Empty Suitcase

toss my tattered clothes

powder and lipstick
an old tangled wig
oft-mended shoes
and cheap perfume
into the suitcase
all in the suitcase

but that’d be all you
a bitter luggage
shoes that ran from you
cheap scent to impress you
the hair you pulled
and a made up face
to hide the stripes of your nails

no, they can stay
you can stay
all of me in this suitcase
all of me without a you



when he leaves

even if for only half a day

there’s a feeling of a door left open

of windows wide

and the air freezing the curtains

the walls shiver

and fail to whisper to each other

the floors mourn

and the air is in a mood

there’s a thing about  him leaving

it reminds me of dried up grounds

where wells once swam

but the sun bids farewell

and i hear the tap of his shoes

the door shuts

and the windows clasp their hands

the rain sweeps into the soil

life re-enters the spaces within me

around me

he, mine, returns

and once again

wrapped in his warm breath

i’m home

Distorted Portrait (Taken from Poetically Ghetto)

I’m an unsightly beast

My sooty countenance is hideous

Features so obtrusively horrid

The mirror says I’m too repulsive


It’s been written in the ancient scrolls

Pale skin is the engraved custom

The colour that’s painted the accepted effigy

Our colour is but an unwanted stain


Hair as coarse as an ageing sheep

Appalling noses squatting on black faces

Bloated cushions of coal lips

The swarthy appeal’s no alluring indeed


How marvellous do their features pose?

Poking swords of pointed noses

Skin as milky and white as snow

Green and blue crystal eyeballs


Our thick thighs bulging and pouring

Bloated bellies deliberately protruding

Bulky bosoms tripping the knees

Bouncing bottoms wobbling like jelly


A spectacular frame so organized

Each slim attribute tenderly placed

Figures so gracefully emaciated

Nothing hefty and obese; all’s well-carried


To find beauty is to obey this creed

Our grisly dark skin will be blemished

This coal colour will be bleached

Under fake coiffures, our mops are hidden


Isn’t it how beauty’s always defined?

Pale faces and lean shapes

What a distorted image they’ve painted

Veiling our dark beauty we still submit


A Journey on a Slave Ship with The O’Jays

Title: Ship Ahoy

Artist: The O’Jays

Date: 10 November 1973

Label: Philadelphia International Records

Length: 9:41

The O’Jays are known for their smooth love songs, funky and groovy jams and soulful sounds. What some people don’t pay attention to are some of the songs that have at their core political and social relevance. This R&B group has been speaking to their audience and using music as a teaching vehicle through some of their hits. Ship Ahoy is one of these wheels that carried a heavy message and lesson on it.

The song begins with the crack of whips, a strong cold wind blowing and the sound of crashing waves. “…the motion of the ocean…” as they point out in the lyrics. There’s an eerie quality wrapped around the song but they did it so without leaving out the powerful and sweet voices of this remarkable trio. It’s dark and spine-chilling.

Ship Ahoy brings awareness to the Middle Passage of the Atlantic slave trade when Africans were captured and shipped to the New World. Some of the slaves died at sea while those who survived remained alive in unimaginably horrific conditions. Diseases and starvation accompanied them on the voyage to the so-called land of Liberty.

It’s quite a long song but with not as many lyrics, with the repetition of “Ship Ahoy” more than other lines. However, they didn’t need to write out a full, long sermon of lyrics to make a point. The combination of those few lyrics, the slavery theme sounds of the ship and the waves, and the honeyed vocals create a grim yet pleasing gem.

The song is the second track on the track-titled album. The album cover itself produces the clear image of slaves, including the members of the group in the slave hold. The artwork successfully registers with the listener and adds accuracy and support to the song and the title of the album.

This is what I love about music, the ability to speak beyond the written lyrics, to educate, to entertain, to reach out, to bring the hidden or unknown to the surface and to touch us in new and meaningful ways. R&B lovers, people with an interest and social and political consciousness, history lovers, those who die for golden oldies and just anyone who has an ear and a heart for smooth soul or fans of The O’Jays will definitely dig this.


The Final Arrangements

She usually stares at the trees dancing with the wind but tonight they’re still and tense. There are shadows in the room that stare at her in disapproval of what she has done.

No self-respecting human being should belch like this while they sleep. Mavis tries to shift his sleeping position but his massive body is too heavy for her weak arms. The moon laughs at this spectacle and she walks over to draw the curtains even though she prefers to leave a slit that allows the light of the night sky into the room. She usually stares at the trees dancing with the wind but tonight they’re still and tense. There are shadows in the room that stare at her in disapproval of what she has done. It’s too late, she tells them through her thoughts. There’s usually something calming about the stillness of the night, the silence and the dark mask that veils the imperfections of human existence and activity. She debates between opening the windows to let the foul odour of his roaring farts out, and letting the mosquitoes in. Let them bite her even though the air in the room is insufferable.

