Saturday evening I attended the "LOVE. NOT LOSS. A RHINO LOVESTORY", event, about the increasing rates at which Rhinos are being poached. It breaks my heart, as the last time I had seen a rhino, I was far too young to remember. And I really want my own children to see them someday.
I'd like to share a few photos on animal poaching.

Africa is home to the big five, but if the things continue, it will be home to the big four....
                                                               think before you act

...they call me teacher...

 This post has been long due, but I've slowed down so much, so here it finally is... I will upload pictures of the school as soon as the gates re-open, just to give you a glimpse of my work place in pictures.

what I orginally wrote:

Government School

I am not even permanently employed and I can already give you a list of reasons, ‘Why you should not work for the Government’…

It’s been a little over 3 months being employed by the Ministry of Education and in all honesty I could write a book. I teach at a high school; not sure if it’s the dumpsite of the government or if the children that attended are 100%. By 100% I mean normal, being ignored is the order of the day and the learners do as they please regardless of rules. You’d think certain morals and values are taught at home but that seems not the case. Over 150 learners come to school way past the start of the school day; take a drive round about half past 7 and you would be in shock. Meaning as a teacher, you hardly ever have a full classroom.  The learners come to school with sharp objects, don’t you dare step on any ones shoes and you might just get stabbed. Young girls aged 15 carrying knives around because you don’t dare mess with them.  Fence- jumping happens throughout the day. I feel like I’m in a scene of ‘Dangerous Minds’, as Bone Thugs n Harmony play in the background. The cleaners don’t clean; they sip on tea all day and sell popcorn. The principal gives ideal threats daily and the ‘management’ forgot they too are just teachers. There is no order and routines do not exist; hardly if ever are lessons the required 40 minutes.  Insults and ignorance is the order of the day.

 As a temporary teacher you have no benefits but have to work just as hard as the rest. You collect your cheque every 20^th at the Ministry of Education offices in the France Indonga Building; just to get there and it is not ready. Now you worked, but you not permanent so you MUST wait and the staff at the salary office has full rights to be rude and treat you as they please. 

There is nothing I enjoy more than teaching but the Government Education system is messed up, really messed up. Parents don’t instil values and morals and on top of teaching one has to deal with ‘How to be a human being” lessons. You go to work/school in fear every day as you do not know what awaits you. You are a robot. The Ministry of Finance controls your salary, the learners’ control the classrooms and management pretend to control the school. Where is the joy in all that?

I sincerely salute all teachers and applaud you for the job you are doing. Teaching is not for the faint hearted.

                                                                                                                             Government Teacher

my brother wrote this, and I wish I did...

"I am not proud to be African. I take no pride in being born in Africa. Where I come from there is a division. Whites are blamed for being superior. The elders tell the story of white superiority, yet I only see blacks being heard, an entitlement that they are the ones that belong. The blacks truly believe that Africa is a black continent, where no whites or light skinned people have a voice or belong. I stand in a queue and everybody looks at me wondering what is a light skinned person doing here. An Africa where the fat cats of government fills themselves with western AID, and after they lick the milk off there whiskers they insult the Europeans for an underdeveloped Africa. An Africa where it is understandable to hate your neighbour for the shade of his skin, hair, car, accent and level of education. Where xenophobic wars break out between brothers. Where I am ashamed to speak my mother tongue because the only history we learn is that it was part of an oppressor long ago. An Africa where democracy has shown that is can produce more votes than the population. I take no pride in being African."- Emcole Strauss

 26 April 2014, Saturday, 23:01

It's late, but I am up doing research for my research. In a nutshell I am doing poetry- self love/ consciousness in selected poetry by Nayyirah Waheed and Warsan Shire; when I am sure I will give the title and write more on my topic, but for now that is that.
I came across the following poem and had to share. I love love, and do it with all of me, so this poem is everything.

Excuses For Why We Failed At Love
by Warsan Shire

I’m lonely so I do lonely things
Loving you was like going to war; I never came back the same.
You hate women, just like your father and his father, so it runs in your blood.
I was wandering the derelict car park of your heart looking for a ride home.
You’re a ghost town I’m too patriotic to leave.
I stay because you’re the beginning of the dream I want to remember.
I didn’t call him back because he likes his girls voiceless.
It’s not that he wants to be a liar; it’s just that he doesn’t know the truth.
I couldn’t love you, you were a small war.
We covered the smell of loss with jokes.
I didn’t want to fail at love like our parents.
You made the nomad in me build a house and stay.
I’m not a dog.
We were trying to prove our blood wrong.
I was still lonely so I did even lonelier things.
Yes, I’m insecure, but so was my mother and her mother.
No, he loves me he just makes me cry a lot.
He knows all of my secrets and still wants to kiss me.
You were too cruel to love for a long time.
It just didn’t work out.
My dad walked out one afternoon and never came back.
I can’t sleep because I can still taste him in my mouth.
I cut him out at the root, he was my favorite tree, rotting, threatening the foundations of my home.
The women in my family die waiting.
Because I didn’t want to die waiting for you.
I had to leave, I felt lonely when he held me.
You’re the song I rewind until I know all the words and I feel sick.
He sent me a text that said “I love you so bad.”
His heart wasn’t as beautiful as his smile
We emotionally manipulated one another until we thought it was love. 
Forgive me, I was lonely so I chose you. 
I’m a lover without a lover. 
I’m lovely and lonely. 
I belong deeply to myself .

