It's too late now...

Buy me those flowers…while I can stil bury my nose in their petals, and smile in the mist of their sweet scent.

Give me that hug, real and present…while I can yet wrap my arms around you and be with you in that moment.

Kiss me, while I can still lift my head, and close my eyes, and smile at the gentleness of your touch.

Bring me that scent, that you’d like me to wear…while I can still spray it in the air, and walk through the shower of misty droplets and feel as they fall lightly on me...and think of you…

Be with me…now.

Don’t wait till it’s too late.

I Promised I'd Sing This Song...

So I ran to the office and asked Julius to Google and find me a recording studio, 'I must sing today!' I said… and he did! And we called and I wanted to go right away but their programmer was not in...Drat!

So we booked for the next day, '...be here by 10am!' she said. I was there at 10am and the programmer was still in....Pipeline!!!!

...My Hot Blue, Reasonably High, Patent Leather Heels

Having walked all the way from Upperhill, all I wanted to do was kick of my heels and take a large much of HLG, my throat had been acting up all day and the undecided weather did not help...nor did the dust along the way.

I am grey!

Tall,

Dark,

Grey!

I know, you'd think I'm too old to sport grey

But guess what? I do.

10 things to do in the dark of the Syokimau train...

1. Walk down the aisle, jumping across outstretched legs, hoping not to step on one as you make you're way towards the dark empty couches at the back.

Java. Nkt!

When I walked into Java on Koinange street a second time, it was because I had decided that I would review the place, spread the word and tell on them!
I chose a different seat this time, the empty couch on the side under the large painting of a street lined with houses; on the first house hung a sign written in Chinese, Japanese, Portuguese, smelling cheese... I hoped that now, in my bright pink sweater, and in the middle of the room, I might be noticed sooner by the good waitresses.

I’m jealous of Lupita…

I can’t stand the way the world is grovelling at her feet,
as she smiles and poses
In amazing swathes of brightly coloured fabric
Stitched into awe inspiring silhouettes
In the moody light of the famous fashion photographers’ studios

I cry for you.

I am angry!

I am so mad right now.

I want to cry. I want to sit at a corner, hold myself and cry! Not muffled sobs that no one will hear,  but loud screams, heart wrenching and body shaking screams! I want to throw myself on the ground and stand up and throw myself down again and again….if only to take the pain away.

My heart aches. My soul cries out.

For every child and every woman, with child or in their sunset years. For every single woman and child who had to experience Westgate. For every mother who bled and every child who cried, my tears cannot be shed enough to release this pain that my heart has refused to let go of!

I cry for you! I cry with you!

For anyone who has nobody to cry with them, I cry with you.

I am still angry! I am still mad!

May time pass

May the pain fade

And

May my tears dry

But only as soon as yours do

God have mercy on us!

Stalled in the slum...

It's just about 9:30am and the train slows down and comes to a shuddering halt.
The passengers look at each other, eyes wide open, questioning...slightly alarmed.
They twist their necks to look out of the window...to the sight of filthy  children playing in the mud, to the piles of garbage and idlers puffing clouds of smoke into the air,
To a tall dark man in a dark green short sleeved kaunda suit, walking slowly along the railway track.

Drat!
Damn!