the secret life of my father.....

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.

to share a story and send me feed back contact me on 083 768 6366 or email saxjaz7@yahoo.co.uk or follow me @ hawulethu@tweeter.

for the love of writing

he loved the witch..

In love with a witch.

They dragged her slowly as the whole village watched. No mercy was shown to her, no tear fell from her face only people looking and shouting ''guilty guilty" . A lady screams from the crowd ''die you witch die you witch'' . She raises the spirit of the people and they all shout ''die you witch die you witch'' . They want to rip her apart they want justice in their own hands. The kings guards protect her she is on her way to the gallows. Soon she will be dead, the village will celebrate and they will be at peace.

But from a distance one man stands, his heart is in pain and he mourns bitterly. The whole village says she is the witch. He knows her as his wife. They say every night she flies naked on a broom but he knows every evening she sleeps with her head on his chest. Last week they held her and accused her of killing and eating four children. Its been fourteen years they have been married and she has given him four children.

'She is my wife, my life, my love'' he says. ''She is the witch, a killer and she deserves to die'' says the villagers. They drag her to the guillotine and place her head withing the bases and the blade. She will die soon . Tears start falling from the man's eyes "it is true she is going to die'' he says. 

The blade falls she dies. ''Yeah the witch is dead'' the people rejoice. His heart bleeds he is not allowed to bury his loved one. He goes home to mourn. Who can judge a man when he is in love? Who can measure the depth of love? They called her a witch but he knew her as Estella the queen of his heart.

Love letters from Romeo

written by Hawulethu Dube

a saxjaz7 production

all rights reserved.

rolling in the deep..

lonely cold and teary i left her
silly foolish and proud i did not cherish her
the songs we sang together i forgot
we used to dance on 9th street and walk on 11th avenue
she cried more than she was happy
but the few moment she was happy it lasted a lifetime


i met her when i was young she was younger
she had a round nose and glittering eyes
her figure was so nice i used to say it took God five days to make her
she had sweet lips, her teeth white as snow while her breast soft as the rain
i remember the warmth of her arms and she will always fantasizes the comfort of my chest.
one night we fought she cried but all was gone when i tasted the sweetness of her lips
close to the theatre but far from the park thus where it all began


how did it end i am not sure
the yellow daises have turned blue
the red rose was pink
was it a love story?
was it just a fairy tale?
only time will tell the tale of love
but till then we wait..........................

letters from Romeo..

written by Hawulethu Dube
a saxjaz7 production
all rights reserved

2011 Facebook awards..

The year has come and its gone but facebook still remains *emotional* but lol @ the same time. We lost good freinds like Gaddafi,Mubbarak and Julias #hiding# yet we still have a lot of likes. Well,what happens on facebook its either you like it,comment or just scroll down.

In the history of mankind they is no invention that has brought mankind together regardless of colour,# no wonder Zuckerberg is colour blind#,gender,tribe or race, like facebook. Facebook is not a religion but its a social network a platform for people to make freinds, money, love, preach a sermon, be fools, get followers and be followed. Its in how you see or use facebook that will either get you rich or fired. A standing ovation to the social network, it has allowed us to reconnet with long lost freinds, family and even enemies. In the process; it has never been so easy to fall in love, be engaged, propose, get into a complicated situation or even be seperated. It is all just a click away. You dont judge a book by its cover, you judge it by its face.

After all the adventure, likes and comments and making freinds a community is built. Just like every community they will always be different people . Look at what i have called the Facebookers;


ATTETION SEEKERS

They would use the sillest update to get attention from people eg "oh Nelson Mandela is now old..tata eish thank you" so what we all no that..lol..

LOVE HUNTERS

They always peep ladies pictures,like every update and they always upload the best of their pics..eg Josh just uploaded 45 pictures of himself album name " me, myself and the man (me)" or Susan's status " toothache josh likes this or he comments "me too".


WOUNDED PREY

Just had a breakup will not delete or block X ..but uploads new pics of self with coolest dudes, then writes on their wall "tnx bby had an owesome nite #realman#"


LONELY RANGERS

Have more freinds on facebook than real life and often write about life eg " what is life or thot i could tac a walk"

QUITERS

They joined facebook never wrote anything most probably they dont have a profile pic if they do its the windows XP picture you get from the picture folder. You go to their wall the only thing you find is "James has joined facebook 3 December 2009".

 CRITICS

They dont know what network is or maybe they have got their own beleif its a free country .They dont like or comment most of the times they usual post " its funny how pipo turn out to b on facebook God have mercy'


FREAKS

All of us are freaks.

It has all been on facebook critisism, cynicism,optimism and all the ism but for me the status update of the year goes to..

a boy's dad joins facebook the boy amazed writes on his wall my dad jus joined facebook WTF. The father curios about all ask the boy "son what does WTF means" the boy inocently writes welcome to facebook DAD.

A good year indeed ,just like or comment *wink wink*


written by Hawulethu Dube
a saxjaz7 production
all rights reserved

the Bishop and the Monk...

After watching the 7 o’clock news and seeing the old Bishop Tutu fuming and angry over the rejection of the Dalai lama‘s visa, the following morning the public responded differently. One man who caught my attention and inspired me to pen and paper is the one who said in a Zulu assent “he want to bring the DILAYI LAMA here fore  lousy  birthday u know and spoil the relationship which  the government has with China.”  They are three things involved here; the lousy birthday, DILAYI LAMA ignore my pronunciation if reading spelling and china. A birthday comes once a year like Christmas and every child and Bishops would do anything to make sure their favorite girlfriends and friends are there. For the Bishop he wanted his colleague Dalai Lama to be present, well things didn’t turn out as expected. So the Bishop had to come out of retirement and earn himself another Nobel peace prize, maybe call it campaign against violation of human birthdays, or call it how a Bishop saved a Monk ‘ Jesus saves’.

Faith without works is dead. The Bishop threatened with prayer, he threatened to pray for the downfall of the ANC .That is so scary if I was the Bishop myself I would have prayed for the Visa long back and save my prayers for other things  like unity in the ANC and peaceful hearing of Julius Malema.

The big question is why did the government not grant the Dalai Lama his visa? The first possible reason is it is a threat to government‘s relations with China and the second reported reason was that the Tibetan leader did not send his papers on time. The other burning question is if Tutu knew about the China government relations  visa vi the threat that the Tibetan leader would be to them(relations), why then did he go on to invite him. If he had to consider the consequences to the nation as a whole and its economy rather than cutting a cake with his Prize mate what would he chose?

While on the other hand the anger of the Archbishop is justifiable. The Chinese government has no right to interfere in the Dalai Lama’s social visits that do not involve any political or economic reasons. He wanted to come to South Africa just to party nothing more. He won’t take a lot of seats by the way; he will just sit down and mind his own business.

I guess the Struggle is still on the final victory has not yet come. Big up to the Bishop he sure is a man of faith I quote “faith without works is dead”. Before I close my chapter today I would like to send my prayer request addressed to the Bishop.

Dear Tutu

I am a Zimbabwean and I applied for my visa last year in December, the government promised that it will be out in few weeks. Now its 10 months I haven’t received anything, every day I have to part ways with a couple of Rands to the Police. Please Bishop remember me in your prayers even as we pray for this government

Your fellow African

 Anonymous

NB* my birthday is around the corner. I would like to travel too.

Written by Hawulethu Dube 

A saxjaz7 production 

all rights reserved