Life as a Swazi Violet

tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-51565811675652942692011-07-08T09:30:07.131+01:00Life as a Swazi Violetvimbai kavhumburahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00146510575806326754noreply@blogger.comBlogger191100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5156581167565294269.post-4261559473547159122010-04-13T14:30:00.001+01:002010-04-13T14:30:54.247+01:00Cloud 6

This is a new place I find myself inI have climbed so far.Its not a giddy euphoria that rests hereAnd I am not high so it can't be nineI do not harbour illusions about you now -I know your instinct is to runI have to admitThat it may all come to nothing for a secondand final time.And when that happensno cloud will save me from the bottomless depths of zero called heartbreak. But right here right

vimbai kavhumburahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00146510575806326754noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5156581167565294269.post-5088259317229942952010-04-13T14:29:00.000+01:002010-04-13T14:30:10.905+01:00Sunday Night Swimming

Its dark outsideThe night breeze tickles warm skin as stars look onAnother weekend goneAnother week to startA sighI breathe deepHappily I will greet tomorrowAnd find you againAt the appointed timeAt our usual spotIn cyberspaceIs this it?All there is?The breeze grows chilly as I ponderThis computer loveToo close to home is the question it can't answerToo soon the hour will strikeThat separates our

vimbai kavhumburahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00146510575806326754noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5156581167565294269.post-63027548637493644982010-04-13T14:28:00.000+01:002010-04-13T14:29:07.311+01:00Fool's Rush

What is hopeBut a poor man's heroin?The shimmering glint that makes a fool believeIn goldCold cruel master with such loving handsThat even as it whips the will of men into submissionSoothes the heart with lightOh useless useless hope!That keeps you holding onEven when common sense has long let goThe wretched are damnedLike a moth to a flameTo rush unseeingTo nothingBut hope

vimbai kavhumburahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00146510575806326754noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5156581167565294269.post-80765808581973385842009-06-29T23:20:00.000+01:002009-06-29T23:21:00.551+01:00The Pied Piper

The piper playsand weaves a spellThe little girl hears his calland feels that all is wellNo ordinary love...no ordinary callHe plays that one the best of allShe hears the words he does not singAnd her heart fills with every noteThe whispers echo in the darkHer soul is filled with words she wroteFor one who is too far awayWho cannot feel the piper's magicThe piper plays on none the lessHe does not

vimbai kavhumburahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00146510575806326754noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5156581167565294269.post-24181879979732224302009-06-29T23:19:00.000+01:002009-06-29T23:20:10.489+01:00Between the Lines

You and I are black and whiteIn a world that's mostly greyThe more we try to compromiseThe more we fade awayI don't want to be just like the restThat's not enough for meThe shade of grey we're meant to beRequires us to shareA part of you and a part of meBut neither of us daresSo you stay black and I'll be whiteAnd some day we will see

vimbai kavhumburahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00146510575806326754noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5156581167565294269.post-1993677671494562012009-06-29T23:18:00.000+01:002009-06-29T23:19:29.157+01:00Nowhere To Be Found

Where were you when I disappeared?The police will want to knowAnd over their shoulders as they take notesI'll be eavesdropping'Officer...' you'll sayAnd drift into guilty silence. 'I was..'Or baffled silence, 'I...'No explanationNo words...I knew you would do thisAgainI knewBut I played along anywayOne more game you saidHide and seek and hideI didn't have the heart to stopEven as I drifted

vimbai kavhumburahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00146510575806326754noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5156581167565294269.post-72068626988921862342009-06-29T23:17:00.000+01:002009-06-29T23:18:27.580+01:00Out of Time

I spend all my daysthinking of ways to pass the hours and minutesuntil the moment i hear your voiceLike a drugWhen I am without it, without you,I am strung outNervous and unfocusedShort tempered and feverishThe days and nights seem longerSeem darker and colder,I count the breaths I takeuntil i am breathless againThe very second you speakEach word reverbaratesThrough every part of melike an

vimbai kavhumburahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00146510575806326754noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5156581167565294269.post-13347620450459779762009-06-29T23:14:00.000+01:002009-06-29T23:17:54.540+01:00Let Them Watch In Silence

Let no one speak of it when it is done.I do not ask your opinion now - I will not need it thenI am a grown womanThat's what they all saidSo I need not your permissions and reprimandsThe choice lies before me thusAnd to run from it I will notCan notFor I am not a cowardNot to youSo when it is doneHold your peaceThose that had a say were invited to do so thenThose that remained silentBy their own

vimbai kavhumburahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00146510575806326754noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5156581167565294269.post-18503332825514700622009-06-11T23:05:00.002+01:002009-06-11T23:07:01.271+01:00First - Love Letter No. 1

vimbai kavhumburahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00146510575806326754noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5156581167565294269.post-67317680348174854512009-01-11T23:17:00.003Z2009-01-12T17:02:32.303ZNdawo Yami (My Place - Inspired by the song of the same name by Zamajobe Sithole)

