I Belong – By Ousuru D. Black

I am stood under the not-so-hot sunshine,

Below the blue bubble skies,

And above the silent waters of the oceans and seas,

Even without a father and mother, brother and sister,

I know that I belong.

I belong to the scatterred breed of humanity,

Whose longing for appreciation is greater,

I belong to remainder of earthly mortals,

Who, even without a place to call home,

Find it home here, there, anywhere, and everywhere.

While I seek to be seen and treated as human as another,

I know I will be mocked, bruised and mostly discriminated,

Even as I wish to be heard, not because I am lesser,

But to raise my voice in the face of stigma.

For those who call me homeless,

They ought to know that I ain’t useless,

Even when their treatment of me is merciless,

I am inclined to ignore them and care less.

But:

You should know that I belong;

Yes, I belong to the vast majority of determined souls,

Souls that breathe the same air as the others,

Yet uniquely wired to pursue their dreams,

Dreams that most oft look remote and unreal.

I belong to that little or big crowd,

Which is ignored by part of humanity,

But I elect not to lose hope,

Even when hope is but a trap,

I hold onto it because it sustains me.

 Now that I am sat with you and among you,

It is fair that I should implore you,

To think of me as part of you,

You belong to me and me to you,

Make me feel that I belong.

Obviously, I cannot be that vocal voice,

But that silent soul sailing life’s sails.

Can I ask of you for something?

That you continue to fly the flag of my plight?

That you tell the world that as a refugee I am human too?

And that I belong?

I am that bird in the sky - By Ousuru DeBlack

Watching the birds in the sky,

As they fly with a greater freedom,
Drawing a beautiful pattern in the atmosphere,
But leaving no air-prints in the sphere,
They embody a creation at peace - with each other,
In the manner they move in unison - and celebrate together?

Watching the chicken on the earth,
They too move together,
As they scratch earth's surface,
To fend for themselves and their chicks too,
Occasionally fight for a share of that food,
Yet most of the time they live in harmony,
For all have but plenty.

Now that I am that free bird in the human sky,
And that I have the freedom of my conscience,
I will leave air-prints and footprints in the human hearts,
As I fly in this multiple skies of humanity,
I will seek to live in peace and make peace my bow-string,
To create peace in the human hearts,
And unity in the social fabric.

Even as I scratch the earth's surface,
To fend for my family and myself,
My respect will run deeper - my ego backstage,
Hoping to leave a legacy - in eternity,
Since I am that bird in the sky!

He Died By Ousuru D. Black

He died,

He died two years to the day,

The day that robbed us his life,

His life that was a noble testimony.

Yes he died,

He died battling the effects of a stroke,

A stroke made the frail man helpless,

Helpless because he had no voice,

No voice to speak his final counsel.

Yes he died,

He died having lived full-cycle, almost,

Almost after seeing three generations,

Generations of his children, their children,

And their children’s children.

Yes he died,

He died and robbed us that love and unity,

Unity that was a creation of his discipline,

Discipline that embodied truth and justice,

Justice for his children and his family.

So when he died,

The main tree had fallen,

And we are left in pain and emptiness,

We remain in bitterness and fatherless,

Because the taproot died.

I am stood in faith and hope,

That our meet in the life yonder,

Will occur sometime some day,

Daddy I still celebrate you buddy,

Two years gone, keep resting in peace eternal.

Your son and young friend,

Just me – Black.

When I Die… By Ousuru D. Black

When I die,

People will pick up their phones,

And begin asking how I died,

And yet they never picked up their phones,

To call me and know how I lived.

When I die,

There will be those who will look for memories,

Of the last time we met and spoke,

And begin narrating those stories and encounters,

But never spoke of them about me when I lived.

When I die,

There are those friends’ who will want to know my home,

The name of my village so they can bury me,

And yet they never bothered to know,

When I still lived and danced on this earth.

When I die,

There will be those who will contribute to my burial,

As they seek to be seen to have loved me,

And begin creating ways for a fitting send off,

And yet they supported me not when I still breathed.

When I die,

There will be those who will talk about me,

Posting on Facebook, Twitter, WhatsApp,

To confirm that they truly knew me,

And yet they never stayed close to me when I still walked.

When I die,

There are those who will want to know my kids,

And question whether I had one wife or so many,

Whether I had a family at all,

And yet when I lived, they were unconcerned about me.

When I die,

There are those who will now read my poems,

And get to my blog and share and marvel,

And praise my works when I am gone,

And yet they read not, cared not about my writ.

When I die,

Let me rest restfully,

Say less if you said nothing,

Let me be but just a memory,

A passing cloud in the wind,

That life and God made me to be.

