NO CONDOM – NO THOLA

NO CONDOM – NO THOLA

Special Sweetheart

On this SWEET SPECIAL occasion

Let’s PROTECT our PRETTY love

Sing a SOULFUL SOOTHING song

UNLOCK our UNDYING LOVE

LOVE SO LOVABLE

LET’S pour our hearts out LOVEY

NO TO SEX must mean NO TO SEX

In these times of ABUSE –In these times of AIDS

NO CONDOM! NO THOLA stands for NO CONDOM! NO THOLA

GOOD Love is a Lifetime GIFT

TOGETHER let’s TAKE an aids TEST

Let’s PROTECT our PRETTY Love

PRESENT for STI treatment PROMPTLY

LOVEY let’s be FOREVER FAITHFUL in LOVE

CELEBRATE, CARE AND LOVE LIFE

One friend

One friend

Take away anything from me
Spare me my brain
Brains come from a healthy atmosphere
I want to play away from stress and hurtful feelings
As much as you come back to me
Through Godly memories
When I traverse my future pathways
I feel I cannot stand the heat
Let me leave in haste peacefully
As long as we remain far apart
The storm of good life has diminished
I saw the world in your palm
The whirlwind you had control of
The air we breathe you had polluted
I remain indebted to you
You this special person in my life
Carry on embracing the world
You have shaped my destiny
You gave me a reason to be
You gave me millions reasons to smile
You are the star of the universe
You are the goddess – I wish I were not this sensitive
Where to from now?
Where it not for you I would be nobody
As I dream of you – your shadow keeps on inviting me
Is this invite really – am I not going to burn myself
Why do I keep on forming your structure on my head?
Are you also this crazy about me?
As I cry for time lost in haste
I wish I had kept you
No no… I am mad – you truly belong to me
Hug my soul – a troubled and malnourished

Psalms of my palm

Psalms of my palm
Wisdom of worship
If I had it my way
I wouldn’t conceal truth
Truth be told
The trouble is…
Feelings flies and flirts
Amid a body of impregnate petals
Raining with virginal sperms
Ordeal of sexescapade
For a trip aborted
Aboard a train of excuses
Fruits of my farmstead
A tasteless toothache
In good we trust
For heaven and hell
Belongs to all
Black and white in colour
Men and women’s life gouge
By impracticality
Before then impoverished souls
Beating with heartlessness lust
Against angels headache
A headless hearsay of trepidations
Following events of mayhem
I am happy I’ve mismanaged
A life no more no less
In distant earth smells sweet
A window of kingdoms’ opportunities
I cry to sleep
For heaven and hell
Is the way to eternity?
For better or worse
Alleluia Amen

AFRICA WE CARE

AFRICA WE CARE

never have I, ever seen
such a crystal clear star
mom’ majestic maw
a feast fit for a prince and a king
such a twinkling star
shinning deeper in the belly
of mother earth
a rare radiant terracotta

you pragmatic – a people’s person

never have I, ever seen
such glittering bright moon
immortalize for one’s
mama’s magnificent dynasty
such glowing moon
heal my loneliness
with aureole ointments
hovering on ground zero

you pensive – precious piqué flower

never have I, ever seen
such a colourful cloud
a source of magical spirit
mother’s plaque
such curvaceous cloud
body of all creation
alpha and omega
nature’s paradox

you parliament of prettiness

never have I, ever seen
such a sensual sun
south of the tip of Africa
a chocolated heart
such sensational sun
titillates me
for I journey
through the struggle of love

you pebble of passion

never have I, ever seen
such a bewitching rainbow
telling feverish fairytales
filling one with laughter
my mum’s loan daughter
such an encyclopedia of wisdom
a dream worth living for
you perceptive a perfect person

Lighting a candle of compassion

lighting a candle of compassion

my candle is a symbol of:
empathy, compassion, care and support for the affected and infected

our candle burns itself for:
children on intravenous drips, children displaced by AIDS and those heading households

this candle stands for:
human rights, openness, spiritual healing, disclosure and acceptance

my candle capture voices of:
despair, desperation and distress expressed by all as AIDS takes its toll

our candle represents a glow of:
love for life, living positively and leading light of ubuntu

this candle carries memories of:
our beloved ones who have passed on – may peace be upon their soul

my candle mirrors our commitment to:
ensuring all of us are accorded dignity, confidentiality and human rights

this candle captures our holistic approach to:
reach out and touch for all of us are affected by HIV\AIDS

my candle is a supreme act to:
encouraging all and sundry to break the silence and make a difference

our candle recognizes the role played by our:
leaders from across the spectrum, politics, faith based, NGO;s, media, volunteer groups, People Living with HIV\AIDS, care – givers groups, health workers and all in uniting the nation to embrace
and be dedicated cadres of the Partnership Against AIDS initiative

this candle carries my pledges
our prayer, pain and passion to fight discrimination and poverty

