“ A Toast to the Purest Form of Love”, a Lesbian Love

I watched their car with tins banging the road disappear, and a note white paint writings that read Just Married, growing fainter. They were on their way to a honeymoon, in Mpumalanga. The two had just begotten married. My heart is filled with joy. The two deserve each other, I have not seen people, humans who glow with each other’s presence the way the two did. The difference is they are lesbians and they are getting married in South Africa.

My country is the best country when it comes to the best constitution in the world. All people are equal in front of the law, all race, gender and creed are respected for who they are. And in her mind, she planned to do right with her. She loved her dearly. She has been there with her for the past three years, and there was nothing that stops them from formalizing their relationship rather than marriage. They both were ready to leap.

She discovered that she is a lesbian when she was ten years, at the playfield. Our socialization was reinforced through role playing. Thandi was always the boy who fetched wood, and when we played the weddings Thandi was the groom. I liked how she looked in her waist coat and pants and borrowed men’s shoes. Always with short hair. Her mother sometimes called her the boy she never had. After all she had the handsome father features.  It was not a surprise when she eventually told her mother that she is looking for a partner, she will bring umakoti(Bride) to the family.

And she brought her girlfriend for the first time to her home during varsity holidays. Her mother cried when   the partner left. She said her daughter is doing the very impossible, unimaginable that thing that is  to fall for a woman. She was never prepared for her daughter to bring a woman instead of a man. She also assumed that Thandi will never have kids. She daydreamt about grandchildren. They were beautiful together, Thuli makes her happy. And glows each time she mentions her name.

 We all congregated at the Home Affairs, in the morning. I felt truly honored to be part of a journey of two souls to be connected into their next journey of being  I was invited as a witness.  They both wore cream white satin suites, Thuli had a flower on her head. And pearls necklace, and stilettos. I liked her soft natural lipstick, and the sattle  make up she wore. I observed how Thandi carried her suites on her shoulders, and the pointer shoes she was wearing. She seemed ready to take the step. I did though sense her nervousness when she said her vows. Echoed as “……. I promise to love you til the end of time. My only love.” I shared a tear when they kissed on what seemed to be an eternal seal of beautiful love.

They had dinner with their close family and friends.  Uncle David decided to stand up to blessed their marriage. He said he had never seen or heard about lesbian love, nor did he think he will stand up at a wedding of his niece to tell the world that he is blessing the two. He has never seen such pure love, genuine appreciation for the other like she has seen out of the two. These is a testimony to the most purest form of love, love of two women who plan to spend the rest of their lives together.  He has never heard of it he continued,  to share.

 He said he is embracing it with the pinch of salt, and blame it on ignorance. He continued to say the signs that Thandi was a special child were there, she bought her car whilst a student working shifts as a waitress and shop attendant. She had her flat as soon as she completed varsity. In his mind he thought Thandi was well behaved, little did he know that some of the women were probably girlfriends. We all burst into laughter when he said so. He continued to wish them well and further say that thank God he had from Generations about Invintro and  babies chances of being a grand uncle are possible and he looks forward to embracing  a grandchild whose name will be Smanga( Amazing). He said we should all raise our glasses to a good drink and toast to the “Purest Form of Love. ” I gulped with a tear in my eye. And wished them well.

Batswana lesbians can love and be loved without guilt

I once felt for a Tswana woman. I loved her deeply. I considered her exotic type,the type that volunteers teaching the Baswara in the dessert. I was also intrigued by her level of sophistication. We went to movies, thearter, live perfomances. Dined and dance. She was very conversant and a loving person. My motswana woman. She always said she woull rather be in South Africa that her home country. I never undertstood it until I went to bury the mother. I did dawn me that she meant we could not be affectionate with each other anywhere and everywhere, including her family home. We left Botswana without a kiss, ya kiss. It got me wondering how is that possible.

Not that there are no lesbians in Botswana. I am told, it is virgin territory. For a saturated terrain that South Africa, I stand a better chance to find my lifetime partner. I have vivid memory of her warm.She was the warmest body I hv ever met. God knows I loved her, or should I say I had intense emotions directed to her. I am hoping that was is shared below offers green light for the whole lot of closeted women to come out and be. Someday we will be together.

Festus Mogae, the former President of Botswana, told the BBC that homosexuality should be decriminalised in Botswana. Mogae's call coincides with a potential call to Commonwealth Heads of Government to decriminalise homosexuality as well.

