Secret life of my Father 'the reunion'

 A year ago i wrote an article on my blog called the ''secret life of my father'', hoping that i will be able to re unite with my long lost family. Before my father met my mother and decide to settle with her, there was a life he lived and a family he made, whom with all my heart i longed to meet and love. After years of fruitless searching i received an email.

Dear Hawulethu,

I am sorry to learn about your father. I found your article on a blog
and it just made me cry thinking about what was and what could have been.
I think I am the woman whose letter you found among your father's things
and the half-brother you met is my son Themba.
  The last time we saw your father was in January 2003. I will be
traveling to the UK sometime next week {around June 6} and I will try to
contact you.
Actually you have another brother and sister in Botswana...I have only
ever met the girl but that was years ago.

Wishing you all the best.
Chatiwa Lydia Manyepedza-Cotter

Below is the first article.

I was going through my father's books one night when i found a letter.It was a letter written to my father by a woman.There were no secret to hide now my father was late. I slowly read the letter with curiosity wanting to know who my father was. After i had finished reading the letter, i was left with more questions than answers. I wished i had found this letter when he was still alive.

Around 1976 my father was in exile in Botswana. During his span in exile he met a Tswana woman. Judging by the beauty of my mother i would love to believe she was beautiful too. They became friends later on made love and had a son. A few months after the birth of my brother my father left them. He never came back. He did not write or phone them. He closed that chapter.
24 years after my father left Botswana i met my half  brother for the first time.My father was still alive then and i had not found the letter. I was too young to ask question all i did was to hug my brother and go tell my friends i have a brother from Botswana. It is not a mystery how my half brother found his father. When my father left Botswana, the only thing he left my brother was a book (forgot the title of the book). Written in that book was a message from father to son  and an address of where my father used to stay. Later on when my brother was grown up,he began a quest to look for his father. The only clue that he had besides blood running in his veins was an address to a foreign country he had never been to.He took a bus to Zimbabwe and with all forces behind him he found the house and my father.

My brother came again for the second time and he never came back again to see his father.A few years later my father passed on. We lost contacts and failed to notify him about the death of his father.

While i was reading the letter from my brother's mother to my father my heart melted and i almost cried.
she wrote (not in her words but summarized)

Dear Cecil

I am glad that i am writing this letter to you. I hope you are fine. I had you are married and have children. I am married too and i have  two children now. I am now living in America, my husband got a job there so we moved. Cecil, you came into my life and i allowed you in. We brought life into this world together and it was  wonderful. However you left us without saying goodbye. You never came back neither did you write to us. We waited for you hoping that you will come back but you never did. How did you want me to answer our son when he asks where his father is? I lived every night to think what wrong i did to you that made you leave.If i had known the reason for you leaving at least i would hold on to that. However i do not know.I am sorry for the pain i caused you yet i did not know. I am sorry if i did not love you much, at least if you had spoken i would have tried more. My heart still bleeds and i still feel the pain. Yes i did find love but i lost you.
I have found room to forgive you however, there was no space to forget. I wish you all the best in your life


Rachel.


My father never replied, if he did, maybe he wrote the wrong address.I do not know why, maybe it is because he loved my mother or  he loved  Rachel more. Only he can answer that but all we left with are just diaries and letters.

In memory of my Father Cecil Siso Charles Lwanga Dengela Dube 1947-2005


written by Hawulethu Patrice Dube
 a saxjaz7 production
all rights reserved

@hawulethu

Heita daaaaaaaaaaar!

''Mintirho ya vulavula. Yita vula vula mindzuko. Sharp-sharp. Heita daaaaaaaaar!!'' That is how Mr Morning Live Vuyo Mbuli ended an informative, patriotic and mesmerizing Morning News broadcast. Morning Live will never be the same again you shall forever be missed, Vuyo we love you. Born on the 14th of May 1967, Vuyo made his TV debut in 1993 as a continuity presenter on SABC3 and went on to be signed as one of the founding anchors of Morning Live when the show premiered on 1 November, 1999.He started his radio career on SAfm in 1995 and remained with Morning Live until his death on 18 May 2013.He died after collapsing at the Free State Stadium in Bloemfontein where he was watching a Super Rugby match between the Cheetahs and the Reds. He was rushed to hospital where he later died.He celebrated his 46th birthday on air on 14 May 2013, a birthday he shared with his daughter. Once again Mr Morning Live you shall forever be missed.

Well, just like every South African and African i too woke up to the voice of Vuyo. A very creative and intelligent Sir with very good communication skills that always kept us glued to our TVs every morning. Vuyo changed the face of media particularly on that of anchoring. His trade mark introductory statements, and conclusions, his relationship with the crew behind the scenes and his love for the job was well translated and transmitted to our homes every day. Though some of us never had a personal relationship with the man we through listening to him every morning built a relationship not only with the news but with the man himself. Later on to be joined by Leanne Manas the two potrayed a perfect picture of what the rainbow nation should look like. I guess his good in front of the camera makes us to over look the downs in his personal life.
For the last time we say "libumbene ihora le skhombisa" Mintirho ya vulavula. Yita vula vula mindzuko. Sharp-sharp. Heita daaaaaaaaar!!''

In memory of Vuyo Mbuli 1967-2013  '' it's not what you say, It's what you do!''

written by Hawulethu Dube
a saxjaz7 production
all rights reserved

@hawulethu

Walls with eyes....

 On the walls of Johannesburg  messages are encrypted. Some speak of a song while some reflect the present. Wall Graffiti is a popular means of how artist express themselves either to raise an awareness, share an inspired thought to the world or make a living out of it commercially.

 ''Women lie Men lie but graffiti tells the truth''










 Two breast, two kids and two men in her life she was  proud and she lived a shameless life. I met her once and her name is Sofia.

The eyes of Joburg one would call them, i would further call them the eyes that speak. In pursuit and in love of art Two by Two studios in Newtown will be hosting a graffiti exhibition on the 16th of May @ 41 Gwigwi Mrwebi street Newtown.

Pictures by @hawulethu

written by Hawulethu Patrice Dube
a saxjaz7 production
all rights reserved