Let's Pledge

I pledge allegiance
To this course!
In my heart is vengeance
Boiling till my blood will pause

HE RAPES AGAIN!................by D"ola

Call that man a warrior?
He fights the vulnerable
He pins them down with his fist as armour

He shadows their movement,
acting with preciseness,
only to attack to their bemusement

He raped me, twice but once
the first with his seeming innocence
the second with his violence and lustful pounce!

I traded with him words as a Kindred
he ignored and persisted the more,
all he wanted was my cherry-red

The agony was much!
The thoughts alone killing,
I felt my life in flesh, and yet out of touch!

Arrest that rapist!
twice he has escaped the cops
he charms them and his arrest is kept on resist

Now, I suffer in pain
He sees me and act being in fame
Oh! fire of shame please rain!

Lest you repent, may footsteps of evil draw near you
daily in reality and in dreams
Just as death catches up with you

May the lives you have shattered
call for your gut
and your name be ecstatically battered

The sun shall smite you by day
even as cold torments you by night,
this minute, this day!


D'Ola

THE STORY OF A GIRL CHILD....I

Hello readers.

            Thanks for your comments on my last write up on rape. Rape is a deadly act that leaves its survivor empty and void. I listened to the news reporting the dead bodies of two girls: ages 2 and 3 found in a dilapidated building. Reports showed these girls were strangled after being raped. Also a formerly outgoing, bright,7-year old girl has been forced to recede into a cocoon of extreme shyness after being raped four times; and efforts to bring the culprit to justice has been futile.

The statistics is alarming. In South Africa, older women of age 60 and above are being raped every week. A community of these women was sent an outcry to the department of police and community welfare. This is what they said “these men are young enough to be our sons and grandsons. They come in drunk and high on drugs and rape us over and over again. We are too weak to fight back, so we just do as they say each time. Please we need protection to live the remainder of our days in peace before we join our ancestors.”

A 21 year old lady approached my counseling group and asked for help. In a bid to buttress her ongoing sessions, I decided to publish her story. I am going to share it in segments and I would love productive comments along the way. Remember, this website was designed for us to speak up and help in our own little ways. All names and places have been changed to protect the identity of the characters.

P.S: I am going to share the story in segments, because it is fairly long.

The beginning

Hi. My name is Alexandra, I am 21 years old. I was born in Kenya, but I relocated to southern Africa about eight years ago. I am the first child of my father, and the only child of my mother. My parents were dating when I was born. Things didn’t turn out the way they expected, and they never got married. The truth is this: my father walked out of the relationship because he had chains of other girls he was dating at the time which my mother got to know. My mother’s education stopped at high school. She was working when she met my dad. She was instrumental in the finance of my dad’s first degree in the university. Despite all these, my father cheated on her, walked out on the two of us and blamed it on my mother’s half education.

            My mother practically slaved herself to see me through high school. I had to take odd jobs during holidays to help out. On one occasion when I was working as an on-call maid, to help my mother raise money for my school fees; I was raped by the man of that house. The man was too big for me to overpower, because I am petite. He said if I told his wife or anyone, he would tell on me that I seduced him. I was naïve and too young at the time to know what to do.  He overpaid me, and told me never to come back again. I couldn’t tell my mother because I didn’t want to add to her problems. I felt so worthless and empty on the inside. It was a gruesome act. I had nightmares for a long time, as it replayed in my subconscious repeatedly. Because of this that had happened, i felt cursed. First, i grew up without a father, secondly, a man preyed on my innocence and took advantage of me. I hated men, and decided not to get close to any man for a long time. oh!! the pain i felt was beyond description. I dont wish it on any living being. i hated myself and wanted to give up on life, but I thought of my mother and all she had been through raising me single-handedly. i decided to move on with my life and become somebody in life.

            

             My life has been a bittersweet one...