REMEMBERING OUR BELOVED ONES

REMEMBERING OUR BELOVED ONES

AFRICA

committed to caring

hope for the infected
healing hand for the affected
homage to the departed
humanity, humility and help for the nation to deal with the stigma,
discrimination, prejudice and rejection associated with AIDS

lighting a candle of compassion

VIVA MKAYA VIVA

Africa our hands – umKAYA’s hands

Africa’s hands, umKAYA’s hands
send warmth and love to the destitute, abandoned,
rejected and needy children

Africa’s hands – umKAYA’s hands
embrace all who are on the plateau of poverty

Africa’s hands – umKAYA’s hands
reach out to the naked, cold,
and shelterless whose world is a never ending menu of mishap, misery and misfortune

Africa's hands – umKAYA’s hands
club together to help our African compatriots who suffer in silence and soldier on and on

Africa's hands - umKAYA's hands
act out of compassion and generosity to be a beacon of hope
to our nation

Africa's hands - umKAYA
As famine, AIDS, poverty, pollutes, ravages and bedevils
our continent and communities and amaKAYA ethu
we all in our humble way begin this
umKAYA journey of giving in goodwill

May our action strengthen our African and umKAYA
gospel of Ubuntu to reach out to those in need

May the spirit of Africa and umKAYA
nurture the resolve of children heading households

People Living with HIV#AIDS, the poor and destitute

AMANDLA NGAWETHU, I- AFRIKA AYETHU!

VIVA NATION BUILDING VIVA

VIVA MKAYA VIVA

The gift of life

The gift of life

rising stars fills our gallery
these gazing stars smile on us all
heavens deliver a miracle
future promises hope
a future bright, a future full of life
hope lay its eggs on our palms
engines of our hearts laugh heartily
this creation a garment of one heart one love
loll on the plantation of our plain
we are one and all, seedling of one root
plain fields of beauty sing in harmony
human touch becomes healing touch
flowerbeds of opportunities multiples
spoken words cement bridges of togetherness
threads of closeness stitches everlasting bonds
we are one, children of the same cradle
spirit of brotherhood and sisterhood burns daily
flame of love a theatrical blockbuster
our script is abruptly re-written in the middle of our run
someone dearest to us is snatched for another production
star of our promising family cast is taken
there are no understudy for this role
a unique part of our family legacy pass on
gazing stars keeps memories alive
we relive our roles with our bright eyes closed
we search for the bright stars within ourselves
light source in our eyes gets blinded
our production will continue its run
without one dearest and energetic
a powerful brilliant actor
who planted laughter on us all!
the curtain is down

NOW PROTECT, PRESERVE, PAMPER, POLISH & PLEASE THE HEART OF THE ONE U LOVE!

NOW PROTECT, PRESERVE, PAMPER, POLISH & PLEASE THE HEART OF THE ONE U LOVE!

the hour of prayer

Nothing is greater than believing
Seek the truth and divine guidance daily
Worship no material things!
Accept God’s blessings
No matter how inconsequential
God is always by your side
Please, do not question any gift from the Lord
He gives unflinchingly without reservations
The greatest sin is one of craving for more
God has given you a handful
Your health, the fire of the heart and intellect
Take time to notice how overfilled is your plate
Never identify setbacks where there are non
Relish your life; life is a bed of trials and tribulations
No one knows what is in store for you
The secret key to your destiny is unknown
Enjoy every moment God has confer upon you
Count yourself as blessed soul
Spare a thought for those who are worst off!
What role do you expect others to play in your life?
Expect nothing from people around you
They carry a burden heavier than yours
No one has answers for your predicament
You no owned by any being
Look for answers within yourself
Harness the spark in your life
Accept your circumstances as they are
Your destiny was mapped – out before your time
Work on every challenge meticulously
Don’t blame others because you no failure
To God you are shinning star
Life is about living and not about losing battles
Life is a journey of happiness
Identify your light bulb in the sky
Smell the magic scent of nature’s paradox
Be in touch with your inner feelings
Trust in God – He is the ultimate wonder
The Lord has answers for everything
Problems are staircases on our way to eternal bliss
No one reaches the next floor after jumping certain steps
Our dreams are written on our own palms
No one can create short cuts in life
Examine your hands they carry a history of your life
Lean on your tenacity and live life like never before
In all of life’s challenges do not forget the gospel of the Lord!
Half of he time we complain – let us be proactive
… and allow the Lord to smile on us!

