I  stand before you,

With an apology,

You are going to think it is about you,

Why wouldn’t you?


As I master the perfect face,

Yours will hit “perfect” with Bolt speed,

I will sluggishly catch up,

My dire effort will simulate the picture of a broken, hurting man,


That cocktail of love, care and concern has a careless

way of slipping down one’s eyes.

To break you like I am about to,

is to punch a hole in the mix barrel.

I will hold my tongue.

You will think it’s my ardent fear of vulnerability.


The warmth of your lips will overshadow the coldness of mine,

Breath with the slightest hint of a tremble,

With your eyes you will search mine for an answer;

The right question.

That is all you will need.

You will keep asking if I am alright.


Beyond the surface, a…

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The Artelier
You’ve spent so many years looking forward to this phase of your life. And it always looked so cool. So glamorous. So filled with love and laughter.
Yet here you are. With knowledge that it’s anything but.
It’s messy buns and messier lives. It’s baggy shirts and overflowing laundry bags. It’s a lot of work and never enough money. It’s freedom with responsibilities. And life is no longer what it seemed.
Different people are doing different things.
Your best friend’s getting married. Your old classmate is killing it with success. Your ex is happy in love. Your old mate is drowning in drugs. Different people are doing different things. But not you. You’re just existing. You’re getting through everyday a little better than the last. But then you have days where you can’t get up at all.
You spend your Friday evenings holed up in a corner because you’re too responsible to drink your night away. Too control freakish to lose yourself to someone else’s tunes. But somehow, this isn’t enough. This life you’re living doesn’t feel complete. Loneliness wraps around you like a blanket you love and you wonder where you went wrong. Why you became different to everyone else.
“Did I do too much too soon? Did I not do enough? Was there a reason why it was never me? Is this going to be the rest of my life? Alone? Unsuccessful? Filled with dreams that never come true?”
And your hands reach out to your phone. One text. One call. To that someone who might make you feel pretty. Who might make you feel important. And your need takes over.
The need to feel accepted. To feel appreciated. To feel adored. To feel loved.
And it is so strong, you forget your sanity for a few minutes of flattery. You lessen your worth for dishonest words. The hurt in your heart, camouflaged. If only for a few seconds.
But it’s never enough. And when you wake up, it’s worse. The hammering of your heart so loud in your ears. A memory of last night frustratingly haunting. Yet another mistake. Yet again.
You scream hateful words to yourself. When will I ever learn? You go over those messages. Those conversations. How you fell right back into a ditch when you knew better. Just for a moment, you wish you weren’t yourself.
And in that moment, read these words:
Breathe. It’s not so bad. You think I don’t understand. But I do. Because I’m there, too. I’ve made that call. I’ve texted that wrong person. I’ve woken up with regrets. I still do. I’ve felt the need to be held. I’ve felt that silent green monster towards a friend in love.
Yes, we all make those mistakes. And we all think nobody else does. But they do.
So please, don’t hate yourself. And don’t stop. Don’t stop loving with all you have. Don’t stop wishing on every shooting star. Don’t stop dreaming of fairytales and being as amazing as Malala Yousafzai. You might not always get there, but don’t stop.
You have so much left to do. You have a world filled with life waiting to happen. You have books to be read. Steps to be taken. Places to see. People to meet. You haven’t lived half your life yet. There’s so much ahead. And in ten years, when you look back, you’ll wish you were here again.
So don’t waste it wallowing in your own sadness. Don’t lose yourself to your self-pity and non-existent boundaries. Use everyday. And I don’t mean spend thousands of dollars and visit the North Pole. I know how you’re struggling to make ends meet.
Do the simple things. Stop procrastinating. Take a walk with nature. Go to the gym. Read your favorite book for the millionth time. Watch a movie. Write your novel. Sketch until you’re better than the best. Eat like you’re dying tomorrow. And most importantly, make mistakes. Your heart will heal. But today will never be back again. Don’t live with “Could-have-bee
n’s.” Take chances.
And ALWAYS ALWAYS ALWAYS remember – It’s okay to be alone.
There is time to let your life revolve around someone else. But today, let it revolve around you.
Not because you can’t find someone. Not because you can’t be loved.
But because you deserve to wake up with a smile. You deserve to live life. To make memories so wild, you’ll be the coolest grandparent they’ve ever known.
Breathe. It’s only your mid-20’s.
You’re going to be alright.
By Poornima Baskar


This is more of anote of thanksgiving and tremendous appreciation to all the good thats left in the world in particular its people.Its November and with 2016 coming to its end,I decided to utilise its remaining days to try and give back as much as I can in any form I possibly can but mostly to spread the love since we are in the festive season and that’s all it is,atleast to me..its all about love.