   ....to be continued

A QUEEN WITH KINGLY GLORIOLE by D'Ola

A QUEEN WITH KINGLY GLORIOLE by D'Ola

Thundery love
making sounds with joyful throbbings
into the heavens of parental desires
welcoming you on another soulful trip

A day is announced without an announcer,
the day carries the pleasure
of a caring God -faithful and graceful

Walking in the beauty of eternal compassion,
daubing the evils of the world with godly love
in a way charming evil doers to imbecility

Hail! the Queen,
affronting the contempt of daily struggles
making men wonder how heavenly talented one could be

Come, praise  God
enjoy and celebrate today
as it heralds the coming of You -a queen with a kingly gloriole

Every Woman

this poem was inspired by a song i listened to over ten years ago "every woman" by kirk Franklin. i added some of my own stuff to the lyrics. please read, and enjoy. i salute every woman out there and the men that make their Worlds go round. every woman needs her man.

Every woman needs her man

To fight for her, die for her

Someone who will take the time to place his heart inside of hers

A man who will not leave her but will stand right by her side

A man whose heart is hers alone

A man who sees her, not for who she was, but who she can become

Every woman needs her man.

Every woman needs her man to be true

Even when the skies are gray, he knows that God will bring them through

A man who is not afraid to say ‘I’m sorry’ when he’s wrong

A man who listens to her heart and not just her voice

A man who looks into her soul and not just her eyes

A man who makes her smile, even in hard times

Every woman needs her man

Every woman needs her man to be a leader

To give her direction and steer her to fulfill her goals

A man to care for and pamper her

A man who helps her be the best woman in the whole world

A man who loves God and loves her more than life

He is the reason for the light in her eyes.

Every woman needs her man

Every woman needs her man

To hold her and protect her

A man who tells her she is beautiful

A man who understands how she feels

A man who will not leave her, but will stand right by her side

A man who commands respect by respecting her

Every woman needs her man

Every woman needs her man

Who honors her and calls her by a special name

He is all she needs in a man

She can’t stay angry at him for long because it breaks her heart.

She loves her man and takes care of him

She stays true and faithful to him

She can’t share him with another

Every woman indeed needs her man.

BOOB J.O.B.

Leah's spa business had just been launched a month ago, and the kind of customer base she has is over the moon. Life couldn’t be better, she has a boyfriend who loves her, and fat cash in her account. They had a small cocktail party with models serving the drinks. She studied Seth- her boyfriend and noticed he couldn’t get his eyes off the chest of the models. An idea flashed her mind and she couldn’t keep it to herself any longer. After the party, she told Seth she wanted a boob job- a breast reduction from her C- cup to A-cup. Seth tried to dissuade her, but she won’t back down. He told her to be sure she was doing it not just for him, but for herself, and that it made her happy.

            She placed a call to Dr. McNamara’s office to book an appointment. Monday came sooner than she expected- how time flies when you are hyper excited! The doctor prepped her on the pros and cons of a boob job; but it rather strengthened her resolve, because she wasn’t let anyone or anything get in her way. With this, the doctor did a breast examination, as the first physical step. In excitement, Leah asked when she could be booked for her surgery when the doctor gave her gruesome news that made her world stop right that moment. “I’m sorry you won’t be getting any boob job anytime till we know what we are dealing with. Leah, you have a lump in your left breast which we have to remove soon and do further histological tests so that we can determine the best approach.”

            She kept replaying the message in her mind as she left the doctor’s office. The doctor’s effort to placate her or encourage her just fell on deaf ears, as all she could hear was cancer- because that’s all she knew- once you have a lump in your breast, its cancer. Leah was numb for God-knows-how-long. She could feel the ground giving way beneath her. With support from family and her boyfriend, she went for the surgery, and further results showed the lump was removed at the right time, and none of the major surrounding organs were affected. Now, Leah has continued with her life despite her initial fears.