IF two hearts come as one

When two hearts come as one
listen to your heartbeat - in listening to your heart
you protect the heart of love

marriage is about issues of the heart and not the heat of the heart

IF two bodies become as one
look after your body - in looking after your body
you preserve the body of love

marriage is not about owning somebody is it about being your own body

IF two individual life is as one
learn to live individually - in learning to live individually
you pamper the life of love

marriage is not about being individualistic it is about maintaining your individuality

IF two souls join one another as one
load the soul with trust - in loading the soul with trust
you polish the soul love

marriage is not about mistrust it about trusting in trust

IF two seams are sewn as one
lead your own life – in leading your life
you please the seam love

marriage is not about mislead your life it about leading in your life

Little lilies’ of life

Amid all the upheaval, that is life. Life goes on! Life bellies’ treasure is an enigma. Its expanse is a debilitating island of abundance and total tranquil. The preeminent humans dispensing warmth from the womb of the islands of abundance are ‘mothers for love’. These affectionate souls feed a pang of a heart, in need of fertility and a spiritual revolution.

In the tender yet tricky environment that is life – life makes enchanting waves of love. Thanks God! Life is unmistakable discerningly exquisite and a miracle for the soul. Life is as good as a nutritional supplement. Our refusals to appreciate the good coming out of our friends rob us of the joyfulness of life.

There are individuals in life – who are masseurs of hope. Hope is the sensuous constituent of fulfillment. Hope is an unfathomable gospel of transparency. Hope is the flame and the heart of all security. If it were not for hope, humanity would not be able to triumph over adversity. Hope is the remedy of all that is hopeful.

In life’s treacherous road – each individual need to identify ‘messengers of beauty’ within their realm. Such individuals when identified are not supposed to be reduced to ornament of deco. These amiable souls form the nucleus chapter of love. They spread the love web unconditionally to the plateau of the heartland of friendliness.

The grains of sand you normally trudge on, to reach life’s heaven. Becomes an honorary degree confer upon you on earth. Thanks to the beauty of love. The hours in the kingdom of love are no tedious. The days in the heartland of love are splendid. The seconds in the house of love are spectacular. The nights in the bosom of love are sensual. The glorious moments out of the hands of love are glorified. They turn mere mortals to Godly beings. Hallelujahs praise Thy Love!

Love like life is not a by – product of the scent of bank notes stash inside the wallet. Money tends to part ways the soonest after befriending you. Money does however make the world go round. While the wealth we have in love is cast within our skin. Love does not need to outshine human needs. Humans needs need to conform to the dictates of love!

However, can we sleep peacefully knowing well that we give love economically? Uneconomic love stretches life to dizzy physical heights. The stains of love life are traced on a garment of a reciprocating individual. The arteries of a fulfilling love sing a tune of contentment.

Where you learn the protocol of love is in the confusing discourse of this loving piece. If we give ourselves to others, is because we have learned to love life and ourselves. Take this little lily of love; plant it, it is written with you in mind. Appreciated loving flower!

Congratulations

The curtain draws to a close

The curtain draws to a close

to mark the birth
snow white flags fly at half mast behind the flickering light
waves of figures clad in white garbs give salutation
its unbelievable!
yet we believe, for the Lord told us so
we know this much, but our knees are wobbly
God’s teachings came to pass in the domain that is life
heavens’ holy hearts embrace one of our own
eerily and solemn our sorrows soar
to higher heavens
the living are left lonely
whirlwind of after life takes off before our eyes
holy heavens closes the gulf before life and death
dream configure a silhouette of one of our own
visited upon in his prime by the hands of God
bright lights shine on the pathway to heaven
human existence is at the mercy of heavens
blaring horns play soft harmonious music
melting wax cast a figure a distance away…
far away in the high moon where the prayer is different
noble men and women roll red carpets of eternal life
enchanting spirits form guards of honour
pillars of Jerusalem mirror a life lived to the fullest
heavens we praise!
we kneel before you, not matter our pains
body of after life, body of departed lurks far away
a kaleidoscope of life disappears before our eyes
a galaxy of stars point to a farewell for one of our own
silence descends in the lobby of the dense sky
earth shattering thunder whisper silently
heaven gates burst open behind soft smooth voices
old chapters come to an end to give life to new ones
column of clouds hum a song in silence
heavens orchestra plays the hallelujah choruses
saints graciously welcome the new enthrone
footprints of the chosen is printed on the courtyard of heaven
glory to thy Lord!
candle lights create a glorious altar …
angels stand in attention and rejoice on their gains
heavenly oil drips on the foreheads of the departed
gong of bells honour one of our own
a boom voice read from the scroll
“whenever God has given you a mission
He expects you to accomplish it
whenever the mission is accomplished.
God extends His hands and call you to his throne”
Lord we know that much,
there comes a time when we will also join your world
and be together with our loved ones

What do we need to do?

What do we need to do?

