it will break, always raise your head up high and never look down.

MORAL: The Hero that we lost as VMCI, is not just an ordinary Mam’ Mfundisi, she was extraordinary, her care was the care I had not known. For one moment I said to myself, this is a rare human.

God finally realized his Angel was missing and took it away.
A mother, best friend, sister, wife, caregiver, healer, counsellor, psychotherapist, name it, she was all in one.

What touches me the most is that I was a foreigner, a rare human in another land, she preached to me about Moses and how he grew up in the foreign land but still took domain. She never said she cannot encourage me because I am different. Instead she sought to make me strong and hardworking.

She was a Warrior, a lady. An ambassador, a soldier of the Lord, a woman of virtue, who would have stopped at nothing to bring a smile on a down face, a spiritual strength at  a thirsty soul.

The skies look wonderful and clear, oh the heavens cannot contain the beauty that you bring out and radiate.

Your memories are everyone’s life solace.

May the beautiful memories of the times we spent with you when the spirit and flesh were still together be even enhanced with us, celebrating and joining you in spirit every time
WE DEVOUR IN OUR SPIRIT WORLD.

As I wrote this article I was smiling hard with a tear on my cheek, you are reading and listening from the heavens above, there is nothing your children value more than your love, nommater where we are, what we are doing, your memories will keep us going and smiling.

Uyathandwa and the wonderful castle you are building for all of us there is surely glamourous, fashionable and classical just like you Mom. 

We will make you proud.
Words will be endless
Farewell Dwala Elihle. 

Founder of Dwala, now and forever remember you told me to write minutes after our Dwala meeting. 

This will not be my last but today I am proud to write the glimpsed minutes of your life from the day I met you till we parted, I submit it to you.

 
Related link

2015 Dec. 24:  Remembering Magesh Zungu

Previous by Tinashe

2015 Jan. 3:  I dropped out of the closed many times

 

 

 

 

Posted in Another Approach Is Possible, Archived memories, Creating awareness, Power of the Voice, We Are You, We Care, We Still Can with/out Resources, Writing is a Right | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 1 Comment

2015 Dec. 24: Remembering Magesh Zungu

Posted on December 24, 2015 by inkanyiso2009

by Lerato Dumse

Dry eyes were scarce inside Denis Hurley hall, when Wandile Mkhize asked to speak during his mother’s memorial service. Diakonia Council of Churches Centre hosted Nombulelo “Magesh” Zungu’s memorial service, on Sunday December 20, 2015. Magesh is popularly known as “Mam’ Mfundisi or the first lady of Victorious Ministries Church International (VMCI) and was recognised as the mother of the church. Months after she had been admitted to hospital, she succumbed to illness on December 17.

 

2015 April 25 MaGesh _ frown_1040

2015 April 25: MaGesh in Brooklyn, New York.  Photo by Zanele Muholi 

Inkanyiso media has been documenting the church since 2012, and was requested to document the memorial service. The crew arrived 30 minutes before the service was scheduled to start. Only a handful of mourners had arrived, and sat in awkward silence, filled with grief.

2015 Jan. 11 MaGesh Boysie Zonke & Menzi _6492

2015 Jan. 11: Durban, MaGesh in an emotional state during church service with Boysie, Zonke and Menzi

Some of the church’s staunch members were finalizing arrangements, Mfundo completed covering the chairs, Nonhle Kunene sprinkled pink petals on the stage, Inkanyiso prepared documenting equipment and assisted with the projection and light setup. Mbali Biyela worked on the sound system, one of the speakers seemed uncooperative and sounded as if it had “cried” a lot, mourning the passing of “Isiwiliwili” as she was fondly called.

When I received the call about Magesh’s death I was in a grocery store with my grandfather. I was overwhelmed by grief, forced to fight back tears, I spent the rest of the week with a lump on my throat. So as Wandile stood and addressed the congregation, my tears finally fell. “I am a man today because of you, Thank you for loving my entire family, I have never seen any man love a woman the way you loved my mother, Wandile said during a heartfelt declaration of love for Pastor Zenzi Zungu.

