The Snoring Strange Mate

I woke up to a sound

I woke up to sounds

How I wish it was sweet

Sweet like the melodies

from an Afrikan bird of the Afrikan Savanna or Jungle!

How I wish it was the sweet voice of my beloved

 

Awakened by the sound of a tractor ploughing our Afrikan fields

No! It is the sound of my strange hotel room mate!

 

I turn and twist in vain

I cover my head with my pillow

The sound is still in my ear
It reminds me of the roaring lions of Afrika

 

I pray for the morning to come

The morning to release me from bondage

 

The irritation is unbearable

Should I shake him up?

Should I sing to my ancestors?

I slide the side lamp do produce a sound
I hit my wooden bed with my shoe
I sound awakens him

It sounds like the sound from the ancestral
bongo drums of the Congo!

Behold!
The snoring stops....!
Only temporarily
My torment continues....!

 

 

Better than THEM for Her

Meditations of a Son of Ovandu

(Unbridled thoughts)

 

For me to be good, I must be better than most men she has met and or associates with. I must earn more than her and should have schooled more than her. I must have an imposing personality that makes me irresistible to handle. I must have solutions to almost all the problems and act like I am on top of my game. I have seen that sharing most of my fears and challenges makes me unattractive and uninspiring. Keeping them to myself bring trouble from her again! have wished to share my problems, but this makes me more worthless in her eyes. For she sees me as luggage that is baggage for her. She feels I will hinder her progress. I have sacrificed my thoughts and time....I have resolved not to hurt her, in speech and deeds. Fate has it that my choice of action leads to unpleasant results. Which in turn makes it tough for her. Her circle of influence and her temperament allows her to be more aggressive and reckless in her use of speech. My duty is to balance these....my duty is to endure in a cool manner...never to be a man given to anger. For the love and wisdom of our fore-bearers, one has to be careful not to attract unnecessary friction. In our balancing act, I must safeguard my ego. For my ego is the ME that must be nourished and not allowed to perish. Who is a man with a beaten ego...? Who can be a man with a soiled ego...?

 

Your anger comes because I am too slow for you...Which yardstick are you using? I do not do what you expect me to do. We have not shared my fears, but in your eyes I am hopeless and useless. I will not confront you right now. For my spirit is agitated. I have been taught by my beloved father to mind the way I feel and the words  use. I know that words spoken in anger are weapons of mass destruction.

 

May the wisdom of my fore-bearers be upon me like a strong umbrella. May it be upon me like the green pasture that fed our ceremonial and ancestral cattle. May the wisdom of those who came before me be like the rays of a rising sun which brings hope upon all the inhabitants of our earth. May wisdom make me graze on humbleness...may wisdom be like the holy fire of my people...may it connect me to my creator. For our sake. 

Defuse the Deception

(Unbridled thoughts of A Pan-Africanist)

The REVOLUTION starts by defusing the deception based on the psychological front. the control is based on the agenda of creating in our minds the belief that theirs is THE way and it is the panacea for all or challenges and problems. Our strength lies in the realization by US that the slave mentality created by this agenda will only maintain and enhance our slave condition. They will come in the image of brother (your brother). Speak in the language of my brother, your brother. Act like the brother I should have and know. This is a trap the trap....in the name of my brother....and for my sake. I do not believe in a brotherhood of exploitation. I believe in a partnership of mutual understanding and benefit.

I am An Alcoholic

When I drink I feel good

Later I am lazy

I cannot even feel or lift my legs

At the end of the day

My money is zero

My family is hungry

My family is angry

 

Alcohol you control me

You make me helpless

You are good in time of pleasure

But later I regret everything

I am an alcoholic

The cunning nature of the whites

---------- Forwarded message ----------
From: ihonga hengari <ihongahengari@gmail.com>
Date: Mon, 12 Aug 2013 18:33:28 +0200
Subject: the cunning nature of the whites
To: ndjarakana..@gmail.com

The main elements of culture are dress,language,religion and food,look at
what the white does to displace your culture as an intergral part of
gaining dominion over everything,
A white man will start by formating your brain and load his new perceptions
in to your head through the shit he calls education,he will teach you to
always speak in english,the type of food you must eat,how you should dress
... and even introduce his religion that will make you feel that your own
native religion is inferior.He will even give a mortal blow to your culture
by making you believe that culture is dynamic while he clearly knows that
he is the one who engineered and crafted everything so that anything he
wants to do runs softly.

BUT I CONGRATULATE HIM BECAUSE HE FINALLY WON,FOR EXAMPLE I USED ENGLISH TO
CONVEY THE ABOVE PARAGRAPH.


**

The Game of the Colonizer (Exposed)

(Bridled thoughts of a Pan-Africanist)

 

You rejoice in me being down

You rejoice in me being a slave

You rejoice in me being the exploited

You rejoice when you exploit me

You kill me for waking up

 

My resources are for others

The rules are not made for me

The rules are against me

 

You make my people fight each other

You make my brother my enemy

You make my neighbor my enemy

 

You make me despise who I am

You make me rejoice in who I am not

 

You have poisoned my mind

You have made me reject my humanity

 

You make me play a game

A game with your rules

You set the rules against me

 

I lose the game before it starts

For the rules are to make you the winner

 

You make me rejoice in the downfall of my brother

In you I hope to get relief

Relief from the pain and suffering from you

 

You are my yoke of suffering

 

Your brotherhood is unbalanced

You come like a brother

You abuse my brotherhood to you

 

You kill my visionary leaders

You trick me into believing in you

You make me believe in my fake leaders

You make me believe that your view is the only view

 

You exploit my resources

You make me value your goods

You make me reject my own goods

 

I have known you for centuries

I know your greatness

I know the greatness of my people

 

You make me believe I cannot be without you

You make me a worshiper of your ancestors

You make me reject my ancestors

 

The revolution shall be

For I am still an African

I have great ancestors

I will not reject them

 

I have found my great connection

I am great

The great shall rise to be

 

You shall never kill a resolve to be free

Freedom is part of me

Even under bondage

Even under your yoke

I am free

For freedom is in my spirit

Bed of Solitude

My bed

You have become a place of exile

Exile from my beloved

 

Each night is a journey

A journey through a jungle of my thoughts

 

My bed

You are too big for me

For you remind me of someone special

Should I cut you in halve?

 

I wish to come late to you

For I do not wish to be reminded of the absence of the one

 

Some nights are spent awake

For the reality is too much to bear

 

My solitude is my servitude

 

I am propelled by hope

Hope for the next day

Next day may bring the day to be with her

 

May the sleepless nights pay off

 

My struggle is over today

The morning has found me

It brings with it fuel for hope

For the sun raises from her direction

The sun rays or light passes over her first

 

The day begins with me ready and waiting

It must find me waiting

It must find me awake

I must receive the first light from upon her.