Finding myself

When do you begin to find yourself?

When others moving on too quickly or find their happiness.

When your turn comes, you’ll let go all that made you sad and desperate

You let go all that makes you insecure

I knew and felt the rush of fever

Draining and sweating all needs

I am no different, we are not that different

Salvation comes to those who try

Desperation and attempts to salvage

Leaves us in despair

Far too subtle to feel, far too hard to grasp

Yet with devotion and love

I hear the sacred call

And turn my eyes to the other side

How do I find myself amidst all the madness?

institutionalized sex abuse

This morning I read the story of a father whose kids were abused in the catholic church. Anthony Foster had died today after tirelessly fighting against Catholic sex abuse –

Having lost his daughter from a drug overdose and the other daughter from an accident caused by a drunk driver, I can’t help but think of the pain he went through.

Child abuse by institutions supposedly to keep them safe and protected happens all the time. We just never get to know when it happens because we are sometimes too busy to pay attention to our children. Some people obviously so blinded by religion that they do not seem to believe when their child has been molested.

I looked back today at my childhood years in church. I am disgusted to the core because noone would ever believe me that I was abused in many ways. Maybe I was a little lucky not to have been extremely sexually abused because my chest was so flat. I understand you must be asking why I am even ranking sexual abuse. Of course all forms of sexual abuse is bad. But for me, all I know is there were those that were slightly okay and others were really awful. Yes, I do still rank and categorize them. 

I saw the other kids being abused too. I don’t remember much because somehow my brain decided to shut the other horrible parts out, but for sure some youth pastor had touched my private parts during those nights that we would gather to pray for some sort of miracle for my sick father.

Even now, I know there are plenty of kids who are being abused and their parents do not know or have the slightest idea. They blindly send them to church or religious gatherings. They do not explain to them what sexual abuse is and how to protect themselves. Those kind of parents make me wonder until now how cold they can be. My father was one of those kind of parents. 

I guess he never really believed that a man of God would do such stuff to young kids. Even after telling him what he did to me and other kids, he never did anything. When Sunday came, we all marched to church. 

Yet he did it again. That ugly fucking bastard. He did it again and again and again. And nobody stopped him. Nobody talked about it. Nobody brought him to justice. Because nobody saw it. Only kids saw it and noone believed the kids.

Now that I am older, I still remember these little instances. If my father had believed me, if he only wasn’t blinded by religion, he would have fought for me and put that evil pastor in jail.

I hope someday these institutions will start talking about these things openly. I would suggest a bill that requires these religious institutions to talk about abuse of all forms and sorts. And for those sexual offenders to be hunted down and jailed.

May you rest in peace. Anthony. 


Mother’s day recently passed and was well celebrated. I saw and read posts from friends with pictures of theirthe mothers together. I also saw posts of my friends with their daughters or sons celebrating this day. 
I never once thought I’d be able to write this. But my mother went through hell to raise me and my siblings up. Even though I did and still do admire my father, for all the other reasons, he was still abusive towards my mother.

From emotional to physical abuse. All this time, he had plenty of other hot looking girlfriends working in high offices with heels while my mother  tilled the land, worked her ass off and paid for every tiny thing in the house with her meagre salary. She even took a loan to build our house. t that time, my dear father was flying high, wasting money and leaving us in debts. From hospital bills to unpaid debts.

I remember my mum’s hair was always short. She had pretty long hair and super beautiful when they were dating and even when they had me. But somehow after the third child, my father changed his attutude towards my mum and my siblings. He had another woman. He made my mama cut her hair, made me cut my hair too. He became much more angry and aggressive.

This was not the guy who at many occasions had saved our neighbours from domestic battering, had threatened to destroy another man for beating his wife or even rushed another woman suffering from celebral malaria to the hospital. Countless things he did for other people, countless offerings he poured to the church and countless children he welcomed home to watch our television – which was the village’s only TV at that time. 

Back to my mom, her job was to look awful and work hard. Shaggy with baggy clothes. Because that was how wives of people like my dad should look like in that tiny village. Moreso, if you happen to be a woman who the church says you should be a model to other women.

 I remember my mother miscarrying after my dad beat the hell out of her. I saw her bleed, ran to the neighbour to ask for help to drive her to hospital. I did not know it was what it was until later in life when I asked my mother for details of that fateful night. 

Or the other time when my mother would watch and cryI helplessly when my father beat the hell out of me for breaking a plate while washing it. She came in between us and he slapped the hell out of her as she fell on the hard floor. 

Or when she came home late from too much work in school and found my father angrily waiting for her to make him his dinner.

Ouch. These memories have a way of getting to me. 

Yet my mother stayed. She stayed for the sake of us. Also she was ashamed and embarassed that she could not leave and stay a single mother with four kids to take care of. She thought it was necessary to have a father figure for us. If she knew that he’d die later on and leave her agonizing, maybe she would have left.

My mother, she was thrown out of her fathers will for marrying my father. Her parents never agreed with her choice. She was already pregnant with me. She was cut out completely. Her parents refused to take her to college, telling her to go to her poor boyfriend and never contact them again. 

My mother, she survived the stigma and society cultural traditions which sometimes would tear her apart. She protected us from those horrible things they would say to her. She told me they were outdated.

My mother, one of the first women in my village to wear a trouser and walk down the city center, while being shouted at by village boys to leave her trouser and home for her male kids.

My mother, who loves me to death and always believed in me, even when she knew I was making a wrong turn. She never scolded me nor lack faith in me. 

