Notes on the Secret pain of men

This weekend I got to give two talks to men about the upcoming book series which might help transform your life or even go as far as to save  it in “strange fruit letters to my unborn” at two different venues, one venue being my church and after the talks the reaction of the people prompted me to share, as I mentioned before about noticing that men (even the Christian ones) are  not  in a good mental health place across age race and creed, I feel I should share it with you ,it’s actually a part of the book that I removed out of the book but basically seemed to stir everybody who has read or heard it. And afterward I had some men come to talk to me about being lonely, depression, pressure, anger, fear, wanting to leave their family children and wife, commitment issues  and some men were even struggling/flirting with thoughts of suicide. Basically when I wrote in the book I wanted to deal with what I call the Disconnect theory, which basically means we have a fatherless generation and the psychological implications of this on children, particularly men, the redefinition of masculinity and how it’s separate us  from the protective unconditional love of god and family . Basically I shared something’s men know but very rarely admit out of pride and women have no idea we go through and its nothing new.

1 It is very hard to be a man it doesn’t come natural especially to the fatherless (disconnected), its hard work and most women have no idea that men struggle with it especially in 2013 with redefinition of masculinity and trying to figure our role in life. So much so we commit suicide, change sexual orientation, commitment issues, leave perfectly happy homes , angry and depressed men you see on the street , we get sick from stress and create the secret life of us.

2 Men don’t do pain very well especially emotional and psychological pain we say we are alright but most of time we are faking

3 Men process pain insecurity and pressure internally so we don’t talk about it and when something goes wrong with the processing, it goes from process to nurturing secret pain and it’s here you start to see symptoms (peter pan syndrome alcohol drug abuse pornography excessive gaming insecurity  etc)

4 If we do not process this pain we give you surface and depth the second biggest theme in the book,  we look fine but we are suffering inside and this where you get sporadic anti-social behavior , and this makes us dangerous to ourselves first and then to you (ladies) again symptoms will come and go (mood swings, cheating, addictions etc )

5 ladies it is important as men to get him to talk especially when it clears something has changed and you ask him what’s wrong and he say nothing don’t pile the pressure just let him know the doors open, or try to get somebody male positive and trusted to talk to him, but don’t talk around the issues actually deal with the real issue change takes times so don’t rush, but also remember he is nurturing pain you don’t want a seed to grow into a full grown seed.

6 this is my personal formula for dealing with times when I don’t know. I pray and I have learnt to strip myself of ego and find help. Being a man is life time process and we need be aware of which season in our life we are at. I hope it helped

Basically I have being sharing this with men and women across race age and religion and for them so far it’s helped men deal with feelings and past pain and just life pressure in general to here another man talk openly about it and know that you’re not alone and we can share solutions, and it has allowed the women who love these men to know how to approach there men and their pain and catch the symptoms early if you really love him. I haven’t figured the formula out but I thank god for letting me be an instrument for the few people I have being allowed to influence.

storms poetry: Help me choose the book cover

storms poetry: Help me choose the book cover:     AS we come to the final parts of the book process I have to decide on a book cover and I would love your feedback on which cover...

Help me choose the book cover

 

 

AS we come to the final parts of the book process I have to decide on a book cover and I would love your feedback on which cover you like the most for “ Strange fruit- letters to my unborn”, so please let me know which one you like .  Angel father or the strange fruit thanks and much love  and be bless

 

 

"Crazy enough to love me" Wolf pack no 1 - The death Tapfuma the of birth of Storm

Wolf pack

 My mother always told me when I was growing up not to look for good or evil by what it looked like, but by its fruit. I believe our generation in Zimbabwe was the second to experience a wicked phenomenon that had already swept across Europe and certain parts of Asia and the America’s over the last century. The sickness itself infected us during the colonial era with their arrival for such a sickness had never existed among our peoples and then again it might just have being a matter of time, the destruction of the traditional family unit which was our strong hold and our cultural values which were our force field against the attack, infected and unknown, we started to show clear symptoms just before the revolutionary/ anticolonial wars, and “it” ultimately became a mutating virus at independence, which reflected in the era’s value systems changes, some we choose our self some imposed on us ,it doesn’t matter at the end of the day the people were sick, but like any strong people some of us developed an immune system  a new way of thinking and it was war, we were drawn into a dog fight with no rules of engagement on either side. The sickness I speak of and the fruit we became is “the fatherless generation” the strange fruit destine in the future at one point or another to destroy each other. I think we are doing better than the rest of the world because of our immune system which would be eons of Culture that stems back to beginning of the world itself, well.. well it simply refused to lie down and die, “it” our immune system new well the only thing constant in life was change and although it was not ready for the viciousness of the attack, it managed to simplify itself because it knew after watching over the ages the simpler the organism the better its chance of survival and planted this seed in some of us and somehow we survived, but do not be fooled many us are still infected. I call it the disconnect theory; I think in this era we live in now 2013 the greatest two weapons of the enemy are fatherlessness and the ignorant. I don’t think society fully comprehends how important it is for children both boys and girls to have their father engaged in their lives. The enemy figured out if he could remove the father figure from the home, be it physically emotionally mentally financially and so on, a direct disconnect in the relationship between Man (meaning humanity regardless of sex) and god would be formed and moral decadence would reign, and if you think I am wrong just take a look at the state of the world, wars sparked out of greed and stupidity/pride, abuse of women at an all-time high, very little reverence for a life, the number of men in prisons and the number of men who have changed their sexual persuasion, the enemy has attacked our would be fathers and left the definition of masculinity in tatters, need more convincing maybe turn on the news listen for 5 minutes and cringe, profits and not prophets the lord’s prayer or novena  does not start with our god or our lord it starts with “our father” and some things will never change. We are made in god’s image as 3 part beings, mind (soul), body and spirit, just as god is Father, son and Holy Spirit. In this age even among the so called Christians, we can accept Jesus easily as saviour and brethren, the holy spirit as the comforter the soft side of or as some have argued the feminine side of god , but we tend to reject god the father, because we have never felt our earthly fathers love and many who did have fathers growing up dealt with infected angry broken abusive and a small group felt the real love, and the way we relate to god is the same way we relate to him (our earthly father) and there is an anger resentment, un-forgiveness and rebellion against authority in any form, serial time stealers and the most precious thing we possess in this life is time, life its self is time (Sadness in my voice) and the enemy achieved his goal … (laugh with a hint of madness)  to steal cheat and destroy. And by the time you look up and realize what happened, it will be time up.