Before I die,

You better be real and true,

And honest and frank,

Say what must be said to me and of me now,

Sing my praises and dance to my good words,

Even criticize my vices and wrongs,

So I can die knowing you were true,

Because in my death and grave,

I am deaf to the praises,

Blind to the ridicule and rumour,

And ye shall speak not and claim nothing,

When I am gone and breath no longer.

Because I am dead and rested.

You Broke My Heart

“Don’t be shocked,“ the voice of my Getu said on the other side of the telephone line – worlds apart, “He has rested.” She concluded a call that lasted 13 Seconds.

Considering I was living and working many kilometers away from home – on the other part of the world, I usually don’t receive Getu’s calls because it is costly for this 60-year-old. So I let my phone ring until the 1-minute call attempt is reached for the phone to auto-hang up, which it did. But when I called back, she appeared to be on “another call” and my continued attempts were naught until she called back and I received her call within the first ring – and the conversation lasted 13 seconds!

Twenty one (21) days prior to this call (21^st May 2014), seated in my expansive executive office chair and swinging sensibly to the tune of the afternoon breeze, I was recipient of a distress call that ended with, “He collapsed in his chair, can’t speak and succumbed to a stroke.” I froze. Swinging stopped. This time, I had the courage to ask what happened and when. 2pm. Beneath a mango tree. In his chair. He had just finished his lunch and was doing what he habitually does after food – rest. Watch. Listen. This time though, he neither rested, watched nor listened – this luxury had been chopped off. Were it not for my cousin brother who was passing by and attempted to greet my old buddy; and when no response came he moved closer only to notice his unnatural slump in that chair. Destination – hospital. Admitted. The second admission he had in his entire life.

I was startled as I started my plan to go see my old buddy. In the meantime, necessity invited me to search information regarding “stroke” – thanks to Google for there was plenty. There was promise. There was hope.

My journey lasted 19 hours, filled with anxiety, restlessness and hopefulness. Memories engulfed and seized my being akin to poetic fantasy. This man, this old man, was my buddy. My childhood years were squarely laid bare in his capable hands right from my 7^th Birthday to my 15^th. He first cooked for me (at age 7) and taught me how to cook; he was my nurse in my illness; he taught me the importance of respect and good manners; we slept in one bedroom and he thus became my first roommate in life. I slept in my small foldable spring bed that I at times dived in and let it rock me – to sleep; and he slept in his big wooden bed that he never ever left un-made. I imitated him. His penchant rules of life included; respect everyone; be kind; don’t break the law; be disciplined. He was a very strict disciplinarian in every sense of the word. He kept in mind my faults/misdeamors and on the count of three, he would bring out his cane (I never knew where he hid it) and gave me a thorough beating, told me to be a better boy (I always thanked him after these beatings).

As an electric fitter, he couldn’t boast a decent education because he studied up to standard three in primary school and yet he could boast of some vocabulary in English – usually these disjointed one-syllable words (I think he acquired some of these words when he worked for the Wazungus). I also noticed that his incorrect pronunciation of certain words was basically an imitation of what he had heard from people (he never bothered to get the right pronunciation). That notwithstanding, he was proud of what he knew. Most importantly though, he liked educating his children and all his 25 children managed to go to school (until such a time or level they chose to stop or drop out). This is a man, who, at the end of every school term always selected an “academic day” at one of his houses for which he held court with all his school-going children. At that point, the eldest child would be given the privilege to read all the Report Cards. This included everyone’s marks, position in class and the teachers’ remarks. After every read, he would delve into passionate counseling each and everyone regarding the school performance. If an improvement had been made from the previous, he would lavish praise and congratulations; otherwise he would scorn and admonish. Punishment was meted to anyone who failed in school and also those whose behaviours had been wanting (it included a handful of cane strokes). He dismissed the court with a stern insistence of the need to everyone to work hard. He said that the only inheritance he would bestore upon us was giving us an opportunity to be educated, whoever missed it, and he was blameless. This man motivated me to read. And reading I did. And reading still do. Reading became a permanent fixture in my life.

Thanks for the memories for they became my companion in the journey.

I arrived at the hospital and behold, here was my old buddy. Sick. Tired. Frail. Helpless. My two mothers had been keeping him vigil for the last few days. His entire right half of the body had frozen. Cold. Senseless. Upon recognizing me, he hugged me so tight and burst out crying tears I hadn’t seen before. A strong man I had known had finally broken - for once. This, long, tight and tear-filled hug was poignant. I was happy to see my old buddy again, but not happy to see him in this state. In retrospect, our previous meetings were always marked by my attentive listening and his passionate speaking. He never ran short of dispensing advice and wisdom, it ran like a continuous river – always. My soul was always warmed. My memory of our last meeting with him two months earlier ended with his request to me to marshall his male troops (sons) for an important meeting. It never came to pass.

