To the boy who rejected me

I have shaved my hair. Not all of it. Just enough so that I am still recognisable as a woman but unrecognisable to the girl who faced so much rejection from you. I do not blame you, let it be clear. Even though when I showed my cards, you chose not to play the game. Even though I chose you, you chose to still go with someone else. Even though I married you, your eyes never stopped wandering. And even though I prayed and pleaded with the universe, still you did not come my way.

    Your face still runs through my mind time and time again. Your crazy hair that I would run my fingers through. Your masculine body – short, tall, slim, bulky – as I looked ashamedly at my own, first through the ignorant eyes of youth and later through eyes that have seen its fair share of toil – childbirth and plain old obesity.

It has taken me many years to realise that I am beautiful, through my own eyes. You see, for a very long time I judged myself based on what I believed you saw. Beautiful but not beautiful enough, interesting but not interesting enough; and intelligent but not intelligent enough. Over and over again I would stare at first girls, then women, whom I believed you were in awe of and wanted to be with. So I wore different weaves and starved myself but still it was never enough for you. 

    Eventually I broke down when you took off with someone else, when you cheated, when you proposed to someone else and when you did not pitch up for our wedding because the universe was obviously not hearing my song. With every instance I would label myself a fool and for my own sanity, which was in fact insanity, I would throw my arms into anyone willing to be with me. When the right man finally fell into my arms, I could not breathe because they did not smell of you; so I ended it. But in ending it, I fell right back into your cold arms and so the self loathing began all over.

But one day I remembered a boy who did choose me. A boy who patiently waited until I was mature enough to be with him. Unfortunately for us, or perhaps unfortunately for the things we desired for our lives; our paths went separate ways and this was my first taste of defeat. He still pines for me even in his married life, pines for the love lost out of circumstances beyond our control. If only you would pine for me this way and not in the stupid messages you send me which speak only of lust and the non existent messages I imagine receiving out of my own lust. 

     The last time I fell in love, I was certain it would be true because I had cast a wish on the universe and it produced you. You, the last boy I fell in love with because the relationships after that were a mere desperation in an attempt to forget you. I had loved over many seasons, fooled around too but truly believed, because I had changed the game; that you were the one. I told the world about you but nothing happened, you never appeared except as a name in the long list of boys who reached me.

And so here I am surrounded by the memories of a boy who did love me; and remains my best friend. At first I took it as a sign that love is something not meant for me. I allowed myself to wallow in the sadness of all your faces as they flashed before me. How you chose someone else and how you never appeared, no matter how much I begged the universe to turn you into a reality. I drowned in my own misery, remembering all your fingers upon my body and your fingers that never got to touch me. I cursed the universe.

     But then I remembered the boy who loved me, who grew into the man who pines for me. And I realised that I was capable of being loved, without the weaves and the skinny body. And I started to look at myself differently. To see myself as me, a lovable being. I began to love me. And to mark this new beginning, to from the former me who did not like herself; I shaved my hair. But not all of it because who we were makes us who we are.

I look forward to the self love and I thank you, for rejecting me because it has allowed me to love me. I saw you in the super market queue with your children and I wanted to strike up a conversation. Instead I smiled, to myself, as I sent a note up to the universe that I was willing to wait. Wait for the man who would be drawn to my love because of his own love. I know he is out there – the man who will accept me as I am because I accept him as he is.