They say self-sacrifice produces love and self-preservation selfishness but in our case it was the sacrifice that produced the self-preservation which allowed us to defy the laws of nature and retain our sanity where  others would of lost their minds, it become a strange and powerful thing (self-preservation- sacrifice), it had the strangest capacity to draw the most unlikely of characters together, if Tupac was alive he would say it allowed us to breathe  fresh air and walk with no feet, and still manage to reflect the inner rose beauty god blesses all his children with. They  also say you can’t choose your family but I would also beg to differ some times its not blood you share its pain love and the most painful and confusing hope, meet the Wolf pack my family away from family, drawn together by our brokenness, issues and the complexities/dispositions we faced in our homes and school environment we were it, bonds formed in fire and a place of  no judgement, no need for understanding just acceptance and a chance to sit down and breathe in all the crazy and busy of the world, some form of warmth in the cold, and a method maybe reason behind the madness we face in our private silence, and a chance for us to slow time down  while moving at high speed and figure it out, or at least attempt to figure it out, the who I am, “ who the  me is?”, the real me not your expectations, not my adaptations for your acceptance or the type casts life seemed to have thrown us into. Wolf pack had 3 things in common:

 1 we were either the smartest or the fastest of our age group extremely gifted and creative, whether it for the good or the unscrupulous, broken early in what I call spiritual war fare or as my father would say “baptism by fire”. Simply trying to figure how to make our gifts a blessing and not a curse . 

2 We all had parent issues either the vicariousness of how they lived through us which caused us to question our true dream, purpose and god given instinct. In some cases to much guidance and in other cases not enough… or our parents were absent physically mentally or emotionally, caught in their own pain or a strange but real form of narcissism (they seemed completely unaware) as a result we had developed distinct and certain disposition incubated by a “do as I say not as I do” home environment which often fuelled a silent rebellion, and the guerrilla warfare was on (the collateral damage or innocence most of the time)

3 Last but not we become little people who all couldn’t wait to grow up, unfortunately we didn’t know what we were asking for until we got their then we wanted to grow down, and with that we made one promise that the “sins of the fathers would not visit our sons” and we shed the skin of conformity in the hope of building a new legacy a brighter tomorrow.

