So i just felt like sharing something that is completely off-topic of my blog but thought it will be a good read and someone out there might relate to it or find it interesting. You might have experienced it and if so please share your experience and how you dealt with it. 

i just had a light conversation with my mother about a horrible dream that i had two days ago . i have been living away from home for over five years now so a phone call between the two of us is always special. 

I am usually up in the wee ours of the morning with random thoughts in my mind. I would just sit there and stare in the darkness because i niether want to read nor write but just stare at the blank space. I guess its safe to say this is kind of a healing process for me hence i have been doing it for quiet some time. This morning was different though, i felt heavy like there was something dark looking over me i felt trapped i could not move no speak. I tried to pick my head up and looked on my side; there it was lying next me this huge black snake with its head up facing me. I was terrified and i let out a loud scream and tried to run off only to realise that i was waking up from a terribly bad dream. 

Tears came running down my eyes, even though i knew it was just a dream i felt heavy i wanted to be out of that room i wanted so badly to feel safe. i wanted assurance that nothing was going to happen to me. i bowed my head and whispered a little prayer  which didn’t help much  but i thought of what my mother would have said had she been there. she would have told me to say a prayer and go back to sleep. 

My mother says snakes are usually compared to people who either are doing evil deeds or wishing you evil. these people can either be friends, family members or people you associate with whether its at work or social gatherings. 

i have been struggling to sleep since that night, i feel anxious like something might happen to me. i have this weird feeling that i do have something crawling under my bed even though i have turned my room upside down checking if there really is something. A friend of mine has advised me to get myself coarse salt and sprinkle it around the room also try and bath with, apparently i will chase the bad spirits and make me feel at ease in my own space again.

@vfikile @daringwoman @veehfixy 

Picture me telling a dream …

Emotional intelligence – Personally I feel that this means being able to adapt to different situations without having to impose yourself onto others.

Dictionary meaning – the capacity to be aware of, control and express ones emotions and handle interpersonal relationships judiciously and empathetically.

Judiciously – with good judgement or sense.

Empathetically – having the ability to imagine how someone else feels.

I want to give you a glimpse of how I learnt from a young age that life is not for the faint hearted through a narrated story between my little sister and I. My family built me strong (a hard d#$* is nothing compared to how strong I am emotionally).

So my little sister and I just took a short left to our beloved eMpangeni where we grew up over a telephone conversation (she does this all the time when she feels like a good laugh). Qhamu is four years younger than me and we had the pleasure of growing up together during the years I stayed at the eMpangeni homestead before I moved to the big city.

Veeh do you remember this one time on new year’s eve when uRasta (we referred to my brother as Rasta because he had dreadlocks and had been on weed for as long as I could remember) got too drunk and was controlling everything and everyone at home and you ended up crying all night because you hated him for it😩 (this was followed by a few minutes of loud laughter between us).

Rasta was beautiful (tall dark and handsome 😍) very arrogant, loud and opinionated also. He was everything you have ever heard about a Zulu man. My sisters and I had been planning to have the night of our lives on new year’s eve with our friends from the area but my brother didn’t hear non of it, no sister of his was going to be roaming around at night without supervision ( apparently he didn’t trust the boys around our area). He walked in the kitchen and demanded attention as usual and gave us an instruction not to leave the yard because he’s concerned that it is not safe out there for girls, he said this and then immediately walked out. The room was silent you could hear a pin drop and a few seconds later everybody started talking again and we all agreed that it was unnecessary of him to do that and we did not need permission from him go out as long as mother was ok with it we were good.

I am not sure till this day if it was the weed and alcohol that made him behave that way but when my brother saw that we were going against his word and going out he completely lost it. He started calling us all sorts of names and told us to go back to the house and stop behaving like ungrounded ho@$😥. He got so loud that even the neighbours came out of their houses and listened to the commotion that took place at our homestead😲. They were used to him and I feel like they understood him more than I did so to them it was just another drunk episode from Rasta. He then turned to my mother and said “why are you letting them do whatever they want”? “If they come back pregnant tomorrow don’t say I didn’t warn you” he went on for over an hour and that time I was in tears (I know😪 I was such an emotional wreck growing up)😭 my sisters were having non of it and as for my mother all she said was “let the kids go and have fun you’re also having fun with your weed and booze”. She turned to me and tried to console me by wiping my tears 🤗 my brother on the other side tried to physically stop my sisters but he was too drunk they ran off and he went back to his room while mumbling stuff we could not make out. I was left crying on my mother’s arms I didn’t understand why my brother behaved the way he did (apperantly I made the whole thing to be about me, I basically felt as though everything he was saying was directed at me alone🤭🙈) mother took me back in the house and told me to stop worrying about Rasta because he probably won’t remember anything that he did the next day, he was just drunk and high. Unfortunately that was my the end of my new year’s eve I was too emotional to go anywhere after everything that happened.

