itsdelta.wordpress.com
At my strongest – I am the mother of Simphiwe | Itsdelta's Blog
https://itsdelta.wordpress.com/2014/08/10/at-my-strongest-i-am-the-mother-of-simphiwe
8230;the musings of a feminist. August 10, 2014. At my strongest I am the mother of Simphiwe. There are many things I am uncertain of, even fearful about but the greatest of them is my fear of failing you, my child. Simphiwe – your name means ‘we have been given’ – and boy, am I glad I got blessed with you! I refuse to be the one that lets you down. Ever. You are the balm that heals me, much faster and more effective than waiting for the ministration of time. At my strongest, I am your mother. You are my...
itsdelta.wordpress.com
The day mmawe followed me | Itsdelta's Blog
https://itsdelta.wordpress.com/2011/04/06/the-day-mmawe-followed-me
8230;the musings of a feminist. April 6, 2011. The day mmawe followed me. Today I woke up to the nostalgic ambush of a childhood memory long forgotten and for some reason it’s significance this morning was so overwhelming that it emotionally drained me. I don’t know why that particular day came to mind or what triggered it I just woke up and had a flashback I remembered the day mama followed me. The reason was I didn’t follow mmawe’s instructions and the short-cut I remembered once taking turned out to h...
itsdelta.wordpress.com
There was a man called Paul | Itsdelta's Blog
https://itsdelta.wordpress.com/2015/06/08/there-was-a-man-called-paul
8230;the musings of a feminist. June 8, 2015. There was a man called Paul. I started crying as we drove out of Polokwane, just as we turned into the N1 Highway heading to Johannesburg. My tears stung my eyelids and rather than easing, the pain I felt only intensified. The heater was on full blast to ward off the morning chill, as we cautiously drove into the 4am mist. Don’t you know who this is? That was the first day I met Paul Mambo, the first time I laid eyes on him. Until five years later, when I...
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Remember me (or maybe not) | Itsdelta's Blog
https://itsdelta.wordpress.com/2010/03/01/remember-me-or-maybe-not
8230;the musings of a feminist. March 1, 2010. Remember me (or maybe not). This year I forgot to remember the day my mother died. I mean I went through the entire day without even thinking of her, without stopping to be sad or to be appropriately somber. Even now the admission makes me feel wretched. What kind of a daughter was I? How could I have forgotten to remember? How is it possible that when we lose the ones we love we are convinced that we will never ever get over it? And how is it possible that ...
itsdelta.wordpress.com
#BeitbridgeMemoirs: Of memories, tears and healing | Itsdelta's Blog
https://itsdelta.wordpress.com/2015/01/28/beitbridgememoirs-of-memories-tears-and-healing
8230;the musings of a feminist. January 28, 2015. BeitbridgeMemoirs: Of memories, tears and healing. Last December I went home. Home is Beitbridge. I was received with tears and admonishes for having been gone too long. I was surprised by the outpouring of emotion, the overwhelming love and mostly, I was surprised that my absence had been so keenly felt. I will explain the source of my surprise. This was 15 years ago and it has taken me a long time to realize how wrong I was. Grief is a strange thing.
itsdelta.wordpress.com
itsdelta | Itsdelta's Blog
https://itsdelta.wordpress.com/author/itsdelta
8230;the musings of a feminist. July 25, 2016. LISTEN: What exactly is ‘social media abuse’? Last week Monday, I joined the host of Star FM’s #TheHub programme to quiz the ICT Minister, Supa Mandiwanzira on what exactly Government regards as ‘social media abuse’ and to get clarity on Government’s stance regarding social media i.e is Government planning to ban/regulate it? In this 3-part interview, Min Mandiwanzira responds. I add a few quotes from the discussion and will leave you to ponder them. Zimbabw...
itsdelta.wordpress.com
My father – a man of emotions | Itsdelta's Blog
https://itsdelta.wordpress.com/2012/03/25/my-father-a-man-of-emotions
8230;the musings of a feminist. March 25, 2012. My father – a man of emotions. My father was a man of emotions, the strongest of which was love. He loved us (his children) with a breathtaking intensity. There is no doubt in my mind we were his greatest vulnerability. I think we were a vulnerability he either didn’t care to conceal or simply didn’t have the means to conceal. His love for us was fierce, overt and abiding. My father could never endure the agonizing spectacle of our wounds. We teased him beh...
