Why Blogging?

I’ve always been inquisitive. About everything. I’m the WHY girl. My parents used to be patient with me and answer my never ending whys but there comes a time in a person’s life when you’ll be on your own and sure enough my time came too. “Why do we need to make the bed every morning when we know we’re going to mess it up again at night when we sleep? It’s a waste of time and energy.” I said shooting my mouth without thinking. My mother’s response shocked me. “Because I say so!” That answer left no room for me to ask follow up questions.

Anyone can ask a question. It is understanding the art of who, what, why, when and how that separates the experts from the amateurs. Moreover, it takes a combination of skills to ensure that you get a satisfactory answer.

I was in my early teenage years when I decided to get some answers about my family. It had dawned on me that we did not look like other families and we did not fit into the ‘perfect family model’. There were just too many of us. Firstly, a skilled Question-Asker figures out who is the right person to present the question to. Think about it, are you sitting with a bunch of unanswered questions? Well, my question to you is this, did you ask the right person? I went to my father with my questions.

Secondly, when and where is the question being asked, what is the setting? Often times, people don’t get the answers they are looking for because they lacked knowing the right time to ask, iba ne timing. Understand that there is a time for everything under the sun. If the right time doesn’t present itself, by all means, take the initiative and create it.

We were leaving the mall after my father had bought clothes for my siblings and I. Everyone was in a jolly mood and I seized the moment! As we walked towards the parking lot, I hurried and walked alongside him, it was just the two of us. No one was within ear shot and I tested the waters by talking about silly things. I knew that he was always pleased with himself after fulfilling a parental responsibility, especially if it required finances, he loved providing for us…then I asked.

Thirdly, how do you ask? Take note of every aspect, your tone of voice and how you’re dressed matter. Trust me, leave nothing to chance. As my good friend says, “People need to have a sense of occasion.” I quote him because he is one of the most brilliant Question-Askers I know. Watching him in action is like watching Lionel Messi with a ball on a soccer field or Lira performing live in concert. It is a wonder to behold, pure magic. You can choose to be polite or go for the shock effect, it’s really up to you but be prepared. “Why did you choose polygamy and have fifteen children? If you had one family with fewer children, you’d probably be living your dream life and driving your dream car. You’d probably be a millionaire.” I went for the shock effect!

Children all over the world are taught the universal rule of law: Elders are not to be questioned. Obviously, there are always exceptions to the rule. However, the majority says when a child asks questions, that child is being disrespectful, insolent and is embarrassing their parents. Thank goodness for those parents and caregivers (teachers, aunts, uncles and all those who have some sort of influence in shaping a child) who do not conform to this law. I have a theory about this, I think this is a strategy they came up with because they didn’t know the answer. However, that is not the point. It’s not so much about the answer, it’s about having the platform to ask, to let your mind wander. The man who raised me was a non-conformist. He cultivated a culture of discussion, expressing your views and championed the human right of freedom of speech, within boundaries of course. He always wanted to know what we were thinking and engaged us in many topics from current affairs to what we were interested in. “You know, if I had my way, we would all be living in the same house, under one big roof. Anyways, I am living my dream. Knowing that I’ve built homes for all my children. Even if I die, you will always have your homes. I love that I get to see my children almost everyday. When I see you all happy like this, it makes working hard worth it. I know that I’m rich and I don’t have to have millions in the bank to prove it!”

I was intentional about the name of this blog, Sindiswa’s Sassy Insights. My father who was Zulu, gave me my name. It is of Xhosa origin and he chose it because he loved it. Had he been solely driven by the meaning, he would have given me the IsiZulu version, Sindisiwe which is not the case. Zulu people are bold in whatever they do, irrespective of whether they are right or wrong. My mother is Xhosa and I embrace my Xhosa-ness completely. We all know that this is the smartest tribe in South Africa and very influential too. Nelson Rholihlahla Mandela, Mirriam Makeba, Trevoh Noah, the list is long. According to Collins English dictionary, Sassy means lively, bold and full of spirit. The Merriam Webster’s description is: distinctively smart and stylish. The Oxford dictionary echoes the two previous descriptions adding cheeky. Beyoncé shows off her sassy side through Sasha Fierce her alter ego, who is not afraid to dance and dress fiercely. Insights means observation, the three mentioned dictionaries describe it as perception or understanding. In Psychology, insight is the capacity for understanding one’s own or another’s mental processes through attitudes and behaviour.