Voices Call for Decriminalisation of Homosexuality
From BBC News Africa:
Festus Mogae


Then I come to things like same sex relations, men who sleep with men. I don't understand it. I am a heterosexual, I look at women, I don't look at other men, but, there are men who look at other men. These are citizens. If these people can infect each other, that means that a percentage of the population are becoming victims of HIV infection. They have to be helped. Again, I find that if you are arresting them, you will not be able to help them.


Festus Mugae and Kenneth Kaunda, former Presidents of Botswana and Zambia, were on the HIV Free Generation tour in May. At a news conference in Lilongwe they condemned Malawi's criminalisation of homosexuality as harmful to LGBTI persons and the fight against HIV/AIDS.


In the BBC Debate in May, Is homosexuality un-African?, Mogae placed the rights of LGBTI persons in a human rights framework.


I did not come out in support of gay rights but I did come out in support of human rights. I am not a pro-gay activist. I say I don't understand the sexual preference but they are entitled to it and therefore they should not be discriminated against, it should not be criminalised.


I can't understand why you say that homosexuality is un-African when there is evidence that it has always existed and exists today as it does elsewhere in the world. And therefore it appears to me that homosexuality whether we understand it or not or whether we like it or not is as African as it is European as it is Asian...We are trying to pursuade the rest of Africa and show them that homophobia is unjustified.


The Commonwealth Heads of Government Meeting (CHOGM) in Australia may also include an agenda item asking for the decriminalisation of homosexuality in the commonwealth. Forty-one of the 53 Commonwealth countries still criminalise homosexuality and HIV campaigners say such laws are seriously harming the ability to stop HIV infection.


Leaders will meet in Perth, Australia, next week for the Commonwealth heads of government meeting (CHOGM).


Australian delegate Michael Kirby said today that the agenda will include a request to scrap anti-gay laws.He told ABC Radio that HIV messages were “very difficult” to get across without removing laws against gay sex. Gay rights campaigner Peter Tatchell, who is calling on people to lobby Commonwealth leaders, said that there is a “strong possibility” that the issue will appear on the agenda.


But he added that it was “not yet a certainty” and urged people to sign a petition. where do I sign

Orgasm: The Gift of the Moment

I think orgasm is the most animalistic incident a human being engages on. You know that humans risk their comfort to have this incident. It happens to the most conservative lot. And to the freakiest, too. It draws a lot of hormones,and energy. And it can be as quick as 3 minutes. Or a lifetime of experience that fades with time.

 I dread orgasm. I don’t look forward to it at all. Yet, it is the most rewarding feeling ever.   The feeling I would to love to encapsulate it measure it  in my  Sex Pleasure Measure Dome(SPMD). SPMD is my newly found tool used to measure sexual gratification whether it was 100% or 90% , or 40%   . Infact, I have stopped a long time ago to measure my performance  cos the purpose in connecting to your partner depends on how much pleasure she gives me.  Also the measured performance got us loosing the plot. We were forever challenged to outperform the last incident, and yet in lovemaking the intention should be to  make love cos it pleases me to make her happy, make me happy. In a way, my priority is to please her and do it at the best of my ability and stay in that moment as and when it happens.

 I read an article that said that 95% of women don’t know if they have had orgasm. I stood there wondering, have I had this exhilarating moment or have I been imagining it. In other words have I been faking it. I am sure it is possible to fake it, flow with you partner when she starts making funny noises you join in and be noisy with her and scream her name when she screams yours. Until she says a vibrating noise at the end of it you say so too. And you both are humming hmmmrrrrr hmmmmmrrrr together. And silence.  Mind you there is climax that I choose not to give glorify in this platform.  

I bought a vibrator to use on me, just to test  that I have those muscle that contract involuntary. I was amazed by the sensation I felt in my vaginal area. It left me smiling. I was however disappointed that it lack human character even if I had given it a name as Pinkie cos it was pink. I also  did not like that my orgasm escaped me. But it prepared me for any opportunity knowing that I have faked it, until I have perfected my moment.

Well, I define orgasm,  when love making as your journey of being into another realm, where souls are intertwined and spiral into oneness that interflows into the universe. And that happens for less done a minute or so and stays with you for a long time the after. The art is learning to create a built up that will get you to have the best moment. It is this feeling start way before the real incident, as special if your partner is able to converse with you organ.