To enjoy life
Be good
Live well
Rest peacefully
Be honourable
There is so much poverty
It spirals out of control
I see it with my naked eyes
You see so much wealth
It hits you in the face
In this world
You up you down
Guilty and innocent
Hunger co - exists side by side with affluence
I am like a little pawn
They throw genetically modified food
I must consume
You told – do not kill
Yet, there is many killings
Speculators’ get currency to tumble
You left depleted
Scientists’ gives alarming figures
You worry to your wits
And wonder who is next?
My cousin, my brother, my uncle
Almost everybody I know
Is touched by HIV\AIDS
I search for answers
Nothing gives way
I am told faith take you to heaven
Skepticism takes you to hell
I may not fit the profile
The mind game continues
You work very hard
You have nothing to show for it
You think of witchcraft
Who can bewitch you anyway?
You own nothing
You have no palace
That is almost life for me
It not about who you are
What remains is to live
Make something before I vamoose

Down on my knees

Down on my knees

My heart’s
Depended on the lord
Body and soul
Has no answer
I claim not to have answers
I have seen the beauty
Of Thy creation
I have not questioned
Nor doubted Thy judgments
You are spirituality
Make me understand
It is your children
Who are devoured by AIDS
Make us see the light
Be the light of our lives
Before dim light
Spare us the pain

Fight for the life of all and me

Fight for the life of all and me

Fill me with hope
Take me on your stride
The little you can do
Is to embrace me
Give me warmth
Bear with me
Lift me up when down
Walk with me on my journey
Open your heart
Treat me like before
Be reasonable and considerate
I am still the same me
Understand my circumstances
Listen to me
I am one with you
I am still strong inside
Do not be tormented by my health
I owe it to myself to fight
Fight, I will at any cost
For as long as there is life in me
The tears you see dripping on my face
Speaks of pains I feel from within

To talk, tell tales and be tongue tight

To talk, tell tales and be tongue tight

Create an upbeat mood with words
Assimilate, assist and solve problems
Now you can switch on and switch off!
Complement, comfort and console

Words drive the world
Engross yourself in words
Touch its garment
You will find no loose stitches
Every seam is a work of art

Words
The building blocks for nation building
Host to both the holy being and pleasant hearted
They reign supreme on every one’s tongue
Put on lips, they become an ointment of generosity
They create bridges of friendships
When
Jealously controlled, they are powered by the grace

Words
Such mouthful charming, commodity marked with not for sale tag
Cheering with words is as easy as walking the talk
Words are toys for both young and old
They form the foundation for strong relationship
They shelter the truth from lies
Choose to tell the truth though - You will not regret

Words
The only true sanctuary for both the poor and rich
On each one of our lips, flows a wor(l)d of wisdom
You have words in you, I have words in me, and someone has words in him
All of us have little lilies of words flowing in our mouths
Residing there in order to extend a gift of life to all of humanity
Write a word to a friend, say a word to a nation and send a word to the world
A word of enlightenment, a word to education and an everlasting word of love

Words
The instruments of intrigue and infatuation
Pillars created to free you and me from discrimination etcetera

Words
Humans’ precious golden moments
Which words soothe your soul?
Have you blessed a soul with some words today?
Do it, its worth it, this opportunity may be the last one!

Chants to Condoms

Chants to Condoms

Cool as a cucumber
Covers the cock and the koek
Crucial accoutrement for couples
Capable container
Cushion for citizens
Carrier of cream
Crystallizes clitoris
Connector of characters
Colourful and clever
Collector of cherries
Carpet for Cumming
Curbs crabs
Cap for crying
Cuddles catch
Craving charm
Crossroad for curves
Conniving companion
Chewing gum for concubine
Cosmopolitan culture
Canvas for coming
Cousin to Casanovas
Confirmation of companionship
Constitutes cheerfulness
Crown those cheaters
Controller for conceiving
Champion of care
Church of complete co-habitation
Conspiracy for celebration
Combat for comrades
Capsules for culprits
Cocky and contrite
Capturing the condiment
Certificate of competence
Contract for crisis
Corset for cajoling
Controversial cornflake
Commercial cache
Convincing commander
Custodian of companionship
Channel of communication
Classic coat

I am a femidome

I am a femidome

I am an AIDS Ambassador
I am compassionate
I am for living, loving light
I am a cascading care
I am a public protector of the nation
I am passionate about life
I drive women and men wild
I speak the love lingo
I am willing to go an extra mile
I stand for humanity
I am rhythmic, relaxed and round
I am humble, healthy and a hybrid of healing
I am a sweet seed of sex and sperms
I don’t sleep around – I am made to sleep around
I am soft, sensual and sexy
I make lot of noise during sex
I am me, I go deeper to the unknown
I relax in the heart of heat and humidity
I am designed for both men and women’s escapades
I get abused on a regular basis
I am an aroma of arousal
I spot bedroom eyes
I wittingly and unwittingly go where I am told to go
I am busy day and night 24 hours a day
I don’t break, I don’t boast, I don’t bullshit
I go to bushy, bikini cut and unkempt territories
I have rings of love
I am durable, delicious and delicace
I am very warm and welcoming to wet willies
You could use me for your satisfaction
I take any size – big, small and large
I am tough, tasteless yet tasty
I am fresh, feminine and funky
I fuck the faint hearted and fearless
I am an incubator, insulator and instrument of intrigue
I am unrestricted, unrealistic and unrecyclable
I am a player, pubis purse and prisoner
I am impermeable, proud and precious
I don’t spy; I am secretive, strange and sincere
I am a conduit of comfort to many organs
I am a safe haven
I am oily and an opium for organism
I give asylum to the premature ejaculators and the virile brigade
I am a springboard of behaviour change
Count on me – take me along