 

2015 April 29 Fran Hlonipha Zungu MaGesh_1663

2015 April 29: R-L: Brooklyn Museum, New York. MaGesh + Pastor Z. Zungu with Prof. Hlonipha Mokoena (Wiser, Wits University) and Prof. Fran White (NYU)

 

L-R: Pastor Z. Zungu and the wife MaGesh Zungu during the VMCI Easter service

2014: L-R: Pastor Z. Zungu and the wife MaGesh Zungu during the VMCI Easter service. Photo by Charmain Carrol

 

2015 Jan. 11 MaGesh & Pastor Zungu_6513
Menzi Nxumalo was the MC for the day; he recalled a conversation with Magesh days before her passing, in which she announced to him during a telephonic conversation that she was leaving. The first item on the programme was Khumbuzile Xulu. She reminisced about how she met and became friends with “Magatsheni” in Grade 8, then standard 6. While they were still in High School, “Magatsheni” offered Xulu a glam look. The friend said she was received well by the Ndlovu family, which is Magesh’s maiden name, giving her comfort when her mother died. Xulu thanked Pastor Zungu for being supportive to Magesh, even sleeping at the hospital. Xulu described her friend as “creative, with a pure heart, sharing love wholeheartedly, she added.

 

2014 Dec.21 VMCI pre xmas service best photo_0027

2014 Dec.21 VMCI Durban, church service featuring MaGesh in a royal blue dress…  Photo by Zanele Muholi

Speaking for the elders of the church, Ndosi Cele reminded everyone that the memorial service was a celebration of life, and that Magesh would not want people to be sad. “She has left a mark, she fought for life and fought for everyone.” Cele reassured Zungu of the elder’s undying support.

Another church executive followed and pledged support to Zungu. D Mkhize sent condolences to the pastor’s family saying Magesh “had time with her God.”

Noxolo Biyela represented Idwala, she explained that she understands the vision carried by Magesh. “We spent time together at conferences, and she would share the word with us, leave us revived.”

The long list of praises for Magesh, included how she was responsible for the many homes built by her through marriage. S Magutshwa spoke for the Ushers at VMCI. Echoing previous speakers, Magutshwa noted that Magesh was like a biological mother to many, and spread her love to the church.

After worshipping and shedding tears for our Mam’ Mfundisi, we received the main word of God from Thabo Ngwane. He read from John chapter 12 verse 22 and Genesis chapter 39 verse 6. Congregants continued praising the word of God, and remembered Magesh Zungu.

 

Previous links

 

2015 April 6:  VMCI Baptism at 2015 Easters in Durban

 

and

2015 Feb. 16:  VMCI is a home away from home

 

and

 

2014 Dec. 21:  Sealing the union of love

 

and

 

 2014 Dec. 14:  The kiss that moved the church

and

 

 2014 Aug. 2:  Vuyisile and Happy’s umembeso

 

and

 

2014 June 23:  The lovely couple on vacation in Cape Town

 

and

 

2014 Feb. 4: Newly ordained pastors of VMCI church 

and

 

2014 Jan. 5:  Ishaya ngolunye unyawo i-VMCI kulonyaka

 

and

 

2013 Sept. 21:  Easter Weekend with VMCI worshippers 

 

and

2013 Sept. 19:  Ikhiphe icwecwe layo lokuqala i-Victory 

 

and

 

 2013 Sept. 1:  Bafake umfaniswano omama nobab’ umfundisi

 

and

 

 2013 Sept. 1:  The VMCI Times

and

 

 2013 Sept. 16:  The day Ndlelas got married  

 

and

 

 2013 Jan. 6:  Victory Ministries Church International (VMCI)

 

and

 

 2013 June 15:  The Durban Lesbian Wedding of the Year

 

 

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2015 Dec. 8: Cultural exchange from Johannesburg to Sardinia

Posted on December 8, 2015 by inkanyiso2009

by Lerato Dumse

After spending nearly a week in Durban attending a conference with Feminists, Artists, Academics and Activists.
On November 30 2015, collaborators and friends, Lindeka Qampi and Zanele Muholi, made their way to Italy. They are participating in a 2-week Artist Residency in Cagliari and Nuoro in Sardinia Island. Their latest cultural exchange project follows an invitation by Tight Rope Walkers (TRW) Culture Association.

Even though many people warned about the cold weather expected in Italy during December, it was surprisingly sunny when the duo arrived at the Department of History, Cultural Values and Territory, at the University of Cagliari. They found a few students waiting for them while their classmates continued trickling inside the classroom, until approximately 30 of them had arrived. Professor Felice Tiragallo gave a brief introduction on the work done by Muholi and Qampi before handing over to them to present.

