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
Friday, 31 May 2013
Monday, 20 May 2013
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
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
Friday, 10 May 2013
Walls with eyes....
''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.
Pictures by @hawulethu
written by Hawulethu Patrice Dube
a saxjaz7 production
all rights reserved
Thursday, 7 February 2013
I saw a Zulu this morning...
''It was at seven in the morning when i saw this big black gentleman walk outside Mrs Grobler's house. He wore a black trouser, a white shirt which he folded over his arms and he carried a back pack that looked heavy. I knew that moment that Mrs Grobler was in trouble. So immediately i rushed into the house to call the police. When i got back again to check the gentleman had left, when the police came it was too late. Oh God i feel sorry for Mrs Grobler she lived a sad lonely life now she is dead". Those were the words of eighty five year old Mrs Muller who was the only witness to testify to the murder of Allen Grobler a widow who was found dead in her home two hours ago. People all over the small town of Bloomberg had gathered around the deceased's property to catch a glimpse of what was happening. Her body was lying on the floor, she had been stabbed several times before her death. The freshness of her blood and a plate of scrambled eggs was evidence that the murder had occurred the exact time being mentioned by the witness. ''I saw the gentleman'' cried Mrs Muller. ''He was Zulu and big'' she said.
The place was now surrounded by sniffer dogs and a helicopter patrolling the town. Near by the town was a shanty town with lots of black people working in the mines and yes most of the man were big and Zulu. About five suspects had been held and were in custody. It was up to Mrs Muller to go and identify the black Zulu she saw in the morning. She had dressed up already and about to get into the police van when a lady screamed from a distance,"stop'' . ''Where are you taking her?' she asked. ''Sorry lady'' spoke the inspector, ''who are you and what relations do you have with Mrs Muller or the deceased?''. This old lady here is my mother and what deceased?'' she asked surprisingly. ''Your mother here is about to be the town's new hero, she is a witness to a murder that occurred two hours ago right here'' pointing at Mrs Grobler 's home.''Your mother claims..'' she intervenes the inspector before he had finished. '' With all due respect Mr Inspector, my mother has been blind for twenty five years. She has never seen the sun nor the color of her nose. I know what she told you. She said she saw a Zulu outside, big wearing black pants, white shirt folded and heavy back pack. Yes, she has been singing that hymn since she got involved in an accident that left her husband dead. I am sorry Mr Inspector for my mom to have wasted your time.
The place was now surrounded by sniffer dogs and a helicopter patrolling the town. Near by the town was a shanty town with lots of black people working in the mines and yes most of the man were big and Zulu. About five suspects had been held and were in custody. It was up to Mrs Muller to go and identify the black Zulu she saw in the morning. She had dressed up already and about to get into the police van when a lady screamed from a distance,"stop'' . ''Where are you taking her?' she asked. ''Sorry lady'' spoke the inspector, ''who are you and what relations do you have with Mrs Muller or the deceased?''. This old lady here is my mother and what deceased?'' she asked surprisingly. ''Your mother here is about to be the town's new hero, she is a witness to a murder that occurred two hours ago right here'' pointing at Mrs Grobler 's home.''Your mother claims..'' she intervenes the inspector before he had finished. '' With all due respect Mr Inspector, my mother has been blind for twenty five years. She has never seen the sun nor the color of her nose. I know what she told you. She said she saw a Zulu outside, big wearing black pants, white shirt folded and heavy back pack. Yes, she has been singing that hymn since she got involved in an accident that left her husband dead. I am sorry Mr Inspector for my mom to have wasted your time.
stories by the humming bird
written by Hawulethu Patrice Dube
a saxjaz7 production
all rights reserved
follow me on @hawulethu
and please like this page https://www.facebook.com/LoveInTheTimeOfXenophobia
Tuesday, 5 February 2013
Half a bucket of love.....
For thirty two years Maria Burgess lived with her husband Thomas Burgess a very rich man. Maria met Thomas thirty five years ago in a hotel where she worked in as a housekeeper. She was only twenty by then and in love with Alfred Jerkins Jr. Unlike Thomas, Alfred did not have a lot of wealth none the less Maria loved Alfred.On the 3rd of November 1845 Alfred got a job in the city and left he never wrote or came back again.Two years later Maria married Thomas.