It starts with muscle spasm in the genital area quickly diffusing to all body parts. It never crosses my mind exactly where it happens in my being.  Whether it is inside my vagina, the G sport or at the head of pearl. Or how and when my punani is capped. I always get blinded by this moment. I have watched my partners blare stare when I m pleasing her sometimes. My feet wobble and form some jelly surface at best you feel tingly. I hve felt my toes stretching as if to release energy out of the nails.  My spine sends electrifying neurons into every fibre of my being. My body would feel like,  I have just had a trauma and shivers right up to the my brain. I swear I have seen the colours of realm. I have gone into my being and stayed there for just a moment.

 I have learn to call the best orgasmic moment a twirling and a beautiful forceful one. I also like the descent that has always left my body shivering for minutes the after, that feels like an earthquake that happens with intervals until it is silences.

I dread orgasm cos the leave me totally absolute exhausted and emotionally displaced. The worst was falling asleep and waking up too late in a day and a wrong place. The best was sleeping for a day thereafter.

Breaking the Circle Of Poverty of An African Lesbian

She doesn’t consider herself black or white but African. She has made friends across the racial lines, and strives to see herself as human more than a race. She was however pained that she was born with a darker skin, place in a black Christian humble family. She wishes she was a Jew. Her Jewish friends seems to have welcomed homosexuality with open arms. Her name is Kaya.

Her mom was a cleaner at the hospital, and her father,a labour in the firm.  They grew up in the rural outskirt of the city in Joburg Orange Farm. There were four of them, two boys and two girls. Like in all African cultures the inequalities were there a long time. Boys would be given better education that girls, better opportunities than girls. They had to learn to fetch water, and to clean the house where as the brothers were studying. Life was not easy.

Kaya’s father was treasure at church.  They prayed twice a day and believed in the Bible. That he had expectations from his family to get married and raised decent kids. He also believed in perpetual family name. The boys school fees was paid for, allowance for college and further training was in place. She has never heard her father say anything more to them than they will finish Matric and get married. He liked saying they should join the women who sell tomatoes in the neighborhood. Amazingly Philile her sister, was quick to appreciate the context of what she is being told by her father. She got pregnant by a trucker and bore two kids in less that no time.   And she had to move in with the trucker.

 At school, she was not a bright spark, and doing all the chores she had to do didn’t do any justice to improving the marks at schools.  She barely finished school and had to look for a job to save for the college to study her passion that would have been fashion designing.  Kaya discovered that she had no interest in man. A lot of men in her neighborhood had advances, none of them was interesting. To her parents it meant a well brought up child. Both brothers finished school well. They went to varsity and the other one to college. And got married.

At one of the church overnight trips she find herself connecting to this woman in a strange way, enough to initiate a strange relationship. The kissing with this woman, Puleng left butterflies in her tummy. She knew that if she was to talk about it, the church will disown her, and be displaced in her parents’ house. She thought that she is possessed by some demon. She asked the church to help pray for her sins without mentioning names.

One day the parent had gone to church, came back and early and found her red handed in her bedroom with a woman engaging intimately. She was thrown out and had nowhere to go. That was the end of her dependency on her parents. Thank god she had save enough to get herself a backroom in Soweto. She worked double shift as a waiter to be able to buy a second hand machine A beginning of a long abusive journey. She did a lot of minor jobs to keep the wolf off the door. She sometimes had gone to bed without food, had to learn to hustle as her way of life. Her crime here was she was a lesbian.

I attended the first LGBTI conference in Africa sponsored by  IBM, Anglo America and HP.  It  was free. I must confess saddened by the number of attendances. It was a attended by a few, usual culprits, that was the NGO officials and government representatives from Department of Justice. Well at least they were there. These event should be happening every year henceforth. I hope to send a different message. About the support and participation from the African Lesbian community.

 I expected to see all departments that could impact in improving the lives of LGBTI to be there, that would have included the Department of Health, Education, Economic Development, and Communications. All this departments would contributed in how they would like to contribute in improving the qualities of Lesbians Transgender, and Intersexed.

 We shared on the success stories of companies that have appreciated diversity and accepted differences. IBM has a policy called Chapter 4 which is known to all employees. The policy emphasize that they only employ on capabilities and nothing but capabilities, that do not discriminate on colour sex or creed, that they were one of the first companies  to remunerate men and women equally. An organization that has skilled their leadership, middle management about acceptance and how they intended using such differences to add value into their organizations. That got me thinking how many of organization in  South Africa that can be there to help change the face of the country, empower lives of those who do not have.