Children living in a World with Aids

Children living in a World with Aids

children living in a world with aids
you are our future
special bundles of joy
love a person care for a child who’s HIV positive
let’s support each other and join our hands together

children living in a world with aids
your are our world
priceless art pieces of the universe
love a person care for a child who’s HIV positive
let’s support each other and join our hands together

children living in a world with aids
we believe in you
beautiful beacon of our country
love a person care for a child who’s HIV positive
let’s support each other and join our hands together

children living in a world with aids
we love you we adore you
our prayer unto you
love a person care for a child who’s HIV positive
let’s support each other and join our hands together

Y – is it cool to ABSTAIN
To be Health Individuals & stay a Virgin
For my sake and my sake!

Y – is it necessary to remain FAITHFUL
To Maintain Trustworthiness & Carry my Vows Till death do us apart
For my sake and your sake!

Y – is care & support important for all
To give Hope & Build Compassion
For my sake and my sake!

Y – is it essential to know your status
To Volunteer, Train & Campaign
For my sake and your sake!

Y – must you stick to one partner
To Secure Trust & Intimacy
For my sake and your sake!

Y – is it necessary to use a condom
To Avoid Infections During Sex
For my sake and your sake!

HIV – Human Immunodeficiency Virus

MTCT – Mother To Child Transmission

VCT – Voluntary Counseling & Testing

STI – Sexually Transmitted Infection

AIDS – Acquired Immunodeficiency Syndrome

Song for Pure Magic

children living in a world with aids
you are our future
special bundles of joy
you are our world
priceless art pieces of the universe
we believe in you
beautiful beacon of our country
we love you! we adore you!
our prayers unto you
those affected with aids endemic
and others whose entry to mother earth
were not greeted by the aids scourge

children living in a world with aids
adults, teenagers youth
nation builders and pillars of our communities
love the person a child
who is hiv positive
and choose the way that works for you
bringing children with aids
means that children will bury parents
parent children and our world
will be empty

children living in a world with aids
teenagers you can avoid sex
if you are going to wait until you are old
let us all be responsible and practice safer sex
parents mothers and fathers
help our children to restore dignity
to their precious bodies
and be responsible human beings
times have changed times are hard
let’s not allow aids to obliterate us
from the face of mother earth

children living in a world with aids
teenagers and youth
let’s channel our abundance
energy in unearthing our talent
and nourishing our god given talents
let us join our hands together
in building our world
we are the future leaders of tomorrow
life has other possibilities in store for us.
let’s map our destiny now
this is the only time
let’s look forward to a bright future
education! endurance! exploration!
are the only ammunition
let be positive about life
children living in a world with aids.

As always

I
As always
I will breath now and again
I will strike once, twice and thrice claim a million victories
No one will know my purpose
I will consume one after another
I will leave countries’ populations’ population less and people penny less
I will deplete, decapitate and decimate humanity
I will engrave my signature in your neighbourhood
I will turn you into a heap of grief
From Monday to Monday, you will taste my cruelty
No one will believe I arrived
I will be salient, severe and selfish
I will visit villages, cities, suburbs, and townships
I will hit you the hardest, more than apartheid, war, holocaust and genocide
You will encounter me in hospitals, homes, hostels, houses, hospices and house of worship
You will feel my tune on endless dirges
I will befriend the disciple, reckless, faithful for the last time
I will pick on the innocent, frail brave, strong and mightier
I will continue to touch the destitute, hungry, poor and rich
I will not hesitate to humiliate and head hunt every one of you
My name will taste like an aloe in your palate
I will shatter nation’s dreams and deny economical growth
Your tears will fill valleys upon my visits
I will unleash excruciation pain and hopelessness
I will not surrender my grip as easy as that
My conspiracy involves pity brother against brother sister against sister
Government against non – governmental organizations and family against family
I will fill every piece of soil with the old, toddles and the young
I will fail everyone who believes in the future
I will regurgitate in high office and snatch resources
I will test each individuals faith, believes system and cultural inclinations
I will come back now and again
I love no one else
In case, you wonder
Sometimes I also wonder, as you wonder
I will come by night, day, midday and morning
In the winters and summers, and you will cry AIDS

