I remember being married to Chris Brown and going to hospital in tears after the ring got stuck on my finger.
I remember losing my grandfather and reading his obituary with voices humming in the background.
I remember breaking the 100m record, and being invited to sports day later to find out it remains unbroken.
I remember throwing a pen into the blades of a moving fan in class.
I remember choir practices on Saturdays where I’d hide my D900 in a song book and be on Mxit during vocal warm-ups.
I remember being excited whenever our brother school would come to swim in our pool during break time.
I remember being late for my Grade 7 dance and walking in when everyone had already been seated, I now know I was fashionably late.
I remember going to a different school than that of my friends, but we were united after two months because boarding school is not for the faint-hearted.
I remember my mother running over one of Japanzie’s pups and calling in sick for work because she felt really bad.
I remember asking my mother if I was adopted and her response was: ‘Angikahle isicefe’.
I remember not doing my arts and culture homework and being sent to the dungeon, only to find that half of the class was already there.
I remember that was the day I lost the ‘teacher’s pet’ title.
5 Responses
Hi Sipho, Sorry to hear that - are you sending your writing to writing@fundza.co.za? You should get a response from us! When did you send your work?
Roberts Isaac's chiwala.I see you get published on many occasions.How do you do it? Some of us are sending work but aren't getting published.
And l remember reading the your piece
With tears streaming down my face
I remember tumours of grief engulfing me
Like mounds covering the remains of your grandfather
I remember turning my comment into a story
15 years ago, it was my late brother's turn.
The day was not very warm as if not go disturb people who were already disturbed. The black attire worn by many were not too black to cover the broke hearts.
On our way from the graveyard, sand rose as if to give an salute to a man who was too amiable.
Striding along the streets, stumbling over potholes towards cold slums. Skulls on shoulders that was the atmosphere on our way back home.
I remember my mother refusing to be consoled. May be l was too little to notice the grief that was there in my father's heart. But l know he was just being a man. He was heartbroken.
I remember uncle crying bitterly, reminding the procession that " Ron"is gone". That was the day l realised that in Life we are in death.
And our effort to find out the why, has never rolled the dice in our favour.
I remember writing this piece while shivering, wondering how will the word read the piece written by a typical villager, living in the most poorest country on earth. But then i am proudly Malawian, living in the remotest part of it.
I remember today in history, this is the exact date my late brother answered to the call of nature, within those tree there is a place called graveyard, and beneath those mounds lies the remains of Ron, where he is weaving the seasons of soil.
I remember the exact place, time and season.
when l think about the evil of this world.
One thing is clear to me, some birds are not meant to be caged, their feathers are just too bright.But then since time is a savage and it dictates what happens to us, hopefully someday we will meet again,
And l will tell you all about it my brother.
And we have a sincere hope, that heaven its happy with your presence.
Since you departed, Psalms 147 has been the most repeated song in our family.
I wish l could write more brother, but i am sorry ,
I have limited space, for i am just commenting on the beautiful piece written by
Andile Nkosi titled " I remember being married to chris brown"