On the same breath, I also heard of a success story of a couple of lesbian Junie Sihlangu and patner of Stud Nation whose businesses initiative is  funded by Coalition for a African of Lesbian Business in Africa (CALBiA) .  CALBiA was founded by an Australian white gay activist named Andreas Citak from who felt a need to land a hand to the African Lesbian who is a victim of her sexual identity. The back of his business card has a qoute by Arch Desmond Tutu and it read …….. “and those of us who have a freedom must speak out for those whose freedom is under attack”. I had a tear in my eye. In South Africa, the initiative is headed by  a volunteer, Thandi Masuku, who juggles between her day job and her new found passion. 

Julie told me that they had submitted their proposal to CALBiA for funding, in the less than six weeks they had started their  business. Their background is  graphic designers in background who has seen an business opportunity in fashion for a clothing label directed to the African Butch Lesbian. Also they know that they will not make it in the mainstream business which discriminate against women like her. She also told me that they were helped to put the business plan together, in a way learning more about their business.

CALBiA has an opportunity of empowering the African Lesbians by creating a  business network of services offered by lesbians, offer business mentorship to the young upcoming lesbians, and support for their business ventures. Unfortunately, Kaya like the most of lesbians in her same situation were not aware of the event taking place in Sandton that would have afforded her a chance to grow as a person.  It is also possible that she did not have money to get to Sandton even if she heard of it. She is not alone. Many African Lesbians are caught in the circle of poverty. And because of they are background they might never be able come out unless institutions like CALBiA lend a hand. And for lesbians to mobilize themselves to be heard seen and empowered. She has recently submitted her funding request to CALBiA, hopefully to break her circle of poverty

The African Lesbians are called to mobilize themselves into clusters in their areas, so that need analyses are conducted and roadmaps to help improve their qualities of life are in their areas  Lesbians who have passion for what they do and are looking into tapping into entrepreneur skills are invited to contact  CALBiA Lesbian Africa to register interest and those who are able to land a hand to mentor and support the African Lesbian are invited to do so. For more information about CALBiA, please contact their website www.calbia-foundation.org. It will also be of value to share your success stories  with  www.lesbianAfrica.blogspot.com.

My black African Woman

While busy blogging  I find this piece I hope u like it.

I want to fall in love with my black African Woman
I m a black African woman, my own kind

A queen who knows what my desires are

Cos I desire her too

Battered she may be grounded she stands with me

I am battered, too  we dont speak about it

For we cant change the past, nor can we change our culture

I  want to fall in love with my chocolate skinned dark woman

Ans remember to lick her skin every time I celebrate her.

I wonna fall in love with my black African woman

And angel who celebrates with me with a tinned fish and bread

And we down it with Coca Cola

To her a bottle of wine is unheard of
I wonna fallin love with her
Her hands can make fire
I hv felt her fire

I wonna fall in love with my African woman

And walk a mile with her

With her breath and birds, my music

I wonna fall in love with my Black African queen

Dressed in Kanga or Saronga but nothing underneath it

So that she is closer to me when I need her

I wonna fall in love with my African Black woman

To her the queen size bed is as big as the veld its self

I wil caress her, roll down the hills

In love and in a moment

I wonna fall in love with her

And say it  over again that I love her, and I love her so

I AM A BUTCH LESBIAN WHO GOT PREGNANT AND I AM ASHAME OF IT

My name is Nozipho.  I am what you will call a butch lesbian They call me Mazi.  Incidentally Mazi is my grandfather; I  look like him, I have been told. That is my alta ego. He is the most domineering personality in me.   I grew up at Mpumalanga with my two  sisters. From when I was a kid I identified with boys. I was the boy my parents never had. I played good soccer, dribbled real men to fall of their chairs. I liked tug games that I was excellent in. I also collected wood.

I have a husky deep voice and a little Adams apple that I always wished cracked when I was teenager so that I could sing in the bass in our church choir.   My body structure confused a lot. Many asked if I am a man or woman. Thank God I grew up in the 90’s where girls could wear pens at school. I have been on my grey pens all the time.

I was a late bloomer with my sexual growth. My breast started growing when I was 16, not so visible.  I don’t wear a bra to date, there is no need.  I have menstruated occasionally but it never bothered me cos I hated menstruation. I was a sport active little girl, or should I say boy. I knew I was a lesbian when I was 17years. We were on the trip for inter athletics with other schools on the outskirt of town. I met this feminine woman, at the change room.  It was in the evening after running 10kms.  I had come out the third. Had this medal on my chest.  She walked up to me and gave me the best lip  kiss ever, without saying a word, and walked away. That left me shattered forever. I still want to meet her again. 

