Family Affair " Ressurrection of Scarecrow" - Chpt 1 Wolf pack

“Don’t judge a book by its cover but by its content … often you will find the devil hidden inside a shiny suit smiling at you with his hand out, not in redskin and some horns lashing a tale with a pitch fork… Although sometimes he does”

Wolf packs… have you ever howled at the moon just to feel something after life happened and left your soul numb..?

Dziva- Cloud

I came from the water of warmth and life
Floating in the unknown for a future not yet seen
I am the giver of life and the wash of death
I am water
Hurt and tears noticed but not shed covering the reality and the seen but unknown blackness
Of my race 
I am water 
My life and world depends on the moon and the stars
The rain cleanses but does not wash away color or skin
But i am still water 
Life giver 
Washing of sins not yet known
Babies not yet born i will
Wash them and heal them 
For i am water 
Strong and powerful 
Destroying cities and crops
But pleasure of soothing waves
And pleasant memories
I am water your life giver
And taker
I 
Am
Water........
 (Just a whisper in the wind)

 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 first to experience a wicked phenomenon and perverse evil that had already swept across Europe, certain parts of Asia and the America’s over the last centuries. The sickness itself infected us during the colonial era with their arrival on our shores for such a sickness had never existed among our peoples, but 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 tarnished, which in and of its self was our force field against the attack, infected unaware and unknowing, 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 unknowingly, but like any strong people(who we are) some of us developed an immune system …a new way of thinking and it is war, savage war, we were drawn into a dog fight we didn’t want with no rules of engagement on either side and a lot of collateral damage.

2

 The sickness I speak of and the strange fruit we became is (not was) “the fatherless generation” the strange fruit destine in the future at one point or another to destroy each other unless cured. 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 and in denial. I call it the disconnect theory; I think in this era we live in now 2018 the greatest two weapons of the enemy are fatherlessness and ignorance. I don’t think society fully comprehends how important it is for children to 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 to break the back and heart of our women, maybe just 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”. 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 father growing up dealt with infected angry Brocken 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, and 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 and you don’t get it (time) back, stolen forever.

3

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 say you can’t choose your family but I would also tend  to beg to differ, sometimes it’s not the blood you share…its pain, love and the most painful and confusing of all hope,  meet the “Wolf pack” my family away from family, drawn together by our brokenness, issues and the complexities/dispositions we faced in our home  school and general environment this was It, our family in a world deprived of love we created our own version that worked for us, bonds born in different hell fires but the same devil, an unseen space in heart and mind, a true place of non-judgement nor critique, 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, sun if you will in the cold of humanities battle of reality vs image and its effects on the soul, and strategy...method maybe the reason behind all the madness, and a chance for us to slow time down  while living at high speed and try to figure it out, or at least attempt to figure out who I am in it all, “ who the me… 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 to survive, I could be just me with the wolves… the good the bad the intangible…

 Wolf pack  members had 3 things in common:

 1 we were either the smartest or the fastest of our age group extremely gifted and creative, whether it was for the good or the unscrupulous, broken early in what call spiritual war fare or as father would say “baptism by fire”. 

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, or our parents were absent physically mentally or emotionally, as result we had developed distinct and certain dispositions as a result of a “do as I say not as I do” home environment which often fuelled a silent rebellion and anger, and the war was on ( the casualties of innocence  many), learning to adapt our own ways to survive.

3 Last but not least we become little people who all couldn’t wait to grow up ( actually we were grown up little people), unfortunately we didn’t know what we were asking for until we got there, and then we wanted to grow down but it was too late, and with that we made one promise that the “sins of the fathers would not visit our sons”.

