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Children's & Poems By Damaria Senne: The legend of Sananapo

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Thursday, September 07, 2006. The legend of Sananapo. The story of Sananapo is told by his dog soon after his death. It has also been recorded by choirs and a number of artists. I’m putting it up here because it’s a popular song among African families, and strangely enough, I couldn’t find the lyrics on the Internet. Anyway, translated, Sananapo’s dog says:. Sananapo, Sananapo 2 X. They have killed him, Sananapo. Then they tried to give me his bones, Sananapo. I do not eat human flesh, Sananapo. My Books...

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Children's & Poems By Damaria Senne: September 2010

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Tuesday, September 07, 2010. The room is crammed to the rafters. Laughing, chatting and dancing. Dressed in a beautiful, red dress. She's in the centre of it all. The life and soul of the party. So why do I feel like an outsider? 8221; she asks. I have no words to help her. Tuesday, September 07, 2010. Subscribe to: Posts (Atom). View my complete profile. My Books and My Friends' Books. Amakeia, deur A.G. Visser. The farm animals refuse to work. Thandi sets her hair on fire. The legend of Sananapo. The s...

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Children's & Poems By Damaria Senne: A poem for my daughter

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Friday, May 08, 2009. A poem for my daughter. By Debbie Buckwalter (my sister). Her heart smells of purity. Her smile full of gold. Her eyes nothing but true. And her greatness simple. She has a fierce love. Ferocious loyalty and a gentle soul. Her hands are like plush velvet. All soft-like and safe. She sees saints and hears angels. Says words that heal wounds. She dreams of paradise. Of an incessant peace. Her walk is brave. Her words, shy. Her will, precociously sure. Friday, May 08, 2009. Thandi is a...

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Children's & Poems By Damaria Senne: Outsider

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Tuesday, September 07, 2010. The room is crammed to the rafters. Laughing, chatting and dancing. Dressed in a beautiful, red dress. She's in the centre of it all. The life and soul of the party. So why do I feel like an outsider? 8221; she asks. I have no words to help her. Tuesday, September 07, 2010. Story Time For Me. Hi Damaria, are you still blogging about childrens stories? I wanted to tell you about Story Time For Me which has online children’s stories. Please do get back to me on what you think.

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Children's & Poems By Damaria Senne: Transformation

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Friday, May 08, 2009. By Debbie Buckwalter (my sister). You sit alone and listen. The city speaks softly. The wind whispers to the night. Pleading, cajoling, making promises. The sun has long waved goodbye. The night has embraced it. Taken far away to a safe haven. For a well-deserved rest. They all speak, the stars. To the moon they murmur. Secret imaginings and requests. Never to be heard nor understood. Dawn kisses the night softly. A red hue sits on the mountains. The voices of the city grow louder.

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Children's & Poems By Damaria Senne: April 2007

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Monday, April 09, 2007. I lie on my bed, curtains drawn, blankets over me. Pretending to be asleep, trying not to make a sound. She calls my name, asks me if I’m alright. I have to talk to you, she says. Your brother is ok. Trapped in horror and shame. I want to shout, rage and ask her:. How could you let him hurt your son like that? Will you let him hit me like that? I am too afraid to say it. Because I know she is as helpless as we are. Fears him as we do, loves him as we do. I am so sorry, she cries.

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Children's & Poems By Damaria Senne: Thandi sets her hair on fire

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Friday, December 08, 2006. Thandi sets her hair on fire. Thandi is a beautiful girl with long and hair full of curl. She likes to play house with her friends. She likes to make things with her hands. 8220;We can’t play house without cooking,’ Morongwa says. Pap and meat are easy to cook,” he says. I’ve watched my Mama cook a gazillion times. 8220;Where can we cook? 8221; Thandi asks. Mama won’t let us use her stove.”. The gang make a list of things they need:. Matches, wood and paper. 8221; Thandi says.

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Children's & Poems By Damaria Senne: March 2012

http://freeafricantales.blogspot.com/2012_03_01_archive.html

No posts. Show all posts. No posts. Show all posts. Subscribe to: Posts (Atom). I am/ have been many things: a sister, friend, parent, partner, aunt, daughter, an activist, journalist, writer, communications specialist, blogger, publisher, care-giver, homemaker and gardener. View my complete profile. My Books and My Friends' Books. Amakeia, deur A.G. Visser. The first time I heard this poem, it was early evening, and it was raining. My mother was preparing supper and explaining the poem to my old. Let's ...

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Children's & Poems By Damaria Senne: July 2007

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Sunday, July 22, 2007. I was in grade two (about six years old), and we were required to tell a folktale we’d heard from parents/grandparents as part of oral work. Old Man Moseki walked down the road. Cutting across the village of Phokeng. He was going to visit his Ancestors. In graves on the other side of the river. 8220;I’m going to ask them to remove my bad luck and make us rich,” he told his wife. While walking on the road, Old Man Moseki saw a round, shiny thing on the ground. It was a R2 coin.