My objective is to rise up to the name of this blog, Sindiswa’s Sassy Insights. I have created this platform to express my truth and imagination as writer. Let me say that again, I am a writer and use my imagination through words to tell stories some fact and some fiction. I welcome you to give your insights, tell me what you think, let’s engage.

Over the years, experiences, past failures, fear and Christianity have influenced and somewhat diluted what I want to say and how I want to say it (I shall tackle this story another day). Even if you’re afraid to ask those thought provoking questions, go ahead and ask. Or those seemingly silly questions, ask. Give your thoughts a voice. By doing that, you’re giving yourself one of life’s greatest gifts, the gift of knowledge. My daughter coined the term Question-Asker. At about 8 years old, already tired of all my questions about school, “Mama, you ask too many questions, you’re a Question-Asker.” I took the title and wore it like a badge of honour whilst changing the questions I asked and how I asked them. Spend time with yourself to figure out what you don’t know. Even if you spend years on a journey to discover the answer, you will have formulated ideas and opinions of your own. A friend of mine says, “kubuhlungu ukungazi ukuthi awazi” the tragedy is not that you don’t know but rather it’s not knowing that you don’t know. Ask.

Daddy Has Always Carried You

Image: Our Daughter and her Daddy

A love letter to our Daughter about her Daddy. From Mommy

The story of your birth has two different versions. The famous version is told by your daddy and the other is told by me. Bear in mind that between him and I, one of us had to be present for you to be born. I’m talking about the one who had carried you for nine months.

The night before you were born, your daddy was at the hospital and he actually stayed for a while. He left just a few hours before you were born but here’s the thing, he didn’t see me at all that night. I had no desire to see him and I blame that on the pregnancy and early stages of labour pain (which technically means I blame it on you). He wasn’t bothered though, I think that’s exactly how he preferred it or even planned it that way, don’t ask me how. He just sat at the reception area like the expectant father that he was.

Throughout the pregnancy, I kept insisting that he was going to be part of the birth, that was my plan. He neither agreed nor declined. I remember that he wasn’t as keen as he was about everything else. This man, your father actively took part in each step with me. He was quick to notice every transformation, from how my body was changing to accommodate carrying you, to the foods I really started having an appetite for especially his cooking which fast became my favourite, I think that’s your fault too or part of his plan. A peculiar change that occurred was that all colognes/perfumes smelt terribly awful to me. Just a whiff of a scent made me feel some kind of way. He just laughed it off and not only stopped using his but gave them away to his friends.

Your daddy knew you were girl, even before you were formed in my womb. He carried you for as long as I’ve known him. While we were just friends, I often heard him speak about you. He spoke about the kind of father he was going to be to his beloved baby girl and he spoke about the kind of relationship the two of you were going to share. Sometimes, I would pay attention but most times, I thought to myself, “Oh boy so this is what it’s like to be an only child. You have imaginary friends even when you’re an adult.” Never in a million years did I think that I would be the mother to his precious daughter!

The more I knew him better the more I entertained him. I started really listening to the things he said about you. We would be sitting with friends watching a movie and when it ended he would dissect the relationship between the characters especially if there was a father and daughter relationship. He spoke about you even though he didn’t call you by name yet. He would say, “when I become a father, my daughter and I…” or “…my baby girl…”

He has been an exceptional father to you and not just then, he continues to be now, 13 years later. I have seen him do his best to put you first even if I didn’t agree with him. Sometimes when he wasn’t giving his best I told him I wasn’t going to accept anything less. I have seen him love you gently and fiercely, defying the status quo, traditions and sometimes even defying me😅.

It has been such a delight to have a front row seat, watching the two of you together. You can trust me when I say your daddy’s love for you is solid as a rock that you can build on it. It doesn’t flactuate, you can bank on it. “You slept and by the time you woke up, she was born.” That’s the version your daddy tells me. Like I wasn’t there! He has told that story countless times that it’s become his truth. The details don’t really don’t matter, I was there I know what happened.

What matters is this, your father knew and loved you way before that. He carried you in his spirit, he carried you in his heart, he carried you in his mind, and he carried you in his life for as long as I have known him. He has been your father long before he held you in his arms, before he stayed up all night just watching you sleep when you were just a few weeks old.