Assisted by an interpreter, the South African artists took to the stage to share their work. Qampi began her presentation by providing some background into her work, and her reasons for capturing her images. Lindeka shared about how she started photography in 2006 at the age of 36, explaining how she has moved from street photography to photographing her family, as a way of re-enacting scenes from her past. Her image selection highlighted the different cultures that South Africa has to offer. Technical glitches caused by the university’s computer, forced the group to change classrooms and the determined Qampi was able to continue projecting her work.

Her photographs highlighted the use of blankets in various aspects of South African culture. One of the photographs was of her husband, Mzwabantu Mafilika covered in a blanket that he has owned since 1991 when he returned from initiation school. Qampi spoke about how she has started fusing photography with poetry and recited one of her poems titled Blanket. The poem spoke about a blanket that provides comfort when she is alone in the dark, trying to cope with life’s challenges.

Muholi followed with her presentation, which complemented Qampi’s work, speaking on the theme of self-representation. As a way of introduction and giving context about her work, Muholi screened “We live in fear” which is an 11-minute documentary. The art activist explained to the group that she produces her work, as a way of denouncing phobias is South Africa and beyond. The Anthropology students listened intently while Muholi projected her most recent and well-received body of work titled Somnyama Ngonyama. Muholi informed the group that she started working on the high contrasted self-portraits in 2012, during an Art Residency at Civitella in Umbria, Italy. The work was inspired by her need to respond to racism as an artist. She shared how racial incidents compelled her to produce the work in the different African, American and European countries she has visited, during her travels giving lectures and photography training.

 

2015 Dec. 4 Anthropology _ Group photo _ CU3_5401

2015 Dec. 4: With Anthropology students at Cagliari University, Italy…                                           Photo © Zanele Muholi/ Inkanyiso media

 

The group seemed to be overwhelmed by the presentations and were unable to ask questions when the platform was opened for them to do so. The following day the artists turned the tables during their second session with the Anthropology students. The group was given an opportunity to share their thoughts; they were requested to speak on the problems/challenges facing their communities. The group, which comprises mostly of youths had to imagine themselves as members of parliament handling different portfolios. Although some of the students are not from Sardinia or even Italy, the problems raised pointed to global challenges facing countries such as Germany, Turkey and South Africa. Amongst the biggest problems raised was food shortage, lack of recreational facilities for youngsters, scarce public transport that prevents people from accessing education institutions, a culture of not valuing education in some communities and a gap in the tourism industry, which could boost the economy of communities.

Having coughed out some challenges, the following day students had to identify their responsibilities as Anthropology students and members of those communities. The aim of that exercise was to assist them in coming up with solutions. The group then paired up and took portraits of each other, as a way of teaching them the process of making. Some of the students have photography as part of their course and own cameras; while for some it was their first time handling a DLSR camera.

The three day lecture series was ended with a group photo taken by Muholi, as a way of marking the time spent with the group.  They highlighted that people might be separated by distance, mountains, oceans and time, but are bound by life’s challenges such as global warming, financial crisis and technological advancements.

 

Current and previous Photo Experience on Visual Activism.

The group photos show special moments shared with many individuals we met through our journeys, especially those who believe in our work on visual activism. 
We felt loved, recognised and appreciated. We learnt and shared knowledge.
Indeed 2015 has been a great year…

2015 Dec. 5 Nuoro PhotoXP group_5677

2015 Dec. 5: Sardinia, Italy. With participants from Nuoro PhotoXP…                                              Photo © Zanele Muholi/ Inkanyiso media

 

2015 Dec. 4 Lindeka Pat Muholi Stefania Lerato _ Best_5418

2015 Dec. 4: Cagliari, Italy. From Feminists Association home. With Lindeka, Pat, Muholi, Stepy and Lerato. Photo ©Lerato Dumse/ Inkanyiso media

 

2015 Nov. 27 FAAA group _ Day 2_0384

2015 Nov. 28: Salt Rock Hotel, Durban, South Africa. With delegates of 2015 Feminists, Artists, Activists, Academics un-conference. Photo © Zanele Muholi/ Inkanyiso media

 

2015 Nov. 8 Main Group photo sm _ PhotoXP BENIN_9426

2015 Nov. 8: With youth in Cotonou, Benin, that we trained basic photo skills.                              Photo © Zanele Muholi/ Inkanyiso media

 

2015 Nov. 11 Dangbo group photo _ Porto Novo_9879

2015 Nov. 14: With youth in Dbango, Porto Novo, Benin, that we trained basic photo skills. Photo by Zanele Muholi/ Inkanyiso media

