Return to the Mecca ... Letter to my un born 2

Good morning Anesu, it just me Da putting in another entry and just letting you know you’re on my mind and that I love you. There is something I wanted to share with you as your father to be,  I feel like  life’s is a big old book and we write in it  through our choices and actions, each season and cycle in our life is a  just a chapter and  often we meet people in different chapters of our life, just as you will  meet me in one of my chapters and as you start your own story, part of the secret to life is not to define a the whole book by a single chapter sometimes the intro isn’t good as the ending, and  not every chapter is action packed when you arrive here and as you get older you will understand, and the best place to start a story is at the beginning which is not with me but with your Grandparents. The greatest gift I was given and I will pass on to you is our last name it is the beginning but not the end of your identity. It is the beginning of your legacy, before I go there one of the reasons I write to you is simply because of God’s love and if something should happen to me I know he will watch over you, the problem in here lies, If you have never know the love of an earthly father, you may have nothing to compare it with the heavenly Father’s love. He absolutely adores you but we hope it never comes down to that and that we do meet in person. I guess I am one of the lucky ones as short as it was I did get to feel my father’s love and I assure it was an amazing, money can’t buy it , I remember a time when no place was higher and  more sacred or safer than my father’s shoulders. He had such a presence you could feel him when he walked into the room and you were not looking at the door. I have also decided to create a time capsule for you and in there I will place a picture of Sekuru (Shona for granddad) and Ambuya (Grand ma) a tree is only as strong as its roots and I assure you your roots are tremendously strong. You won’t have the pleasure of meeting my father until god calls us back home, but you will meet my mother hopefully. When you do meet my mother I have a disclaimer for you and a piece of advice, approach her with respect for your own safety out of love she will put a foot up your ass, then put a foot up my ass for not putting a foot up your ass in the first place, then I will have to put my foot up your ass, then you will have two feet up your ass you don’t want that. The lesson to be learnt is be respectful (laughing), seriously I grew up in a time when they taught us to respect our elders even when they were not always that respect worthy they don’t teach that much now, so I am tell you now the power of respect is not to disrespect, it sounds cliché but respect is earned and the fact that your elders have being on earth longer than you subsequently earns them minimum respect having said that, elders can lose that respect to gauge it well  as it is a thin line. Anyway let me get back to the family history/tree. When I decide that I was going to make your mother my wife which was pretty much years after we met I had known here a long time, I forget what she said but after she said it I knew she was the one , I remember telling your Uncle Tau Tau that’s my future wife  and he (Tau) laughed hard almost passed out chocking, I can’t blame him  I was in a very crazy back then, very bachelor chapter of my life at the time not meaning to sound corny (some real talk) it just felt like an angel or spirit whispered in my ear this the one, flesh of your flesh and bone of your bone that’s why I call your mom my rib, we complete each other when we are not trying to kill each other in private,its real love(laughing). Anyway after my epiphany I called up my mom, throughout my life she has being book of knowledge for me even when we went to war (that’s a completely different chapter if not a book), but up until then I hand never really asked any question about her and Da I figure it would cause ache, every time I felt the urge to ask I remember how deeply she wept on the grave every Sunday afternoon, after church when we went to place flowers by the Tombstone. It made me ask what kind of love was this that they shared that ran so deep, so committed that flaunted itself in her pain so openly a love that never seemed to age and defied time, like I said I learnt a secret about time and so I knew if I wanted to ever know I would have to chance at the risk of opening old wounds I needed to know so I asked her what it is about my dad that let her know he was the one. (Laughing) the reply was rather shocking I was hoping for some mystic deep romantic response no.

 “baby back in the day your father looked like Sidney Poitier (taking a deep breath) he was beautiful human being to look at and all the girls wanted him but I got him and he had big hands and feet you know what that means ”

 “mom don’t go there  (ugh…)that’s it mama He looked Sidney ?”

 “Yes that is it do you want me to lie to you?” (Of course she was messing with me)