PLEDGE

this flame - for the president and premiers
may their sense of patriarchal propensity and patriotism and concern
give power of decision to the youth, PWA’s, women children and communities
this flame - for ministers and MEC’s
may their mercy and ministering
give motivation to those of us consigned to poverty
this flame - for leaders and learners
may their leadership and learning
give light to our lives touched by HIV/AIDS
this flame - for corporate sector and communities
may their commitment and contribution
give character to a call to action and conscietise those of us in denial
this flame - for care – givers and counsellors
may their compassion and care and support
give a continuum of care to the chronically ill
this flame - for children and child - minders
may their challenges and circumstances
give a curative chemistry to all orphans, displaced children and children heading households
This flame - for healthworkers and healers
may their humanity and hospitality
give help and hopes to hearts in despair
This flame - for PWA’s and parents
may their psychological and physical support
give personal therapy to alll those facing stigma and discrimination
This flame - for workers and women
may their words of wisdom
warm the hearts and weave hope for the nation to make a difference
This flame - for AIDS activists and AIDS ambassadors
may their ability and action
gives an African answer to the plight of the affected and infected
This flame - for religious leaders and restorers of hope
may their resilience and resolve
give a reassuring ring to the lonely, affected and infected
This flame - for volunteers and the voiceless
may their vigour and voice
give victory and vitality to those of us in distress
may our action give meaning to the spirit of the Partnership Against AIDS and inculcate the spirit of Ubuntu on all of us. We all pledge to make a difference. We light this candle to give hope to those of us who are hopeless, hurt and helpless. AMEN ALLELUJAH!

MARRIED MEN AND THEIR GIRLFRIENDS

If you think you are strengthening your marriage by having a “roll on” (girlfriend). Think twice! It is worth your while. Ensure you remain faithful to your partner, and have nothing to do with extra marital affairs.

If you (sisi) thinks of an extra marital affair as a way to go! Think twice, Stop being “used” because you risk being infected with HIV/AIDS.

So you use culture as a weapon to feed your lusty habits. Behold in times of AIDS! You cannot afford to be involved in multiple relationships because you are risking your own life and family into HIV/AIDS!

MEN AND FAMILY

Good fatherhood is good for functional families

Men and women represents images of love, care and support. Show love in your family, be a carer in the neighbourhood and support fellow countrymen and women.

Men lend a leading hand in the families; women lend a leading hand in families. Both hands make for healthy families.

YOUNG MEN AND YOUNG GIRLS

Children are only children – parents need to treat them as such:
They need parenting, protection and empowerment.

Wise men care about children and women – weird men do not care about children and women. They abuse them and violate their human rights.

Take a moment and think about abused children. What do you make of their circumstances? Will these children ever trust men? Do not be a moegoe abuse is no way to go! It hurts the of the nation

Give a child a gift of life, give them a bright future! and not a gift of lust.

Yes… to men as mentors of children. No… to men as mating partners of children.

Every act of responsibility begins at home. Teach our children not to be bully, in order for them to grow up and become responsible adults.

Children are the tiny footprints of a nation. Children are no tiny tots to satisfy lusty behaviour.

Dating younger girls is not acceptable. Younger girls need daddies and not sugar daddies.

Girls under sixteen are still children. Do not take advantage of them. Give them parental guidance and not “girlfriends gifts.”

Sleeping with young girls does not make you smart men. The sickness need to stop .

To be a father is to be a Godfather to all children irrespective of whether they are your own siblings. So don’t abuse them!

Men who love their children protect them with their lives. They know children are the seedlings of the nation.

All children look upon male adults as father figures. Good fatherhood is good for family growth.

Once when we were baby boys

All children learn to pronounce their first vowels a e i o u, courtesy of women. Women derive a great deal of pleasure in bathing us. Raising us is taken as part of their God given duties. Our mothers take optimum care during the cause of moulding, scalping and shaping us. All in all, it’s amazing how women juggle their chores with the task of spoiling us. These ‘homes’ referred to as women witnesses the growth of our small penis. Infant our private parts see the light of the day through zealous tendering hands of women, as they ensure that we are properly washed. Mothers become the points of reference for a boy child during formative years.

Clearly, the love, nurturing, given to children or babies surpasses the imagination. Our mother’s do whatever in the face of sometimes excruciating circumstances to bombard us with love. In other situations women, see their men abdicating their responsibilities. With some setting coming alive with the debilitating poundings of men’s potent wreath. An unfortunate indictment where men would outright deny ever impregnating their girlfriends, wives etc. Our mom and sisters flap us on their laps and send us to sleep. At times, they proudly strap us on their backs, whilst performing punishing chores. As we take our naps, grow, play and scream, women guard us jealously like possessed vultures. Women prefer to put their lives on the line in the cause of our growth. Their eagle eyes and claws repel all forces – they ensure they pray for us. Their rooting to see us growing to be respected citizens, see them performing ritual on their babies.