 It would be rude for me to start with anybody else other than myself in the Wolf pack family. My real names Tapfuma Gerald Munengami but everybody calls me Ta or Storm as far back I can recall, “he who takes no shape and has no form completely unpredictable and answerable only unto God” as far back as I am aware even in the womb I posed a strength and a wisdom that were not mine untamed honest and raw right there at my fingertips waiting for a life time to master, but for most of it people called me Storm because they said I was crazy posed nemangoromera (a conflicted spirit) and my totem Dziva translated to water or lake so the name made sense. Back in the day I was a fast runner, crazy maybe I don’t know? Misunderstood maybe nah definitely? Hence the name Storm, I didn’t say much back then, and when I did people didn’t real understand me figuratively not literally, I didn’t use words that much back then, even though I somehow knew my vocation would be around words and writing, I understood their power (the wisdom that wasn’t mine) and approached them (words that is) with a reverence hence my silence while we got to know each other better. I have had side burns since I was about 10 years old I rocked Afro just like father pure swagga and from the age of seven I had silver hair growing in my head. My disposition if you can call it that was a silence that scared people that started at the tragic loss of my father at age 7. I watched as liver sclerosis took him home to the other father, slowly and painfully piece by piece the cape was ripped from the back of  my hero, the dust settled on the boots and the shine faded  and slowly  helplessly I watched not a single tear in my eyes, my hero became mortal, the legend was lost in time, the myth shattered and the fairy tale crumbled not one tear in my eye, I didn’t even cry at the funeral not for lack of understanding of what was going on, I did my crying on the inside I needed to be strong for my mother she was shattered so to were my elder brother and sister, two hero’s stolen by one stone the strength that wasn’t mine stood up, the little boy died and the shadow of a man started walking blind, I wish I had cried back then it would of saved me a lot pain and issues as a young adult, like the inspiration to blues song yet to be written I had all this pain gnawing at my soul in un-cried tears for so long helping design my psycho. Satan had drawn me into a dog fight early and I am still swinging to this day. After I turned 7 life had found innovative ways to strip me of my innocence and test my sanity, I think anybody who has grown up in single parent house hold knows that you sacrifice your own child hood because you have to grow up faster than your counterparts if you want to survive, if you have any hope of living your purpose or seeing your dream breathe because that all you have on cold and lonely nights dreams, and you have no intention of being trapped as a child in your head… in a grown body for the rest of your life (a slight pain at the memory because I see them all the time “peter pans” I mean boys in grown bodies trapped by a pain from the past). In this environment you either become the issue or try and help out around the house to deal with issues. I loved my mom brother and sister dearly so I tried to do the latter but things don’t always go to plan and sometimes I found myself being the issue as I wrestled with my un-cried tears my pain had grown roots and they ran deep. While other kids are playing with toys and doing normal kids’ stuff I was doing chores around the house changing lights and fuses, running errands I even learnt to manage money early by going to the post office to pay bills and doing grocery it would explain the hustle latter on in my life, don’t get me wrong I am not complaining it’s just that you felt a ting when your friend’s fathers were taking them fishing or something, you watch them drive off on Saturday morning and somewhere in your head a voice said “what about me?” and they would be sharing how great it was on Monday morning, it was a strange place to be emotionally a deep internal reflection, you would never wish this pain this void on someone else but couldn’t help but feel some morbid sense of  jealously and misguided anger, even stuff as simple as changing tires you have to figure it out on your own, my mom taught me how to do it because these are basic man life skills every man should have (surprisingly they don’t), but it just didn’t feel the same as when I watched my friends with their fathers there was an affirmation  they seemed to get that my mom  could  not give me and my inner writer recognized it but I was grateful at her efforts, Amai (mother) was real with me  she taught me a lot basic man skills and I grateful today because it sets me apart from many men, mama raised nothing but soldier(laughing) that’s what she used to say anyway. The best way I can explain it is when your father is absent while you become a man, it’s like being lost in a forest with no campus and you look up the stars because inherently you know the directions are up there somewhere and you try to learn how to read them the signs as fast and as safe as possible (not going to happen not without a guide) but because you don’t have any life experience often you find yourself lost and while your lost life is happening and I forgot to mention that in this forest there are all kinds of beast hunting and you’re the prey, so you either  you give up and get eaten even though your alive in the flesh or learn faster to trust your instincts  and go hard..  and use the scars lots of scars reminders of lessons learnt to navigate through the forest and you have to grow a thick skin or kill the soft inside you,  the problems along the way if you make it (may god keep and bless those who committed suicide on the path to masculinity) you will make mistakes people and society, I learnt the hard way trust me I have the scars to prove it , will try and define you based on those mistakes and mess with your head “little boy little girl let me in, not by hairs on my chinny chin chin” and so the lines between night mare and  fairy tale get blurred but life keeps happening and if you’re not careful time is being stolen  the best days of your life, the beasts in the forest  are no respecters of age they just want you to be a child in your head so you can’t eat at the master table the grown bread the good stuff life offers. The Second problem in a single parent house hold is discipline the lack of it or way too much of it. Unfortunately for me my mother choose the path of tough love in the absence of a man in the house to balance us out, translated for the less astute in  the language of single parents tough love = ass whoop(laughing). Although I thank my mother for every beating I received back then lest I  might be dead  cause I was foolish and that’s the truth, some of those beatings crossed the border line of abuse not only in intensity but many beatings were trivial to me, they felt more like venting than the scars of love, I remember more than one ass whooping I received  that convinced me that I was adopted despite that fact my facial features gave evidence to the contrary (laughing in retrospect), strangely enough I remember being sick and that same one woman holding me all night praying and crying for my survival and a piece of hero’s  fallen cap were sawn back on. That same woman who worked 2 jobs and ran a business to make sure we never went without because she had made a promise to my father that we would all go to university and get good educations, it is here I was introduced to the school master called “life” which started to explain to me the importance of keeping your word be it marriage vows or a simple promise. I remember massaging mama’s swollen ankles and the writer deep inside of me even then said “take a good look, this is what love looks like”, as my hands tried to chase away her pain and my mind tried comprehend my own confusion, life as a school master unknowing let me know that real love doesn’t look like what we think it does and if you look for it in the romantics’, fairy tale and emotions you will miss it altogether you need to look for those swollen ankles sleepless nights those calloused palms.  The same woman who would tear that ass up would kill anything breathing or dead who laid a hand on me, that tough love phase was confusing in retrospect when you’re a child all you wants a hug you want love more than stuff more than money, it doesn’t quite make sense to you lost and confused trying to be brave…it pushed boundaries but I needed it or I wouldn’t be me today. It is from this woman I call my mother I learnt a stomach turning, shoulder crushing life changing work ethic which guides me to this day even if it awoke in me late and some people call it the grind! And that’s about me for now. Oh wait I also learnt to pray very differently from my counter parts and hence my controversial relationship with god was sealed, when your mother is tired all the time and she might have had a drink to self-medicate the pain of life ( her lover is not there to take her pain away in waiting arms and banter it only now that I understand) and drives home, and she is all that you have in the world you don’t pray a 2 minute prayer, nor for frivolous things, that prayers is on fire you live on your knees and the prayers are so deep no words are needed and you can feel the angels wings carry each word from souls lips to god himself  “a cold and broken amen”. Last but not least often when you grow up in a single parent house you vicarious loose both parents, one physically and the other to the business of the world it’s not their fault the parent unknowing becomes a provider and less of a parent but they are doing their best… emotional drained when they get home so even if they are there they are not and with a kiss and smile I thank my Mama for her sacrifice I understand now. Wolf pack Lonely nights when we howled at the moon literally just to feel something and let go of the anguish as silly as it seemed it worked, and so the wolf pack was originally made of 5 little people not so little now (laughing) and an addition 4 latter, we had known each I think since we were 5-6 years old or earlier, 1 girl 4 boys. Well you already know my story now meet the family starting with our first lady.

Letter 4 - Strange fruit letters to my un born

He stands in front of the mirror in complete silence studying his own facial features, he does this for at least two minutes, side to side, straight forward, a little under the chin, deep into the depth of the eyes, we can’t leave out the classic jaw bone, and he does the wise man pose and then he  laughs shaking his head with pride and anticapation, he repeats something his mother told him time after time, “inimanche ndakazvara” the best translation not the direct is “I make beautiful babies” (now I know you’re thinking the vanity but like a good infomercial wait there’s more lol). He goes back to looking in the mirror, focused and from the left side he slowly raises up a picture of his wife’s face right next to his own face and starts to let his imagination go wild, endless possibilities of the beauty to come, different combinations of cheek bones, eye colours, lips nose hair complexion the expecting father gone mad with anticipation (laughing) with the greatest satisfaction he says “Anseu I am going to have to buy you a stick to beat the women off you, yes sir”. He turns and looks at his wife’s picture and smiles ever so gently he says “thank you” and with that he returns to his work desk.

The sound of  a pen scribbling..