4

 It would be rude for me to start with anybody else other than myself. My real names Tapfuma Gerald Munengami but everybody calls me Ta or Storm/Cloud as far back I can recall, “he who takes no shape and has norm completely unpredictable, answerable only to Mr 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, at my fingertips waiting for breathe and a life time to master, but for most of it people called me Cloud because they said I was crazy posed nemangoromera (a conflicted dark spirit), I was fast, crazy 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 much back then either, even though I somehow knew my vocation would be around words music writing poetry, I understood their power (that wisdom that wasn’t mine) and approached them words that is with caution/ reverence, hence my silence often while we got to know each other better. I have had side burns since I was 10 years old I rocked Afro just like father pure swagga and from the age of seven I had silver hair growing in my hair. My disposition was the tragic loss of my father at age 7. I watched as liver sclerosis took him home to the other fathers (anscetors), slowly and painfully… piece by piece the cape was ripped from the back of  my hero, it all seemed be in slow motion, the dust settled on his boots, faded the shine and lost their gleam, I didn’t 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 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 vicious. I wish I had cried back then it would have saved me a lot pain and issues as a young adult, like the inspiration to blues songs unwritten 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, I think anybody who has grown up in single parent house hold knows that you sacrifice your child hood because you have to grow up faster than your counterparts and peers if you want to survive, if you have any hope of living your purpose or seeing your dream breathe and the taste of real authentic love, and you have no intention of being trapped as a child in your head… in a grown man’s body for the rest of your life, (slight pain at the memory because I see them, a lot of them all the time baby hooey’s and peter pans I mean and that’s not a life fully lived, from my prospective personally it seem painful and lonely). 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 found myself being the issue as I wrestled with un-cried tears a dormant world could not understand. 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 that 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 of pain  when your friend’s fathers were taking them fishing or something manly, you watch them drive off on Saturday morning and they (your friends unwittingly) would be sharing how great it was on Monday morning, it was a strange place to be emotionally (that young) in deep internal reflections, you would never wish this pain, this void on someone else but you  couldn’t … you can’t help but feel some morbid sense of  jealously and misguided anger at no one really…? so it turns on yourself and the last person you want to war with is you because you know you way to well and you know where to hit, 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 life skills every man should have, 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 (the wisdom that was not my own). 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 try to learn how to read them as fast and as safe as possible (not going to happen),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 are all kinds of beast hunting and you’re the preyer, so you either  you give up or learn faster to trust your instincts .. scars, lots of scars reminders of lessons learnt that will never be forgotten and you have to grow a thick skin or kill the soft inside you and that lost-ness is one many don’t come back from for life ,  the problems along the way if you make it (god bless those who committed suicide and died from drugs and violence 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 fairy tale or night mare go’s. 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. Although I thank my mother for every beating I received back then lest I  might be dead today  because I was crazy and that’s the truth, a lot of those beatings crossed the border line of abuse not much just barely, but to cross is to cross… 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 that I was definitely hers(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 was 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 young king, 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 and antics’, fairy tale and emotions you will miss it altogether.  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 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 grind! And that’s about me for now. Oh wait I also learnt to pray very differently from my counter parts when, your mother is tired all the time and she might have had a drink to self-medicate the pain ( her lover is not there to take here 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 are 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  “a cold and broken halleluiah”. 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… emotional drained when they get home so even if they are there they are not, with a kiss and smile… I Mama for her sacrifice I understand now. Lonely nights when we howled at the moon literally just to feel something other than pain and numb, 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.

[flash- Dream world ]

Letter to my inner king

Wake up… I need you to wake again. I know that I am the one who did it… did this to us, it’s my fault, I am the one who lay you down to sleep, but please understand that I only did it to protect you from an enemy who was hell bent on destroying you in your infancy before you had learnt how to war and survive the strange assassins of manhood and brutish emasculating force of life designed by them, the problem lies in this you have being asleep so long that a part of you has forgotten who you are, you become a king while you were still in your slumber but I had laid you down to sleep  as a prince and precious lessons were missed, while you were violently woken up in chains and they fooled you into believing  you’re a slave. But of late your deep inner thoughts betray you with visions of crowns family history and glory, your soul dares you to hold your chest up with a pride… while you whisper ancient prayers into the wind and talk with the sky, your intellect has deducted that somethings amiss and your nostril hair burns because of the scent do deeply rooted lie about your identity, your heart has spoken to you with words that are foreign to them but you understand each letter clearly, but these words don’t make sense to your circumstance… as you question and quiz yourself…  when was the last time you ran free in path of your own mind and the plans of your own land of true originality, when was the last time  the inner beasts in you roared so loud they garnered the heavens attention, your roar was so pure with life and essence your lungs were empty and all pain and frustration was elevated,  all who heard the roar in the inner sanctum of your head fell to one knee and you were  once again the master of your fate and feeler of own heart…

Please wake up… wake up please

I give you my word as it is bond and if I must I will draw my own blood to make a mark that I will I will never make you sleep again, this is the last time ever that we will be parted one heart one soul one mind, I will war for you, without you I am incomplete and our separation was like a walk through hell time felt like an eternity … don’t open your eyes because they are already open …I need you to wake up for me, we are the last of our kind a dying breed and if you don’t wake up soon we will be extinct … Wake to me … reign as your ancestors did to my inner king

