*Published in the Letters section of The Namibian Newspaper, Friday 08 July 2016 http://www.namibian.com.na/Mice-in-Hospital-not-Shocking/42730/read Dear Editor I’m writing this letter in response to an article published in your paper on Tuesday 05th July 2016 titled “Mice become regulars at Katutura hospital”. Ever since I can remember there have been constant reports in all forms of…
We Got It Right
For all the times when the world will ask too much of me, On long nights when I can’t fall asleep, I will place my head on your chest, Your heartbeat will be the sweetest lullaby to me. As I gently write the words “I love you”, Across the left side of your chest with…
Somewhere Along The Way
Somewhere along the way, Someone taught us that love meant pain. What a vulgar distortion, One however, we never set straight again. Someone taught us to hurt ourselves, Someone taught us to fear our joy. That the ugliest hearts, Deserve the greatest praise. Somewhere along the way, Someone convinced us, That to really love someone…
“I’m not my brother’s keeper.” I beg to differ.
We live in an age where we rely on social media to tell us how people are doing. Let’s be honest; we have all sat down with friends and spent the majority of the time on our phones posing for photographs, finding the perfect caption and posting. After that, we monitor how many “likes” the photograph has received, WHO liked it and how quickly they didn’t like it and more often than not, who DIDN’T like it.
The Little Things…
I appreciate the little things, The little things, That turned into big things. The little joke, That turned into years of laughter, The little smile, That never left thereafter. The little hug, That turned into a warm embrace, The little “hi”, That turned in to conversation for days. The little look, That turned into an…
I haven’t cried for you…
I haven’t cried for you, I haven’t shed a single salty tear. I haven’t spent nights curled up on the floor, With my own whimpers piercing through my ears. I haven’t cried for you, Not for a moment, not a single day. But not because my heart didn’t break Not because I didn’t care, Not…
Breathe
And maybe,
When all the damage done by all the years spent living in the moments in which we live starts to subside;
To return to the ability to trust as delicately as with the innocence of a child,
Maybe then we’ll scream… love!
Maybe Tomorrow
So… if words would suffice,
I’d write you a letter,
A maybe a sonnet or two.
It takes a special type of evil.
Recently, I attended a beauty contest. One of the contestants was asked a question about how to curb rape and violence towards women. Her response started with how women should dress more modestly; wear less revealing clothes etc. My blood began to boil.
Ndapewoshali Writes 