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Beauty Bokwani
I stood in Viljoen Street, in front of the gate.
I walked down the street of my memories.
A black cat crossed the street, and I laughed out loud
My Gogo’s voice rang in my ears
“Who is bewitching us in broad daylight?
It’s that bloody ma Gobozi,
She can turn into any animal.
That’s why she knows everything about everyone.”
“Hamba mtakai,” said Gogo, throwing stones at the cat.
I was having a conversation with myself
When a barking dog brought me back.
I was standing in front of the sky-blue house with the iron gate
The streets still dusty; no tar.
A young woman so beautiful with her black shining skin
Leaned against the door, inviting me with her warm smile,
A smile that reminded me of ma Gajeni. It was her granddaughter.
A strange air filled my being, it touched my heart.
I stepped inside the house where I played with my friends
when it was snowing or raining
while my parents were at work.
The white and yellow curtains reminded me of the daisies
I saw in the garden that smelled so sweet.
The orange fabric that covered the chairs,
The same colour as the fire that burned inside me,
A passion born out of hurt and disappointment.
I was held by a magic healing balm created
When ma Gajeni danced with words,
Laughing with her soul while playing the guitar.
A woman who dared to be different.
She didn’t just tell stories like our mothers and grannies
But read stories from books at a time when most black girls
couldn’t attend school in our area.
She never clapped her hands while singing like other women
But pulled out a red guitar from underneath the wooden bench
And pulled the strings until the children joined her
Singing, clapping, stamping and shaking their bodies.
She never wore a scarf on her head, not even when she was married.
Her bright coloured blouses matched her long black skirts.
Colourful beads complimented her long braids
And her beautiful skin, darker than other black women’s.
Men hated her; women whispered behind her back.
Malume John said he dreamed about ma Gajeni.
“What did you dream about?” Everybody wants to know.
“I dreamed ma Gajeni was flying over my roof on a loaf of bread.”
Nobody laughed: they just stared.
Anger turned me into a vivid storyteller.
“I dreamed, too”, I said.
Everybody turned their heads to face me.
“I dreamed Malume John turned into a big black snake.
I grabbed him around his neck.”
“And then?” asked Malume John.
“I bit off its head and spit it out”.
“Yoh!” said Malume. He looked at me and said angrily:
“Hey wena!” while chasing me. I laughed and imagined myself
Riding a big motorbike with an engine that roared like a lion.
Malume John ran away fast on his thin legs like match-sticks.
I hit him; he flew by into the sky. And turned into a piece of paper.
Disappearing into thin air. I turned around and chased the children
that threw stones on Ma Gajeni’s roof. Their stones turned
into smarties and jelly tots.
I picked them up and shared them with my friends.
We ate while listening to ma Gajeni’s stories.
Her laughter, her music brought a healing happiness to our hearts.
Featured at The Red Wheelbarrow with the Life Riting Collective on 21 July 2022