By the way women carry us for nine months. Run to work, look after our siblings, and cook sumptuous meat. As the revolution of our growth takes place in the arable stomach. The experience heart – burns, Some of them give birth through ceasarean sections. Others come out of the maternity wards scared for life, with no soul to claim custody of the child. In such instances, the men would have preferred to take an easy way out – out of sight. Some women have top go a mile to prove paternity of their offspring. They smell of posit day in and day out as we turn them into. When our willies are full we release on top of them. We suckle their soft breast sometimes violently. Their soft and tender hands shape our destiny. Our mothers keep us warm

The last Testament!

Life, oh life… what makes human better species? I have no answers to that question. All I know is that we unique compared to other warm and cold-blooded animals. We can invent all sorts of gargets. A case in point is the inroads we have achieved on technology, science and research. Unfortunately I cannot count myself as one of the shinning stars contributing to make this world a better place. The body of words I am going to shape is aptly titled “may the truth be told.” If I had it my way, I would open my heart for all to read my arteries. To this day I don’t know how big is my heart. And what material is it made of? Can it carry me through the rough edges? That way, the world can just about read my blood circulation. Probably I wont be paralysed and remain soulless. I have for years thought I am courteous, considerate and colourful. I have been to the ebb. When my eyes are full of tears I cry alone. Like a vagabond it becomes hard to hold on. My sight becomes blurred. I will ask – why these tears? Pain will tore my vein. Part of me that enjoy dancing cry with hopelessness. I see through my eye dew on my court melting. The whispers of a dulcet voice play a discord. My environment becomes an uninviting garden. The avalanche of goodness I have tasted evaporates on my palm. My pores crack at the sight of dust filled of words. Quiver, wraps my body. Columns of cold clouds spray my body with uncertainty. All gained accolades become soiled. Scream from my conscience tastes bitterly. The journey becomes unbearable. Ballads bewitching melody like shifting sands. My brain resuscitates the splendour. Yet a smoke fills pillars of my castle. Man alone cannot tell his story. The plot sometimes goes askew. Characters assassinate the angel of peace. It becomes messy. You never know who is sacrificed. You never know for what reasons! Life goes on. Tears drips down ones cheeks like cascading poisoned wells. The body fails to do its function. Brain oscillates and takes you to seclude places. The doors of a church you once knelt at ooze with cold air. Heat of heart: hurt hopelessly. Winning words: wide agape like a wild ocean that goes on and on. Where you are never appreciated, its dog eats dog world. Realm of life, where am I? I toss: tremble: tearfully thinking what has become of me! The answer I smell burning somewhere in the corridors. Broken bodies’ supper to witches. I listen to my footsteps fading dying in the wilderness. Is this the way to spent ones life? Where is the music? What happened to the smell of fresh flowers? Fits of uncertainty fill my terrain like thorns. Where to from now? What direction to take? Twitching of fingers continue. The berries will be there tomorrow morning. Will I survive the brain drenching weather? When June’ cold spell consume my life. I wish I could hang on there. The distance I have covered. The songs I have listened to. The road I have traversed. The hour I have spent. The word I have spoken. The hugs: The kisses: Resonate from toe to the tip of my head. Let the truth be told: this is a playing field of joy and pain. Pain is not meant to be enjoyable. Joy on the one hand is a therapy not to be abused. Hate is a health hazard. Taking people on a wide goose is no delicacy. Where I fail, is to balance joy and pain. Where I am not fervent, is to prove I am no cheat. Where I flounder, is to admit I have to swallow pain to heal myself. My prayer is to be appreciated even at the last hour. If I am destine for the pit. Let it be known that I was once a person. My prayer is see a better me. As my tears fill my trouble world. May I not drown all those who gave me the reason to live. May laughter, love and living spirit blossom. For children to enjoy lives’ wonderful journey. May I touch every soul who has cruised with me and massage them with olive oils of strawberries. It evokes memories, of haze humour: hear hazel:
Time 00: 24 AM (Tuesday morning) I must go and sleep now. My legs are cold.
Take me back

No matter how many times; I try in my quest to count pores encased in your regally body. To all intent and purposes, this task on its own is as arduous as counting the rain droplets in the aftermath of a thunderous storms.

No matter how many times I convince myself, I should be the one to know the immensity of your tears. Each time you shed them, whether in sorrow or seventh heaven. I still remain the one who doesn’t know how to decipher the direction they take. I cannot for the life of me, tell if they drip vertically; horizontally or other ways.

Rule number one: NEVER, EVER DRANK FROM THE MILK OF KINDNESS and effectively forget to count your blessings, for the pulse of its teat may be a honeyed source of everlasting bliss.