Man I can’t wait to see you out here in the world, you got daddy acting a fool it’s a good thing your Mama aight around right now to see me, it might spark a debate about who is actually having the hormone issues between the two of us (laughing). Anesu in the first entry I told you I started writing these letters because I was scared if something happened to me you would join the ranks of the fatherless, I was wrong and I can admit it and that fear has being lifted because I am married to an amazing woman and I know she will love you until it’s done. (Real talk clapping hands) don’t get me wrong a fatherless house is a terrible thing but worse than fatherless house is loveless house(full of neglect) or an angry one full of violence (be it verbal or physical), I figure children need love more than they need two parents truest me I seen it with my own two eyes. I am a little crazy but mom did more than alright, I know people who grew up in houses with two parents and they are more messed up in the head than I am because there was no love in the house and it’s the love that protects you and feeds the soul, remember what I told you about surface and depth don’t look for evil by what it looks like, you might find it in a shiny suit (laughing) or behind a smiling face, back to the issue in those houses one of the parents or both  of them might be selfish, manipulative, or verbally physically sexually abusive or an angry parent, worse insecure. I never would of thought I would say this but if the man in the house is any of the for mention that house is most probably better off without him, oh I forgot to mention a lazy man that’s just terrible father material. You will never have to worry about that with me I am commited to you we are in covenant, you’re my focus you’re my heart you’re my mind. I am going to try and be as engaged as possible  in healthy way with you and try not to over parent and give lee way to grow and be your own person, you might love the attention as a child but it will get on your ass when become teenager and while we are here on the subject, I need to lay down the law now, no surprises with me until you turn 18, I am not your friend I am your father I don’t care what other houses are doing and I don’t care what’s cool out there , we doing me (laughing) and I am the law meaning father until your 18. Anyway yeah, when I was growing up it was hectic but my mom and my aunts tried to fill the house up with love. It didn’t always come in the form that was “normal” whatever that means, but it was love never the less and I felt it. Growing up in single parent house my mom was working a lot trying to provide for 3 children it wasn’t easy (a testimony to her strength) she spent a lot of time working or resting but she always managed to do something or say something small to let me know I was loved. Because it got so hectic I spent a lot of time at aunts and my homeboys houses, two friends in particular and their parents kind of took me  on as one of their own (it’s a African thing),  I think I was described as “mobile furniture” at one point, I think it was a compliment. I fear in New Zealand you will never get to experience the love of an extended family it’s just a different culture, in my personal belief I think it (the extended family culture) protected us (Zimbabweans) from the full brunt of the pandemic of the fatherlessness disease because there was always someone to take care of you male and female it had its pro’s and it con’s like anything human has its flaws but for most of it was good. Anesu, we have this word in our culture called “kurerwa” it’s very complicated to translate to English, stripped down to its simplest and raw essence it means to raise a child, but its more than that its where you get your imprint, a secret knowledge passed from parent to child, culture, manners, respect, attitude, swagga they are all moulded into you during this incubation period of interaction between parent and child, during this mentoring an imprint of a whole bunch of things intangibles is done. Son I am just going to be real with you, you’re going to be born in a narcissistic society with a disturbed and weakened definition of masculinity and this affects parenting and the level of engagement modern parents do, I need you to understand this because we are going to be raising you different way from your counter parts which allows for you inherit your culture and this might make you feel a bit alone because the human proclivity is to be accepted. I find it strange maybe as an African male that men would rather be making more money than they need, boasting to each other in pubs of old glory days , the new business deals and be in the gym in their late 30’s 40 and 50 trying look good when the bodies going to die , rather than be spending time with their children and the family like I explained before once times gone it doesn’t come back. (And they wonder why they have mental health issues even if they hide them well it’s that family time that restores ones sanity). Completely off Let me tell a story about someone I know, I have being blessed that god brings these people into my life and I call them anomalies simply because of the peculiar  circumstances under which we meet and interact. Once upon a time in 2007 (this is a real story) I was in the city of Auckland doing a favour for a friend he didn’t like to come to CBD much, I was on Forte street  that’s where I had parked and I was walking to the car and I literally almost tripped over  these two young people as in ages 13 years old and this young lady was on her knee’s, tipsy giving the young man a blow job (I am serious) in between my car and the next one. So the young man sees me zips up and run’s off leaving the young lady on her knee’s with a stranger who just caught her with a dick in her mouth. So I am stunned not at the act so much but at the audacity of them to do it late afternoon or was just stupidity I forget (if it had being me at that age I would waited for the cover of darkness not that I am encouraging it), I wanted to laugh but I know I can’t the young lady is embarrassed and distor enough, but at the end of the day I need to get into the car but in front of my door of the car is this 13 year white girl crying on her knees. (I am pause right here, we watched the death of mocking bird and read a time a kill the inner African in me was like they will put your innocent black ass in jail for a long time so turn around and walk away). So I thought I would leave and come back latter unfortunately the inner Christian in me over rode the African and I took a deep breath and hushed her and helped her to her feet, I opened the car door and got her some tissues (laughing) to wipe her face tears and knee’s. I waited a minute thinking, I have had awkward silences in my life even as a writer I was having trouble finding the right words to start a conversation so I went back to bible basics because she just stood there staring at me, “are you okay?” she shook her head “is there something I can do to help?” she shook her head again, so much for open communication. I thought to myself “ well lord I tried I have done my bit we can go now right ?”, the inner Christian was through and the inner African was shaking in his boots, for some reason beyond my own understanding considering I just caught her with a dick in her mouth I asked her if she wanted to get some food. Surprisingly she nodded dam it. (I am pause right here and explain I was torn in 3 there was a side of me which because of being raised by a women I had a soft spot for this obviously lost and broken little girl and the protector in me wanted to help her, 2 the inner African in me the so called “blackness” was saying they will put your innocent ass in jail for being nice in the situation she is only 13 maybe 14  in third person to me wouldn’t /didn’t look right, and often the reality of racism makes good men passive “keep it moving Gerry, keep it moving” and the third was the Christian in me which was desperately asking god what the right thing to do was self-preservation vs possible false persecution? But the decision had already being made my imagination had taken me to a place where I imagined having a daughter her age in the future and the last thing I would want in her mouth would be a penis, and if a stranger was to stop and help her I would be grateful.  So we went up the street and got 2 burgers and stuff and sat down in a nearby park, in silence all the way but her mood had lightened up and look of surprise and caution at my kindness sat on her face. After the meal and some strange looks exchanged I was rather surprised she wasn’t scared of me (my blackness I mean), so I asked simply because it’s a red light when a child is doing what she is doing at her age I know from personal experience, “do you want to talk about it?” I wasn’t surprised but what she divulged it’s a tale I have heard many times before, I have witnessed it and in my younger years even being a part of (as the boy who fled). She was the rich kid whose father was always away doing business and when home emotionally vacant or very controlling, her mother a socialite more interested in Yoga keeping in shape and tanning than raising her daughter but in public they appeared to the happy perfect family, the little girl lost felt more like her mother’s trophy to brag about than a daughter, she (this little girl) raised by the media and her own devices with a deep but hidden sense of neglect and self-esteem, started looking for or love and acceptance in any form she could find it and boys were the easiest and most natural source of attention. She spoke of vicious cycle concerning her self-esteem she did things with boys to get attention but ended up feeling worse when she was alone. Anesu it was along afternoon boy, I would like to say I was shocked, but I wasn’t this was just a re-run of stuff I had seen in my child hood. What did shock me was how this young lady felt more comfortable pouring out her heart to a stranger than she did talking to her parents or friends. She obvious hadn’t been programed yet about the “black