It was on the eve of the Christmas of 1878 that Maria received news that Thomas had died.Her heart sank she was in pain she wished she had loved Thomas more. A year after Thomas's death while Maria was mourning, Alfred came back from the city. The love of her life had come back to life. All along she knew she had not given Thomas her whole heart, she lied to have loved him in the past thirty years.
A month later Alfred proposed to Maria who in turn was to reply through written later as per custom if one was a widow. After thirty two years in the city Alfred had managed to transform himself to a powerful man very wealth and respected, by no means he knew he still possessed a special place in Maria's heart.
After weeks of consideration and thought Maria replied to the marriage proposal.
My Dearest Alfred
With great joy and happiness i was glad to see you once again after thirty two years. You made me feel young again. You took me back into my first love, my first joy and of course my first kiss. I was sitting alone last night and i began to think of the passion we had when we were young. I remember very well the first night i slept outside my home , how early the following morning you carried me into my bedroom window. Later on today i met William you remember him?The old man that caught us making love for the first time in his corn field, yeah he is still alive. I would agree as a widow though not proud of it you the only man whom i fully gave my heart to.I never fully gave my husband Thomas my whole heart because often i hope that you would come back. I gave Thomas half a bucket of love which he took grateful with both hands and turned that into a field of happiness in my life while you took the whole bucket and disappeared. Yes we might have had our share of happiness when we were young but that was then. Now am a grown up woman i have tested love i have not loved and i have seen what love is. Go to the city again,come back after thirty two years maybe i will say yes to your proposal, for now i have given the last half bucket of love to my husband Thomas
Your friend Maria
written by Hawulethu Patrice Dube
a saxjaz7 production
all rights reserved
follow me @hawulethu
like this page of Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/LoveInTheTimeOfXenophobia
It was on the eve of the Christmas of 1878 that Maria received news that Thomas had died.Her heart sank she was in pain she wished she had loved Thomas more. A year after Thomas's death while Maria was mourning, Alfred came back from the city. The love of her life had come back to life. All along she knew she had not given Thomas her whole heart, she lied to have loved him in the past thirty years.
A month later Alfred proposed to Maria who in turn was to reply through written later as per custom if one was a widow. After thirty two years in the city Alfred had managed to transform himself to a powerful man very wealth and respected, by no means he knew he still possessed a special place in Maria's heart.
After weeks of consideration and thought Maria replied to the marriage proposal.
My Dearest Alfred
With great joy and happiness i was glad to see you once again after thirty two years. You made me feel young again. You took me back into my first love, my first joy and of course my first kiss. I was sitting alone last night and i began to think of the passion we had when we were young. I remember very well the first night i slept outside my home , how early the following morning you carried me into my bedroom window. Later on today i met William you remember him?The old man that caught us making love for the first time in his corn field, yeah he is still alive. I would agree as a widow though not proud of it you the only man whom i fully gave my heart to.I never fully gave my husband Thomas my whole heart because often i hope that you would come back. I gave Thomas half a bucket of love which he took grateful with both hands and turned that into a field of happiness in my life while you took the whole bucket and disappeared. Yes we might have had our share of happiness when we were young but that was then. Now am a grown up woman i have tested love i have not loved and i have seen what love is. Go to the city again,come back after thirty two years maybe i will say yes to your proposal, for now i have given the last half bucket of love to my husband Thomas
Your friend Maria
love letters from Romeo.
written by Hawulethu Patrice Dube
a saxjaz7 production
all rights reserved
follow me @hawulethu
like this page of Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/LoveInTheTimeOfXenophobia
Wednesday, 9 January 2013
Viva your are a legend...Zonke Dikana
'I hear them say your name and i know you live in me. They 'd say ''viva he's a legend'',then i would smile and my mind would fly..viva you are a legend''. An inspiring song by Zonke Dikana. I know good songs and sweet melodies,well done albums that give you value for your money amongst them is Zonke 's album Ina ethe. Well known for hits like 'Feelings and Jik'izinto' the album is loaded with love and inspiring messages. I recently bought her album after months of looking and not finding it. My policy is, when ever i buy or invest in anything i have to have value for my money. So i played the Cd everyday. The uniqueness of this album is that you fall in love with it the more you listen to it. One song i have fallen in love with is track 12 ''Sobabini'',one of those songs that just blow you off and burst in tears. To add on this is Zonke's emotional performance at Macufe festival 2012 that left fans asking for napkins.