            Keke (not her real name) is another lady with a similar story. She discovered she had a lump in her breast, but she made a different choice. Rather than seek medical help, she settled for herbal remedies. I am not against traditional medicine, but this is potential cancerous lump we are talking about!!! The traditional healer connected the lump to a spiritual attack from her neighbor. He gave her a balm to rub on the affected breast. The lump burst and invaded surrounding organs. In no time, Keke died. I am a spiritual person, but that doesn’t mean I should rule out scientific facts, especially about breast lumps. Maybe by a chance of 2% Keke could still be alive today had she sought medical opinion. She was unmarried, with no major achievement; she had no offspring, and was survived by a well-aged mother and siblings. Keke was a friend of my family and she died two months ago.

            Breast cancer is real. This is my submission as a part of breast cancer awareness: go for regular breast examination and do so with an open mind. It’s been made easy these days that you can do it yourself in the comfort of your home. If you find anything strange, seek medical attention and do it with an open mind. Peradventure you discover you have a lump, see a doctor immediately to know which course to follow.

            Ladies, information is power!

            Happy breast cancer awareness month!

OF ELDERS, PENISES AND VIOLENCE......by D'Ola

OF ELDERS, PENISES AND VIOLENCE

Man-made problems unveiled yet again
in the stream of our once cultured society
where integrity isn’t fed to the unruly
Praises aren’t ferried to the corrupt

Impending Extinction Alert!!! – Meanest Moms and Gentlemen

He was a handsome guy. Very easy on the eyes and well-dressed. Nice and clean suit; I’m talking about the whole works!

I, seeing how cool and well put-together he was, idly wondered how this gem of a gentleman had come to be the way he was.

He looked almost perfect to me! He’d helped one lady with her chair when she was about to sit down and I’d watched him earlier as he calmed a young kid who had been tearing about the place, intent on destruction.

I didn’t mention that we were at a house party, did I?

I walked up to him; the stranger. I just had to know his secret. He was too good to be true and men like him didn’t walk by me every day! In fact, they were so rare; I was starting to believe they were extinct.

“Hello!” I greeted with a wide smile.

He returned my smile with a greeting and a smile of his own and I was charmed.

Long story short, I told him I’d been watching him for a while now.

Yeah, I’m like that; not shy or anything. Guess you can call me the say-it-as-you-see-it-kinda-girl. Lol.

Of course, he, to say the least, was shocked at my straightforwardness.

“Yep, I’ve been observing your- you know, the way you do things; your appearance and I have to wonder; what is it that made you the way you are? I think someone had a hand in making you this way! You couldn’t have just developed genius gentleman skills all by yourself!” my voice had risen now.

He smiled at me, still surprised though. I waited patiently for his answer. I wasn’t in a hurry. I was going to have my answer.

And no, I wasn’t flirting. I swear, I wasn’t! I was just curious. J

So he was quiet for a moment. He seemed to be weighing his answer. I could tell I’d thrown him a sort of curve-ball with that question.

Then, after about two minutes of careful weighing, he said,

“I guess you can say that it’s because I had to grow up with the meanest mother ever.”

My brows peaked. I was confused. Had I heard him right?

“Uh, pardon me?”

He smiled and said more fervently.

“You heard me right, lady. I grew up with the meanest mother ever”

OK. I had expected any answer but this. I’d thought to hear something along the lines of;

“Well, I attended this school were you had to have the best manners or sign out”

“My father trained me to be a gentleman and since he was, it wasn’t hard to follow suit”

This answer was nothing short of shocking.

I was about to open my mouth to ask him if he’d heard my question but he grinned and held up a hand to stall whatever I was about to blurt out, then he led me to a table. After pulling out a chair for me to sit, he sat down and crossed a feet over his knee.

When he was comfortable, he started talking.

Everything he said to me that day was a revelation of sorts.

“When I was little, I hated vegetables. I preferred candies, pastries and pizza. You know what kids love, right? My friends got to choose what they had for breakfast. I didn’t. Mom made me eat broccoli and spinach and then she’d pack fruits in my lunch box too! Occasionally, we got to eat turkey and other stuff like that but she forced me to eat healthy. Does any kid care about eating healthy? No!”

I gasped. Eew! I hate spinach…and broccoli!  