And to many gals I was a handsome boy. My parents encouraged me to wear dresses. My  play friends used to laugh at me cos I looked weird in them. I actually looked like a drag queen when I am strutting them. So I liked wearing pants.  I also enjoyed mechanics, and fixing the garden.  I hated home chores. I did not do as well as I should have at school cos I did not fit in. Gals could not hang with me. Boys bullied me. I did not manage to pass with flying colors as my parents expected. I could not go to varsity to pursue my career in engineer.

I ended up at college to do electronics, ended up at a shop fixing TV’S and fridges. I am earning at list every month. Two years ago with my friends we went to watch soccer with my buddies Peter and Mzi. I find myself attracted to a lady called Philile. She was with her female friends at  my house warming party in a township where I had just bought a house. It seems people here thought I was a men. I liked how my identity was concealed. I felt secure knowing that they will not break into my house cos I am a woman. I went out to smoke and she followed me outside and asked for the puff.  I was amazed at how my body reacted to her presence. I wore a staccato, my hands were shaking. And she noticed. She actually asked what is troubling me. I smiled coyly and told her that I am attracted to her since she walked into the room. I was surprised that she seemed to know what I was talking about. She smiled back, gave me this hug and a smudge kiss on my chick.

I am not sure if she knew I was a lesbian. I was not sure if I was a lesbian. I had never had sex with men. I did not see them in that way. I was not sure what will I do if I had to be with a women. I had not spoken to any lesbian about how they engaged sexually. After a few bottles of alcohols, I invited her to come seat on my lap, and she obliged with ease. I gave her back a beautiful kiss. I liked the feeling I was horny. Did not know how it feels to be horny.  I liked how we connected. She did not leave the house. We both stayed behind and kissed.

I was about to tell her, that I am not a man by any chance when she silenced me and said she knows. At the time she was fondling my beautiful pubic grid. I swear I grew a penis that day. We made love like there is no other day to connect with each other. I loved her. I wished she moved in the following day. Well, she stayed 25kms away from my house. She came every weekend to visit me. Actually she introduced me to other women who loved other women like me, with whom we had good contact through Facebook.

I associated myself with men. I was the man of my house. I loved the feeling of being that Philile shared with me. I was totally blown away by her presence.  I was going to marry her, I also liked that I needed to start saving for ilobola. It is in later months into our relationship that some of these newly acquired friends invited me to an outing in a park where we were going to have a picnic. I liked that. I also love the thought that I had an opportunity to meet other women, she was working on that weekend. I also planned to connect with young men whom I gladly call my Facebook friends, my friends.

I prepared 12 pack of my favourite Sminorff. I also brought a bottle of Knightwatch whiskey to top just in case we needed more. I had my meat and rolls and firewood. I started a little early to drink, so that I am not as shy when we meet with my Facebook friends. Well I don’t remember if I ate. But I know I was tipsy when I final got there. There were lots of people with whom we interacted with ease. It seemed though that I was the only on odd one in the group

 Too many beautiful women. I was hoping to try my luck. I am sure the more I drank the more I pursued more.  As it was getting late I like the comfort of assurance from one of the boys who told me that they will offer me transport back to my house. He said he stayed a few blocks from my house. You see I loved Philile but she was my first. I had a feeling that I am wrapped in her fingers. She knows that I have never met other women, and she is the only woman I know. Some days I felt enslaved by that.

In this group we had lots of buddies whom I continuously supplied with buzz. There was this one who seemed to care for my wellbeing. He made sure my glass if full. I cant remember his name. I think he said Thokozani, or Thulani, or Mtho. I don’t remember.  I liked  the comfort of knowing that he could be a good buddy too, when we go back to the township.  Good that he knows so many women too. I will have a snack or two. In the meantime.

When it got darker, I was comfortable downing two more shots, or was it four of the whiskey. I know that I had to go hide behind the bushes to relieve myself. And the man that I am had to lower my pants, lower my body each time I was there. I am sure my male friend was alarmed that the man that I am would have change into a woman as the night progressed.

Another party was organized while were there, and I like the assurance from this newly find friend that they will drop me at my house. I was getting drunker. I don’t remember the second party.  I sketchily remember hitting the ground.  And some men taking turns to feed off me. And I was helpless. Too intoxicated to remember. Too pained to scream .  And I woke up alone in the morning with my pants and blood stainted panties off. I was raped.