 

2015 Oct. 5 Human Right Class _ Frieka Ekotto _ Michigan U_6922

2015 Oct. 5 With students from Human Rights in Sub Saharan Africa Class taught by Prof. Frieda Ekotto at Michigan University. Photo © Zanele Muholi/ Inkanyiso media

 

Previous related PhotoXP

2014 July 16:  Through the eyes of young women photographers

 

 

 

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2015 Nov. 27: Relationships don’t create happiness but reflect it

Posted on December 8, 2015 by inkanyiso2009

by Tinashe Wakapila

Relationships are simply the mirrors of your happiness; they reflect it and help you celebrate it. Most people enter into relationships with an eye
toward what they can get out of them, rather than what they can
put into them. Nobody will fix your life or make you feel special, if
you are not able to give that to yourself first.

Just like when you get into a relationship and expect to feel loved. Okay, get me right, that is the reason to be in a relationship, but there is a certain way you have to get into one. You cannot get into it broken, with doubts, fears or because the reason you are in it is to heal. No, you must find closure, love and healing by yourself. ONLY THEN, can the other person’s love become a soothing completion. There are two words that most people use when they define the same thing, but it does not have the same meaning.

One such example is complete and finished. It has been said that, “When you marry/love the right one, you are COMPLETE.” And “when you marry/love the wrong one, you are FINISHED.”

When you get into a marriage or love relationship expecting to give, including giving what you are not putting into yourself, then you are Completely Finished. Its logic, you cannot give what you do not have.

When I was young my mother would let me rock myself to sleep, and when I cried too much she would sit there. Her heart breaking as I soothed myself with a thumb or sucker (pacifier). At that moment I thought she was evil, how could she do such? She would only come with her breast so I can suckle, after I had silenced myself.  Now as an adult that concept has come to play, I do not run and get all dependent, on my mother or other people. Often when the going gets tough I’d rather stand tall and work through my battles. My mother and other people become soothers after I have done most of the groundwork.

Coming to same sex love, should I spend my life regarded as “her best friend who lives with her?”
Because the human species that brought me in this world has refused to get it. Shall I then shun the whole idea of me walking down the aisle with the one I love because s/he is like me?
I refuse, because as long as there is a legislation that allows me to be in holy matrimony. I shall render my single power and do exactly what any girl dreams of, walk down the aisle with her, even if it means my wedding will have 10 people or less. I will not care, as long as the witnesses available share the same sentiment as me, I shall rejoice.

Yes it was my dream to have my mother covered with blankets for traditional celebration purposes. But I have crossed the traditional norms of marriage; the other who is supposed to be giving is like me. Should I then die labeled as “single”?
While I have a loving soul mate who has vowed to carry me till the grave. There is nothing as sad as parents who spend all their lives denying their child’s sexuality, and when she dies while she is with her homosexual family, want to act as if they knew so much about their child and claim her belongings. Saying all they knew was that “she was with her friend.” No, it should not work like that. When one decides to make it their business to reject their own, they should allow it to be till the end, to enable those who carried her to lay her to rest, amongst the community of people who were fond of her.

I have a note for those who have refused to acknowledge me. I am not going to die single; I have found her. Give her the respect she needs when I am gone, just because you refused to embrace what we have embraced does not give you the right to hold on to your disrespect even when I am gone. She is my one and only, the person I cherish.

I refuse to be labeled single and unmarried, just because traditionally things were not done appropriately. If you have not noticed, I have passed the ‘appropriate’ already.

Faces and Phases participants, Phila Mbanjwa and Tinashe Wakapila, a selfie taken by Phila somewhere in Durban (28.06.2015)

Faces and Phases participants, Phila Mbanjwa and Tinashe Wakapila, a selfie taken by Phila somewhere in Durban (28.06.2015)

Blessed are those who will go through a traditional celebration for their marriages as gays and lesbians, because they are complete. I too will have completed my service with or without the traditional wedding. That white wedding and the few acknowledgements shall witness my Holy matrimony. It is not everything you take that is given. Never put your happiness in other people‘s hands, they will drop it. Love is not a feeling because feelings come and go!
It is therefore a decision to commit, to meet the needs of another person without expecting anything in return.