monster” because she didn’t fear me at all I would like to think she was just looking for any form of male affirmation (I will explain that one in another chapter) or a caring dady what we describe as father hunger. Either way after she had poured her heart out to me she gave me a big hug just for listening of course I got her off me asap and politely as possible I didn’t want here to feel rejected but , the inner African screamed “jail don’t drop the soap!” (Laughing but I am serious). It was a John Koffi moment for sure I offered to pray for her, she said she didn’t believe in god but she would take it if I thought it would help, so we prayed, to cut a long story short I still know the young lady and I guess in me she found a mentor, (not the best mentor to pick I can promise you that) or some kind  of daddy figure I learnt one truth daddy hunger doesn’t see race just safety, I am glad to say she is in her first year of university (2013) and doing good with a healthy self-esteem and she is not perfect she still has issues but she is in better place  mentally and spiritually for simply having a friend she could talk to and she knew no matter what would not be judged, here I am not talking about myself  I am talking about Jesus if I had tried to save her it would of being the blind leading the blind all I did was provide and ear when she need to talk and the occasional hug when she need it. I marvel when I see how far she has come from the little girl lost with a  dick in her mouth to this amazing young lady to be with so much potential and bright future, and that’s just real talk not me insulting her. Now, why did I tell you that story? Because life is a school master, and the first and most important lesson is my promise, I promise to always be available to you in every form but especially emotionally, I might not always like everything that you do (ass whoop when you act a fool laughing) but I will always love you unconditionally when we I was growing we used to say hate the sin and not the sinner I was always boggled at an African mothers ability to beat you senseless and then hold you gently while tending your wounds, after becoming a father for the first time with your sister who passed I understood why and when my mother used to say “this will hurt me more than it will hurt you” especially when I was the one doing all the screaming. Number 2 a lot of people because of Surface and depth thing can’t admit this openly, but it’s not how you start but how you finish, cliché yet true but she is living proof and so am I, the things I being through and survived would make the ordinary man take his own life, and the bad decisions I made out selfishness fear immaturity you name it no excuses, but we refused to stay there us broken people need to stick together in Christ, never let a bad decision define your life time, and don’t be quick to judge your never know about the pain that people don’t speak of that prompted there decisions give them room to breathe and change. Number 3 Satan will always send something in our child hood to try and distract us from our destiny and ultimately destroy us, I read the scripture enough to know Gods is for me and not against me and I have lived life long enough to know the Devil is real, just in case you’re wondering why I believe in god so much let me explain, and no I didn’t wake up one morning slain in the spirit or have some deep revelation in church and come down the aisle doing back flips and have hands laid on me and pass out , remember how your daddy told you he was hard headed (laughing) let’s  put it this way I have being clinically dead 5 times(you would think the once would of done the job) I don’t need anybody to tell me whether or not there is a heaven and hell when you cross over you feel both the darkness and the light, sign sealed delivered I am his God is real and so is the other one Satan, anyway  back to the issue. If I told you the numbers of female friends I have who were abused sexually as children you would be shocked and ask the same question I ask all the time  what going on in the ranks of manhood that we don’t protect our rib inadvertently when we hurt a woman we hurt ourselves (some of you will get it some of you won’t) I as an individual fight our women all the time, but we as men and I mean the collective  have failed women miserably, if I told you the number of issues the men I know are struggling with from their childhood pain which started as a seed and grew into addictions (from porn alcohol to gaming), emotional disconnection and vacancy and domestic violence, anger  and my personal favourite “secret lives of us” it’s not that they are bad people it’s the bi product of surface and depth thing as I like to call it “strange fruit” ,you would refuse to come out the womb and into the world (laughing) that’s why your bible and your prayer life are important son, you’re going to need them  in fight with princes of this world. Number 4 know your own heart this one as a man is a tricky one you have to be honest with yourself about your motives when you help somebody(laughing), me being 25years at the time and her being 13 when we became friends was hard enough because of the age gap and New Zealand is full of paedophiles . I saw her as a little girl lost girl who need a friend in cold world or little sister from another mother, but from previous friendships with women my own age, I was aware at one point or another when as a man you take a male role in girls/ woman’s life to fill a male void that line in her head where I am a friend or more gets very blurred in this case it was easy to deal with simply because of the age gap, I was very aware after 2 years of knowing each other she had  a crush on me but also knew why she had a crush on me and I made it extra clear I was big brother not a lover it took her time to get over it but she did, but with women my own age from the tender age of 15 until now for myself , me and my females friends often crossed the line simply because we are human, until I met your mother I struggled with that issue and think many men do to having the relationship with out the responsibility of commitment, to the commitment is knowing you are responsible for someone else’s happiness at least to some extent. The solution to problem is knowing your heart, check your motives and draw the boundaries early, alternatively run! (Laughing). There are a lot of lessons I found out from my friendship with this young amazing lady to many to put down in one entry. I think the hardest thing I had to do to help this young lady was to override my fear of getting in trouble for personally and morally doing the right thing in my heart against societies stigma’s and my own ( honestly if my 13 year old daughter told me she had 25 year old  friend there is possibility I would go to jail for life and that’s one of life’s contradictions), death of a mocking bird is real they whoever they are love to put black men in jail for anything they don’t care about justice or innocence, but the scriptures say “where good men stand aside and do nothing evil abounds” I assure  you this scripture has being the cause of many of my moral dilemmas. I am sad to say Anesu growing up sometimes I could saved a number of women/girls heart ache and pain but the moral dilemma of what was right and wrong made me stand aside and let evil abound, I should of known better this is spiritual warfare, a dog fight and we are on the front line and taking causalities in the form of the innocence of our youth, a “dog fight” which means there are no rules as long as fight with love honesty and a brick(laughing your daddy is far from perfect). In a world full of evil and paedophiles (who I believe should be physically castrated, there I said it) who would believe the “black monster” (as we have being painted) could have a friendship and be a protector to the lost little white girl lost, like little red riding hood. That’s just how crazy my life is on any given day I don’t choose it, it just happens (laughing) and for some reason beyond my self-god has seen it fit for me to meet many of these anomalies and share some part of my light with them. I take solace in that our friendship ( me and the little girl lost) took the dick out her mouth until she was old enough to make a proper at least a more mature decision about a dick in the mouth (sounds wrong but you know what I mean). Anesu I seem to have introduced you unwittingly to one of life’s contradictions or enigmas as a man and I don’t want to appear as a hypocrite. Bring it into the huddle son  bring it in, know you see my first nature is to be a protector of women, for a long time I endeavour to treat women the way I want my mother aunts niece’s and sister to be treated with respect love and honour, to let them through the door first and open doors for them, I even go as far as to actually really listen to what they have to say but (laughing) son there is this drug in my veins called testosterone and it triggers the second nature, the pursuit of the booty, the hunter inside of me  is awoken, he is hungry and he is a skilled crafts man dedicated to perfection, focused lol (how do you think you were conceived) it’s like Dr Hinn and Mr Jekyll . So if you find yourself in a relationship with a woman and its gets a bit schizophrenic, it’s the drug testosterone and the fact that you’re a Munengami male which means you have a high libido, don’t look at me like that you’re lucky I am telling you I had to figure it out all by myself master it and come to terms with it, one minute you want to protect that ass, the next thing you know you know you want to rub that ass, and when the hunter inside of you is fully awake you want to slap that ass (pause) it’s okay its normal unless of course the female is related to you then we need to get you help. I will let you mould it over for a while, daddy ahas to go and make that paper or we will be sleeping under a bridge. I love you son and I keep you in my prayers to be full of blessing and that you don’t get caught in the trap of surface and depth, mostly that when you’re born you are a free and honest soul.