It's quietJust quietAnd in that quietThe voice of a thousand armies singI am hereAloneAs alwaysLooking back into the lightAs the darkness growsI hear the echoThe echo of fingerprinsts on my heartAnd then the drumsThe drums that rage against my soulLostSo lost in it allI am hereAloneSearching for youYou are my placeNdawo YamiThe placeThe me I left behindMy placeForever stuck thereIn your

vimbai kavhumburahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00146510575806326754noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5156581167565294269.post-78056852334193833382008-12-30T17:28:00.003Z2008-12-30T17:43:23.588ZThat's Me

I amDeep insideDeeper than makeup and small talk and smilesThan fashionable clothes, smooth skin, styleDeeper stillThan breathing and heartbeatingThan the soles of my feetDown DeeperThan the dust to which stone fadesWay downPast underground riversDeeper than the diamond's glowIn the heat of the of the heart of this bosom earthRight downIn the place of time's birthI amDeep downAn ancient QueenAn

vimbai kavhumburahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00146510575806326754noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5156581167565294269.post-59202339892728030292008-10-15T02:37:00.008+01:002009-01-11T23:41:33.588ZThe Great Divide: Something Smoother Pt II

While listening to Calvin Richardson at 2.38am it occurred to me that 'The Great Mystery' - the difference between men and women - has never been more clear to me.I've spent the last 8 days mentally trying on outfits for a special occasion. Well, more realistically, the time has been spent trying to analyse just how special the occasion actually is, and clearly, what I end up putting on will

vimbai kavhumburahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00146510575806326754noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5156581167565294269.post-75848904989412130582008-10-11T01:52:00.005+01:002008-10-11T02:09:27.601+01:00I want it; and I WILL have it

It occurs to me, 7 months after completing my MA and 3 months after taking ownership of the piece of paper that proves it, that I am not where I want to be. Yet. Ever since I wrote the last chapter of the dissertation that was meant to map great things in my future, I have been trying to find my way into that future.My search for my true calling has finally come to a head. The question on

vimbai kavhumburahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00146510575806326754noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5156581167565294269.post-862251022025283702008-10-08T21:11:00.002+01:002008-10-08T21:29:51.226+01:00Changing Status

As the second day of my self-imposed ban on Facebook comes to a close I find myself musing on the things I've learnt about myself. First there are the reasons I broke the ban within an hour of initiating it...a private conversation.Then, there's the reason for the ban in the first place. It was when I found myself updating my status for the fourth time in the space of an hour that I became a

vimbai kavhumburahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00146510575806326754noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5156581167565294269.post-49570514296449575732008-09-06T01:28:00.005+01:002008-10-11T02:00:36.135+01:00Something Smoother

I was just thinking back to those high school days when smooth R'nB was the order of the day. Babyface, Dru Hill, Jesse Powell...those boys knew how to croon. A slower pace of romance, so that, even when they did mention undressing you and such, it was in such a way that they'd probably be half way done before you noticed.WHAT?!! No, this is not an X-rated piece, but it occurred to me that,

vimbai kavhumburahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00146510575806326754noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5156581167565294269.post-50810164623349930682008-08-23T15:09:00.000+01:002008-08-23T15:10:23.392+01:00How to Get into Advertising

Looking at that innocuous little title, one would think it was a straight forward affair. Or certainly no more complicated than baking a loaf of Irish soda bread. This little deception is propagated by the fact that there seems to a consensus when it comes to the key attributes one needs to get that proverbial (and very blistered) foot through the door. No one bothers to tell you that the door

vimbai kavhumburahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00146510575806326754noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5156581167565294269.post-72969617147316697152008-06-07T00:35:00.001+01:002008-06-07T00:35:23.275+01:00My Brighton

vimbai kavhumburahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00146510575806326754noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5156581167565294269.post-36988554840972868662008-06-06T23:54:00.002+01:002008-06-07T00:02:17.888+01:00Fallen Star (for M)

where did you come from, why did you golike the fleeting light of a falling star i saw youi tried to hold you, to keep you, to own youi wanted you to be mine, to shine just for meyour spark ingnited me, i basked in your warmthi wished and wished on youbut you were not the wishing kindyour shine was just a reflection, your warmth not your ownand on and on you flew into the darkness, further awayto

vimbai kavhumburahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00146510575806326754noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5156581167565294269.post-5044235584753289992008-06-06T23:21:00.004+01:002008-10-11T02:13:00.580+01:00What is a Swazi Violet and why am I one?

Well, Swazi Violet is an expression of the many ingredients that have been combined so far to make me. Swazi=one from Swaziland. Violet=temperamental purple flower. So, what does this have to do with a Zimbabwean 20-something female living in the UK? I did say complex. The usual party-line is: born in Zim, grew up in Swaziland, educated in Cape Town, refining in Brighton. Geographically (and

vimbai kavhumburahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00146510575806326754noreply@blogger.com1