Since then I have learnt how important it is to react or see situations for what they truly are and understand the  difference in people’s behaviour .  I now know why people tend to do the things they do, sometimes it is never even about you and your reaction to everything is entirely up to you. It is important to protect your peace regardless of whether you are protecting yourself from family or friends but if they no longer feel like sunlight I Want to put it to you that you need to be there for yourself too because you need take care of yourself too🤗😘.

(Hope you enjoyed this 😘 remember to subscribe with your email address).

So I’ve been thinking about what I’d blog about if I were to start a blogging site🤔maybe write about my upbringing or will that be too boring?🙄its been done over and over again. I should probably write about my life in varsity and after 😏oh but wait I’ve seen quite a number of articles about varsity survival and the life after, then it hit me🤔 OMG 🙊what better way to express myself than the only way I’ve ever known life🤷.


So my Dad is this strict Zulu man who was born and bread in the famous Nkandla, guys if anybody tells you that Zulu men are sturbon believe them.

So this guy meets my mom at the tender age of 15 and they immediately hit it off and got married when she turned 16 and many years later with 8 children and two sister wives they all found comfort in a home at the rural areas of eMpangeni in KZN.

I am basically the 11th child from my father from all he’s 3 wives and the girlfriends that never made it to the altar. I was born in 1990 on the 16th of May. Despite the dysfunctionality that came with growing up in a huge family my life was bliss. I have three mother’s and many siblings and back in the day even though there was not enough food to feed all of us especially in those times where my father would disappear for over six months to Durban without even worrying about whether we ate or even had clothes to cover up( a story for another day) life was really fun and I wouldn’t change it for anything.

I Wana tell you that even though it may look like too much work from the outside the woman in my life has made growing up in polygamy marriage really fun (well it may have not been all fun all the time but credit given to the mothers💪). I want you to imagine three woman raising so many children in one space and loving one man. We never ran out of advice for each other, never got bored, sometimes the fights got pretty hectic (like the time my late brother got so angry at everybody and made each one of us run around the yard while he was chasing us with a bowl of rice and cabbage curry, apparently he had told my mother’s several times that he does not like rice and they should make hard porridge for him on the side if they decide to cook rice) well he found both my mother’s chilling in a hut and he poured the whole bowl of that food on top of them 🤭 my brother was life (I could write a book about him and he’s scandals but not today).

When I was six years old everybody at home used to call me “Nzewula Nezimoto” (a book character that everybody knew about, apparently it was about a guy who cooked a whole goat and ate it from the pot) so yeah now you get the idea of how I was when I was younger right? Yep you guessed it I was that child whole who was more darker than the rest and fat and also ate a lil bit more than everyone else in the family. My family made sure that I had no confidence at all while I was growing up without even realising how much that used to tear me up inside. My mother had no time to nurse my feelings she was already going through alot with the whole marriage setup and having so many children. Nobody felt bad when I cried after they insulted me because they somehow felt that I owned the insults they threw at me, I was fat, too dark and resembled a man they read about in a book. I used to be compared to those aunties that came through from Enkandla when we had rituals. Wow😱 yeah, the overweight ladies that would come and live their best lives in a hut and expect to be served like they were on holiday. I didn’t understand how could those people be my family 🤔 they would literally have a blast while body shaming me.
28 years later my life has changed drastically, I decided to love my body with its imperfections, I wasted so many of my years not loving myself because I felt like I was a shame to society. I want to encourage which ever woman that would come across this to love each and every bit of their bodies no matter the shape, be happy with who you are glow,slay, flaunt those curves hunny because you never know what tomorrow will bring.