Not everyone is privileged,we all come from different backgrounds unfortunately as this creates divisions and uneven opportunities amongst the society.As I was making my way around town,I met an old disabled man.He was leaning on his crotches for support and trying to cross to the other side of the road.Uganda unfortunately has crazy traffic but the cyclists are crazier and this as aresult has led to tons of road accidents so here I am,seated in ataxi,feeling terrible that I cant possibly do a thing to help him but also hoping God is looking out for him and lets him arrive safely to his destination when a miracle happens.A young cyclist stops his bike,lets him through without any fuss and on top of that,hands him a one thousand note.

This is quite unexpected of a boda boda rider as all they know to do is drive recklessly and stir trouble(Ps. not to be judgy but Im sure many share my opinion).The old man did reach the otherside safely but most importantly,he was happy.This cyclist had just given him another reason to look at the bright side despite all his predicaments.And all it took was one small simple act of kindness.

I must admit I wasnt afan of cyclists until this particular moment.It made me realise that they are still afew good people that exist in this world and that not everyone is out for themselves.It also made me believe in people again,that they all arent as heartless as it may seem.

I hope we are all inspired to go out of our way and put asmile on someone’s face during this festive season.many people dont have the luxury that you or I may share and have lost hope and the zeal to live,just waiting on death to finally give them peace which is so saddening as everyone deserves a chance to atleast be happy with their lives since we cant get to choose which one to have or swap for that matter.Its the only one we have got.It doesnt take much and neither does it have to necessarily be inform of monetary terms.Buy them abottle of water or any drink,offer them alift home,create asafe passage for them like cyclist did,offer them something to eat..Anything..there are lots of things we can do to make their lives alittle bit easier on them and they do appreciate it.Atleast pray for them and not only think about yourself.

To the cyclist and everyone out there that tries to make adifference,thank you as its because of good people like yourselves that they wake up and look forward to another brand new day.

Kill them with kindness..Selena couldnt have said it better..😌😌




To Being My Own First

Sinawo Bukani

For the whole month of February, I will be posting a letter of gratitude to the people who have contributed immensely to the woman I am today. Some letters I’m thinking of sending to those I’ve written about and some I hope are never read. This will be the first time I post daily. So I am really keen on seeing how it will turn out, both for me and for those who follow this blog. I look forward to your thoughts and feedback in the comments section below. The theme for all the letters is that ‘We Are Stories’ and I will be telling mine in #29LettersOfGratitude for a whole month. If you would like to join me (PLEASE DO!!!) remember to link me in your posts.

Yesterday I came across a post that had me worried about being a leaker (always having a voice that speaks out loud…

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A Life Worth Celebrating

Sinawo Bukani

I have always been the kind of person that celebrates others. I absolutely love seeing those I care about succeed in their lives. I am the friend that gets sent pictures of bags and accessories when they’ve been bought; new hairstyles and even random selfies fill up the gallery folder on my phone because my friends know how much I’m always their biggest cheerleader. I remember as I was posting a status congratulating a friend on getting her license, a voice spoke into my heart and asked ‘when will it ever be your turn to celebrate yourself?’

I wasn’t sure what that meant and I instantly dismissed it as envy for my wonderful friend. The voice seemed to turn into a consistent humming for the next few weeks that I eventually had to sit down with myself and introspect. I mean I loved my life!!! I was in my mid…

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We Are Stories

Sinawo Bukani

1989: I’m told that this is the year that my young mother buys me at Shoprite and takes me home with her.

1990: I’m dragged around the house by my great grandmother (uMadlomo). This is apparently because I am too heavy for her to carry.

1991: I crawl out of the yard and I go missing for a couple of hours. A man finds me and takes me back home.

1993: Earliest (and the happiest) memory I have is living with my grandmother in a shack in Cape Town. She says whenever the rain would flood our zink shelter, I’d promise her that my mother would soon buy her a house. She never does.

1993: Veliswa buys another baby at Shoprite. The newborn is named Lindokuhle. But will always be called Lindi.

1995: I’m living with my biological father and his two cousins in Butterworth. He is a school teacher…

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