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

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

LAUNCH FEATURE: DO LESBIAN RELATIONSHIPS WORKOUT

We have deliberated about the topics we would love to be the launch feature for the African Lesbian Blog. We wanted a topic that will feature ordinary lesbians. We wanted their stories to be heard by their friends, colleagues, and strangers, who might be interested in knowing about the realities in the lesbians’ community. Lesbian African Blog will feature real life stories, careers, parenting, fashion health issues affecting them . It is meant to educate entertain and share . 

 Join us on our launch issue as we cover a feature about real life story of Marshmello Butch Cadress and her partner who have been together for more than” eight glorious years” as she say it. We will share tips  on what has worked for them, what they are doing daily to stay in love…..

Real life Stories: What future do you and your partner have together as African Lesbians?

Real life Stories:   What future do you and your partner have together as African Lesbians?

Preamble:

She could not wait to get home to tell her partner about the good news. She is finally pregnant. She had gone past the doctor to confirm the good news. They both wanted this child. They had day dreamt about it. It was going to be called Tisetso, as in to firm their relationship.  It would have brought more purpose into their lives. This is one child they both wanted to have. Okay, she wanted her more. Her partner Busi,  has a child that she got many years ago. Mpho is her name, she loves her to bits. She has known her for four years now.  She is a teenager who goes to boarding school. They both can’t wait for her to come home during holidays, to feel like a big beautiful family.

They have a beautiful home in Fourways, in a golf estate. It was bought by Busi, a year before they got married. Not all the family members attended the wedding. They are not so supportive of this lesbian status. Busi’s father is a Pastor and her brother is something serious in the church.  The family told her that it is her lifestyle that is not acceptable in God’s eyes. They won’t mind it as long as she stays far from them.  I imagine that as a reason for her to be that educated. She wanted to be far away from the parents.

Busi met Nthati when she has gone to the hospital accompanying her daughter Mpho who had flu, many years ago while she was doing her practical as a radiologist. They felt in love and have never been apart since that day as Busi defines her love for her. “She finishes my sentence; I get home to a warm soul. I am never cold with Nthati. I love her with every fibre of my being. ” And sigh.

They have a warm home, four bedroom house with four lounging areas a swimming pool, and entertainment area and the gym.  And a lots of seating outdoor areas, with a rose garden.  Busi is passionate about flowers. Last year when the flower bloomed, she had a candle dinner prepared for two, surrounded by scented roses at the glow of candlelight.  And they had each other nothing really mattered.

She got home excited, and looking up at where Busi normally parks the car. She is normally early on Tuesdays.  She had gone to Mpumalanga to present the Audit Reports and Recommendations. She has done this many a times, all over South Africa. And she seemed to enjoy every relationship she formulates with the clients. Nthati knows that Busi will always phone to say whether she will cross night  or she will be home later. For some stranger reason she has not called. Or if she did call, that was when she was in the consulting rooms. For some strange reason, she had a deep sigh of sadness that enveloped her………..

She has called her frantically as the sunset , twenty-six times to be precise. Little did she know that the night brought the worst news ever.  A visit from the police to tell her that she has passed on in a fatal car accident at Machadodorp.  Her life was about to change forever. No scream, tear ,pain could  console her .

They have been married for two years, who plans for a partner’s death in two years of marriage. Who plans for a partner’s death in a way.  Nthati’s parents don’t know that she was married to another woman. They have known Busi as her best friend, a friend who was there on her graduation,  a friend with whom they share a house. Nthati’s siblings know cos they have seen the two close the doors behind them. And only coming out to drink fridge water. She had met Busi’s family at the church when Busi decides on the place of worship; they have been to their house once for a barbeque and prayed for the food before the lunch. They sat in the lounge the whole time.

Nthati called her sisters to come to her house, and calls Busi’s mom to tell her to come through to the house immediately.  Upon arrival, the family had told her to go home to her family, that they will bury their daughter in their own way. She does not have a say. The house was in Busi’s name. And the two cars they both used. She was told not to see Mpho ever again.

The mother in law told her”, Unfortunately  your marriage certificate does not have  clutter or sound bites here. My daughter was my child too. I will bury here how I see fit. We never saw cows from you, and your family. And try to think this Nthati, there was no marriage, if there was it was not within the confines of  my culture.”

Lessons Learned

·          African Lesbians marry based on love mostly, without carving the path as to how they plan to leave together. Discuss your plans once settled.

·         Some stay together for 10 years without marriage and when they pass on, they are treated as no entity. South African Law protects cohabiting as long as you can prove it.

·         As soon as you get committed, have wills drafted, including how you will like to be buried.

·         They normally don’t go about planning insurance policies, they pass on without giving their partners comfort as it is expected from hetero couples.  Invite the insurance man.

·         Busi would have wished for Mpho to have a relationship with Nthati , if it means that much to your partner, get the adoption forms.