That woman, ugh!

He smiled at my comical expression and continued.

“Growing up, I was the typical kid. I wanted to have lots of friends and play all day like my friends were allowed to. Mom said no, I had to stay at home and finish my homework first. Then she insisted on knowing all my friends. If they weren’t to her taste, she ticked them off my list.”

I had to laugh at that. “She ticked them off your list? Why, it’s called your list for a reason! You should be allowed to make friends with whoever you like, duh!”

OK, the ‘duh’ was silent.

He smiled and continued.

“I didn’t like it either! It sucked. I couldn’t have the coolest friends and all the great dudes at school sort of avoided me. I wasn’t mommy’s boy but I was as close to wimpy as they came.” He said with a straight face. I looked at the man lounging comfortably in his seat across me. ‘Wimpy’ wasn’t a word I would use to describe him by a thousand miles. He oozed self-confidence and assurance without being arrogant.

“Then to make things really worse, she made me kneel by my bed daily and say my prayers to God. Morning and night. I’d be feeling so groggy and all, but prayers had to be said!”

I didn’t know her and neither had I met her but I didn’t like his mother at all. A mother who makes a little child kneel to pray? That had to be sort of illegal, right? Bad mother, that.

He wasn’t done, apparently. He opened his mouth and went on.

“She made me return other kids’ stuff if I took them without asking. I’d tell her it belonged to my friend and that that was how we rolled but she’d yell and say that if I didn’t return that stuff immediately, I’d get such a spanking, I wouldn’t soon forget it. So, I had to learn to make do with my own things and nothing but my things. Lady, that wasn’t cool either.”

I felt for the man seated in front of me. A faraway look was in his eyes now as if remembering those days was torture for him. At least, I thought so.

At this point, I wanted to tell him to skip this part about his mother and just tell me how he’d become the man that he was today; an absolute gentleman.

But he didn’t look like he was even here with me again. That faraway look remained in his eyes and he continued.

“My very mean mother made life miserable for me, dear. She made me go to church on Sundays while my mates got to hang out at clubs and party the morning off. We had the occasional outing and family moments but it always seemed like more fun out there, somehow. Then she’d ensure that I never missed a day at school. That law of no kid-spanking? Nah, it didn’t work at our home. She’d spank me until my backside turned blue then I had to thank her for the spanking too. As for my sisters and female cousins and friends, I wasn’t allowed to raise my voice at them or hit them. Not even in jest. Mom said every woman was a queen even if I couldn’t see her crown.”

Hmmm…I sort of liked that ‘queen’ bit, but the spanking? My eyes bugged. “Di-did you ever report her to the police?” I stuttered.

He smiled now. “No dear. If I had, my other relatives would have gladly shown me why reporting to the police wasn’t the best idea. They happened to be meaner than mom.”

I groaned now. This was too much. He’d really had a bad time growing up.

“She’d make me attend dance lessons, learn how to knot a decent tie and then she made me wear those ties to formal outings.” He pointed at his throat and true, there was a perfectly knotted tie at his collar. His smile at me widened.

“See? She was that mean. Till now, I can’t knot a tie wrong, even if I’m sleeping! Then she’d make me clean my room. In an age where boys were rebellious, I couldn’t be. I just couldn’t. My room had to be spick and span and my socks and shirts had to be washed weekly and neatly folded as soon as I learnt how to operate the washing machine. My life was hard. The other kids had it so fine and so smooth and so free, I had it rickety, straight and well, not so free. I didn’t live a prisoner’s life but then again, I didn’t live free. Mom insisted on always knowing where I was. Imagine that. If I was out past curfew time, a grounding was waiting for me somewhere on the horizon. And if I was being sneaky, she always knew somehow. I used to think that that was creepy, though. Mom wasn’t my favorite person back then”

At his use of ‘back then’, my brows peaked again. “And now?”

He smiled a sorrowful smile. “She died last year. And her last words to me were, ‘I know I was the meanest mother, boy. But see how you turned out? I made a gentleman out of you and I’d do it all over again if I had to! Your mean mother loves you much, dear’ and she went to be with God.”