letters to my unborn - letter 3

Once again my ninja like reflexes save me from an attack as the egg fly’s millimetres from my right eye and splatters behind me on the wall, the car roars off the and the drunken rich kid shouts at the top of his lungs “fuck you nigger! Wooo!!” from the safety of his car unaware of how he just embarrassed himself and his race, I can’t exactly blame him attitude is reflection of leadership after all they did vote for John Key to be Prime minister and that says a lot. The lack of anger and the deep sigh that leave my chest tell you a story, this wasn’t the first time and it most probably won’t be the last, a wise and apologetic smile finds itself on my face, once again I am reminded I possess something they will never have “class”, despite having all the opportunities and material goods which the so called third world children don’t have, it was the poorest generation I had ever seen in terms of character, with that I walked to the closest bus stop opened my bag, pulled out my pad and picked up my sword which would be my pen, “ I learnt to think ahead so I fight with my pen” as the image of a passionate young Tupac flash through my mind it was time to engage ignorance in a battle which it would ultimately lose in my unborn child ,at least that was the hope… sometimes I wondered did I really live in a free and fair New Zealand or was I still in the stone age, teenagers calling me names trying to egg me, at night having to deal with a police who were undereducated and over testosterone with a reputation for gang rape and the use of excessive force, “life” as always was never far away my school master he pointed out to me they (the police) had no reverence for life. “life” whispered in my ear “while they waste tax payer money harassing you because of the colour of your skin, another young lady was drugged and raped, another drunk driver took a life, another executive just stole a few million, but don’t you worry at the end of the day the tortoise will catch up with the hare, whether they believe in god or not we all stand before god the father ”..umm? I can’t lie the temptation is to give up this fight I never picked but found myself in fiddled with my mind, I looked in the distance eyes wide shut and just like a movie, I saw a young Nelson Mandela in his solitude looking through the bars of his cell and felt what he felt for just a moment, in a slow motion I watched the dust rise and his body fall and I walked over to him in my mind I knelt down and kissed Malcolm good bye, as I light my cigarette I watch the smoke  rise as the plane crashed toward the earth a sense of panic and peace as I waved goodbye at Samora Michel trying to make sense of it, that the father doesn’t call you home unless your jobs done, the tears wanted to flow like blood from Martins wounds as he struggled to breathe and for a moment I laid down to dream just to see this vision, and to get away from the madness I place my cold hands over my face I find myself examine how on one side they are one colour and on the other another and the laugh of madness and a trade mark single tear asked god the same question I asked last time how can this be the source of such hatred. I looked at the back of my hands again and all of a sudden a nine inch mail burst through my palms, “jesus?” and I knew change as slow as it would be, would only come through blood… was it worth it… Did we make a difference? I don’t suffer from guilt or escapism reality is the bed I sleep in, I was pained that when we really gauged it you see, surface had changed but the way of thinking had remained the same…(The sound of scribbling),

Anesu first and for most I love you(smiling), I didn’t want to know your gender until you were born but the stupid doctor referred to you as he, so its confirmed you’re a young prince and when I write to you I can be more specific. I have to share with you something my mother told me early in my life to edify me, it confused me at first because I did not understand why it was relevant, it hurt when I understood it because it’s unfair but we have to go through it, but it would protect me and drive me later on in life and stop me from making excuses. It was soon after my father died about a month had pasted, I remember she sat me down “real talk baby” there was a deep sadness in her eyes but its wasn’t grief for my father and unfortunately I would see this look often on her face when something relevant needed to be explained, she starred at me in the silence for a minute as she mustered the strength to explain a truth( because truth hurts)..