My mother, my dear mother, whom now is so hard to reach because I am in another country studying to have a better life and her connection is so poor that we cannot speak even for two minutes.

My mother who gives all of herself to every kid she teaches and to their parents and to her teachers.

If ever I feel low for some reason, I remember all the strong women, like my mother who show that life is what you make out of it. Noone is responsible for your happiness. Sometimes we choose to stay in broken lives, broken families, broken relationships or marriages and we have all the reason to. One day, the pain will go away and we will be happy again. 

Mom, you made me who I am today. I am proud to be your daughter. And one day, if ever I have them kids, I hope to pass the grace, charisma, love and the strength to them. 

With love and affection.

Love policy cycle

Touch me so I can touch you

Feel me so I can feel you

Kiss me so I can kiss you

Breathe to me so I can make my breath worth it

The feeling of being so alone and scared of my thoughts

Trouble in paradise they say

But I don’t know if I ever had paradise in the first place

I ate good food though, good thoughts, good talks, good friendships

After all cycles of love is what I think of

Some rush and gut feelings and flirting

Then you set the agenda

Decide the problems to solve

Decide what solutions you’ll undertake

Decide whether to undertake those solutions or not

Check to see whether those solutions met your original expectations

If they didn’t, decide on a new set of love agenda and reformulate

If they do meet the targets, continue with the love agenda

Only this time round, reinforce it so that it is formal and stays for better or worse

Then make or not make multiple policies


Love policy cycle…

Paolos words to me…

Be present. Make love. Make tea. Avoid small talk. Embrace conversation. Buy a plant, water it. Make your bed. Make someone else’s bed. Have a smart mouth, and quick wit. Run. Make art. Create. Swim in the ocean. Swim in the rain. Take chances. Ask questions. Make mistakes. Learn. Know your worth. Love fiercely. Forgive quickly. Let go of what doesn’t make you happy. Grow.

– Paolo Coelho


The sounds that these creatures make just to wake me up from my sleep. The grace by which they fly, glide and land when they choose to. The way they fly together. I cannot help but smile every morning when they wake me up. 

Now its different, they woke me up from my evening nap. And as I lay in my bed, I am listening, quietly and wishing I was them.

These birds don’t care if I am covered in shit or blanket or if I am scared or brave, happy or sad. I don’t think they even realize how much I wish to be like them. Stand tall and with my beak,peck all the dirt and bad things away while carefully selecting what I need and what I don’t.

Well, it is easy to say I know what I want, but those birds know best as they practically live and walk the life of being a bird.

As days go by, all I want is for you to take me to the skies and I fly away to my version of happiness. 


Didn’t see this coming

Somehow even after going through hell in life, it is possible to attract and be attracted to some positive people in your life. Being positive and taking bad or rough things that come to you with all the positive energy you can possibly attract. Today, I am happy and appreciate all the kind people I have met in my life. Not only kind, but those who see the beauty in you, the determination, the spirit, the faults in you and the mismatch. Yet, they still treasure you for who you are.

Tonight, I lay my worries and jealousy aside and appreciate love of all kinds, measures, design, or whether it is said out of purity or not.

Tonight, I see only love, kindness and togetherness. I wish to share the same for the rest of the week and month. Love all kind and sizes.

Healing from a rugged past takes time. Along the way you get fresh wounds and in other cases, the past wounds ope again. Takes time and energy to stitch them back together.

But with love? Only a short time and all gets wiped out. Leaving no traces.

Beauty and the beast

Right now with three beautiful girls 

Two with the same names, one with a weird look

Happily speaking to me on Skype

Walking around naked before me

The other sleeping on the bed

Obviously exhausted from last nights  orgy 

The last one cooking in the kitchen

For the rest of tired and hungry looking humans

I am in another side of the world

Watching this movie alone

Obviously cannot explain what I feel

Claims of nothing happened between us

He is such a beauty inside

But a beast on the outside

Maybe vice versa

I don’t understand what they see

Those charms get them so easy

Or it is yet another game

I seem to lose it these days

I am no innocent but I do care

I have feelings which I tend to put them aside


Fam texts me she is broke

No money for Easter, no celebration

I email a friend to sort her out

Evening, still in my bed cannot move

My mind shifts to others who have each other

I see my neighbour, alone too she is

No family, no daughter or son

She’s in the armchair

I am on the couch

We talk politics, family and friends

I swear I won’t do anything that would hurt us

These words I know best

To think that I would be the one

When you are finally alone

These things you think about deeply

Now I watch beauty and the beast

The new version does not please me

I switch my phone off

I switch my laptop off and go to sleep

I probably will stay offline for the rest of the coming days

Hope some beauty is still left inside of me

Rugged emotions

Just like I wore a rugged jeans today, my emotions and feelings are rugged. Well, I like the naked portions that you see from the outside. So I am open but not so open. Somewhere halfway. A hollow that needs to be filled. Maybe it’s alright for it to stay hollow. I don’t know if I want this hole filled up anyway. 
Nevertheless, with my rugged jeans and rugged emotions, I sat today out in the sun. With my red blanket on the grass, I put my head down to the ground to feel the earth. The tenderness, the silence, the smell of green grass went through my nostrils. I breathed in, breathed out. I felt my head move and my heart sensed it. Suddenly, I thought of him and said to myself, it is not that bad!

If he just smelled the grass, the ground, the shit, the filthy waters and saw the beauty out of my rugged emotions, just like he likes my rugged jeans.