Anyway your grandfather had many outstanding qualities very intelligent, warm generous, funny when he spoke well and was extremely protective but a quiet soul, he didn’t like to go to church much but he was a very spiritual being and deeply respected the ancestors. He didn’t call my mom by her name; he called her mudikanwi which means “loved one in Shona” and twice a year or more he would take her travelling to some distant part of the world he was never afraid to spoil her. Apparently he was a good dancer, and I personally will never get it but he had good hair I will never understand what that does for women, but I have the same thick hair  as well so I guess it works, we don’t have to worry about balding as we age it’s not in the gene’s. He was very stylish a trend setter if you will (that gene seems to have skipped me). Nothing was more important than family to my father he invested in the people as well as the land he was from, he was very gifted at managing money but he didn’t care so much about it (money) but in the well fare of the people, we used to make 4 to 5 trips to his tribal land (kumusha) every year with car full of  food and gifts. I could go on and on and on, nobody I met had anything bad to say about him even his enemies had praise for him. When I was growing up I remember under achieving on purpose because the bar had being set that high and I had no idea how to get there  absolutely clueless and I guess that’s one of the problems with being fatherless the lack of direction, and I figured if I hide my gifts sooner or later the expectations of greatness would pass me over me , the wind without focus is harmless at best chaotic  but never a force, and I think it was TD Jakes who best captured it when he said “energy not used will turn on itself” I am a living witness that statement is true which will explain that period in my life when I was very lost. Without direction without my compass (my father) my wrestling match significances and self-worth began I had to figure out who I was, I was an artist with a brush and blank canvas and no muse  but a urge to draw .. It was a mess. To be the son of “Samson Munengami” was pressure to achieve great things, these were dark and hard chapters of my life people say I don’t regret , rubbish I regret that phase of my life. Hiding my gifts caused my mom heart ache through disappoint because she could see the potential even though she didn’t say it very often she believed in me and I begin to understand the pain I caused her as you make your journey into the world , I don’t want you to make the same mistakes I did, you have 2 generations of gifts fire and intelligence and the heart beating in your chest and  in your veins don’t hide it, master it through confidence and humility and know the difference between confidence and pride,  be the best you can be, at whatever  you choose to be, don’t get distracted, for many years I would be lost not living my purpose on a detour that road was rough, a battle with alcoholism  that would almost kill me 5 or more times, having said that I just want to tell you right now! You might find this hard to conceive but you’re my hero the idea of you kept me going through the darkest of nights, and when it looked like I was going to lose my battle with alcohol  along with my mind ,and the sins of the father would visit you, I saw your face in a dream and kept swinging and I still am and I won’t stop, where ever you were in the ether the idea of holding you or missing the chance to hold you become my souls fuel to live the option of suicide became an impossibility( any and every man who has lived past the age of 25 has contemplated suicide at least once). I realized my decisions now will affect you latter although my father was a good man and he was not abusive, but I always felt he chose the bottle over me, and I let go  and let God be my father and stopped trying to do things in my own strength and be in control, a complete game changer for me I have mixed feelings about bringing life into this world because humanity is ugly sometimes. The scriptures which will be your friend say we came to bear witness to dying world, but my love for you over rides everything else I feel and the more I let god love me the more I know I will be able to love and protect you even when I don’t now how, so before you come into the world, thank you for being my hero. I just want to say to you ,have no doubt that I will wage war for you to at least be breathing when you are born, and if anything should happen  to me I will find a way to keep you from the other side because even I cannot defy gods will, sometimes …. Sometimes I feel like there’s force protecting me and I like to think it’s my father both of them , because with all the crazy shit  I done in this life time I should be dead. Anyway my craziness runs in your veins as I explained before, coupled with your mother craziness I have a feeling I am going to have to be firm open and tough love with you, do you  know  what that means I am tear ass up you act a fool (laughing). Before I babble on to long let me share with you my three favorite activities I did with my father.

1 My father loved to go fishing I hated it, fishing that’s is I hated the smell and disliked worms (we didn’t have fancy bait back then) and honestly, when I was that young fish scared me anything that wriggled scared me snakes worms fish spiders etc, but I enjoyed the time alone with my father it was sacred and his presence made me brave so my fear of fish temporarily disappeared. He gave me two of the greatest gifts then, I have to this day the ability to sit in silence and enjoy the presence of someone else without frivolous conversion just the occasional pat on the head somehow that kept me silent or is long finger pointing at a spectacle of nature like an eagle flying overhead or what he called gods finger at dawn as silver line reseeded on face of the lake. He also taught me how to still my soul umm its complicated to explain but its allowed to develop my third eye and my sixth sense  earlier than most my father said it allowed to see the spirits of and in  nature and the ancestors. The coolest thing about Da is from about the age of 5 he spoke to me in a way that was simple enough for me to understand but as an adult, we would be walking through the bush and out the blue he’d stop kneel down to my level look me in the eye and say something like this “mwana wangu mu upenuyu usa vimbe nechinu chisiri chako” (my child never put your faith in other people stuff just your own). I felt like a Grown ass man and I still miss him. My second favorite activity with my father was that he used to love to take long drives to nowhere in particular and listen to music international and local he had particular liking for Bob Marley and the Eagles when you’re old enough Google them, and locally Mukanya and Tuku. Back then we had tapes and tracks in cars you had to listen to the whole dam album, there was none of the I-pad or phone. I think these long drives where supposed to be his alone time from my mother which every man does despite how in love you are. Lord knows she had her moments, and one when he was leaving I cried so hard for him to take me along with him and would he cave in. There was a condition to me going along with him where ever we went I couldn’t tell my mom, it is here I got to see the other side of my father in modern day terms I guess it would be either him cutting loose with the Fella’s not a care in the word discussing politics and football and the likes, or he would drive out to a quiet place  and there was this one particular hill let the music play and enjoy a few beers and just let go of the world, I would inherit  this particular quality to spend large amounts of time by myself  sipping and listening to music  in my own world.

