Friday, January 20, 2012

Affected by Table Mountain


It is probably not such a good idea to write so late at night for I fear my subconscious mind at this hour is louder than my conscious mind. The subconscious is the part that slips the truth out when one is most relaxed. This is the time where you hear the secrets the heart will never share with the mind. If you have ever chatted with a friend until late at night, this is the time you begin to really hear the things that are in the seat of their heart. What she or he really longs for, what she felt when this happened and that didn't happen.

I will tell you about the secret of the mountain. The mountain has always been an imposing beauty, a proud strong horse whose back is for the fearless to ride. As a child I might even have believed that it held history and mystery no human could ever fully articulate. I wanted it to tell me how it came to be, what happened all those years ago because it had been the only constant witness between time and humans in all the generations past. It knows better than we do about its history.

But we all know that mountains do not speak. They just stand there watching.

I have moved to the Eastern Cape to the region where there are no mountains but hills and plenty of sea. I never thought that I would ever miss Cape Town.  Well, I knew that I would most certainly miss my friends but not Table Mountain. I had spent enough years seeing it after all, I most certainly can do without it now.

In my fourth week in the Eastern Cape I began to long to be in my familiar surrounding. It seemed as though I had believed that I was on holiday until I realised that I missed my friends. Like one who awakes in the early hours of the morning realising that the temperature has dropped dramatically and stretches their hand for the blanket for cover and warmth. I turned and reached for my usual blanket and to my shock it was not there. My blanket was Table Mountain. I did not know it until now.

"For the mountains may depart.... but My kindness wil not depart from you niether will my covenant of completeness be removed from you" - Isaiah 54: 10

I had so many moments in Cape Town where I needed my security. My life was not easy there I needed safety. It turned out that Table Mountain was my faithful bodyguard watching my back. It stood there immovable in its beauty in rain or sunshine. It held its head high held by its solid back. I turned behind me and who had my back but that majestic beast of a mountain? I felt vulnerable without Table Mountain. I felt alone. Perhaps because I had lived all around that mountain I was never too far from it and now I had left my blanket behind and  when I felt the cold I couldn't pull it over me. I missed it. I knew I had lost my security blanket and my bodyguard or a reminder of an Immovable God.

I however knew that here in these hills God's presence is more tangible. There the mountain was a reminder of God's eternal presence however in these hills I do not need to see a mountain. He is my rock. He is with me everyday. Mountains have departed but He remains.

"Though the mountain may depart, and the hills be removed...My steadfast love will never be shaken"

He is Emmanuel, God with'n us, He is ever present eternal God.

Tuesday, January 3, 2012

Siki's hairdo

I love that I can do so many different styles with my hair. This time I was trying to prove a point to my mom and sister that I can do much more with my hair since they were grieving the fact that my hair was now straightened and lost its elasticity one has when they have the revered afro.

I hope my image is visible as I am yet to succeed with posting images on my blog. I seem to be the only blogger in the entire universe who struggles with posting images. My point has been proved and their mouths have been forced to throw a somewhat complimentary statement.

I could write books about my hair alone. I might have to write hair stories to make up for an invisible image if it truly is not visible. The only wonderful thing about this hairstyle is mainly because it is the work of my own hands.

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