I know that when you are raped you can go to the police station and report your case. I wished I could. But what story do I tell them. That I was raped by strangers I assumed to be my friends for a day. And that I don’t remember cos I was drunk. Let alone a man woman walking into the police station. I could not imagine the humiliation that came with my statement, having to go to the doctor who will open my legs again and examine my private parts. And the shame of relating the story over and over again, I could not bear. I was OK with it. I  was not going to say anything to anybody. This was going to be my incident. That I will slowly heal over, alone.

Not until month five, when I felt sick. I was vomiting, and when I went to the doctor I was told that I  am  pregnant. And  I was too late to abort. I have never wanted a child. I don’t have it in me to be a mom. I am a dad. That’s what I am. I don’t know how I will tell my partner that I am pregnant. I did not tell her that I was raped. I had to wish her away for the months that followed. My life did not include a child, I did not plan for. Me and my partner did not plan to have kids. How do I tell her. I hid the pregnancy by cooking up a story that I have been moved to Pretoria for the next four months. Until the baby was born……. I am ashamed that I got pregnant, and wish to have the child adopted.

I told her I love her on our first date.

I told her I love her on our first date.

I have been consciously searching for love. I have paid to be on the net, have sieved through the list.  I had my shortlist. And I have two of the three suitors. What amazed me how small the fishpod was, how intersexed these individuals were.  How, when their relationships are not working they are quick to go back for more fish. We also have the dating sites in Africa.

I was anxious to meet my third suitor, she called. We spoke for what seemed like eternity on the phone telling me about her background. The kind of music she likes. That we were going to meet and sooner. It happened. We went to an Italian Restaurant, music in background was right. Pavarroti and Friends. The pasta served succulent. And the wine moistened the lips and the heart. We had chocolate and fresh coffee for dessert.

It was a blind date I was nervous I knew that cos I had to change my clothes three or four times. Trying not wear too sexy,   too revealing, too conservative. I settled for a black semi formal dress, pearly necklace and a red lipstick. I sensed myself with corporeal cologne. I had my description of her, she told me she is slim. I have met bigger women who claim to be slim, she said she is tall. I claim to be taller, and have met taller people. I watched every lady who walked in. Wondered if a different being walked in to seat, what I would have done. I must say a beautiful woman walked in.

She asked me the expected question. What is love? I don’t remember what I responded as but that resulted in a two intense years and apparition thereafter.  I thought I knew love to be an emotion a feeling, a wanting or state of being.

For many years yonder, I thought I had an understanding of what love is.  I have a better description of what that could be than when I was young. I guess,   I am a grown up. Love is a rainbow illusion. Some people are lucky to find the golden pot, others chase it forever.  We all have our little understanding of what love is. We have a background in appreciating that. My description can be scientific: Love is the energy you share with the next.

 For the very first time at our dinner table, I blurted that I honestly love her. She said she has nor been told she is love on her first date, that I sounded desperate. That she will not be surprised to know that I sweet talk every woman I meet. I thought love was a word used loosely. Over years I discovered that you do not say you love a person unless you are looking for exclusive monogamous relationship. That reminded me of how little we know about the term, word or verb called love. What we think we can use it in substitute of verb I m sexually attracted to you, or I find you attractive.   

I am not naïve in using the verb love though. I studied biblical studies many years ago. Love then was described in context as  Agape, also described as unconditional love. The kind of love that you share spiritually with your fellow beings,  Eros, the kind that you share sexually with other beings. Philos love - a love based on friendship between two people. But I learnt that that is limiting. It boxed how I felt about love. I have learnt to love and say it all the time.

You see I am a loving person. I feed the birds cos they are God’s creation. I have two dogs that I hve energy directed too. I also have five kids at an orphanage that I like. I have cousins I can barely stand next to that I think I feel responsible to provide for even when I don’t want to.  I have a daughter that I love cos she is here with me. My feelings for her cannot be associated with that of relatives, and my parents. And also  my sisters.  Infact, I dislike my brother for being irresponsible but I can stand next him and smile. I have many friends. I also believe a relationship should be based on good baseline friendship. To be honest I have some energy directed to all of them at some point in time. It is easy for me to say I love you, cos I assume that energy all the time I channel my energy to the next. And I am able to say "I love you, friend". I guess I said I love her cos I wanted her to know that I am a loving person not cos I meant exclusive sexual attraction. And she assumed that I am desperate. I would have said again to the next woman I meet, but I chose not to cross the line. I could have found myself not getting any, or any connection. Talk about saying things in context.