People usually say the parent who knows their child best is the mother because she carried the child in her womb for nine months. They say the bond between a mother and child is stronger than any relationship and cannot be explained or truly understood. That is true, I can attest to it. Being pregnant with you was nothing short of magical. Loving you so deeply, even before I met you. What’s also magical in its own right is that before you were born your daddy loved and carried you.

Honoring the love of a Daddy.

---

Dear Anxiety, Where Do You Come From?

Image from Wikipedia


#mental health awareness#

Family and friends call before they visit but you never do. You show up and devour thoughts, feelings and schedules. Dear anxiety, where do you come from?

Have you always been there, woven into the fibres of DNA like, gender and skin colour? Dear anxiety, where do you come from? 

Do you hand pick those you torment and if you do, what is your criteria? Dear anxiety, where do you come from?

Or it doesn’t matter to you, all you are concerned about is taking over and destroying a life no matter the cost? Dear anxiety where do you come from?

Do you not care that you are never invited, never welcomed, that no one is ever pleased to see you? Dear anxiety where do you come from?

Do you find pleasure in your relentless pursuit of consuming every thought, drawing out all the strength, causing the simple task of breathing to be an act that causes utter exhaustion? Dear anxiety where do you come from? 

Are you a disease, a social issue constructed by society or a figment of the imagination? Dear anxiety where do you come from?

Do you thrive on the ignorance of society and the stigma attached to you? Dear anxiety where do you come from?

Doctors say you are a mental condition which can be treated if addressed correctly. Christians say you are an evil spirit that should be prayed away. Society attaches labels such as “crazy”, “weak”. Dear anxiety where do you come from? 

Do you and your friends, Depression, Bi-polar Disorder, Post traumatic stress disorder, Schizophrenia,  Grief, Addictiction, Obsessive Compulsive Disorder gather together and compare strategies, your modus operandi? Dear anxiety where do you come from?

You are an enigma because you live in the mind where you not easily detected by others leaving trails of doubt whether or not you are real. Dear anxiety where do you come from?

Call Me By Name

Image by stock images

“Thulani, Gugu, Gatsha…yey’wena mntwana, uyangizwa ngiyakubiza, woza la!” …hey you child, you hear me calling you, come here!” – Mzali, my father.

‘Excuse you, that list of names you just called out did not have my name in it. How could you possibly think that I would come to you if you have not called me by name?’ I would think it but certainly not say outloud.

That was so typical of my dad, uMzali. Calling out names and expecting a responce even though my name did not feature in his roll call. Mind you, those were not random names he called out. They were some of the names of his fifteen children. Sigh.

It used to seriously upset me that my own father, the man whose DNA runs through my veins would sometimes forget my name. In his attempt to remember my name, he would look me square in the eye but fail dismally. By the way, why do they say square in the eye? Our eyes are not square, neither are any features in our faces, no square nose, or square mouth but we continue to look at each other square in the eye.

I took it so personally, I mean really, if there was one person in the entire world who was supposed to know my name, it was the person who named me which was uMzali. Looking at Mzali’s face, I would see his mind working overtime yet I would silently stand up for myself and continue doing whatever it that I was doing before, waiting for him to say my name.

I would imagine the activity going on inside his mind, that it operated like a busy supermarket much like his work place which was where he spent most of his time. My dad’s mind was always working, the shop opened everyday, no weekend off or public holiday break. He was hands on, rarely taking a day off. He left the house by 05:30 and promptly opened the shop by 06:00 am and closing at 08:00 pm. That meant if you wanted to see him during the day, you went to the taxi rank where his shop was located, it was our family headquarters.

Now that I think about it, his mind was more like a hypermarket during the festive season. Or better yet, like the Makro stores when the lockdown was first announced or on the first day when the alcohol ban was lifted, you get the picture. Each of us, family members, his children, taxi drivers and owners came to him making demands on his time, his wealth of knowledge and whatever else we wanted from him and he loved it.

Somewhere in the store (his mind) a message was received, the image of my face. As he looked at me, the image would appear on the different screens throughout the store. All the television screens, the computer monitors and even on the screens of the tills all over the hypermarket because as he shouted all these names, the people who were inside the shop (in the taxi rank), they would be looking at him puzzled. Meanwhile in his mind was an image of a face, with question marks all around needing a name to be attached to it.

