Lady Mystique__Part3

“Excuse me Miss, you’ve got some grass on your hair” I said calmly.

Outwardly, my body looked confidently cool, calm and composed. Inwardly, all the regular body operations dragged, jerked and shouted “System Overload!”  Nonetheless, the first part of my plan had taken root successfully. ‘Lady mystique’ slowly attempted to clean the imaginary ‘mess’ that she thought lay embarrassingly on her thick dark afro.

“Has it all come off?” she innocently asked.

“Just a little more on the left; don’t worry I’ll get it out for you” I sneakily replied.

I skillfully began to stroke her hair softly; first on the right side and then artistically proceeded to the left. I could not risk reshaping the one sculpture that every lady spends most of her time and money on: hair.  Before I could complete the honorary task of ‘de-grassing’ the natural crown of ‘lady mystique’, the forbidden occurred. Our eyes met. I knew I had overstepped the zone of no return. It happened so fast that my mind experienced a terrifying short-circuit. The glitch sparked off a spiritual tsunami, which generated an electromagnetic reaction that in turn ignited an emotional overdose! In simple terms, I collapsed.

To say the truth, it happened like a three-punch technical knockout; what boxers call a TKO. When my eyes and those of ‘lady mystique’ met, a strange red light sucked my mind into a ghostly trance.  Next, I heard Grandma’s cautionary words; they begun as a whisper then grew into an ungodly high-pitch sound which ruthlessly tore my eardrums igniting a mental trauma. Finally, my eyes slowly opened just before I head-butted the concrete floor and blacked out. The rest is difficult to disclose. I remember very little about the events of that mysterious Monday when I met ‘lady mystique’. All I Can say is I have never touched a girl’s hair since that day…

 

Lady Mystique__Part2

My grandma often warned me never to touch a girl’s hair.  Any African in his right mind would not dare confront, let alone question an elderly woman’s instruction pertaining to maters of lineage or tradition. For reasons known only to our elderly, ‘our ways’ vehemently stipulated I keep my rough manly hands miles away from the black keratin serenating the soft scalp of a member of the opposite sex; that is, a woman’s hair. Grandma’s words, just like my father’s, God rest his soul, somehow never connected with my intuitive brain. Their words often reminded me of those boring mathematical formulas which students repeatedly recited with priestly devotion but rarely applied them correctly when solving examination questions.

Curiosity to approach the mystique lady gripped my mind harder than a hyena’s deadly bite. So vicious is a hyena’s bite that once this laughing creature clutches its prey’s flesh, its ‘steel jaws’ naturally lock only to open after it rips off a massive chunk of meat from the helpless moaning animal.  The spell now cast, emotions somehow overriding all logic, my feet begun marching forward meticulously, merging perfectly with the rhythm of my heartbeat. It felt like I was walking on a tight-rope with a blindfold tied tightly around the eyes and handcuffs solidly securing my arms behind my back. Oshun, Orisha of Love, must have felt pity on my foolish self that she swiftly birthed an idea in my mind just as I sat down beside ‘lady mystique’……………..

 

Lady Mystique_Part 1

She entered the room silently, in low heels, shaking curly hair, no Indonesian weave or synthetic strings, just a unique dome-shaped half-combed afro. Everything about her was un-classic, yet something about her appearance magnetized my eyeballs. No mascara on her face or piercings through her ears. Her soft caramel skin slightly exposed on her arms and shoulders; no strange patterns or tattoos, just tiny dark spots reflecting the merciless thirst of highland mosquitoes. Slowly she sat down, barely wiping the dust lying lazily over the brown thatch Maasai mat. There was something electric about her glance; somewhat jolly somewhat cautious. My papa used to tell me never to approach a girl whose facial gesture were difficult to unravel; his advice rarely found an iota of wax in my ears willing to take heed of his wise words.

Every rebellious cell swimming foolishly within my bloodstream decided to make a move on a girl whose mannerisms were more confusing than a set of identical biracial twins. It really does not take much insight to realize that my species, also known as gentlemen, impeccably exemplify a breed of indifferent idiots rushing toward the ‘battlefield of flirtation’ without optimal training, quality weapons or strategic thought. That said, I consider myself a relatively intelligent and highly intuitive young man. Not once have I subscribed to or exhibited the kind of reckless behavior vividly described above, at least not until my brain partly processed and sparsely internalized the subtle image of this remarkable dark-skinned female species displaying an outlook unbecoming of mainstream ideas of a ‘classy’ woman…..

