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.

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.

2012 New Year's poem - The Moon

Does the moon count
How many more sleeps?
Or does it simply slip
Through another year?
Does its light dim
With each passing year
Or does it scotch?
Groaning for the promised
Unending new day
Of its former way.

Where is its favourite abode?
Where would it rather live?
Is it a wondering light
Lost in time?
Since it never lives
In any one place,
Does it simply kill time?
Till eternity cries;
Your light has come!
Your Light has come!
Then it shall forever be freed
From wondering.
It shall die.
It shall die.
A happy death.
Letting go
Of time's loneliness
For the true Light
Has finally come.
The moon is no longer
Space and time's prisoner.

© Siki Dlanga
31 Dec 2012

The Greatest Gifts

The richest men and women in all the ages put together would never be able to put enough riches to purchase it.
All the saints in all the ages put together who have done mighty good deeds would never be able to equal this gift.
Nor would they be able to fix all the ills of the world or the world would be perfect by now.
This breathe I breath, not a rich person can purchase it.
This life that courses through my veins no amount of another's goodness can purchase.
Even the bad guy in the street can run and speak words freely.
He too has been given a brain and talents freely without discrimination.
All have been freely given the best gifts already.
These are the most expensive things that can’t be bought.

God is extremely generous, it is God’s benovelence. He has given it all for free what a paradox!
The greatest gift is the most expensive gift. It is all for free even though it is not cheap.
Opportunity is another subject though all together.

Grace is embodied in Christ Jesus and becomes real for anyone who believes in Him.

He is the greatest gift to mankind.
Anyone can have the freedom He gives, even the prisoner and the saint.

Cape Town, The Mother City

She holds on to the edge of my skirt and refuses to let go. She cries for me like a child. But I thought she was the Mother and I was the child who had come to suckle on her breast for nourishment and like any mother when I reach late teenagehood she must let me go. She must trust that I am ready for the world. I went to the airport as agreed and yet when I was there ready to take off to the Eastern Cape she denied me exit. She would not let me go. This Mother City refused me exit.

She told me that I was 7 minutes too late for my flight and if I wanted to leave, I would have to pay much more. She tried to fine me or else I will pay a lesser amount if I leave a week later.

So I remain in the Mother City. At first I sulked. She kept telling me how grateful I should be. "Do you know how many people out there wished they had me as a mother?" She kept nagging, telling me of her beauty. Beauty I had and still appreciate but I am maybe after a while I am simply tired of being mothered. Where is the father? Maybe the city is full of people with father issues because she refuses to let us in the secret. Who is the father?

I have been telling her that I am giving her space. Space to take more people but she does not believe me. Men come to her and wish to be women too. I do not know how to explain that, but I know about her fire, I know about her tenacity. I know that she is the corner within which the nation is built and if she is not conquered and if her fire will not touch all her children in every province then we have no country to speak of.

She must release that love and begin to look outward and ask why are the nations drawn to her beauty? She is meant to heal the nations without discrimination if she will quit being vain. She will cleans the nations with her fire. Her beauty will awaken the the king's strength. He will roar her name. He will free the captives. From lion's head to the pyramids of Egypt that roar of the mother lion will free everyone of her cubs in every country. If she will see it.

And I must go. She must get that.

SAY I DO THIS CHRISTMAS!

Every year people ask about the true meaning of Christmas.

Christmas is about love. It is bigger than the Christmas tree in your lounge. Christmas is a love story that is far bigger than all the weddings ever had. Christmas is about an insane, intense love that pushed God to become His own creation so that they would finally believe that His love is real. It is the biggest love gesture ever done. It is bigger than every  engagement ring ever given.

Whether you will be surrounded by loving or not-so-loving family members; whether you will be seemingly alone; seemingly because you are never alone, ever, part of the Christmas gift is that He is Emmanuel, God with us, Counsellor and Friend. In all of that no matter where you find yourself or with who or without,  remember that you are loved intensely, crazily, from eternity and back, you are loved.

You are loved and Christmas was made for you to know that love and if you would believe in the gift of God you would be saved. If you will receive that crazy love that will go to the edge of hell, immerse itself in death and sickness and darkness so that you will be forever free from it all. Shout "Yes I do"!

Christmas is a love story. It is an insane crazy love bigger than any gift you could wish for. Receive it! I receive it and shout out for all eternity to hear that I said; "Yes, I do! I do!"

Yes to this neverending forever Love and Yes to the Eternal Lover who made this great proposal and gesture. "Yes I DO".

Hear God shout from eternity "YOU ARE LOVED"! Hear the soft whisper from deep, deep within your soul shouting softly if you will hear...."YOU ARE LOVED!" 

How can you say anything else this Christmas but say for all time and space to know, say "I do! I receive the greatest love of all." Say "I will not go without."

This is the true meaning of Christmas.

My Thoughts on Fashion

Today, there is nothing fashionable about fashion. It has become a universal uniform in different colours and prescribed shapes at various seasons. Quite frankly it is boring. It has lost its art.  Globalisation is also sadly doing nothing for inspiration. It lacks boldness. If you don't believe me go to Cape Town's famous "creative" long street, shop after shop displays the same same thing.

At times I think it is infuriating and even insulting to creativity at other times.