[Flash - waking in a cold swet]

Family Affair - Chpt 1 Wolf pack (Final cut snippet) Teaser 24 hr drop

meet the “Wolf pack” my family away from family, drawn together by our brokenness, issues and the complexities/dispositions we faced in our home  school and general environment this was It, our family in a world deprived of love we created our own version that worked for us, bonds born in different hell fires but the same devil, an unseen space in heart and mind, a true place of non-judgement nor critique, 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, sun if you will in the cold of humanities battle of reality vs image and it’s affects on the soul, and strategy...method maybe reason behind all the madness, and a chance for us to slow time down  while living at high speed and try to figure it out, or at least attempt to figure out who I am in it all, “ who the me… 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 to survive, I could be just me with the wolf the good the bad the intangible…

Simple complex -Sax

 You will be my beauty

I will be your beast

I stare at you like people do at shooting stars..

Your movement is poetic,

When you smile, 

The world falls in line

In astounding symmetry

Mine is kinesis..

I ain't perfect, 

So I watch you from afar..

My heart longs for you

Its ajar..

Once upon a time

Seems not so long ago,

Our eyes met..

I fell forever,

Into this beautiful abyss

My gaze maybe lost

But know my love is forever

My shooting star

So high above

How I wish

You would be my beauty

I would be your beast

Conversations with self ( Tapfuma and Cloud walker) 2018 - Book Paivepo: Poetry and prose collection

Conversations with self ( Tapfuma and Cloud walker)

“Why do you write?” 

“Well … Once upon a time I looked in a mirror and I saw an empty soul, I opened a book and saw a blank page, and I thought to myself what a waste? So I wrote in this book to make it feel better maybe to make myself feel better I wrote”

“What did you write?”

 “(laughing to self) just things that came to me, anything really just trying to fill up the pages as I wrote the page felt a bit un comfortable it wasn’t used to being written in if you could understand, mostly my fault spelling mistakes and grammatical error, lifes errors here and there but I understood what was written and there was love, but yeah slowly the paged started to fill up”.

“What about the soul..?”

“What about it?”

 “Did it fill up as you wrote?”

 (Looking away and around as if searching for an answer in the ether unsure). “I am not sure but….  I know that there are tears not worth crying and the soul knew this well  ...the  soul wasn’t lonely but it never hesitated to ask company to stay even thou most of the time it felt something’s where better not said so there was silence, often it would asked it’s shadows, reflections and traces left by the ink of writing on the a page if it could be filled and what the point of it all was? Often the answer was...  do you really want to know would it matter... should it matter...and then there was silence and that’s about it...about the soul”,

“ and the page?”

“What about the page?”

“What did the page say?”

“Not much really that was its nature  ...(taking time to think) …to say a lot  without saying much at all…a lot of  people read and passed judgement some learnt some laughed  others mocked .. .. .. As for the page it just did what it did best... all it new how to do... be a page... umm why what did you want the page to say?”

“You have a point?  Where the page and the soul one in the same?”...

“(looking up at the sky again) maybe  ... no... Not at all...very alike, but no not one in the same, like the hand of two lovers when they hold they are one but they are not, maybe they belong at least they have a sense of belonging and company” …

“You’re complicated”,

 “Not really my simplicity tends to fool most but I cannot apologise on her behalf”.

“(Frustrated) what do you write?”

 “ the wind doesn’t know why  it fills the sail , finger don’t know why they want to touch hot or cold but they do know they want to feel despite the consequence , the lost want to be found even when they give up hope , hate needs to hate it has no exact aim but it hates”

 “... (Annoyed) what’s does that have to do with what you write”.

“Nothing really I thought that sounded good, (winking) hidden truths and you missed it again (laughing to himself)”,

“And then?”...

“And then there was JUST IS”.

“Which is?”

“It just is that’s why I write I guess that’s the answer to your question”

“That’s like asking why and replying why not.”

 “No it isn’t it just is”, “Expand...umm?” 

“I know of Mr God and god knows me I have no answer accept it just is (with a smile) why do your ears listen, but in this case don’t listen?”

“umm good question?”.

 I stop talking to myself we laugh… yeah we laugh... indeed we do.