His body’s nervous system was like the staff members distributed all over the hypermarket. Then when my face appears on their screens, each staff member springs into action, running around, picking up different files. The files are retrieved at the aisle labelled ‘my children’. Each file is clearly marked with each child’s name. Just like in a store there are diffent brands and sizes of one product, same as in his mind. So instead of one file containing all the information of each child,my guess is, his mind had many files for each child lying all over. Then the staff members would just grab a file, hoping it was the correct one and frantically run to the area where announcements are made. That’s when he would shout out numerous names, sometimes saying one name twice even though he was wrong the first time.

“Sindiswa, my name is Sindiswa!” I would roar at the teachers at school and all those who could not or did not want to pronounce my name correctly, “…you may call me Sindi but not Cindy, my name starts with an S, not a C.”

I suppose I shouldn’t blame him, the man did have fifteen children. I was number twelve. I had a theory and it softened the blow a little bit about this matter. My theory was that he lost count of his children’s names after child number ten, when he ran out of fingers. Not being called by my name was more embarrassing if my siblings where around to witness the scene. It would be the joke that never grew old. Adding to that, was the fact that he was terrible at remembering birthdays, that made matters even worse! It made me question whether I mattered to my father and whether he even knew me at all.

Oh but I quickly got over it and was somewhat consoled when I realised that forgetting my name was not a unique experience that only happened to me. The same thing happened to my siblings. He would call out different names and ironically, my name would be on those lists. So it happened to all of us and whoever’s face would appear in his mind with question marks all over it, the joke would be on that child.

Of course this was not a daily occurance in our family but it happened often enough and it seemed like we all handled it the same. Each of us never responded to him, rather we waited while thinking, call me by my name!

On the normal days, when he would call me by my name, it was like I was his one and only child. He would call out not shout, in the most loving tone. His voice soaking with affection and affirmation that I am his child and I am loved. To him, it never mattered what number I was because none of us were a number. Each of us, our names were specifically chosen, and written in his heart which was big enough to love each of us and he expressed it so openly.

So I asked him why he sometimes forgot names and birthdays. He smiled and said, “If you remind me in good time and tell me what you’d like then we can do something for your special day.” then all the incorrect name calling was forgiven and forgotten.

“You know what I remember?” he asked looking at me square in the eye. “I remember the first time I saw you in the hospital and how happy I was that I was taking you home and not just any child. I looked at you and called you by your name.”

---

Mzali went to heaven in 2005 but we continue to honour the man who made us all feel like Taxi Rank Princesses and Princes❤

---

If you liked this piece, please click on the ⭐at the bottom of this page.

To follow my blog, you can fill in your information so you can get notification when a new blog piece is posted.

Sending light and love💖

The State Of Education Must Be Addressed.

“May God protect our people. Nkosi Sikelel’ iAfrika. Morena boloka setjhaba sa heso. God seën Suid-Afrika. God bless South Africa. Mudzimu fhatutshedza Afurika. Hosi katekisa Afrika.” ~ Constitution of Republic of South Africa, 1996 – Preamble

Department of Education, did you ever take the time and pay attention to the state of affairs on the very first day of each school year? Let me draw you a picture.

FIRST DAY OF SCHOOL

Children from all walks of life embark on a new chapter regardless of the grade they are going to. Together with their parents/guardians, they are filled with excitement and are somewhat apprehensive as they prepare for the year ahead.

PREPARATION

Parents/guardians go through the process of applying for a school (if their child is going to Grade 1, Grade 8 or beginning a new school) that is indicative of the fact that we have our children’s best interest at heart.

We actively show that by buying school necessities, paying school fees and ensuring that our children have reliable transportation to get them to school and back home safely. Another part of being school ready is looking presentable. We make sure that their hair is suitable for school whether through styling, plaiting or getting a hair cut. Then they are ready to take on the world! If you don’t believe me, just ask Twitter about Bundle of Joy.

As you are well aware, this is not done just once or a few times a year. It is a responsibility we commit to five days a week, with the exception of school and public holidays. As parents/guardians we entrust the safety and wellbeing of our children for eight hours each weekday to you, Department of Education. Together, we become the village that raises each and every child.

