Masquerading in Mozambique: Part 1

“How long does it take you to shower?” S. asked with accusation in his tone. “It depends on the motivation.” I retorted. I could hear P. laughing in the background and wondered if I had said something wrong, ‘cause truth be told I could shower and dress in 5 minutes if my wellbeing depended on it. “Okay then, we leave at 6 AM,” S. said mockingly.

S. had asked P. to drop us off at the Gautrain station early the next day seeing that we had to leave for Mozambique bright and early. S. and P. both went to sleep while I stayed up to watched a movie, figuring I’ll just sleep in the car anyway and after all who could resist a bit of Thor charm and charisma?

The next morning we were packed and ready to leave at 6 AM. We got to the station at 6:10 and surprisingly were the last ones to arrive. S. opened the rear left door of the Hyundai and as I climbed in he introduced us. “Fifi this is S. and T.” Two beautiful young queens beamed in the backseat. .… How did I get here? I found myself wondering as the driver started the engine and began pulling off; the Guatrain station moved further and further away and the morning grew louder with every kilometre we drove. The last few months S. had been asking me to join the journey and I had refused every time, and yet here I was amidst a number of enthusiastic travellers.

We parked and waited for what seemed like an endless amount of time. “Why are we stopping?” S. asked with a friendly and yet spunky tone of voice. I was immediately drawn to the colourful colours of her finger and toe nails; she seemed like the fun loving type of gal. “I don’t know,” I responded. T. looked around and the impatience on her face grew into anxiety.  This queen notably had a book pressed between her thumb, index and middle finger. Well-read, I observed and continued to wonder whether she could be counted as an ally in future. We continued to wait without being given any plausible explanation, till all three of us girls needed to use the loo, and then after some more waiting a car filled with passengers arrived and we again continued on our way. Seemly we were waiting for someone who knew the way.

“I don’t know what the big deal is about the Black Panther movie…” “He’s the first black superhero, I said while rolling my eyes. I am not even entirely sure what that means, I thought we had lots of  heroes, just that not all of them would be widely accepted by [pop culture.  “…But we are a conquered people,..” T. continued.

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So how did I get here? Jesus taught his disciples that with faith as small as a mustard seed they could move mountains, I guess the short answer then is by faith. I once heard someone once put it like this, “ You are only limited by what you see, you need to see yourself achieving the thing you want to have and it is yours.” Or put differently, you will never be able to benefit from something you don’t honour; honour is the appreciation  that someone or something is different from you. **

So our paradigms affect the way we experience  life, or at least the quality of it I’d like to think. How we use our brains to formulate thoughts and process emotions influences our behaviour, this in turn directly influences how we experience our daily lives.* If you have an extremely negative paradigm your life will have a negative experience, but if you have a positive paradigm then you life will be generally a positive and happy experience.

I’ve recently and more especially over the past couple of years found myself stepping into more and more demanding roles, both socially and in my career, and I have found myself battling against what others have termed the impostor syndrome. During which time I would have to remind myself that I am avid reader and that I am qualified for every position I have ever applied for and gotten, or at the very least that I am capable of outgrowing the discomfort and able to rise to the occasion. These moments are the times in your life when you have to chose and subscribe to how you want to think, as often these internal conversations have quite a weighted outcome.

It is important to remember that paradigms are shaped and informed by culture, culture intern is influenced by language and language is a spiritual thing. What that means is this, I am learning that paradigms are either informed by a permissive or oppressive culture (simply put culture is the way things are done in a certain geographical area. ***) Certain cultures groom their children to grow and thrive, while others place burdens and weights that prevent their children’s ability to flourish. Further the use of positive or negative language affirms and reinforces the existing culture. Language is something that is shaped by spiritual alignment to truth.

Speak to yourself according to the culture you want to embrace. We as human beings thankfully are not trees and poses the ability to chose to live in a thriving environment. We can move if something stops serving us. According to Dr. Cindy Trimm of Trimm International, our words shape more of our environment than we think. The words that we speak could either be a major catalyst or a major prohibitor for the future that we are hoping to see. Personally I have experienced that some of the most successful people I know, poses the most self-affirming language too, this cannot only be based on their past wins but also propels them to continue the winning streak.

So yes, I spoke this holiday into existence, that is how I got here. I am not a statistic of a “conquered people”, I embrace a permissive culture of abundance.

A lot to chew on,

Love Fi

*Keenan Paulsen, How to Win Before You Begin (p x) Zion Publications 2015.  

** Dr. Mike Murdock

*** Dr. Samuel Chand

In Shah Allah

N.P Solange – A Seat at the Table

Why do they steal?

