Monday, April 8, 2013

About strange fruit


About

For me strange fruit is not about racism but rather a plethora of issues in society we would rather sweep under the rug be it out of shame escapism or ignorance and we grow up with it, we fall from the vine and we finely pick it up and look in the mirror and you would be surprised who is a strange fruit. I tackle issues like fatherlessness, drugs, body image of course racial profiling both ways, stereo types to abuse of child-women- men etc. I face off with dark side which twins the light of humanity what I like our call our complexities as human beings, I am not a psychologist but society seems to be suffering from an extremely high levels of escapism and moral bankruptcy if not a full out recession in context of morals and love, and we would rather not face the truth but float by in a dreamy and drugged up state until individuals are awoken on personal levels by the pains of the vicissitude’s of life hence so much mental illness of late. This book is not designed to change lives you’re the master of your own mind so only you can do the change thing if you want to, they call it freedom of choice or individuality use it. To me society is the tree and these issues we do not address are the strange fruit we see in our children in our homes on our streets in the nations in and in the world and for those who can be honest in the mirror . Okay let’s get to the grits of it…

For those who do not know “Strange fruit” was originally a song made famous by Billy Holiday and Nina Simone about the brutal killing of slaves in the south of the Americas and after they were killed they were hung on popular tree’s to instil fear in other slaves and serve an as example . Two reasons why I choose it as the title for the book, the first was when i looked into the mirror at the age 30 with my shirt off and could see all these scars which I never when I left Zimbabwe if I was the tree the scars where the strange fruit from racial conflicts I would rather of walked away from but sometimes you have to fight the beast one cannot always hide behind passiveness and the hope of change. Secondly I looked at society and all the crazy killings going on in the world beautiful youg girl’s filled insecurity, grown men who still act like boys and thought to my self

“Satan’s putting in Extra time and we are the ones eating this strange fruit and we end up being the strange fruit”..

Now before I go any further I want to clarify something black men during slavery where not the first people to be lynched, I can see some of your eyes widen “what ?” … “so who was it?”

Many will argue this fact I am just here to enlighten the first people to lynched by white men where white women during the mid-evil times through witch hunts as a control mechanism out of the fear. Women who choose to act independently of men and refused to conform to the social norms of the times where accused of being a witch and then tortured raped and public hangings and burnings enforced by the clergy and mobs of ignorant men and scared women, any woman who acted out of the norm could be accused of being witch having said that I wasn’t there but we do know from history many innocent women were tortured hung and burnt alive during this period, but I do know at the same time in Africa women were queens warriors(Amazonians)and advisors to chiefs and kings a historic fact of course Africa wasn’t perfect ,yes we had some tribes doing messed up stuff but for most of our history women in Africa where highly revered until colonization when our men adapted western stances and ideology, when slaves came across the ocean the mechanism of fear control and torture used to make women confess they were witches was then extended to slaves to break their minds and plant the seed of inferiority hence forth lynching as was originally done to women in the mid evil age. Know in life as far as I am concerned and observed there are three sets of treatment for human beings and please forgive my example. You might not agree but the honesty in your own heart you can not deny.

If a young white man was seen walking/staggering down the road and he is drunk he was/is having a good time. If a black male is seen staggering down the road he is a threat or one of those people and if a woman is seen staggering drunk down the road she is a dirty slut bitch or a whore, asking for it. It is based on the observation of this tier that I wrote this book with the highest level of impartiality life experience will allow me to have, having being raised by a women I saw their plight in a society blindly led by men’s ego’s and I admired these women’s strength how they endured circumstance and I bared witness to their brokenness and how resilient they were I am not an authority on women but I am an authority on pain, process, scars and we share them (scars that is ) over the years, and I myself for those of you who haven’t guessed am African so with a certain level of authority I can speak on the subject of being black in the western world and what I o
bserve from this side of the eye ball history is written by those who win war so this story I share is untold despite what they say it seems we are still fighting for the right to be I and I or as say my true self. I have a soft spot for women I have hunger for truth and I have very low tolerance for racism black or white anybody in this case and I am innately allergic to stupid people. If you dare come walk with me.

