Tribute To A Trailblazer

We were united by the web across time and space
we had the pleasure of your company, your thoughts, your generosity,
You lived for decorum
even in difference, in disagreement,
in jest,
the world is duller without you,
no one can take your place in our hearts,
no one can wear your colours, we bid you adieu,
may your life continue to inspire others, may your candle shine in the darkness, may we meet again someday,
Adieu Chivaneze.

***

This tribute marks the passing away of a friend, brother, son, follower @chivaneze

May we learn to live for eternity.

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Good People Don’t Die

I come to mourn you
To bathe my mind with
The pain of losing you,
The soak my thoughts
In things that now can not be.

My heart
Dangles in my chest
Like a bag of rubble,
Regret echoes
Pepper on my pain.

Then I hear a whisper–

“Good people don’t die.

They are not stopped by an idiot’s bullet,
They are not cowed by cancer’s cowardice,
They are not bent by a madman’s machete,
They are not silenced by the hangman’s noose.

They live on,
In the immortal words of their wisdom
They thrive in the permanence of deeds done,
They flourish in the hearts of those that love them.

Good people don’t die
They live
In me and you.”

I Want My Flowers Now

I want my flowers now,
While I have hands to hold them,
I want my praise songs too
Whilst my feet can move to their tunes
I care less for
Posthumous garlands
Or gardens full of roses,
Nor for
Eloquent dedications
Sang as obituary dirges.

For some it may be too late
To tell them how much
They blessed you,
But for us,
The day is still young,
So let’s get busy saying
Our “I love you”s
“Your life was a blessing to me”
“I couldn’t be who I am today without you”
” You brought such joy, laughter, wit, wisdom, insight, blessing, growth and fortune my way.”

Quickly, before the Grim Reaper calls again,
Let’s hurry,
Let’s say.

Love, Death &Ebola

Belinda watched Womako trudge into the makeshift bathroom behind their home.

“Woman! Where is my hot water!”

Belinda didn’t have the strength to remind him that their power had been cut–a souvenir for owing 3 months of bills, nor the patience to explain that she had to conserve fuel for meals.

She sighed instead and said “I’m sorry Woma, please just manage it.”

She heard the clash of metal and stone amidst her husband’s grumbling. They had been a reasonably happy couple before but the disease outbreak had changed things. Woma had to work longer shifts, coming home exhausted and irritable. She couldn’t remember the last time he played with her or the last time she felt him on her thighs.

Now her days were a cycle of watching him rush of to work, grouchy welcomes and loveless nights. Her fledgling bush-meat business was on hold and Woma hadn’t been paid in two months. The government had promised to pay more as hazard allowances to workers in the health facilities affected by the disease. Nothing had been done about that yet.

Woma walked past her into the house. He had hoped to change the thatch and mud hut to a proper house, but now, such talk was fantasy.

She waited a while then joined him in the room. The plate of rice and soup was untouched. The jug of water was empty though and Womako was not in the room.

“Bella”

“Yes”

“Come.”

She flicked aside the curtain to see him prostate on a mat in the adjoining room. They hoped it would be their children’s room, someday, but now it housed the occasional cousin from the village and Womako’s old books.

“Woma, what is it? Are you well?”

“Wait. Don’t come closer. I started feeling unwell on my way back and I don’t know. I have called Willie to come and take me back to the hospital. But that will be after he takes you to the motor park and puts you on a bus to the border. Under the mattress, you will find $300, I want you to take the money and travel to Ghana. Stay with your sister there and get tested if you feel any illness.”

“Woma what are you saying? How can I leave you now?”

“You must Bella. You have suffered enough drinking every potion and pill trying to get pregnant for the past three years. Visited every healer, seer and saviour, what they didn’t tell you was that you were fine. I am the one that can’t fill your field. I am the one without seed.

Now, there is no need for me to make bad worse. Do as I say. May God keep you and may He forgive me.”

“But what about the house? What about our plans for the new plot of land?” Bella asked in a tear choked whisper.

“Land and houses are for the living Bella. If I live, we will see. But now, I want you to pack, Willie is coming.”

Belinda packed.

Willie came and took her to the park. She got to Ghana safely. A week later she was told Womako’s ashes were buried in their backyard.