So what if I do not get commemorated and get called broken and indecisive, my feelings and emotions still come back to believe this:

  • Broken crayons still color.
  • Shattered mirrors still reflect light.
  • Being broken does not mean that we are useless.
  • Being shattered does not mean that we must be thrown out.
  • Break a crayon and it becomes perfect for sharing with another person.
  • Shatter a mirror and it becomes a mosaic of little reflections.
  • Being broken means that we have the capacity to color the world more beautifully than a rainbow.
  • Being shattered means that we have a greater power to reflect light.
  • We must not see our broken life as pointless.
  • We must not see the shattered pieces of our existence as a waste.
  • Quite the contrary, in fact. Every broken and shattered piece of our life is a part of what makes each of us beautiful and meaningful.

No one colors the world quite like you. No one reflects the light of existence the way you can. Today, I will color this world and brighten this day in my own special way because I am broken and shattered.

Done for what its worth.

 

Previous by Tinashe

 

2015 Jan. 3:  I dropped out of the closet many times

 

 

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2015 Nov. 25: My words are the ink in my blood

Posted on December 5, 2015 by inkanyiso2009

by Phila Mbanjwa

I have found peace through these words from my heart. They are not only inspired by life and love experiences, but form part of what society lives through everyday.

I have seen lives ended and dreams shattered. Promising futures wasted by wrong decisions that felt right but were in fact wrong decisions. While some stories remain untold. Words shattered because we think the world is not listening.
How can you listen to silence?

My love for words…

I discovered that I could write when I started listening to hip-hop with my older brother Skhumbuzo. There was a cd with all the old school hip hop legends, but the one song I loved the most was track 16, Eminem singing, ‘Cleanin’ out my closet.’ Even though the language was explicit, he told his story. I wanted to tell mine. But what was it?

It took me about 2 weeks to know the lyrics and when I rapped alongside him, I felt such great power coming from within my chest; people were dancing to the beat of a crazed drummer.

Growing up I had this crazy mean streak and hip-hop lit up the fire and the words would just spill. I usually wrote about AIDS, as it was a relative topic to write at that time.

 

Thobe & Phila (2012) Photo by Zanele Muholi, to appear as a cover photo in Queer Africa Reader edited by Sokari Ekine & Hakima Abbas

Thobe & Phila (2012)
Photo by Zanele Muholi,
to appear as a cover photo in Queer Africa Reader edited by Sokari Ekine & Hakima Abbas

My love for writing grew a step further when I got into township theatre with my cousins. We formed a group called Silwanakho, which was raising awareness about AIDS, TB and rape. No topic was off limits when I started writing the scripts for our performances. We performed at a Sunday School Rally, with my 4 cousins, Ziyanda Mhlongo, Bongeka Kunene and Amanda Mdletshe.

Our group grew from there. The boys in our hood were keen to join us. I had to broaden my writing by including male characters. My family was very supportive of our drama group; we rehearsed at home because our lounge was very big. We were approached by my former Primary School to perform at an event they were hosting. The scripts were already in place. I played lead, but because I was also directing I decided to give my older cousin, Nomfundo Dlamini the lead role. Everybody was involved, even my 6-month-old cousin had a part, she cried in all the right cues. The performance was out of this world, with great improvisation by the other actresses and actors. We received a standing ovation and an advance invitation to the Heritage Day Event hosted on September every year.

Weeks passed, we went back to our old schedule of rehearsals, and we became a family rather than a drama group. As much as I was directing and writing, my sister took charge of the group. We were young but we were growing up, and fast. The choices we then made became a repelling force to the group. Relationships started in and outside of the group, Priorities changed and changed fast. We no longer saw each other as sisters and brothers, but we saw romantic compatibilities. Soon the group dissolved. One by one we fell off.

The ink in my blood found comfort in love. I lived and breathed my partner’s words. I became a love poet, because of the woman who completed and inspired me. I was fired by her passion and my success. We kept going; just as dust fizzles carried by the wind go back to the soil. We had our flaws and we fell out, and the anger could only be expressed by the ink on the paper. I saw and painted demons with my words. I murdered, burnt and raged on every paper exposed to me at any moment. As dust returns to the soil, waiting for the perfect gust of wind. The year was 2011 and I had stopped writing. My last piece was ‘’I see demons.” I still remember it because my heart just kept on thinking of murdering her.