The Girl with a Dream

In 2013 I decided that it was time to go back to full time studies, on a part time basis. It seemed a little crazy since I already had a couple of qualifications under my belt – ranging from Finance, Project Management and Development but I needed to prove to myself that I could. Which makes it the more stranger since I had already proven myself. Let’s say, I was in search of just that little bit extra. I went one step further and set my self a goal to finish the degree in four years, never mind that all other past attempts had ended abruptly mostly due to work commitments. Anyway off I went, armed to the teeth with determination and what an uphill battle it was. Everything that the universe could fling at me it did – excessive workload, horrible managers, family challenges, unemployment, failed relationships – everything. There were moments when I was so close to the edge of quitting and I would bawl my eyes out, scream at myself in the mirror, give myself serious pep talks about laziness; just about anything to get myself back on track. And it paid off. I remember receiving my final result and finding all the weight lifting off my shoulders. I had achieved what I had set out to do and nobody could take it away from me. From the onset and during the challenges, I never took my eyes away from the image of myself wearing a graduation gown (again). And so on the 20th of June this year that vision became a reality. I am officially a BA in Community Development graduate.

Graduation, 20 June 2016
The girl with a dream, June 20 2016

Three days later, I was writing an exam. What’s that you say? Well along my journey I had decided to pursue a PhD. Why? Because it’s a possibility and my rule is that if someone has done it, that’s already half the work done for you. So earlier this year whilst anxiously awaiting my results, I decided to register for the three modules that would get me into the Honours in Anthropology programme. And whilst I wait for those results I am doing an online course on Divination (prediction) Systems. But wait there’s more. Before the month ends I would have registered for a BSC in Informatics. It may all seem like madness but for, I am just a girl with a dream.  And the studies might seem disjointed but trust me, there is method to the madness.

I have learnt to trust gut feel mixed with a bit of logic and it has paid off. Watching the graduation proceedings I kept my eyes on the graduates in red. I watched them get onto that stage and be awarded the status of Doctor. In my mind I ran through the title of my thesis which I had decided on in 2013, I saw the e-mail I had written this year to one of the lecturers explaining my study path and I saw the little girl who had stood in her parents’ garden dreaming of working in the then Zaire. Over the years I veered off that path but I understand now that never once did I lose my way. I am just a girl with a dream and I am making it happen, bit by bit with Love, Laughter & Laughter.


The Informatic Anthropologist

Pump This

Everything I know about cars I learnt from petrol attendants. Every time I have gotten lost on the road, I have found my way because a petrol attendant has asked his whole team and the whole station for directions. Every flat tyre, unfamiliar symbols on the dashboard and all things that a car uses to throw a tantrum, there’s been a petrol attendant to help me figure it out. But the best bit about the petrol attendants I have encountered on my journey are the conversations that leave me brimming with #LoveLaughterLight.

As I was about to pull out of the station today, the petrol attendant asked me what I do. His response was that he knew from our very first conversation that I do the work I do, that it made sense. Of course, anybody could have said it but when you’re feeling down and seeking clarity; the answers can come from anywhere – even from the mouths of petrol attendants. Petrol station visits aren’t just a stop for me, they are an opportunity to engage with staff who come across people from all walks of life. You would be amazed at their wisdom, not just about cars but about life.

The petrol attendant who gave me my first car advice has since passed on but he is still alive in my memory and every now and then I stop at that petrol station to remind myself how #Blessed I am to have met him and how blessed I am to meet wonderful and selfless people everyday.

Shoutout to all the petrol attendants the world over, you are AWESOME! Yup, even the grumpy ones and the ones who hit on you and even the ones you have been horrible to because you felt they didn’t serve you quick enough ;-p

#ExperienceTalk #SoulSong

Friday morning sunlight reflection

Lately I feel beyond my normal happy state as if there is something I did this week that elevated me onto my next path; like I have let go of something. I have started writing again, not poetry but snippets of the wonderful people I have met on my journey; a sort of public gratitude journal. With this comes a yearning for I am not sure what and instead of looking around, I am waiting patiently for it to make an appearance. I turned 36 this year, not that it matters, but the sentence wanted to be written so let’s pursue it and see.

Here we go. I sense that this year is where I begin to experience myself; get to know myself a little deeper and to love myself even more. And yet I am hesitant because part of me worries what if I am bigger than I could ever imagine? What am I to do with a me that is larger than life? I suppose we are all meant to be larger than life, that is why we are unique. Mhhh I see where this is going….