So all women I meet, I talk frankly about their beauty, and how attractive they can be.Presuming that they wont notice tha I am talking sexual attraction. It is not in all that I end up in bed with. I have met some that I just connected as humans; I wonder whether to flash my Philos card. And tell them I love them as friends, hopefully they do not get offended by the wording.  She told me she had love too many and cant imagining loving me the same nite. The confusion for me was the feeling was similar with the one I get when buying a new car , or dress or a pair of shoes. I normally look, feel the urge to possess the goods. The brain will start calculating the pros and cons of the goods to be acquired, and tactfully negotiate with whether I can afford them, whether it is good to look at them, whether I have enough credit to buy and consume them. Likewise my brain seemingly uses the same feelers to check if I am capable of acquiring the goods, or the person. It normally registers in context whether I am capable of relating to the person on the other side of the table. I planned to consume the goods on the same nite.

Don’t get me wrong. I know a few that I can honestly share that our relationship wont be anything more than a kiss, a hug. And never to call again. Because we just don’t have the connection. I have met women that I would love to take home, roll up and smoke into ashes and wish them away as soon as the urge is gone. I also have women I know that they are way above my budget, in terms of offerings, receiving and giving. The kind that you know do not match your credit card like a Lamborghini.  So yes. I told her I love her on her first date cos it felt rite. We could have connected as friends, as another human being and yet as a my lover to take her home. If only she wanted to be.

I don’t know what is love. I m not sure if there is any other human being who can give me a better understanding of what love is. I don’t know if I will ever know better. I know though that I am in love with when there is a degree of connection to the next. And I capsulate it and leave in it for as long as there is that energy that keeps me in it. I also know that it disappears…………

My lover of times

My lover of times
An ex lover visited me many months ago, I hated that she pitched up with salad leaves, parmesan cheese, crockets and a bottle of wine, without warning me.  She came in walked through to the backyard to watch the moonrise with me. I prepared the salad by putting all in the bowl. And threw in Smoked Salmon, balsamic vinegar, cocktail tomatoes,  and  I shaved the parmesan cheese in. I had lit the candles and loved watching her moisturized chocolate skin and glowing eyes. I loved the silence as we both chew and appreciated the moment, and watched the red blood moon rise. We would have been in complete silence if it was not that a mile from my house in a busy main road. The noise reminded me of a waterfall in a botanical garden nearby, as water rambled trough the garden.

I poured her the second glass of wine and asked her what brings her here. She told me that she have been thinking about me lately. She wants me to know that we have been good together, and she miss all the good time we had. She was wondering if I remember the incident when we made love out there under the sky. That she had always been so conservative about her sexuality that for the first time I have made her realise that she is free to be. She missed how  we connected,  I sighed and gulped.  And wished she had not come back, she had evoked emotions I had stuffed away, far in thoughts. I don’t want to remember. Letting her go was very painful.

She was in her late 20’s when we met.  I loved how our minds worked. We had a marriage of mind. She love my music, who loves my kinda music. She loved her space, I did. We loved listening to birds in the morning. I loved cooking for her. She loved food. When we connected, it was be fire. She was my virgin. Every time with her was as good as new.  I loved every single incident with her.  She got me to question the attraction to women; I had never thought it was possible. I had dated men before.

We  both knew that we will part ways someday. In that we did everything we had to, without reservations.  She made me happy. I looked forward to what was in the basket.  I remember to  when we celebrated our first year together. We went on to buy paint and canvass. We made love on the canvass  painted in different colours, over and over again, until we had a life encapsulating piece.  And called it “ lesbian love’. It hanged on my bedroom wall, I held on to it.  Well until recently.

We were growing closer more, finding every reason to be together. Every time she had to live I had tears in my eyes. I would embrace her as if it is her last time, watched her car disappear, until one day I told her I will like to spend the rest of my adult life with her.  We were in my bed, after morning showers. Her response was she can’t, not in this lifetime. She has met someone, and wants to start a family with him.  I think I stopped breathing on that day. The sunlight disappeared; all of the sudden the world was gloom. My life was crushed, I was loveless.  Her explanation was as flimsy. Her mother said she will disown her if she continues being in the relationship with me. That she was possessed with demons for her to fall for me. She has find God that she had to fight temptations everyday to come to me.  That it should not have happened. She is sorry she wasted my time. I held her the whole morning without a saying a word, breathing heavily as if I had a heart attack. I had lost the most beautiful love of my life.