With all songs written, composed, produced and arranged by Zonke there is indeed great talent about to explode to the whole world.
Growing up with her grandmother in the Eastern cape, a mother and at her early thirties there is a bright future for this singing sensation.
NO TO PIRACY BUY ORIGINALS
written by Hawulethu Patrice Dube
a saxjaz7 production
all rights reserved
@hawulethu
https://www.facebook.com/LoveInTheTimeOfXenophobia
Monday, 7 January 2013
Love in the time of Xenophobia
Act 1
Scene 1
It is from the well that a
village draws its life. It is from there also that early in the morning, woman
meet to discuss what happened yesterday and possible predict what will happen today.
Giving tomorrow its own turn when the sun rises again. There has been a lot of
talk in the village, a lot of things have happened but the predominant issue is
about the foreign mistress, Mukunda the teacher that bought her a bed and the
rumour that Mukunda has fallen in love with a foreign lady. On stage are three
women at the well.
Woman 1
Woman of
Barwa, what else do you know except to wake up at the witch’s hour leaving your
half dead husbands snoring like a
roaring river after a mighty flood. Sneaking out every dawn the same way you
snatched the heart of your man from the hands of a woman you knew she was twice
better than you. Now in your lifeless life built out of selfishness what else
can you do except to bewitch the poor man by the softness of your breast. Women
of Barwa what else can you do except to talk about other people.
Woman 2
Oh!! The all
wise maKhumalo, solve your life first before you try to be a solution to ours.
You are old yet still selfish. You have four sons yet none of them you have
allowed to marry. Why? Oh yes I know, who would want to share a broom with
another woman. Go on maKhumalo marry your sons just like a chicken eats its own
eggs.
Woman 3
Peace woman
of Barwa, if we do not stand as sisters we will die as fools. Pulling each
other in a hot pot, instead of allowing one of us to stand on top and pull us
out of the fire. Slowly and surely we will escape the heat. Do no worry
maKhumalo, have you not heard of the foreign mistress and her beauty? I think
one of your sons might fall for her and eventually take away your reproach.
Woman 1
Never, not
on my wrinkled body will any of my sons marry an alien. We have seen people eat
monkeys and monkeys eat cats but we will never see a foreigner marry one of our
children. Anyway who is this foreigner?
Woman 2
Have you not
heard?
Woman 1
Yes I have
not heard.
Woman 2
Her name is
Rachel. She was deployed by the education office to come and teach at our
school. They say she is good. When she came her beauty fooled us we thought she
was one of us. However hell broke loose.
Woman 1
How did
people find out?
Woman 2
That is not
what matters now. What matters now is that her beauty has not gone unnoticed.
Woman 1
What do you
mean?
Woman 2
She has
captured the heart of one of the teachers at school, Mukunda. It is said that despite warnings from fellow teachers Mukunda went on to buy a bed for the new
mistress. He has been seen several times at the mistress place at night. I
guess he wants to start a movement called love has no eyes it neither hears nor
can smell.
(All laugh)
Woman 1
You mean Mukunda, cousin to Mangi the
gentleman to be ordained Chief.
Woman 2
Yes
Woman 1
Pity of pities to Mukunda, what a wasted life, but his brother is a good man. We are all grateful for him. This land had gone for while without a chief and we really need him now.
Pity of pities to Mukunda, what a wasted life, but his brother is a good man. We are all grateful for him. This land had gone for while without a chief and we really need him now.
Women 2
Yes we do.
People believe when Mangi comes he will order the retention of the teacher or
even speak to education officer to transfer her.
Woman 3
I know a
story I heard it a long time ago, how love joined two nations. You cannot blame
Mukunda for his deeds. Surely love has no eyes. It neither hears nor smells.
When love takes over you forget who you are and realize that even foreigners
are people like you. At least he has a heart to love.
Woman 1
Oh poor
maNtuli your heart still bleeds for a man that left you years ago. People tell
you everyday that Siziba is not coming back. They say he has married in the
city. Surely love is blind to you.
Woman 3
I will not
speak. Let me leave lest the sun sets on me at the well.
Woman 1
Yes woman of
Barwa go home what else do you know, for tomorrow we shall meet again.
to be continued......
Love in the time of Xenophobia is play meant to reconcile the locals and foreign nationals existing in the same nation.
written by Hawulethu Patrice Dube
a saxjax7 production
All rights reserved
@hawulethu on twitter
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