I frowned. “So, what you are saying to me now, is your mother-your mo-” I couldn’t even finish the sentence. I was having a hard time understanding it myself.

He laughed now.

“You got it right, lady. My very mean mother is the reason I’m like this. And strange as it may sound, I wouldn’t settle for a wife who couldn’t learn to be a mean mother either!” he said this with a smile and I saw him thumb away a drop of tear from the corner of his eye.

He was crying for the loss of his ermmm…mean mother?!

Who woulda thought?!!!

                                                **********************************

                                              

Absolutely Beautiful!

Lol! OK, this is major fiction from my own bejeweled pen. Ha-ha!

You already guessed, right?

Do excuse the weird title. I think I major in weird titles.

N.B – Not all the gentlemen in the world were bred by their mothers but mamas sure can help in breeding more gentlemen for us. I think being a gentleman even in this century can’t ever be overrated.

So right now, I’ll just assume (with hope) that you get what my point is and I’ll snap my pen close. I’m not going to waste my ink! :p

People, appreciate your mamaz. Ladies, value ’em gentlemen!

P.S. – Please, don’t keep your opinions to yourself. There are two comment boxes below! Thanks.

Ciao! J  :*

JEALOUSY..by D'Ola

JEALOUSY

The craze of jealousy

is sometimes the spice of life
On a normal day – it proves love
 but when canopied with distrust–you had better run
Else you might be driven barmy

GROWING LOVE

Grow, my young love, grow 
Let the wolves be buried in snow 
No worm or pests shall you ever fear 
For I am either here or near 
I toggle between rain and sun 
To mulch your world with all the fun 
I trundle between sun and rain 
Rains to wash away the pain 

A BACHELOR’S WISH......BY D'Ola

A BACHELOR’S WISH

My eyes look up to thee
The joy of marriage in me

I bid it come
though I am miles away

From that I pray to love
oh! That day of joy I still will crave

THEY MADE A MARK

On 9 August 1956, more than 50,000 women staged a march on the Union Buildings in Pretoria to protest against the proposed amendments to the Urban Areas Act (commonly known as the pass laws) of 1950. They left bundles of petitions containing more than 100 000 signatures at prime minister J.G. Strijdom's office doors. Outside they stood silently for 30 minutes, many with their children on their backs.

LOVE ......by D'OLA

LOVE...(www.rainbow--musings.blogspot.com)

LOVE ......by D'OLA

Short of love

and rich in lust.

Floury thinking,

wasteful wishing.

AUGUST- WOMEN MONTH CELEBRATION IN SOUTH AFRICA

South Africa commemorates Women’s Month in August as a tribute to the more than 20 000 women who marched to the Union Buildings on 9 August 1956 in protest against the extension of Pass Laws to women. The Government of South Africa declared August women’s month and 9 August is celebrated annually as Women’s Day.

Deployment instructions to Mr. Man

Deployment instructions to Mr. Man

By Hannah Ojo

I am sending you to go and bring a woman who will open the doors of favour and opportunities onto you. She will also partner with you to achieve your goals.  

LOVE- THE JOKESTER (July 20 nostalgia)

                                                    

Often times love evades the longanimous

Love, stylishly is a joker

Playing hide and seek

With mortal’s heart

HELP!!! MY HORMONES ARE GOING AWIRE

Men think we are crazy, but we are not; we are just experiencing conflict of emotions all at once!At a certain time of the month, women tend to feel and behave somehow -this is not meant to be an insult; rather to help understand why we feel the way we do.

WE ARE WOMEN!

WE ARE WOMEN.

We were looked down upon in the past; relegated to the rear; used as object of sexual gratification; we were mutilated; scourged; called second class citizens; we were bought and that was called marriage?! We had no voice of our own; not counted as relevant when born. This is how we lived through the generations until a voice said ENOUGH! Another voice joined that tiny little voice, and yet another, and another and another until we could be heard