 

May is for Malcolm

Some quotes from one of the Greatest black men to have ever graced tha mathaland

El Hajj Malik El Shabazz

“Of all our studies, history is best qualified
to reward our research. And when you see
that you’ve got problems, all you have to do is
examine the historic methods used all over the
world by others who have problems similar to
yours. Once you see how they got theirs
straight, then you know how you can get yours
straight.”__Malcolm X

“The political philosophy of black nationalism
means that the black man should control
the politics and the politicians in bis own community.
The economic philosophy of black
nationalism is pure and simple. It only
means that we should control the economy of
our community.”__Malcolm X

“One of the first things I think young people,
especially nowadays, should learn is how to see
for yourself and listen for yourself and think for
yourself. Then you can come to an intelligent
decision for yourself. If you form the habit of
going by what you hear others say about someone,
or going by what others think about someone,
instead of searching that thing out for
yourself and seeing for yourself, you will be
walking west when you think you’re going
east, and you will be walking east when you think
you are going west.”__Malcolm X

“I don’t go along with any kind of nonviolence
unless everybody’s going to be nonviolent.
If they make the Ku Klux Klan nonviolent,
I’ll be nonviolent. If they make the White
Citizens Council nonviolent, I’ll be nonviolent.
But as long as you’ve got somebody else not
being nonviolent, I don’t want anybody coming
to me talking any nonviolent talk.”__Malcolm X

“You get freedom by letting your enemy
know that you’ll do anything to get your free-’
dom; then you’ll get it. It’s the only way you’ll
get it”__Malcolm X

“We didn’t want anybody telling us anything
about Africa, much less calling us Africans. In
hating Africa and in hating the Africans, we
ended up hating ourselves, without even realizing
it. Because you can’t hate the roots of a
tree, and not hate the tree. You can’t hate your
origin and not end up hating yourself. You
can’t hate Africa and not hate yourself.”__Malcolm X

 

***River Side***

chillin’ in Italia

They say words r a powerful thing
better yet how u arrange them
u ever try writin’ a poem?
I did n it changed ma life 4 real
ended up meetin some amazin minds
cool re-unions in tha piazzas of Italy
singing songs n sippin’ wine
dancing halls n cigarette kisses
chillin back crunching croatian cookies
while listenin 2 amazin poetry pieces…
Riverside vibes, cocktail smiles
sittin’ beside,a gal on ma right
very cool, she very nice
u can jus tell 4rm tha look in her eyes
n tha way she says “im fine”…
And in a flash like that relaxed side ba side
a stranger would hav thought we were long time friends…
good good times n interestin discusions
H&M, Italian (wo)men, n even Malcolm X…
Some things one just cannot want to forget
runnin with luggages to catch Zagreb bound buses
Exchangin heartful smiles n soothin hugs
to keep us warm n reminicent on tha gud times we’ve had
Cherish them till tha next time we meet
& do it all over again
with ma new found fun-tabulous friend…

uThanDiLe(c)2013

 

Change (chillax)

**Change**

Change is a dangerous thing
if u got a rigid kind a’ mind…
knocks u out proper;
fatal impact of a sandstorm in rewind…
leave u spinnin’ outta control;
not knowin’ ur left or right…
gotta learn 2 relax,
b flexible, free;
not solid like cast steel…
so wen tha storm hit,
u dont break lyk frozen ice…
u jus’ glide with tha wind,
flow thru tha change breeze with ease…
In summary,
learn to CHILL.

uThanDiLe (c)2013

 

Hairstory

Corn rows & mohawks uThanDiLe (c)2013

 

In those societies of nature, the so called ‘traditional cultures’, hairstyles were more than identity cards. By looking at an individuals hair pattern, one could tell their age-group, social status, profession, royalty, clan etc. I decided to see how them conr-rows would do to my head…reclaimin’ a lil’ bit of our culture. The new age minds are still convinced that hair plaiting is a woman’s thing. However, when you do some littel research about our history, the opposite holds true.