She waited for her own illness to begin. It never did. Instead she put on weight and lost two shades of tan. And many nights she would lay awake thinking. She would imagine herself a judge and Womako an accused. Should she hate him for the three years of lies? Should she acquit him for an act of uncommon courage? The arguments would rage for and against before sleep would whisk her away, to awake again to the toils and troubles of another day.

Splinters Of Glass In A Bleeding Heart.

Hmmmmggh!

Where do I begin? With an apology, I haven’t posted as often as I should. I have a bag of excuses for this:

  • 1. The Westgate attacks shocked my fingers to stone.

    2. Prof Kofi Awoonor’s Death shot me into mourning.

    3. My Samsung Tab has gone into coma (read possible death).

    4. I missed another set of deadlines (Again?! Yes. Again).

    5. Unforeseen emergencies arrived and scrambled my budget.

    6. I have been scouting for 1M votes for my clients.

    7. I lost an election.

    8. I lost a friend.

    So there, it hasn’t been as easy as it usually is. It has been rough and tough and challenging. But all through you have been on my mind. And I know that often it is grief, not glee that brings out the best in us.

    I hope I’ll get to write about all these things, one after the other, and share my writing with you.

    In any case, I thank God for being there for me through it all.

    I thank Him for

    1. The hostages that made it out alive and. Eliot Prior the brave four year old boy that stood up to a bad man with a gun. He got a bar of chocolate and freedom.

    2. Afetsi Awoonor, that he is hurt but alive and recovering. My prayers are with you.

    3. My new laptop, Sam. (Though I can’t quite remember how to type on a keyboard and sometimes I touch and tap the screen. (x_x)

    4. The new opportunities emerging everyday and the painful lesson learnt.

    5. That I could give towards the emergency, and I have gotten a third of the money back already. *Azonto*

    6. I am just doing the vote scouting once, some people do thing for a living. Phew!

    7. I learnt never to jump into a tging unprepared.

    8. I have gained many new friends and followers and fans.

    9. I am still here; and where there is life, there is hope. Hallelu!

    Going forward, I hope to be more faithful, +/- return to the 3 posts a week thing. I don’t know for certain, yet. What I do know is that I truly appreciate you and you are the best blog readers in the galaxy. Thank you for choosing to read me.

    ^

    ^

    ^
    🙂 How have you been? What has been on your mind? Please share with us in the comments (or privately email/Twitter).

    And please share this as widely as you can. Thank you. God bless you.

  • Splinters Of Glass In A Bleeding Heart.

    Hmmmmggh!

    Where do I begin? With an apology, I haven’t posted as often as I should. I have a bag of excuses for this:

  • 1. The Westgate attacks shocked my fingers to stone.

    2. Prof Kofi Awoonor’s Death shot me into mourning.

    3. My Samsung Tab has gone into coma (read possible death).

    4. I missed another set of deadlines (Again?! Yes. Again).

    5. Unforeseen emergencies arrived and scrambled my budget.

    6. I have been scouting for 1M votes for my clients.

    7. I lost an election.

    8. I lost a friend.

    So there, it hasn’t been as easy as it usually is. It has been rough and tough and challenging. But all through you have been on my mind. And I know that often it is grief, not glee that brings out the best in us.

    I hope I’ll get to write about all these things, one after the other, and share my writing with you.

    In any case, I thank God for being there for me through it all.

    I thank Him for

    1. The hostages that made it out alive and. Eliot Prior the brave four year old boy that stood up to a bad man with a gun. He got a bar of chocolate and was let go .

    2. Afetsi Awoonor, that he is hurt but alive and recovering. My prayers are with you.

    3. My new laptop, Sam. (Though I can’t quite remember how to type on a keyboard and sometimes I touch and tap the screen. (x_x)

    4. The new opportunities emerging everyday and the painful lesson learnt.

    5. That I could give towards the emergency, and I have gotten a third of the money back already. *Azonto*

    6. I am just doing the vote scouting once, some people do thing for a living. Phew!

    7. I learnt never to jump into a tging unprepared.

    8. I have gained many new friends and followers and fans.

    9. I am still here; and where there is life, there is hope. Hallelu!

    Going forward, I hope to be more faithful, +/- return to the 3 posts a week thing. I don’t know for certain, yet. What I do know is that I truly appreciate you and you are the best blog readers in the galaxy. Thank you for choosing to read me.

    ^

    ^

    ^
    🙂 How have you been? What has been on your mind? Please share with us in the comments (or privately email/Twitter).

    And please share this as widely as you can. Thank you. God bless you.