THE STATE OF DISASTER

Last month our children were abruptly sent home by the President, due to the rapid spread of the Corona virus. Our country was declared to be in a state of disaster. Soon after, staying home for all individuals became a matter of life and death. With the exception of essential workers, South Africa has been and continues to be in a state of lockdown.

STRICT PERMISSIONS AND RESTRICTIONS

Subsequently, we have all been affected by the lockdown. Life as we knew it has forever been changed in many ways, some we may not fully comprehend as yet. On the 1st of May 2020, the economy will open under level 4 adhering to strict permissions and restrictions. We will still not be allowed to visit each other, for example if a child lives with one parent, the child is still expected not to visit the home of the other parent.

Being a co-parent, my daughter has two homes, alternating between mine and her father’s homes. That is the life she knows. If restaurant owners are not permitted to have customers sit down and have a meal at their establishments then why do you, Department of Education believe it’s safe for our children to go back to school?

A COVID-19 READY PLAN

Department of Education, do you know what happens in the winter season? Children are prone to colds and flus because their immune systems have not fully developed. That puts them at a disadvantage to go out there for eight hours or more. We are told every sector should have a covid-19 ready plan in order to provide safety measures. What is your plan for our children? Who will ensure that our children adhere to social distancing not just in the classrooms but also in the playground and corridors? If a classmate needs to borrow a ruler to quickly rule off, their act of kindness may cost them their lives and the lives of their loved ones at home.

Department of Education, surely you must know that as parents/guardians we truly love our children. We work hard to make sure we do our best for them. For them we become Mama Bear and Papa Bear, doing our best to protect them from whatever we perceive to be harmful or life threatening. This month we as parents/guardians have been stretched beyond our normal abilities. We did whatever we could to put food on the table for our children to eat. We continue to do our best to teach our children their school work through online learning.

My daughter is in Grade 7 and together with the Grade 12’s, they are the first group expected to go back to school, in less than a week. We understand the importance of education. However the burden you are placing on the teachers to teach and monitor each and every child is impractical. Most importantly, we as parents/guardians cannot sit back and let you as the Department of Education, do a trial and error at the cost of our children’s lives.

Last month, when Chief Justice Mongoeng Mongoeng, gave an address on the corona virus he stated, “What we must never forget is our National Anthem. Our National Anthem is a call to Prayer. And so is the Preamble to our Constitution, in among others say, ‘God protect South Africa.’We are exposed, we are not protected. And my call is to all those who can pray, to see it as an absolute necessity. Starting from today to do so… to pray knowing that with prayer, nothing is impossible. “

We are still exposed, we are still not protected from this virus. Therefore, us not act prematurely and live forever in regret of decisions that may very well cost us more than we can quantify in Rands. As we continue to stand together in Prayer, we have an assurance that a time will come when the classroom doors will once again be opened. A time when it will be safe to wave goodbye with smiles on our faces and send our children back to school but the time has not yet come.

---

The Constitution of South Africa, 1996 – Preamble https://www.gov.za/documents/constitution-republic-south-africa-1996-preamble

Chief Justice’s adress https://youtu.be/znawf6Ie0C

---

What is your take on schools being open while being under level 4 lockdown?

At the bottom of the page the is a comment box where you can share your insight.

Follow Sindiswa’s Sassy Insights and receive instant e-mail notifications when a new blog piece is posted. Simply enter you details at the bottom of the page.

---

Love and light ❤️✨

A Song, A Verse, A Dance

Photo cred: sunset dancer by Kelsey Graczyk

“Poetry, plays, novels, music, they are the cry of the human spirit trying to understand itself and make sense of our world.” ~ L. M Elliot

One of our unwritten friendship terms and conditions between myself and a great friend of mine, is finding a song that best describes the situations we each go through in life. It can be a big milestone, a life changing event or even a seemingly insignificant moment. Oh boy, do we have fun with picking the song! It can be from any genre, as long as it fits.

It helps us acknowledge the situation, even if it’s unpleasant. It’s another form of honestly responding to the question,“how are you?” because what exactly do we mean when we say “fine, what does fine look or even feel like? That’s where the song comes in, it’s a form of expression.

There are times in life when you find yourself in a situation you never ever thought you’d be in or doing something you never ever thought you’d do. Even worse, you told everyone who knows you, that you would never ever, do this or that. For example, you have never ever understood or subscribed to the notion of people who bath and go back to wearing their pyjamas for the entire day, that’s if they decide to bath. Lo and behold, it’s the year 2020 and there’s the lockdown, now look who’s spending hours in their pyjamas😂😂.