I see demons

The knives lay there sharpened
Fires blaze, from the wood
Fired up by the demons lurking me
Eating out my flesh, snapping my veins
I die with you.
Whispering words of blood
The thought of your name, filled my nose with
The pungent smell of your stale blood,
The rope lays there waiting to embrace your body
While my demons devour you by cut burning flesh
As I see you scream
I see my demons in you,
And I carry yours in me,
Tearing up my flesh,
Gunning for my heart
Inviting death to make love to me.
The screams of anger and rage from my mouth.
The blood I still smell. I can also smell your rotting body
I hear the worms feasting on my monster in a cold dark place,
As your demons devour me,
Creating an immortal soul in me,
A hardened heart of cold stone grows within me.
The knives are sharpened
The fire blazes
I smell your blood and rotting skin

In 2012 I was shattered, I could not write, the fire was gone, I moved to Durban, worked on healing from the tough breakup. I was a mess but I needed to be strong. I cried myself to sleep some nights, while smoking became a habit. I lost weight, I tried writing with no luck, and my mouth just couldn’t utter the words to be put on paper. I had made myself a poet of love; all my creativity had placed it in the hands of someone else.  I stopped writing, even my Facebook posts changed from anger to just a daily status update of a clueless girl.

I started writing again in 2013, but I was not writing for me. I had told my partner that I can write, ‘’I’m a calligrapher’’, I said.

I wrote:

“May the dust not carry my name to leave it in the dust,
As I become the soil, but let me live.
Carrying your name, for I know that my love is
And you are forever mine”

Typical, isn’t?
I was writing about love after all my years of drying up, was the piece appreciated?
Was it approved?
Did it make me happy?
The overall answer to all the questions was no.

I rested, resorted to living a normal life in the countryside, Ladysmith. I wish I could say I miss that place, but I don’t.
Yes, I appreciate the growth maturity and responsibility it brought to my life, because I was a loose cannon at times. One needs to slow down, but there my life came to a halt.
No writings for 2 years, I was just breezing through life, with the pain and unfinished business of my past. For my growth I needed to face my demons, and there is only one way I fought my demons and defeated them. It is through a pen and paper.

I ignored the adrenaline of grabbing a pen and murdering souls and facing my own demons.
Just as my favorite rapper said, ‘’I’m cleaning out my closet.” All the skeletons and pots of black blood had to be thrown out. It was not until May 2015, when I was invited to the first ever Yithi Laba Intergenerational Conference in Johannesburg, by Zanele Muholi, Lerato Dumse and the rest of Inkanyiso group; when I got the invite I kept saying, I don’t want to talk about my job, I just work to shop. I went back to an old piece I wrote for Inkanyiso in 2012 for Zanele Muholi. As I read through it, I found myself; I could feel something I had not felt for years. I felt the thunder in my chest.

I owed it to myself to release the pain because it was no longer anger. I had to share to lift the burden of pain off my heart, I questioned my strong character and personality, was it a coping mechanism?
I found myself writing

“Where I died”

Bottles were always popped
we club hoped all night
I was always high
High on weed
Drunk in love
Your love my weakness
the night was always young and we were

I spent my youth falling in love
with u.
With u I lived a thousand words
Ngakubiza nkondlo yami ebhalwe emzimbeni wami.
I lived a thousand years whether ngingaphezulu or ngingaphansi kwakho
I thought my loving u was my life but now when I am gone from this
I now know where I died
I remember.

You sang for me and took my breath away.
I gave up life to live at your side
your side made me alive until the day
I looked in the eyes of the monster.
The monster I loved.

“A lovers quarrel will strengthen a relationship”
U will say we are stronger today than we were yesterday.
Because yesterday I saw your weakness I saw the vulnerability in your eyes.
With each fist I got.
Evoked a fire that rekindle a love so deep that I fell in love
I lived a thousand years whether ngingaphezulu or ngingaphansi kwakho.
I thought I lived but what the love I thought was.
Was my grave.
I lived in my grave when I thought I lived a thousand years. Ngingaphezu or ngingaphansi kwakho.
I chose to stay decorated with black and blue because a part of me believed.
I lived everytime I was the punches were delivered.
I remember when I died
I died when I chose to love my abuser.”

I felt my heart pounding, A warmth caressed my face, warmth of my tears, I thought of what I did not only to myself, but to my family, it took one piece to find me, I found myself crying, emotional, not even thinking about the bruises, the kicks and punches. I wanted to pray but the pain in my chest wouldn’t let me. I reflected on the things I had done, all the anger and wrath that I held in my heart.

Praying seemed hard, so I thought let me tell Him through a gift He gave me, how I really feel.