I love helping others unleash their potential but my own I only allow to slip through on its own accord and only arrive at points I am meant to be at later than the designated time. Should this matter? Isn’t the point that eventually you arrive? So why this yearning, why a dirge from my soul? I want to be more me than I have ever been, to rise up to the self that is intended to be because if I am to achieve my mission, I need to stand head and shoulders alongside it.

What next then? How do I step up to this? Do I just close my eyes and release the me that wants to remain sitting? Sounds about right. My mind is riddled with so many hows and perhaps that is the problem. I need to learn to continue trusting in the process. Yes.

I leave it here.


Words of encouragement


Your world may seem upside down right now but over the years you will come to realise one of two things: that it was alright upside down or that it wasn’t upside down at all. Either way, you’re going to be just fine.



Lately, I have taken to giving a brief introduction to my poems. Tonight though, I feel the following poem needs no explanation. It speaks to those who have an understanding of the parallel universe and multiverse; but also understanding that everything is as it should be. That we have no control of the right now but rather on the next moment. I had such an experience on Saturday; where the next moment was determined by the actions taken in the presence. Possible scenarios play in my head right now, alternatives to the action I did take but when all is said and done, it don’t matter. Right now is a new moment; life goes on.


In that other world, the colour of the sky don’t matter;

Each day blends into the next and we don’t notice because we live in the moment;

Your face tastes like the golden brown tones of the sun;

Your smile the gentle raindrops of moon dust;

And I am filled with a laughter that has never known the touch of a broken heart;

Because there is no dis-ease in this place;

No false pretences, no melodies sung with stricken sorrow;

No questioning of each other’s identity and preferences;

We just are, enclosed in the bosom of being without regret;

Intertwined in the tendrils of selflessness;

Lost in the art of breathing;

Riding the mist in careless abandon, we grow wiser;

We speak truth without expectation, no hidden egos, no denying emotions in fear of ridicule;

Rejoicing in knowing that I am you and you are me and we are we;

And it don’t matter that our song is not always the same because it is music to my tapping toes;

Dancing in that other world is like rolling down a hill in glee;

Catching flowers in my hair and covering myself with a grassy scent;

We lay on our backs and catch a glimpse of that other world;

Where nothing seems right and our breath is off key;

But every now and then, oblivious to us, our energies unite;  

We cross paths at the supermarket entrance;

Caught up in the rumblings of our own worlds but it don’t matter;

A moment experienced unnoticed, its truth lived in the all-knowing depths of our subconscious.

(c) Yaya unpublished work, October 2016

Do, You.

“Do, You.” is inspired by an ad I once saw, a few times. A couple of school girls are standing in a group but one has her head tilted in a different direction to the others. The ad was about being extra ordinary, which is the type of people that particular company employs. I seem to remember what company it was for but just in case I’ve misinterpreted the ad, I’ll keep it to myself.

This poem is about embracing yourself, allowing yourself to experience things differently; as artists do and being pleasantly surprised. Step away from the status quo and you might find your wings. I’ve done this a couple of times in my life, some moves I’ve regretted but never the satisfaction from having discovered something new, about me.

Whenever the world looks a little bit blury, I tilt my head and see it from a different perspective. That’s all there is to the poem, a call for you to Do, You Boo 🙂

It is probably my last piece until I am done with exams so, enjoy.

Do, You.

Head tilt.
See raindrops form in sky.
Draw child crying for lollipop
or sheep at drinking hole.
See shooting star.
Draw dancing skies
or sun chasing moon.
Head tilt.
See blue in green, paint red.
See rustling grass, write song.
Feel breeze, dance. Hear flowing water, sing.
Head tilt.
Poem leaps from city sounds,
bounces off funeral procession,
plucks corn from fields,
dips feet in lakes and oceans,
laments at lost love,
the poet is alive,
Inspiration is found.
(c) Yaya
Unpublished work, October 2016