 “baby you’re going to grow up to be a young black male, and to achieve anything in this world even the ordinary, you are going to have to work twice to three times as hard as your counter parts, (taking my hand to affirm me) it’s not your fault… there is nothing wrong with you and it’s not anything you did, there  just something evil in the world a spirit and that’s just something you need be aware, on the surface they say we are equal to ease their own conscience but we live in the reality,(like when you sit on the bus and they tighten their grip on the purse whoever they maybe?) people are good at lying to themselves and I won’t send you into this world a cripple because of lies, I would I would rather have you hurt and aware so you can be affective and you know how to fight, than some lily livered pansy crippled by lies in a cruel world that doesn’t know the meaning of the word mercy, when the realities of life hit they hit hard and without mental fitness you won’t survive baby, and when the going gets tough the tough get going you man up and drop your nuts, don’t bitch and do what you need to, life can be a dog fight ..no rules nothing soft came out of my body, mama had nothing but soldiers (rubbing my head) know you remember that minimum twice as hard.”

Your grandmother, my mother (laughing in retrospect) is the wisest and the most gangster person I ever met figuratively and literally, people say it all the time as a cliché but she really is my hero, if life really is a fight she designed my defence and my offense and all my life she has being more than a coach and mother, without her I would not be here and you wouldn’t coming to the world, at least coming to a happy home by design. When you’re old enough be sure to thank her and for your own safety be polite around her, I am 30, 90 kg’s of pure muscle and she’s in her 60’s and fragile and I am still scared of her (laughing) you be wise to take suit or you will find out about those legendary ass whooping I spoke of. Anyway Anesu the reason I am sharing this with you, is that the higher calling of life is to be a human being and treat everybody as such regardless of race. But because the African in me which certain people describe as my “blackness” will be in you, and in as much as I will try and protect you from it sooner or later you will experience racism, me myself as a child it boggled me to be hated for no reason only to find out it was my skin colour which when I entered the world I had no control of not that I would change it, you would be surprised how stupid and immoral society can be unashamedly to. If I did not prepare you for this I would be undoing my mothers work and making you a cripple, I think I can hear you right know from the Ether

“why do they hate us so?”..  

When I was a child I asked the same question until I got tired of asking because there was no clear answer, and resolved to grow a thick skin and as I got more personal in my walk with Jesus I learnt not to let the devil steal my joy through this issue, you cannot be a real Christian and a racist at the same time, it’s like water and oil they don’t mix and if you think you can be both then you’re lying to yourself and people do that a lot (lie to themselves), back to your question, to be honest I have no idea I will ask god when I am called home but I would like think fear and ignorance play a big role it and men’s ego’s as well. Let me explain something to you although often they look alike there is a big difference between a ignorant person and racist they are a lot ignorant people out there and often in the heat of a moment we the oppressed loosely us the word racist. Trust me when you meet a real racist you will know there is an evil a coldness to them that is abrasive to essence of your soul.(Sad laugh) I am not supposed to be scared because of my faith, but “real talk baby” although this generation has access to so much information I have never seen such a dumbing down of a generation, and where ignorance abounds racism flourishes and I have no idea how I am going to protect you, but I am sure of two weapons in the fight ,love and knowledge, and I will be real with you like mom’s was me, you have no idea how much I love you (pride). Can I just get real with you this could be like our first father son moment like I had with mine, okay this is my personal theory I could be right and I could be wrong in life there are many shades of grey, but I think racism is many fear things coming together to perform evil and ... Wait, pause, I need to explain something to you and this is a fact, most people have a preconceived idea in there head of what a (fingers in the air quote on quote) “black male is, should do, should be, how we think and how we feel” unfortunately our reality is nothing like our percept of the “black male” and often this is the cause of silent pain we rarely if ever speak about, but if you are aware of it when it comes you will be able to deal with it. It will make sense when you are here and you actually experience it, my words don’t do the experience justice. Yellow green black or white just now being a man a real one ? (Laughing) its hard…

