Submerged in an iridescent sea of gold I dive through teak forests separating dream land from the material world. Journeying from Mosi-Oa-Tunya to a city forged by Kings. Under an African sky anything can happen. On days like this Lobengula and Cecil John Rhodes nod in agreement at the savage beauty of a far flung land. Battleship grey roads are tarred with memories from another time and place that bore the brunt of wagon wheels, rolling to their future in haste lest the Impi shield their path. This part of the world sings, rocking you into a lullaby of sweetness only to be disrupted by an angry growl of hunger. Empty hands bleed in a rupture of poverty spoon fed by political unrest. Turmoil mixed with your gin washed down with a tonic for your soul. Welcome home. The belly of the beast. There’s no place I’d rather be.
The silvery moon erupts into a vortex of emotion thundering through you and through you ‘like wine through water’. New found freedom seeps into bedrock crystallizing, yet to be discovered and admired in hindsight; silent strength contained in a diamond mind. Standing the test of time. Unshakable, spear heads carved out of life wounds you are ready. Armed with truth, hard won, you battle against all odds to the other side. On wards, upwards, under and over, backwards and forwards. Incessant motion to move mountains. To resist, to temper, to win, to conquer fear and famine lest your spirit perishes into a dark anonymous night. We are ether, vapour in a gaseous universe swirling towards a destiny born of dust.
Gathering your thoughts you compose yourself. Aim. Fire! And again. Love, hate, anger, angst, defending yourself from an unforeseen enemy mostly the imagined. And you fire, finger stroking trigger like ‘the naked body of your dreams’. Each single bullet loaded with a torrent of your rage. Sometimes you miss, Sometimes you hit. The explosion of a thousand thoughts burst into life. Gun barrel still smokin’ you smile, a Mona Lisa smile. That’s why I came forth from primordial soup into me mother’s womb.
Weary now you lean on what’s closest. Supported by the knowledge that what you do is God given, driven by a fire burning within, your sights are set. Never taking your eyes off your mark, etched in your soul from a distant time you remember. An unspoken but known destination imprinted in your heart. A warrior longing for peace but understanding war there is nothing to do but keep going. Until you reach that place where angel’s fear to tread but where you were born to belong.
***In memory of the brave who died in Lupane ***
Photo by Sandi