Thursday, April 16, 2009

My ( heart brother)

My trustiest thoughts are found in the parts of my mind i dare to, but i am not scared to explore
My true beauty is held by the callus’s of my soul from a life lived hard.. no regrets .. so we think?
My originality is found in the things i am still discovering and shocked about myself
My truest pain is a secret only god knows .. as it should be?




My revelation is when i want to fly but i am not sure which is Broken my wings, my heart or my mind but somehow i am in the sky . Then I realise he is holding me up again hahah (father)
My fullness is when there is nothing left , and this state of being doesn’t cause me fear.
My truest source of pride is my mother smile my families touch.

My greatest challenge.. is simple obedience when god speaks and tells me to move .
My truest movement has always being in my first step and my last breathe..
My truest sin is the same as my strength.. Lack of and the presence of faith ...
My greatest annoyance is this thing called courage.. And what it demands of me
My truest desire ummmm ? Is to learn how to love ...(i am serious)
My heart .. Can only be given to those who can accept without understanding
My truest need for rehab is silly accepting that i am not in control.. And staying in that mind state..
My truest dream is to one day be good father ..... that’s all everything else seems obscure ...
That’s me and my .. so what about you ....

Dedicated to those who take time to learn about themselves


Gerald Tapfuma Munengami aka “child”

Sunday, January 4, 2009

This part of me

I have bumped into this part of me again , which I felt was dormant or dead...
This part of me seeks perfection and peace knowing i will never see nor achieve them in this world
This part of me wants to rise to great heights knowing we could fall, because we have done so before .
I want to lay down and rest but it insist on getting up and trying again
(madness i tell you haha )
Although inside we are more than one .....in this world this part of me makes me walk alone ..
This part of me dates me in silence ,the absence of people ..yet the presence of god..
Where my souls speaks to my mind, and the mind is true to the heart
I am yet to decide whether I like it or hate, but it is a part of me ... unfortunately it hurts

We sit in silence, and converse with no words
We laugh with no breathe, and shine with alight not of our own
You remind me of words , the world has forgotten
Honour courage selflessness ... umm (moment of thought) the list goes on
The forgotten words make me smile because of who they are, and the surge of pain
Deep in the soul .. to see them hanging lost in time like strange fruit
The shadow pawn that painted the crow black
The storm that raged (laugh of madness) and they didn’t see a drop
The softest place on earth for me to exist , the complexity of god because you are a rock
In stagnant motion we walk on in un cried tears , and time becomes our currency

We play chess as we debate the purpose of tears
They seem to be a waste of time .. but they tend to cleanse the soul over the years
The wars are personal ones ...victories loses, the wars that go on unnoticed in between my ears
Inspiration sits and ponders on my forehead contemplating the write moment
Fear waits for soul to look away so it can creep closer to my heart
Courage faith and indecision locked in immortal combat
My soul looks at its twin which would be my infinite ... ... communion
They laugh with no breath .. they cry with tears .. and they live with all life .. this part of me
Turns around to walk away ... strange because you know we will always be one

Friday, August 8, 2008

This poem is yours

We seem to have met in a place where the sins of the father visit the child
They say they stole innocents from us... i think maybe it was ignorance ?
We where children and in his hands hence still innocent
They say my jagged edge is ugly, her smoothness to raw
We hug like family un ashamed, we dance like lovers unscripted theatre
We sing like immortals, greater like spirits heads down before god praising
(to you) your voice is like being that boat steeping out onto water in faith and belief
Your brokenness is trying to stop my own heart bleeding
only to those who understand , i rip my own rib out to let the wind free
for the wind has free soul only tamed by god himself
and the wind stands before me ... and i stand before her a storm
we have shape or form ... we exist ... time and space
i look back to see my sins chasing me ... before us is glory
i look down into the sacrifice of life swet blood and tears.
i look at her ... hahha and see secrets i can’t even tell her for they are mine and mine alone
so we stop remembering , we exist in a world they seem to have forgotten
We dream, we love we make mistakes, we have learnt to forgive
And praise in our foolishness
And she stands before me, the wind and self laugh in the midst of storm
and there is L

