Pages of a Journal #2

It is not that i do not love your people. I love you. Them, it seems i will need some more time to learn. But the past few months will make the first few months harder. Forgive me when i will not want to visit them so soon. I ask now, forgive me.

Maybe it is because i am wrung to the bone. I knew it would be quite a process. What i did not know was that four visits later my people would still be knocking at your fathers’ door. I ask when they will open, you say you do not know. Can’t the voice of a child’s question draw response? Sometimes i wonder if you’re voice was heard at all.

There will be the white wedding. If i have heard correctly, your people will all be there, they are very exited about it all. We, sorry, i – will be bringing them to see their daughter off. They even had a cost budget drawn up and everything. Good of them to save us the trouble.

I don’t know how, but you’re fathers’ unfinished house was part of the discussion the last two times. My uncles do not understand what i have to do its completion. But we are still outside looking in. We would not even think to ask.

We will marry. Of that i am sure. Also, we will we broke. Please do not think that the first days will set pace for the rest. The fields will be greener along the way.

I have just a message from the guy getting your dress and the suits. I have to go pray for a miracle.

I love you. Talk to your people my love, then maybe when mine will speak they will listen. Sweep the leaves from our path. Bring us water to drink. We are still walking. But we are getting weary.

© Ang’asa Malowa


You Will Be Happy


There are many things I will hope to teach you. Many things I will hope you learn. I will try but you will be your mothers’ daughter. You will learn that which you choose yourself to learn. Many times I will want to break you, I will forget how much you reflect me.  You are my own, you will be stubborn and in the same way, you will be kind, you will thoughtful (and i hope you quickly learn that in itself puts you in danger of being wrung dry, e careful Nnwa), a kind heart with a sharp tongue. You will have an innocence many will not understand. For this and more, you will owe no explanation. But you will owe compassion and you will give respect – because you are mine.


When you take the kind of turns that make you want to crawl down a hole and die. Do not crawl. Do not die. With the sun will come new news. Do not burn in shame what you will need to dance again.


The shock and the disappointment of having no one by your side when you battle will first sting, then slowly blur. You will boil over, then you will calm and realise it was no one else’s fight anyway. And you will fight. Many times, you will win and many times you will fail. That is how it is.


I have learnt that to hold that which burns you with clenched fists will not stop the fire. I pray you learn it sooner. I am afraid of what I will fail to teach you more than what you will fail to learn.


I know you will watch me. I know in many ways, you will become your mother. Be wise in what you take from me. Some dyes were cast before I realised they were. And for you, I would wish for different patterns.


Always smile. Always be happy. I learnt that from my mother. I pray you learn it from me too but I cannot say that you will. Life has been good and also strange to me and with it, i lost pieces of my soul you will not get to see. I will have dark days but the yellow will always return. When it does, bask in it, suck it in. for when the clouds will gather, I will see it still shining in your eyes and you will save me from myself.

You will find true friendships, you will find true love. Do not worry over things that are yours. They are yours, you will not beg or wait for them to come because they are already there.


You will be happy. Wherever you find happiness, wherever you find laughter and joy, drink it in. For us both and for your own, drink. 

 © Ang’asa Malowa