Last but not least my third favourite activity with father was the swings and gardening. Our house had a design that had a bar literary a bar that looked out on a raised veranda which might go far to explain our alcoholic tendencies, on each side of the Veranda was a set of step leading down to the back yard on the right was rose garden my father had  planted with bare hands for my mother always the romantic, the garden was  gorgeous in the season of bloom and to the far left  was vegetable garden which we actually ate from fresh and healthy, despite all the education and having travelled the world my father was an earth man he never really forgot his humble country beginnings  and when he felt sick or stressed he would walk bare foot in the garden and feel the earth in his palms and toes somehow  he felt that connection to earth to the ancestors he called it grounding our people are referred to as “Vana Vevhu” children of the earth his ceremonial earthing actually seemed to work. It was in this garden my father started to teach me to appreciate the value of hard work and to take time to appreciate nature  for not only would life be my school master but nature as well, he used to say “if god made it then it can teach you”. My father was the kind of man who would get annoyed by a half ass job , he would rather I do it wrong but give his my best and with that he started to teach me the art of craftsmanship hidden in simple things as planting a seed trimming a bush and paying attention to details. He taught me the concept of relationship as the water needed the earth the earth was in need of the water for needs somewhere to fall and the other needed to drink. And after a long day of work in the garden my reward whether I deserved it or not because honestly I think I got in the way more than I helped , especially in that last year of sickness before he passed , was to have him  push me on the swing . My tiny little lungs squeal with excitement “looks dad I am flying”. He had this way of looking at me and my brother that said “right there that is mine” despite his sickness I had never seen him bitter.

 When I remember  what I saw that disease do to him I marvel at how I myself struggled with alcohol for so long maybe I was that lost because men we don’t do pain very well , but I am grateful  that I beat  it and like I said thank you for being my hero and helping me through . Your most probably wondering why I am telling you about your grandfather simply because the 3 of us are connected, you are where he is right know and coming here and I wanted you to have a clearer idea of the calibre of DNA that runs in your blood and how life can be simple and complex in the Same heartbeat. One day you will come face to face with your own complexities I just want you know you’re not the first to face it and you won’t be the last, it’s confusing but normal  and you have my words to help you through, aight  where ever you are I will catch you at the next inspiration

Intro: Strange fruit letters to my un born

He is internally bleeding to death on the floor of cold holding cell from the injuries he received after a vicious phone book beating provoked by a long and strained racial conflicted relationship with a certain police officers which finally crossed the line, it had previously being mostly humours  banter and empty threats up until then a nonviolent battle that was started by the clash of opinions’, the police officers racial slurs and socio economic profiling versus his quick wit intelligence and un repentantly humorous emasculating tongue. His mind and spirit travel to the Ether to avoid his physical pain of dying slowly where he is confronted by “Azreil” angel of death to whom he makes a request knowing his last rites as a Christian.

 Ta asks to send his loved ones good bye letters in the form of dreams, unfortunately Azreil cannot grant this right so he transfers him to Saint Peter who handles such divines matter. Peter needs a justification for such a request and so Ta our victim tries to justify the request by saying “strange fruit is what brought me here, it’s what I am,  I just want to leave some normal fruit ?” and so he takes  us back to the start of his life in post-colonial Zimbabwe a time of so called integration, a time when inter racial relationships that we take for granted today were a taboo approached with caution and distrust, it was also a time when children were seen and not heard . A time before Facebook and twitter where people just did not say whatever they wanted without thinking of the ramifications of their words “what happened in the house stayed in the house”. A time when Children did not speak back to their parents or else they would face the wrath of a leather strap or worse . We are taken into a world of two young lovers and the “wolf pack” where their innocence struggles to breathe and is seemingly being stripped from them painfully  and slowly, he is African and he has lost his father young and struggles on the path to masculinity as well as the natural challenges of going through puberty and the complexities that arise from his home environment as his mother attempts to find the right way to raise them alone  as well as the complex process of  integration going  at school. Detta is white and she has also lost her mother to breast cancer, her guide to her femininity she faces the same challenges as he does accept that after her mother’s death her father has become emotionally vacant and withdrawn, they are drawn to each other’s brokenness seemingly unaware of each other’s race, very aware of I am a boy and you’re a girl and this strange feeling they have for each other. At only 12 years old they trying to deal with not only their past’s, puberty, and present but the issue of identity created by the new independent Zimbabwe and people constantly imposing their values and opinions on them that contradict the feelings they have for each other, and so they struggle with their parents “do as I say not as I do” attitudes. They hold onto each as they wade through the fog of change as they try and figure out what traditions to hold onto and leave what new things to embrace and leave while dealing with the fear of the walk into the unknown with the knowledge that time never moves backward. They face 3 realities how they see the world, how people in world see things and what’s really going on minus the bull shit in between. Along the journey they joined by the “wolf pack” a brotherhood of friends who confide in each to retain their sanity from their home lives, a family away from family.

Funny a times  and painfully honest  looking at issues people would rather sweep under the rug out of shame escapism or the simple fact  that to confront the issue would force them (the adults ) to take a very good look in the mirror.  The Strange fruit is simply the bi products of the situations they are forced to adapt to and evolve around and how it affects their adult lives in the latter years. They are the strange fruit and if you look in the mirror maybe just maybe you are to?

Ps: This book is not a biography but it is based on real life events, some I experienced myself and some passed on to me by counterpart’s family and friends.