So here I was, staring at what was left of my old buddy. A reduced frame. His eyes were now deep-seated, retreated inwards with a gaze of fear. Uncertainty. Emptiness. His right fore and hind limbs useless; his smile an empty shell; his mouth only left for one function – eating. Eating he only did through convincing and persuasion. His appetite for food gone. The only point of conversation was his incompetent left hand – with gestures that no one could decipher; he nodded and shook his head to questions; he groaned when in pain. Stroke had cut off his tongue. His legs were restricted to the wheel chair as I wheeled him out to bathe in the sunrise. My quest to remind him of our memories was met by a little smile, but not a hearty one. Everything had to be done for him and to him.

After twelve days of human, spiritual and medical Endeavour, he was set free with strict instructions that home-based physiotherapy would put him in good stead of recovery – to our collective sigh of relief. We did as advised and even took him for a review after seven days. Some change was noticed when he gained strength.

It was this progress that necessitated my decision to return to work. I sought my old buddy’s permission to leave to which he reluctantly accepted.

Two days later I arrived at my work station and on the second day at 12:13Hours came in Getu’s call that lasted 13 Seconds. I hang up. Looked up, the skies couldn’t open; looked around me – I was alone surrounded by pending tray; looked behind me and in front of me – walls, walls. Broken. Crushed. Shattered. Scattered. Distressed. Distraught. Devastated.

12^th June, 2014. 2.00PM, my old buddy had taken his final bow. Quietly. Silently. Peacefully. But presumably at the wrong time.

You see, in my community, the time of an elder’s death (my old buddy was one at 72), is very significant. Death after dusk is treated as a “good death” because the dead had “completed the day’s work”. Death in the middle of the day was seen as a “death in anger and bitterness”. No wonder even after my old buddy was pronounced “rested”, no one was permitted to begin mourning or “crying out loudly” until dusk when an elder would direct so. Well, word went round this Igara village like a bush fire about the death of the elder statesman; and as kinsmen and village folk trooped and gathered in his compound, the crowd swelling, the smell of death hanging around everyone’s heart and throat, every single soul waited, with abated breath for the bell to ring…

I embarked on one long, painful, thoughtful and sorrowful journey – seeing off my old buddy and giving him a permanent and befitting farewell. A farewell that occurred nine days later – June 21^st 2014 culminating to the critical dates of 21^st May, 12^th June and 21^st June, 2014 – Stroke. Death. Burial (21. 12. 21).

Questions still linger as hope abound,

Did you die in anger as we kept the bond?

I stand in wonder restless of spirit,

You in the world yonder united in spirit,

Yours a life braver and larger,

Your spirit hovers and always greater.

As I mourn your painful death,

I celebrate your humble life,

Filled with wisdom and counsel,

Discipline and persistence,

Hear then my victory song,

As you rest in peace eternal.

Remain in knowledge brave sentinel,

That yours was an untimely death,

One year ago today,

You broke my heart

DO JUST ONE GOOD AND STAND TALL | By Denniece Black |

Ever heard of the acronym “ARK” – Act of Random Kindness? I have heard it said numerous times. My question usually is, “why random?” Why not “PAG” – Purposive Act of Goodness?

Today I am endeared towards speaking about a delicate matter – choosing to do just but one thing and sticking to it.

First you have to identify one good thing that you can offer to yourself, to others and to humanity as a gift. Humanity comes with a whole package of virtues and other deeds that are meant to be nurtured for the benefit of self and others. I am inclined to believe that we all mean good (at least most of the times), apart from those isolated days that we are seized and out-powered by the temptation to do evil or just not to do good. There are those moments when we don’t necessarily exhibit that goodness when dealing with ourselves and even with others. No wonder our reputation always goes either before us or behind us. We can choose how and when this reputation should be invoked. You see your reputation is either an richly attractive fragrance that lasts in people’s hearts whether you are around them or away from them. But it can also be a bad odour that people don’t want to confront!

BE KIND

The choice of kindness (which isn’t as easy an act in our generation) can be invoked by practicing this virtue all the time. To achieve this, one ought to be kind to oneself f. Yes, there are those moments we are hard on ourselves maybe because of the errors of the past, the lack of tender care we give to ourselves. This choice of being friendly and considerate is a genuine ingredient for healthy human relations. Have you ever noticed that as you arrive at work, that cleaning lady, that watchman, that colleague is gracious in his/her kindness? Have you been keen to notice how that cobbler who repaired your broken shoe one time is being sagaciously kind in how he/she treated you and you were running to work? Do you still notice him exhibiting the same to other people whenever you pass by? He doesn’t just do that to earn himself a living but does it to all and sundry? How about that middle-aged lady who sells grocery and vegetables? She always acts kind whenever you go to purchase and even gives you a bonus for coming back. Then there is that brother of yours whom you sometimes wonder whether he swallowed some type of “kindness pills” that make him act kindly to everyone he meets? While I have known kindness, I have learnt it better from watching people practice it without being fazed by the world that appears unkind. If you want to be dressed in kindness, practice and don’t dare look over your shoulder. Just do it!