Let me draw you a picture, imagine this with me. In a movie when the main character goes through a defining moment(s), there will often be a song playing in the background. At the end of the movie, all the songs (the soundtrack) are listed in the credits. So you get the picture. Perhaps we took the metaphor of life is a play too literally. Who can blame us, when life is filled with drama, suspense, comedy, tragedy and everything in between? Lights, camera, action.

Back to those ‘I will never ever’ situations, the song that best captures the moment for me is the old school kwaito song Fella kae by Dr Mageu and TKZee Family, loosely translated it means where exactly did you think you’d end up? Talking to you there wearing your comfortable pyjamas during the day but not to worry, we’re not judging you😉.

As the corona virus continues to affect us not only emotionally, financially, physically, mentally, spiritually but in so many other countless ways, just like there’s a song for a every situation. The same is true for the Word of God. This is the verse I hold on to, Psalm 27:13 which I have personalised. May I never (without the ever) lose heart but instead each day make an intentional effort to see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living.

Whether it’s playing music loud and having a lockdown house party. Or praying fervently and reading scriptures now more than ever before. Or creating and posting tik tok videos of you and your loved ones dancing. Or participating in baking and exercise challenges, it is all a form of focusing on the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living.

---

What is your form of a Song, a Verse, a Dance? What is your anchor, your guide, your saving grace? You can let me know by leaving your comment below.

Sending you light and love ✨♥️✨♥️

---

https://g.co/kgs/TzB6 Fella kae by Dr Mageu and TKZee Family

He Has Risen!

“The cross is the Victory, the resurrection is the TRIUMPH… The resurrection is the public DISPLAY of the victory, the triumph of the crucified One.”  ~Leon Morris


Growing up as a young girl, Easter weekend was church! In fact, the entire week leading to Good Friday, every evening – I did church. I say ‘did church’ deliberately because I didn’t really understand why we went more than usual. I neither looked forward to it nor dreaded it. It was engraved in stone in my mother’s schedule because she knew what I was yet to know, so I went along.

What intrigued me every single year without fail, was Easter Sunday. There was always a lot of activity when we arrived in the morning. You know when you arrive at an event that you’ve been invited to, you get there and you’re just not certain whether you are early or late because already there is buzzing of activities? Mind you, this is an event that you were invited to, you know what time it begins but it’s like they just couldn’t wait to begin.

That’s how it was for me every Easter Sunday, it was as though they started ahead of time, that they just couldn’t wait and went ahead. What brought that feeling was the fact that at 4:30 am, AboMama boManyano (Women’s Manyano) would collectively go out into the streets near our church declaring to all, “Uvukile uJesu” meaning  Jesus has risen! That is a service within itself, it is in the Holy Week programme and they look forward to it. I remember seeing their faces when they returned before the main service began at 7:30 am, as they  continued to declare “Uvukile”…

Matthew 28: 5 – 7 NKJV   But the angel answered and said to the women, “Do not be afraid, for I know that you seek Jesus who was crucified. 6 He is not here; for He is risen, as He said. Come, see the place where the Lord lay. 7 And go quickly and tell His disciples that He is risen from the dead... “

Jesus was crucified on the cross for us, displaying a manner of love that surpasses our human understanding. Oh but the story doesn’t end at the cross. We learn from Romans 6: 10-11 that Jesus defeated death, for me and you. He went to the grave and took back all the power of life from sin for me and you. He then triumphantly rose again. Now we are the custodians of this story.

When you know about the power of the cross and the resurrection power of Jesus Christ, akuvumi ukuba uthule, you just cannot keep silent. You want to spread the Word and share the Good News.


Love and Light ♥️✨♥️✨

What Manner of Love is This ?

“God love each of us as if there were only one of us” – Augustine

What manner of a love is this? That a King, in all His power, in all His majesty, in all His glory, in all His splendor…would choose to express His limitless love by giving His life for us.

When He came on earth, He didn’t walk around wearing royal robes and a crown of gold with jewels though He could have, seeing that He is King. Instead, the book of Isaiah chapter 53, calls Him the Sin-Bearing Servant. He chose to serve us in love by being mocked, stricken, bruised and wounded for our iniquities. What manner of Love is this?