 Having said that I believe what we as “black men” have experienced over the last 500 years in the form of oppression was designed to emasculate us mentally emotionally shit in some cases physically, don’t laugh because I am serious it might sound silly but I believe it and this is my personal belief nobody else’s you won’t get this kind of knowledge in a book those who win wars write history(laughing) because it written in the stars, peoples actions and fears, so what is that daddy is trying to tell you? I believe there is direct correlation between penis seize and racism (yes I said it.. I think somebody just fainted). And this misconstrued subconscious sense of masculinity is partially responsible for racism (for those of you with a lesser vocabulary I basically said if Africans had being born with small dicks we would not have being as hated on as we were).  Okay Anesu young prince; Let me share a secret with you, real talk baby (clapping hands) real talk. I was born in Zimbabwe in the 1980’s and grew up there and accept for post-colonial race tensions and a very soul alerting (and that’s me being polite) visit to Apartheid South Africa as a child (again thank you Mandela) my exposure to “real” racism was limited, like for real I was a African in Africa surrounded by Africans we spoke about it and occasionally it reared its ugly head but nothing really life changing directly happened to me accept for that visit to South Africa but that’s another entry in and of its self, and when I was very young about 5 years old we had this neighbour shit, if Zimbabwe was not independent this dude would of lynched our ass(I am serious) with every fibre of his being he let us know he hated us and we had no business in suburban neighbourhood. If I can be honest with you and I will be because you’re my son, in my first visit to the west which was England, away from home (Zimbabwe) where my worth and identity as a human being was always asserted and I had never being fully being tested meaning my defence against hatred, you see my mom had coached me because she knew it was inevitable that me and the beast would meet, but I had being on side lines and not the for front, I hadn’t being in the game or in the ring such to speak, I wasn’t ready for the level of war fare that my parents had faced until I faced it personally it was mystic. I was shocked and disgusted and definitely not ready for the level of ignorance and “real” racism I was affronted with when the safeguard of being a majority was dropped at my departure. I remember thinking to myself, “and … (slowly) these are supposed to be civilized people? Okay, right, really? This must be some sick joke? ” at that moment I felt what I can only describe as pain as the ideology and the reality of equality rudely awakened me, who I was in Zimbabwe and my rights a human being apparently where not the same in the UK. (you must understand at the time Mandela had just being realised and made president and I was ardent student of Martin Luther King and I was engrossed in the dream and being the better human being, It’s like being African was a disease  and for the first time ever in my life I found myself questioning self-worth based on my race. You know inherently that there is nothing wrong with you but you are asking yourself “what’s so wrong with me to garner such looks and enmity”. I remember one night by which time I had moved to Australia for university I was stopped by the police 4 times in less than 20 minutes, my crime walking home from university from the library after midnight I was so full of fury because less than 50 meters behind me, there were drunk Australian students cussing kicking down rubbish bins and lifting car wipers and they drove past them like they were blind  and somehow I was the threat, I was so sad and furious at the same time my body shook uncontrollably. I wanted to call my family but I didn’t want them worry and I found myself at the place called alone. I had friends and even a girlfriend at the time but I didn’t want to be seen in this weakened state of mind, and so I cried all night yes me a grown ass man, well at I at least in my 20’s then, I cried because I was so homesick and I just wanted to hug my mom and feel her arms around me and her warmth to chase away the lies and the pain, I wanted so badly to look into my father’s eyes to find truth to find my identity, the inner turmoil I felt, it was like last moments at my father funeral watching casket being lowered and some part of me died and that’s how felt for a second time in my life like I was the one in the casket, my stomach churned so badly that if I had drank milk that night I would shat butter the next morning, sorry for being so graphic but I really want you to get it. Something inside of me began to harden, My mother’s good teaching protected me, strengthened me, as always I thank her for giving me the bible, any dis allusion meant I had about humanity and the western definition of civilized was stripped from my mind violently. Everywhere I went I was made very aware of this new thing to me which would be “my blackness” which I was never aware of in Zimbabwe, where I was just another human being, your regular Joe, such battles and epiphanies if not dealt with make you the cripple and at the time I was injured but not crippled. A new war for me raged unlike what my parents faced for me to be born free, my struggle was to remain free where it counted the most in my head, same evil different face. Anesu surface had changed but the way of thinking hadn’t as Bob Marely said ,

"Until the philosophy which holds one race superior and another inferior is finally and permanently discredited and abandoned... Everything is war. Me say war. That until they’re no longer 1st class and 2nd class citizens of any nation... Until the colour of a man's skin is of no more significance than the colour of his eyes, me say war. That until the basic human rights are equally guaranteed to all without regard to race me say war!”

 I battled with my belief the ideology and what was a very apparent the reality but one thing kept in all it an Aboriginal friend of mine named Garfield reminded me of a basic truth after we came back from he called “Walk about” basically you go into the wilderness and lose yourself to find yourself , and I am going to share it with you, this piece of advice I am about to give you is like a good scripture wrap it around your heart because it will protect you until the day the father calls you home even when I am not there it will keep you. Watch my lips open your ears and open your heart, this is our father son moment aight .. You ready (never being so serious)… “Know who you are” that’s it, very simple but extremely hard to do, when you know who you are you can face anything. This is the greatest piece of advice I can give you accept for give your life to god and trust him. (If you were here right now I would give you the biggest hug in the world because I am vulnerable right now and 2 what I am asking you to do takes a life time of testing and pain to know you have arrived and want to give you my blessing and strength ). While you are discovering who you are because that’s what life is I will give you a true north which is point that never changes, if you ever get lost come back to this point, you are even before your  my son, “a child of the most high god fearfully beautifully and uniquely made in his image.” This is who you are now it, own it; it will protect you in this crazy world. In my mental war it stopped me from falling preyer to a twin evil we call reverse racism and show some class, it allowed me to keep my integrity, and preserve my dignity.  In this war it was my armour against any inferiority complex’s, a teacher to show me how to master my mind the most bloody war field, and a seeker of light in darkness, in my heart it kept love hope and faith alive so I could receive and give it, in the mirror it allowed me to accept my own uniqueness and in my life it allowed me to re-invent myself with the change of seasons, we didn’t allow fear into our heart and I found a way of balancing practical ideal’s around a cold reality. For today I think that’s enough Anesu somehow if you follow my advice because it’s hard ask, I believe I just gave you your inheritance that money can’t buy, no pain is wasted if you chose to learn from it. Having said that, real talk one last time Anesu, one of the tricks I used to walk away or smile and laugh in the face of racism because some battle are just not worth fighting they have no spoils at the end of them, bring it into the huddle Anesu, bring it in son, I am about to share (looking over both shoulders) a “black people” secret with, you know like why we love chicken so much? (Laughing) . What allowed me to show class and not fall to their level of hatred whoever they are? Was a facial expression…? (Silence) yep that’s it.  I know you’re like a facial expression? , and I am like yeah. Aight Anesu work with me I need you use your imagination, I want you to imagine how European men where going around the world conquering everybody and everything in these big boats, beating on his chest  with his fist a manly man with hair on his chest and beer in hand, and then they arrived on the shores of Africa and the met the first Africa men(laughing) ripped muscles, in fact muscles that had pet muscles, shining glistening Hershey brown skin, free and naked ( back then we redefined free willy it was whale of an issue laughing ), standing solid as a mountain, dick down to his knee swaying in the air like Tarzan. And when people throw hateful words and actions at me my mind goes to that very moment and the facial expression of the visitor just and thinks of their facial expression. (Use your imagination) and I walk away and I laugh. Anyway Anesu I never said it was right I am just saying it helped me walk away from many a fruitless fight. Its why despite somebody just throwing an egg at me I am the one laughing at them. Anyway young princes until the next inspiration know that I love you so much.