Spoken Word- 2 April 2014

This is my current state

Drowning deeper 

with each passing day.

Existence by default.

Pleasure and excitement are nonexistent.

Numb and lame to what others call life.

Existence by default.

Head hardly above water, drenched in what once was.

Calmest war inside, counter attacking.

Trying.  Barely.

Drowning deeper

with each moon lit night.

Silence has become me and I her.

Trying. Barely.

Walking around, head held high but heart full of turmoil.

Uncertain. Unsure. 

Comfort is found where it has always belonged.

Books. Art. Tea. 

Seeking ways to get the hours to move faster.

Pity and doubt are suddenly best friends.

You dont know until it hits you

and it hits you hard.

Uncertain. Unsure.

Like a blow to existence, it smashes you down.

deeper than you have ever been.

it hurts a little.

Drowning deeper.

 I am BROKE, and I have a degree to prove it.

Today is my 20th day of unemployment. HURRAY to me. For the past 4 years I worked for my own money, spend my own money and owned my own money; it is slowly and surely running out. Savings are getting less as I try and keep head above water. I quit therefore I am broke. I quit the job I prayed for, I quit the job someone else didn't get the chance to have. I quit and moved back home, so in some sense I am a quitter. Life happened while I thought I was strong enough to cope with it. Life handed me life, and I tried but discovered that one should never do something you ain't passionate about; you have to love what you do and do what you love.

I started out as a department assistant, the money was lousy but the benefits were pretty cool if you were an art student. I then went on to being an art teacher, I got so attached to the kids, I thought I would never want to do anything else. I don't want to do anything else. I want to teach and I want to do Art, I just don't know about doing both at the same time. Knowing somehow everyday you get to change views and mindsets, maybe inspire someone, is worth getting out of bed for. Others make work sound so easy, get up get things done and get back home. It's different when you an art teacher at a small private school, the kids become your life. The hours and dedication that goes into the work, makes one satisfied. I resigned from being an art teacher to start what I thought would be a new phase of my life. I got the job in Swakopmund, at an environmental education organization. Excited was I, to discover I had to travel by gravel road the desert and the south of Namibia, to make things better for the less fortunate. There is fun in telling the world how cool your job is, that is until you get a blackout leading to a nervous stroke and your dad loses his hand, and nothing seems right anymore. Work did not provide medical aid, given I had to travel long distances with a $50/ day allowance and I had  to sleep out in nature. Pretty cool to the nomads and the free spirits. No amount of money can be substituted for family and your health. And 3 weeks in the bush/desert, 2 blackouts later and a father with 1 less hand, I quit.

Today is my 20th day of unemployment. I am no longer sane. I spent my time doing errands for the family, I am the driver, the nanny, the chef, the personal shopper, you name it, that is what I am. Most days, the hours drag by, and I spend my time reading and watching series. Other days are more exciting and I do absolutely nothing. I am losing marbles up there and I might be going mad. In all this madness, I found my way back to art and I am falling in love again. Art and I have a special relationship, we drift apart but never truly leave each other. So there is good to bad somehow.

To add to all my madness, I am broke and have a degree to prove it. I have been studying for the past 6 years and this year is my 7th. Lets just say I enjoy being educated. How I am going to pay for my studies, I wish I knew. But from 17:15- 21:30, twice a week, you will find me at Polytech, trying to forget I am broke.

Every time my phone rings or I check my e-mails I hope it is some form of news from the +/- 20 job applications. Just some hope would do right about now as I live of faith alone. By the time I get the call that I got the job, it might be too late, and I might have lost all sanity. But, in the meantime I shall make beautiful art in all forms and  justify my unemployment to experience and education.

                                                                      Warsan Shire

I thank the almighty for your talent, you speak to me as if from me. Your words are my words. Don't ever stop writing and reciting...

                                                                     Warsan Shire

“the year of letting go, of understanding loss. grace. of the word ‘no’ and also being able to say ‘you are not kind’. the year of humanity/humility. when the whole world couldn’t get out of bed. everyone i’ve met this year, says the same thing ‘you are so easy to be around, how do you do that?’. the year I broke open and dug out all the rot with own hands. the year I learnt small talk. and how to smile at strangers. the year I understood that I am my best when I reach out and ask ‘do you want to be my friend?’. the year of sugar, everywhere. softness. sweetness. honey honey. the year of being alone, and learning how much I like it. the year of hugging people I don’t know, because I want to know them. the year I made peace and love, right here.” 
― Warsan Shire

 words are my obsession

POETRY WOMEN...

Alex Elle, Warsan Shire and Nayyirah Waheed are women that inspire me to want to write and read poetry, every single day. Somewhere along my 6 years and 2 months of studies, I was told, poetry is the highest and purest form of ART and I cannot deny it, for I love art and language as if I am Art. So, I will take the next few days to obsess over these poets words.

“why do we get so awkward around deep emotion. why are we embarrassed and resistant. what would happen if we softened into it, instead of criticized it. what would happen if we felt everything we felt, without an urge to suppress the emotions of ourselves or others. what if we believed in waves, instead of fear. what if we enjoyed being vulnerable. i think we would become a compassion that could change the world. what does it hurt to try. the next time you want to shrink, try love, to go loose, i will be trying too.” — nayyirah waheed