The night, the perfect companion that she’s become reliant on to share her deepest thoughts with. However, this time the night is judgmental and it turns her back on her. This is the final round of the game, if a game it is. After this all will be reborn and recreated, all the dimness will be swallowed by a light of newness. The shadows in the room mock her. What if things do not go as planned? There’s a possibility that Kgotso could refuse to take part in her arrangements and that would be the end of it all, of her master plan, the end of what she thought would be the genesis of a solution for her broken family.

The baby breathes so peacefully, her nose oblivious to the corrupting smell that her father’s body emits. The baby is unaware of the world around her changing, the tide rising and falling and the possibility of calm waters that its mother believes will be for the best.

“You know what your problem is? You have succumbed to these popular words like ‘depression’ and ‘anxiety’ and you’ve attached yourself to them because, I don’t know, the Internet and your fancy books told you to. Being a little upset or sad doesn’t mean you should embrace these dumb terms,” Kgotso had said.

He will never understand. That’s why the plan needs to fall into place. Tomorrow things will change. Mavis had finally decided to tell him about the diagnoses that had been made every year for the past three years by different doctors. Denial and fear of society’s inability to understand set her off on a journey of collecting different opinions from doctors, but they had all come with the same answers. She had to find help. She hadn’t. Instead she had spent years waiting for the ones close to her to see through her and sense that something in her was melting away and maybe they would reach out. They hadn’t, she had forgotten that they too had lives to live, demons to fight and their own dark places to wake from.

She puts on headphones and listens to music on her phone. What is it about people that makes them listen to sad music when they’re feeling down? Perhaps it speaks on their behalf. Society just makes too many rules on what people should communicate and what they should keep in, in case they are judged or appear to be undesirable to their audience. So these songs speak to them, about them and for them.

Good God! How much gas can one human being contain in them? It must be the bitterness in his soul. The bitterness of not having a son but two girls. The bitterness of having a wife who always seems to have excuses not to attend to his manly needs, “I have thrush”, “My back and neck hurt”, I’m too tired, the kids have worn me out.” “Not tonight because of this and that.” That’s what he keeps saying, that she always looks for excuses to avoid intimacy.

She doesn’t remember the last time it was intimate. Before he fell asleep he had mounted her with the ferocity of a long-starved beast and the urgency of one impatient to get the job done. In, out, release, off. She hadn’t bothered to make a sound. All she wanted was to have him release the tension that was polluting his character, his heart and his behaviour, release and leave her in peace to get on with her final arrangements.

It isn’t midnight yet but it’s a bit too late to text Sophie. She decides to send her a message, if she is already asleep she will see it in the morning. She needs to reassure Sophie that all would go according to plan and to make sure that she won’t change her mind. They were too close to the finish line to back out now.

“I can’t wait for tomorrow.” She sends the text.


Things weren’t always so bad between Mavis and Kgotso, in fact, they were the model couple. Best friends who always knew how to fall back on friendship whenever they fell out of love. When those days came, they were able to face that storm with ease and allow friendship to fence out any form of rot that could potentially ruin their marriage. It all started when she decided to stay at home to raise children. It wasn’t helping that she could see his disappointment of having girls only. He did love them but he wasn’t entirely satisfied and she was surprised that he could be the type of man who would allow society and its traditions to dictate his heart based on the sex of his own flesh and blood. She had left her job, family and friends back in another province It seemed like an adventure at first but as time unfolded she discovered that staying at home, caged and her everyday life consisting of running errands and being continually exhausted from mothering, was suffocating. She needed to breathe and three years down the line, two children later she was still trying to grasp the air for something to open up her lungs and free the chains within. He didn’t understand.

“We are making money now, a lot. I don’t see why you are always complaining. You’re starting to have rich people’s problems,” he said when she had asked to at least re-do the plain and tasteless house they lived in. It had never been a home to her, there was nothing that said home. There was nothing that said she could at least lay her troubles down and breathe. He was always working and she learned that money was not happiness if it meant staring at the stained walls all day and feeding off disappearing memories.


Sophie is her last hope. Mavis loves her husband dearly and her children even more but it’s proving difficult to be what they need and so she has to find something to create a happier life. The girls are still too young and to them she is the universe but Mavis fails to keep being the universe when inside she only feels like the blade from the grass that is drying up and dying from the cruelty of a heartless winter.

Sophie arrives at seven in the morning, the time that Mavis estimated would be perfect. She is a slim woman in her thirties, healthy and beautiful, a cleaner at a children’s hospital and single. She hasn’t had much luck with men; “too clingy” is what they call her. It had taken Mavis a few months to convince Sophie to leave her job and to work for her. They were already friends and equals and so to be her employee had the potential of ruining the special relationship they had. Mavis had pleaded, increased the salary and eventually she won her over.

Standing at the door she faces the man who does not know that his wife has been dying right next to him, each tick of the clock has been the approach of the end for her. He doesn’t hide the red eyes and with a note in his hand he knows who she is. They stand in silence, different thoughts swimming in their heads. While Kgotso is boiling with confusion and a source of blame before him, he does not know that the woman before him was never told she was being asked to be a replacement, instead she had been told she would be coming to start her day as a live-in housekeeper. Little does she know that all along Mavis had given up and was making arrangements for a new wife to take her place.