Wearing a crown of thorns which pierced His head yet He did not open His mouth Isaiah 53:7. When He was being hung on the cross, He could’ve changed His mind, instead His mind was full of you and me. What manner of Love is this? When He opened  His mouth uttering, “Father forgive them…” Luke 23:34. He cried out in love for me and you.

1 John 3:1 NKJV Behold what manner of Love the Father has bestowed on us, that we should be called children of God.

Today as we observe Good Friday, indeed it is in an unusual manner. However, let us look beyond the circumstances for the are temporary. Instead let us keep the meaning of the Cross. Let us talk about it. Let us encourage each other with it. Let us engrave it in our hearts not just today but all the days of our lives. The message is this, Jesus Christ the King of Kings and Lord of Lords loves you and me. There is nothing we can ever do to make Him subtract and love us less also, there is nothing we can ever do that will make Him love us more. His love is complete.

Love and Light💞🙌🏽

First Sunday… Without Church

Imagine my shock when I was going about my business under the comfort of my rock, to find the world going through a global epidermic due to the Covid-19 virus. People running aimlessly in a state of panic seeking refuge.

A disclaimer before I go any further, I am a Born-again Christian. I am Saved, Sanctified, Baptized filled with the Spirit of The Living God. I believe that Jesus Christ is the Lord and Saviour.

When the virus had not yet been detected in a person who was physically in this country, we as Believers didn’t say much. We said what we usually say, “we are with them (the affected) in Spirit. However before we could shout hallelujah, the corona virus was no longer just there in China and Italy. Confirmed cases of people infected in South Africa were announced. The number of individuals contracting the virus was and still is rising at an alarming rate.

Panic rose, false news spread just as quickly as the virus itself. We as Believers said nothing and did nothing. Then on Sunday, the 15th of March, the President addressed the matter. The full speech https://www.gov.za/speeches/statement-president-cyril-ramaphosa-measures-combat-covid-19-epidemic-15-mar-2020-0000

One of the statements Mr Ramaphosa made was that precautionary measures had to be adhered to in order to minimize the spread of the virus. One of those was to suspend all gatherings of large number of people.

Gatherings in large numbers include but are not limited to soccer or sport matches at stadiums. How did we as Believers respond? ‘That’s their problem, it doesn’t affect us.’ That is what our silence spoke.

Day-cares, schools and all institutions of higher learning were closing as a matter of urgency until after the Easter holidays. How did we as Believers respond? ‘It’s their problem, it doesn’t really affect us.’ Once again, that is what our silence spoke.

Then suddenly (let’s go to church now, everyone say suddenly) the Church was affected.       Going to + church + on Sunday = Gathering

How can we think we are just affected because of church and Sunday? How can the effects of the Covid 19 virus not be our problem when many businesses and companies can no longer render their services which affect their livelihood and the economy at large? How can it not be our problem when Grade 12 students have been left on the lurch and exams are in a few months? How can it not be our problem when some families rely on the school feeding scheme for their children to get a meal? The effects of this pandemic need Believers to be more than people who put on their Sunday best and sing hymns. We can no longer just sit in the comfort of our church pews and not affect and make an impact in our communities, our nation.

Believers were now making all the noise! “That is an infringement of our human right, to exercise our freedom of Religion.” The Bible in Hebrews 10:25 says do not forsake the assembling (gathering) of the saints. Some Pastors and Church Denominations announced throughout the week that Church gatherings were suspended until further notice. We spoke up but only because we were now affected.

I was intrigued at the mixed responses. I imagined that if it were possible, we would have made a call to all Believers to come together and toyi toyi or have a peaceful march to the Union Buildings or Parliament and make our grievances known but as we all know, that is classified as a gathering at the moment.

We as Believers seem to have limited God or our faith to a building, an establishment, a tent. We cannot claim to have a relationship with God but have terms and conditions. The biggest one being to access God through a person be it a Pastor/Preacher/ Reverend/ Teacher who must stand by the pulpit. Moreover, we seem to have limited Him to a specific day of the week. We go about our busy lives and slot Him in one out of seven days. Yes church gatherings are essential but that is not the only way to call upon the Lord.

Have we forgotten that God lives inside us? Have we forgotten that we are the ambassadors of God? Have we forgotten that we have been given power and authority? Have we forgotten that we are the Church?