Sunday, November 18, 2007

Cripple





I am a aware I am a cripple and hobble along in this thing we call life
Consciously … unconscious of gods presence
Audacity heart and wanting to achieve before I pass are my cheerleaders
They shout the old saying “ if you believe you can achieve
Although I shy form the world confidence is a reality to me
.. but she (my confidence) spends to much time dreaming ..
This part of me which yearns to live feels frustrated by this part of me which wants to rest
Tears conversate with pointlessness as they walk down my cheek


The paradox returns
I write to feel free, in the process I trap the ink on the page
I lay my thoughts down in the open , in a book I will close and a page I will shut
My mind holds so many secrets but my expression is blank
My Silence holds an ancient knowledge my lips they smile and say nothing
My eyes are blinded by a curious passion to see all god and evil
I loose my thought to find my way .. I loose myself to find god
I stagger and stumble I know I am cripple


I lost my religion before I lost my virginity.. and that was pretty early
I found madness before I lost my sanity …
True true
It seem I have to explain to you every time
I walk perfectly fine in this world but in that which can not be seen I am a cripple
But you will never understand .. because you are more crippled than me
But it is not for me to say

Secret in my veins

Being Zimbabwean to me lies in secret hidden deep inside my veins
A truth so evident even I can not deny it
Politics can debate it ..history can not affront it
New knowledge would endeavor and fail to change it
Time has not changed it
I know only one truth .. and god will confirm it
But only on the last day when it will matter no more
But it will just be nice to know

Being African to me lies in a secret deep inside my veins
My complexion is shadow of my true form
My heart beats with her in pain and in joy
My soul sat with her and refused to be defined “it just is “
Not by them and not by you we just where
I marvel at her paradox the biggest smiles and the biggest tears to fill the nile
I will not and can not hide behind a false sense of patriotism, optimism, pessimism, intellectualize nor history as an excuse .
I am just pro life as I watch time watch us and smile

Being a son to me lies in a secret hidden in the depths of my veins
It was not knowing when I would fall
But by watching you knowing I must rise
It was in being foolish and latter realising your words where wise
It was in conversations in emotion no words just eye’s
I never loved like this before
Funny enough it still manages to grow … this love thing
Call me Oliver twist I stand before you .. this love thing and ask for more


i write

I write

I write because …. I write ….if that helps solve any mysteries ?
And then
I write to inspire when I have no inspiration of my own in the hope nobody has to come to this place where I have to exist a times
I write because I am in pain
I write because in my head I am storm and take no form , in my heart I am child before god..
I write because thought conceived itself in my head and felt comfortable there
I write because I fear I will not be heard and these words are my immortal and the twin to my soul …


I write because I don’t care if I am not heard I exist
I write so that I can laugh and cry with joking on life …
I write so that I am not alone my thought my pain love and hope can keep my company
I write to fill a hole .. if you could understand
I write to let them know I love them in silence they don’t really need to know
I write because god planted something in wrist connected to my soul my mind and thought that demands a voice , that breathe on expression
I write because I am insanely sane
I write because I am drawn to power … words are power
I write because that’s how I see smell touch and feel sometimes
I write because I am whisper in the wind if you could see it
I write because I am a force to reckoned with
I write flawed seeking perfection
I write because some times I don’t make sense , but I have to keep this apart of me ..
I write because people don’t care and sometimes I need a hug , and I cant hug an empty page .. what would be essence ?.. for those who have ever being alone
I write because my soul shivers from the cold of the world
I write because other writer let me travel with them .. if you would travel with me
I write because I miss my father and I know you hear me
I because I am not an intellect “the simple” it speaks to me in simple way
I write because my self sacrifice and my all are not false ideal ..i saw them in strange place called inspiration some where in my heart
I laugh while I write because some times I am just funny .. in my eyes and gods at least I think so ?
I write ….(there is silence ) because I sin
In honesty
Would you tell me why you write
But
For now
I write because I do …

Tapfuma Gerald Munengami aka “child”