Siki Poetry PowerFM conversation with Thabo

A podcast of an interview I did with PowerFM today. 

https://twitter.com/powerfm987/status/524860242619035648

DearBlackMan the Pilot

#DearBlackMan the first time I ever went to Johannesburg was by train. At the first stop in Johannesburg I suddenly wept. I was overwhelmed by the sudden pain and realization that it was you DearBlackMan who built that railway. It was with your blood and sweat. I wept at the lives that were lost for the sake of gold or to build a civilization that you would not enjoy. I didn't anticipate the pain I felt nor had I deeply considered how most of the world's civilization was built by your hands. 

Maybe this is a lament or it is not. 

On my last flight from CT to EL our pilot happened to be none other but you DearBlackMan. My first black pilot ever. 

You announced your name, it was Phiwe. 

Your Xhosa accent was all over that English language. I loved that. I imagined a flight where Xhosa would used to address passengers. We are in Africa after all. I smiled. I smiled because I have never remembered a pilot's name before. I forget it the second he introduces himself but this was far too special. 

With a wide smile I relaxed because it occurred to me that most likely, for the longest time, it had to be your hands that have been placing all the pieces of an airplane together. If something terrible happened you might naturally know what to do to fix it. 

It's a gamble but that thought settled me further. Though Chris Barnard became famous, it was the dear black man's hands that skillfully and masterfully handled that famous first heart transplant. Of course we had a fantastic flight. It was my favourite and smoothest flight so far. Landings are not my favourite but it landed beautifully. I smiled. I imagined your mother praying for you every time you are on duty. Phiwe, indeed what a gift! 

The Music Coke Can Chap

Taxi story: It was raining hard. He quickly opened the cockroach taxi door for me before my hands could reach and get even more wet. I stepped inside thankful and regretful. I regretted the fact that it was raining. My poor painting! 

What I regretted more was being forced to be inside that cockroach taxi as a result. What was this horrible smell? Lord? It smelt like a couple of people hadn't bathed, people often smell nice and fresh in taxis. In fact you won't find fresher, cleaner smelling people together. 

I looked at the young man next to me and he was certainly responsible for more than half of this unpleasant odor.  He shifted closer to me. Underneath the unpleasant odor and dirty clothes he had such a pleasant spirit. I felt it in the manner with which he opened the door for me. I would just have to be strong then. He fumbled in his red bag and brought out a can of Coke and music out of the Can of Coke!!! 

I'm like Wow what is that? He explained the creative musical object to me with a dimpled smile. All of a sudden all smells were forgiven if they were to achieve this! I was so impressed with him I told him that I was paying his taxi fare! I was compelled to. I was so impressed with him. I wanted him to know how special he was. 

His eyes sparkled as I asked him to explain this Coke can musical object. He took old phone parts and turned them into a mobile mp3 player! How is that! "I can fix anything.  I taught myself!" He fixes TV sets, radios, phones and now he wants to explore the world of refrigerators too!

 

Everything will be alright in the End

"Everything will be alright in the end. If it is not yet alright then it is not yet the end."

 - The Exotic Marigold Hotel

Thundafund Anniversary

It has been a poetry month.
I have performed my poetry ontop of Lion's Head before various young adults ranging from Sweden to Brazil, USA to Thailand, Middle-East to Norway, Nigeria, Congo, South Africa, Zimbabwe, Kenya, Mali etc. The liberty I felt on top of that mountain was freedom I could not describe. I enjoyed it for a few seconds and then made my declaration to a new generation of Mandelas.

I read poetry from my book "Word of Worth" in Robben Island's famous prison cell where freedom fighters of South Africa were held. There I momentously saw fit to read my poem 'Prisoner of Hope'. I cannot think of a more epic month of poetry mostly because I performed in.  So this time last year I was launching Launching my poetry Thundafund project!! Exactly on 27 June 2013 it came live! The day before it came live however I was so excited as we drove through a RAINBOW!!! Tomorrow on that same date a year later I will be helping a friend as she launches her book. I will open her launch with poetry. That is is amazing.
A rainbow month. Visit it: Successful Thundafund Poetry Video

Therefore I am.

I am loved fully and completely, therefore I am. 

I love because of I AM therefore i am. 

I am a product of love, from love and my end is for love. This is the story of humanity in the hands of a holy God. 

All other loves must acknowledge this perfect pure passionate Love if they are true. There are many imitations of love masquerading as the true thing. If it does not look like the way God says love looks like, it is not love, it is a perversion and therefore opposes God Himself. 

How many times have we heard humanity justify perversity by calling it love? Love looks like God. Everything else will fade away with human pride.

"9We love because he loved us first." - 1 John 4:9

Awesome testimony about forgiveness

http://audio.yishaifleisher.com/GY_Yishai_Show_Week_140_Q4.mp3

#Shabbat #Shalom