The F*Word

“Words have energy and power with the ability to help, to heal, to hinder, to hurt, to harm, to humiliate, and to humble.” Yehuda Berg

As much as your reaction to the title of this post delights me, your horror and utter disbelief, you cherished reader, have just proven my point! Words are loaded and have the ability to create, based on our belief, knowledge and experience.

Let’s take a brief look at the term the F*Word. I promise I won’t be like those speakers at funerals who begin their speeches with, “I’ll be brief…” As soon as I hear those words, I assume the worst. That’s the power of words. The F*Word was first recorded in 1598 in the [John Florio’s A World’s of Wordes, London: Arnold Hatfield for Edw. Blount] dictionary. It is derived from the Latin word fuuere and Old German ficken meaning to struck. There was nothing vulgar about the word initially but over time, it evolved and has since been banned from the dictionary. If the F*Word could speak, I imagine it would say, “I’ve been around for a long time but along the way I was misused and made to feel cheap. I was then associated with indecent behaviour and later I was tossed in the trash as though I was rubbish.”

However, the F*Word which I’m referring to is not that one. There are thousands upon thousands of words that begin with the letter F. To date, there are twenty nine thousand, five hundred and fifty six words (29 556) and counting. Moreover, new words are officially added in the dictionary every quarter!

Remember I spoke briefly about funerals earlier, weddings on the other hand are the complete opposite. One of my highlights at weddings are the vows and speeches. Words have always fascinated me. A double lesson of English class at school for me was like having an all access pass to go behind the scenes and be with the cast and crew of the most popular TV show. Like being in the locker room of your favourite sports team, moments before they play their final match! The anticipation, the thrill of it all. Its the same feeling before I read a book.

So this year, I’ll begin with frequently posting a series titled the F*Word focusing on different words beginning with the letter F. Out of 26 letters of the alphabet why choose F? Allow me to answer using words a few F*Words. Is the current generation living a façade, fearing the future and fleeing to Facebook? Do we favour friends and forget our family? I spy with my little eye something beginning with the letter F@%&#*.

Feel free to suggest words or phrases you have in mind which we can look at and discuss.

Until next time, when I reemerge from from under my rock.

First Sunday

#NewYear#

Today is the First Sunday of the year. People who don’t necessarily believe in God or a Higher Power believe in the power of The First Sunday of The Year. Different churches and establishments filled to capacity as people gathered together for various reasons.

One of the reasons is for atonement. To erase and do away with the mishaps which took place in December. Mind you, December is constructed in a completely different way to other months with its own rules and regulations. Everything no matter how ordinary just displays an element of extra and being over the top. Even time seems to comply and work differently in Dezemba as it affectionately known in our parts of the world. Dezemba just feels way too short and seems to end way too soon.

You do know that this is thee only month in the calendar that exceeds 31 days right? There is the 32nd, the 33rd and the last day is the day before The First Sunday of the year. Put simply, yesterday was the 35th of Dezemba! The year can be either the new year 2020 or the previous year, 2019 whatever suits the individual or situation.

The other reason which make people gather at churches and different establishments, is optimism. Generally people are drawn to all things new. The excitement and hope that one puts in a new day, a new week, a new month, a new year and in this instance, a new decade or even a new or latest phone is astonishing. The idea of beginning afresh. Perhaps this is the reason for the new clothes that come with The First Sunday. The same way parents buy new clothes for their children (some for themselves as well) to wear on Christmas day, the same honour and respect is given to The First Sunday. This also means feasting on lunch. While the rules are not as stringent as they are regarding the Christmas day feast, a meal is expected nonetheless. Most people opting to keep to Sunday’s seven colours standards.

Perhaps some people believe that if they conform to the The First Sunday and all its standards, surely goodness and mercy shall follow them all the days of the year (well just until the end of November to make way for Dezemba! For ever and ever.

Or maybe you’re like me and never given it much thought until recently, “Do I want to partake in the festivities of The First Sunday?” If not, that’s okay. Festivities are personal and I should work out my own festivities. “Do I do what I do on The First Sunday just because this is how my mother has always done it? Just because her mother’s mother did it this way? And her mother before her also did it like this?” Fact is today is the first Sunday of a new month, in a new year and that comes once a year!