Why do they kill?

Why do they disrespect and neglect?

Why do are they hooked on drugs and a life of self-destruction?

Why do they crash their fancy cars after a night of heavy drinking?

Why do they cheat on and abuse their wives?

Why do they abandon their babies, and rape their women?

Who are they? 

 I want to know why are they so mad?

Young, gifted, educated, frustrated and mad? Maybe they are mad at the system, maybe they are mad at missed opportunities because of the colour of their skin, or maybe they are just born mad. Mad that they have to go to school on empty stomachs, or mad that they landed up in jail and are told how much they are prone to fail.  Mad that after two years and a thousand CVs they still can’t find a job, even though they’ve got qualifications. Maybe they are just mad at being against the system, mad at their mothers and fathers; but what about the babies, what did the babies do? Or maybe they are mad at the hand they were dealt, mad at their futile intentions, mad at themselves too. Would you believe me if I told you that you are royal and indeed my King?

Young, gifted, educated, frustrated and mad? Maybe they grew mad as they witnessed their fathers deprived of their dignity and it ebbed away at these young men’s souls? Or maybe they are mad because they are sitting is school learning a superficial blueprint, then going back home to deal with a reality of inequality, corruption and injustice? Why are they travellin’ men, invisible men lurking in the shadows of Pharaoh’s and kings? Why are moving at lightning speed to nowhere? Shadow worriers who fight imagined wars. They try to impress you with their Westernisation and assimilation, using their  eloquent words mask the truth.  Who are you running from my love? 

Young, gifted, educated, frustrated and mad? Who lied to them and said a tiger never cries, who told them to live behind the bars of Instagram, Facebook and Twitter feeds? Who told them it was not okay to face themselves? Who told them they weren’t good enough and needed to fit in or wear a certain dress code? Who told them that they were a conquered people? It is okay to ask for help, it is okay to work on yourself. Work on yourself and find a  seat at the table. But who’s table, and why does it seem the three-legged chair they offered is a bit precarious?  Why are capricious princes the ones serving dinner on the plate? Why is your glory denied my venerated one?

Young, gifted, educated, frustrated and mad? Why did they break down this beautiful frame till they were forced to build up a caricature of grills and pills, buying houses in the hills and yet they still feel inadequate? Stripped away at their core producing lost boys and insecure men.  Why did they show them the prize, only to prove it was beyond their reach? Why did they choose to deny them the existence of heaven, and yet let them live like they are in hell? So scared to dive in and swim in the deep-end-ance of someone else even if they love them, but willing to walk down the line till its faded faded fad…ed. Come wash your soul and dress yourself in garments of light. Why are you denying the redemptive power of the water my dear?

Young, gifted, educated, frustrated and mad? Why do they talk about the bulls and bears of Wall Street, and yet were never taught how to delay gratification or build for the next generation? Why were they taught how to “feel me?” if they were never taught how to love? Was it just to prove that this people could bear burdens and weights that would crush and twist their shape? Maybe they took their peace in exchange for weapons, told them the only thing they were good at was to fight; fight for food, their rights, their land and battles that were not their own. Maybe the anger they’ve bottled up makes them attack the enemy that resembles their own faces. Maybe the seeds of angry men gave rise to angry boys who will repeat the cycle of faceless fathers, and maybe if they stay mad long enough they will contour their faces to look just like those of their adversaries. The cycle is broken my precious one, you chose to requite their hate with love. 

Dear reader i thought they were mad, until i took  a closer look and realised that it wasn’t hate but fear in their eyes. 

Typed with a black man in mind, inspired by a black man and with a black man next to me,

Fi

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“I was just lost in this vacuum between integration and segregation and racism…. I was angry for years.” The words hit my ears and my heart felt the impact. “Angry for years….” Matthew Knowls was talking about his upbringing, my upbringing, and I could relate so much.  If you are raising a young black man, talk to him about the things that make him mad, lost or confused. Kids see and internalise a lot, channel their rage into power. Teach them it is okay to get mad, but anger alone won’t change the world.

Teach them that the issue is not racism, segregation or any other kind of wicked system; but rather that it is to love themselves and transcend social constructs, violence or even blatant unfairness  and love every kind of fellow man. Tell them that the glory is within them and indeed they are regal, kingly and glorious. I didn’t write this piece to put anyone down or to point any fingers; I wrote this to highlight some of  the issues that I encounter daily working in a black community.  I also write a lot about women’s experiences so please take time to go through and read my blog to enjoy the full spectrum of ideas and views. I know this piece is long; if you got to the end, I really respect you. 🙂