BE GENEROUS

Are you a generous type of person whose is willing to give plenty of something or everything? Do you offer time to others, money to the needy and give any relevant kind of help? Then do not hesitate to go on and do it, for it is in giving that you receive a hundred-fold says the Good Book! Or are you the type that is surprised by those who give and give without ceasing until you wonder why they are so magnanimous, munificent and lavish? In my life so far, my mother has been the personification of generosity. I have observed that she has ability to give most of what she has and even becomes oblivious of her own needs. Such kind of generosity is not only alarming but rare in our contemporary world. While this virtue most often put her in trouble with my late dad, she silently and at times secretly kept giving – she still unequivocally does! When gently asked what provokes her to do that without tiring, her response usually is, “I learnt to give. I will always give, why son, God gives us so that we can give to the others.” Choose to give as a duty. Who knows what legacy you will be remembered for?

KEEP TIME

People who keep time have always impressed me. I treasure them and respect them. They do so not because there would be a punishment if they didn’t keep time, but they know the overwhelming benefit of it. Take for example you have a business appointment and a social date with someone. It is almost obvious that the former appointment might be taken “seriously” and quite a good number of people would rather be in time for the meeting or be sorry for being late. A social date might be ignored because most people don’t attach “seriousness” to such an event and keeping time is not a big deal for a date. For me, on the contrary, it is a big deal! I contend that any event that has time set for meeting should be respected. Discipline for time keeping can earn one a great reputation and also help one be readily relied upon in executing any time-bound goals or missions in life. Woe unto those who don’t care about keeping time. If your conscience is not moved by lateness for any kind of appointment that obviously means you don’t value your own time and other people’s time. Why should you keep someone waiting for you for a whole thirteen minutes? A thirteen-minute flight would have covered approximately 12,675miles in those 13 minutes… that is really a big distance above sea level! Ask those who have missed a flight, like me, what it means not to keep time.

KEEP YOUR WORD

I am clearly reminded of the adage, ‘promises make dates and dates make promises.’ That is why I have learnt not to deliberately make a promise that I am not sure I can honour. I have also noted that we most often take it for granted when we promise people we shall do something. For example, how many times have you promised or told a friend, relative that you will call them and never really got to call them? Or promised to catch them on Facebook, Email, Whatsapp, Text message and never kept your word? While it sounds so mundane a thing that many people seem to brush off or just ignore, I find it a violation of the human conduct to say you will do something and you don’t do it and you are even unapologetic about your failure to keep your word. I think it is better to shut up your big mouth of empty of promises than keep it open and yet do nothing about it! In the event that external factors conspire to prevent you from keeping your word. Just do one thing – communicate. Tell those that you promised that you could not make it but you will make it at an alternative time. Choose to keep your word. You will be remembered for such a gesture that many take for granted.

RESPECT

I am reminded that respect is not necessarily solicited but it is earned. This means we have to have some level of decency through an admiration of ourselves and our abilities. Then this air of earned moderation can enable us recognize the worth in other people and hence strive to treat them with the same or even more admiration. Self-respect will definitely lead to respect for others. Perhaps the words of Laurence Sterne can be an encouragement to many when he said, “Respect for ourselves guides our morals; respect for others guides our manners” There you are, choose to practice respect and you will definitely navigate the journey of life with little to regret but more to be proud of because respect for all prepares a way for a satisfied life.

Now there could be many good things we can do in this life; humility, temperance, courage, patience, persistence, honesty and all.

Purposive Act of Goodness is fulfilling something commonly known as the “rule of the sea” which simply states that, “Be Good and Do Good”

Come on good people, let us spread this Purposive Act of Goodness!

Fare Thee Well Old Buddy

My Old Buddy,
You have taken a final bow,
You wrestled with the last pangs of pain,
Like a woman in her first labour,
But we thank you for the fruits of your labour,
You struggled to speak to us the last words,
Even we tried to read your lips in vain.

We rejoice in your wisdom,
Which has span seven decades,
God chose that you rest,
For thine time had come,
We had prayed you live longer,
We shall keep praying as you rest.

I will forever celebrate your life,
Your life's lessons are not in vain,
You were my friend from childhood.

Till we meet again,
Rest in Peace Tata Bonventure,

Fare thee well old buddy!