I was afraid to seek my God

I am afraid to seek my God
I was and I still am afraid to seek my Saviour
My God,
When my heart is so heavy with hatred
How would He look at me?
For I am dirty and heavy hearted

 They say His arms are the resting place for those in despair
But my head defies defeat
I know He walks with me
Even in the shadow of death
He walks with me,
He holds my hands
Even when I walk with the stains, scars and tears the world can’t see,
He sees my bare soul
A soul that longs for Him, but still holds the pain and heavy heart
That breathes fire at the sight of possible hurt
I am still afraid to seek my God

 I remember when He got me
He held me so close, so tight
Even when I screamed and cried
Akazange angidedele,
(He didn’t let go of me)
He held me so tight so close

 The warmth of His love
I felt it
Stroke by stroke
I felt and was touched by the heavens

Yet today I am still afraid to seek him
Find him, be one with Him

With this heavy heart take me and cleanse me
I have felt His love
All the way through but with the demons I carry on purpose
They take me away from His love
They drag me into this deepest dark turmoil of hatred
I am afraid to seek my God
Though I have felt his love before, my heavy heart takes me away from it
With all this pain I carry I am afraid to seek my God

After writing this piece, I felt at ease, a better person than I was.

I had gone through turmoil, self-inflicted and a part of growing up, yet I still have a whole lot of growing up to do.

I continued writing for the Yithi Laba Intergenerational Conference. I felt that it was the platform to share my journey of abuse through my words.

We find ourselves in crowds where we have to shout for attention, The Yithi Laba members just listened, I was me, uMaMbanjwa, once again I had a piece written from the heart and personal experience. Through all I have been through, never even now do I wish it on another human being. I was ready to talk and be listened to. I was read to share about:

 The Price of False love

 Sinikeza abantu ubuthina
Sizinikele all in the sake of being loved
We sell ourselves short
Just to belong

 Ukuze silale sibanjiwe
Kodwa sikhala izinyembezi
Sizenza izigqila zothando siphenduke izigqila zocansi
Ukuze kujabule lo esizitshela ukuthi uyasithanda

 For the sake of forged happiness we carry the most hurt and pain inside
Insecurities of not being good enough,
You second guess yourself
Because wena impilo yakho usuyinikele komunye umuntu
You need the opinion of your master
To dress, live and eat.

 Usuzidayisile ngenxa yokufuna ukuthandwa
Wathandwa uzelwe usathandwa namanje,
EmaZulwini nasemhlabeni
Stop looking for love where there is none,
Yeka ukuzenza isigqila socansi
Just because you want to keep the farce of a relationship going.

Ubani owathi bekezelela ubuhlungu ozizwisa wena?
It’s not going to end well,
Because wena usuthathe umuntu ophila emhlabeni
And you made them your everything,
When they leave what happens?
Uhamba nobuwena bonke,
Somebody is taking you away piece by piece
Uyamnikeza uyamvumela ngoba uthi
Uyamthanda???

At the end of it all uzothi udlale ngawe
But…….
Uwena odlale ngawe.

Indeed siyadlala ngathi, I had let another person dictate what I wrote, I had laid myself on the bed of nails as my blood, and my ink was dripping from my body. During that time I felt alive. “Oh well, Love makes us do crazy things,” or so we say. While fooling ourselves, so we may sleep better at night after hours of weeping.

After my pieces and presentation, sharing for the Yithi laba conference, I was home. I felt lighter, I started writing without the need of approval, and I wrote for me, I wrote what came to mind.

I started a blog on Tumblr; called “Words from the heart”
It has been 2 months and 36 posts.

I am writing for me, it may seem crazy, but I think if I hadn’t listened and fell in love with Eminem’s cleaning out my closet, would my closet be clean and the demons hanged on the wall of my blog?

Writing is my gift, to fight or speak, but not to be silent; this is the only silence I will ask for

“Silence

I plead for silence for every 300 women raped
In our country every hour.
Give me silence and let us mourn the
Deafening screams and silence moans of agony
Numbness and pain

 While waiting for him to finish planting
His seed deep between the legs that
Fought, kicked and screamed not to open for him”

 My words will not stand for only me, but will fight for you too!

 

Yithi Laba conference delegates on Day 1 at Con Hill before the tour.

Yithi Laba conference delegates on Day 1 at Con Hill before the tour.

 

Previous by Phila

 

2013 March 10:  “I love women and they love me”

 

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