 Today she smelt of a perfume familiar.  I held he close to my chest, looked at her eyes that seemed to be longing for being lost once again.  She did eventually got married to a man, they have been trying for a child for two years now.  It was not happening.  Her sex connection is a painful ritual, she said. That she longs for a connection that was as beautiful as ours.  As she continued to seduce me, I swallowed hard, thinking that I promised not to touch her ever again. She was contaminated; she was not mine anymore to embrace. There is something about her and candles, something about her and moon, something about her and the wine we were drinking, something about eyes that seemed to be begging for my presence. I stood up lit a cigarette. I stood a couple of feet away from her.  As I slowly drew in the nicotine into my lungs, I was imagining what I would do when I finish my cigarette.

I could feel her eyes on me from her behind. She was silent. I stood there for what seemed to be eternity. I plugged off the cigarette and went back to the seat.  I held her hand, embraced it. This tiny hand was my magic stick. It knew places in me that left me humbled. It knew how to please me. It was my magic wand. I wore a sly smile told her that I had moved on. I loved us completely when we were together, I m not sure if I want to go back to us.  That i m pleased she came to see me, wondered what got her to want to evoke what we both have let by. She said that she was not here to want me back. She just wanted to know if she is still alive. That this is the only thing a friend can do to the other, to inject life back to her.

I had a lump in my chest, I loved her with every fibre of my being.   I have always wondered if love  ever disappears. If we are able not to love what we once loved. I have always told her it was her choice to be with me. I held her up, with intentions to get her to go. She held my hand, directed it to her wet punani. She was not wearing her panties. I sighed. I was about to chant my mantra “lord lead us not into temptations”, when she pressed her tiny lips on me. We lip kissed for what seemed to be a lifetime.  I could hear the drums beating between her virgin  breast, her body tantrums ,and our breath shifting into some sync. I don’t know how we achieved that. Breathing in sync, moving in sync, gridding in sync.  We had that all the time.

She had to leave me again.  She was the lover of my life. I am grateful I met her.  I am also grateful to the four years of bliss. My lover of times........... BM

A lesbian lost in Joburg Pride 2011

I attended Joburg Pride 2011 with eyes wide open.   My intentions were to observe on the racial divides, or integration. Solidarity amongst LGBTI, if there was an opportunity to learn and or grow beyond as a collective. To also note if Joburg Pride have the same purpose it wld have had many years ago. As to whether the LGBTI is aware about life realities faced by the African lesbians, whether LGTBI of color are able to help embrace challenges across the colors. And whether is served the purpose it is intended in creating awareness and advocacy about the LGBTI community issues and plight. I watched the divides and the festivities as they happened. There were divides and they are real.

There were lots of Africans ( blacks) outsides the cordoned area who seemed to be entering through a needles hole into the” white” area..  I was grateful though that there was no stampede or any hazards. I also made it my personal mission to personally to go to all Pride events in the year be it Cape Town Pride  2011 and Durban Pride 2011  to capture the difference.  I must say my findings were obvious Cape Town Pride was Amsterdam Pride; Durban Pride was Activists Pride, very lesbian. An African Lesbain is lost in Joburg Pride, the Gay community was there to celebrate a life, and lesbians to drink their worries away. After all the theme was Born Gay. Or was it Born tis way. Who cares, who cared

 The Joburg  Pride  2011  is  organized by whites who have made it in life, with no compassion  for or regard for the realities faced by their black lesbian sisters. I could imagine what was said by the organizers. The message shared in that boardroom was simple, “it not our problem, they need to leave the townships. Or do their thing, we can’t be gloom and doomed, at Pride”.  It seemed that the drivers are not the same; they are worried about revenues generated, instead of using the platform to generate an awareness. I am told the beer was R20 and chips and boerewors was R50.  I also wonder if they were able to consolidate all the activities that were happening culminating into the Pride on Saturday.

They had an opportunity of engaging media, to communicate a Pride Bus from Cape Town, the 1^st LGBTI two days Business Conference sponsored by IBM, where organizations like CAILBT were pronouncing interventions for empowerment projects for lesbians in the country. I also doubt if the Joburg Pride Organisers were aware that the Department of Justice employees marched as a collective at the Pride including the  Deputy Minister Of Justice and Siphiwe Ntombela the Deputy Director: Victim Support and Specialized Court Services, from the Corrective Rape Task Team fame. Again an opportunity lost.

In the LGBTI Business conference, there was suggestion that in 2012, there should be a dinner hosted for activists who have helped change the landscape. I can imagine all the former organizers of Pride being acknowledged at that event.

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