Each time, I bid you a goodbyes, I start to develop knots of light heartened ness feelings and wish I could mobilize for a coup d'état, so we could be together again. I wish I had the liberty of familiarizing myself with the silver pores embedded in you durable, yet soft torso.

To this day I still play this one episode, of you, fighting it out on the romantic ring with me. The tug of words drew bloody brainy waves of monumental proportions.

The live wired love words gave both of us a draw. The bruises were worth it. I was crowned with six silver wire bangles. A statute that calls one to take ones places amongst the champions. Like an over exuberant newly crowned, I became thick-headed.

I synchronized my wealth and wasted it in the altar of self-gratification. Rainy days came, the prize was implausible. As is the case with wealth, the crown gathered dust.

I smelt the scent of your sweet body odour calling on me “take me back” the cabinet where the tiara was placed spotted huge chunks of cracks.

Just then the rain played a tune “take me back” like moving floods of torrential rains oozing from your pores. I cascade from atop the mountains, whiz and shrivel my way, like blood does to the arteries and to your heart of heart.

The riverbed of my nerve centre never gave it to me again. Your ever-beguiling tears gave it to me. If you take me back with your arms outstretched like yesteryear. The number of pores in your body may not be a feast for scientists only.

The number of tears you shed in both the winters and summers in both joy and pain, may not be juxtapose with love.

In looking @ your eyes I see the crystal balls of our future
In looking @ you I see a world of beaming with hope
Let our yesterday be a chapter of our closeness
Let us bask in the knowledge that we one

The story of our life

For all that’s me and you, is life itself
Pebble of everlasting joy
The playing field of laughter and accomplishment
Both of us are ornament of happiness
Human species of pensive character
A lesson of universal charity
Stars of pregnant skies
Waiting to exhale romantic scents
If this beam be a catwalk
We answer to spiritual fulfilments
Our embrace like a virgin soil of tolerance
We are an air of warmth
The sun takes its cue from us
Our hearts is a story of blissfulness
If our pathway were a highway
In looking @ your eyes
I see grains of crystal balls
Mothering a colossal goddess
An unique treasure
Ooh… my earthy species
Of inconceivable kindness
Vessel of epic blessings
Almighty angel of grace
Merciful heart of hearts

In looking @ your face
I feel the pulsating cradle of beauty
The enthralling bowel of love
Holiness treasure of abundance
Given to honour humanity
Restore their dignity
And give meaning to life

In looking @ your body
I see a meandering pebble
A holistic body of ecstasy
Piety of righteousness
Warmth and loving care
A vivacious soul of calmness
A heaven of everlasting joy

In looking @ your soul
I see a foundation of paradise
An illuminating beacon of life

What takes your fancy in life?

During the past years I have talked to the old - young and little boys. Still on my mission I went on to talk to the old – young and little girls! Put simply, I saw myself interacting with all members of the human race. Interestingly thought, most of these people would listen attentively, with vested interest as I share my experiences.

My presentations during those sessions focused on sexuality matters. How do you then, talk about bedroom topic without getting your audience hot? I have on several occasions’ witnessed quite a few individuals’ curiosity stretched to the extreme. Because I am not known for playing basketball spiced with condoms!

Keep to one partner! Be faithful! Abstain! and most of all Masturbate were simply a vocabulary for AIDS activists. I was known as a recreational activist to say the least. Well, in my heart of hearts I was already an activist. I was all concern about the level of infections especially among the youth sector of our country.

This afternoon, I feel more privileged because I am afforded a rare opportunity of talking to my peers. Some of you will sure shape the landscape of this country. You are future leaders, anyway I hope you, as ambassadors would take it upon yourself to share this sexy message with your peers.

I would first like to focus our attention on condoms for reasons better known to us all. Safe Sex Saves Lives! Condoms can be used in different environments. In case you don’t believe me. Try slipping one during masturbation – you will feel the magic. Carry one for your sister or brother, just in case they get a little bit closer to their partners.

You will definitely need condoms for protecting yourself and your partner. In case you feel like playing with yourself condoms are also useful. How safe then are condoms? They are known as barrier for the prevention of pregnancy. Condoms need to be used correctly though. They are very essential in preventing sexually transmitted diseases, as well as HIV/AIDS of course.

Note dozen lovers, immediately after exciting themselves. Simply jump onto the bed, without rolling the condom properly. They get overwhelmed at this point in time. And guess what?… As the poor couples, lovers puff and huff. The likelihood of during condom breakage is possible. What do you do, do you take out your wily. A lot of people will tell you – they normally decided to let loose and shoot.

Lo and behold that on its own is not the pathway to take. You risk infection and at worst pregnancy.

How many of you would have the courage of stopping when the sperms are singing, dancing and rearing to go! Imagine the sensation. Chances are most if not lots of us risk getting pregnant. And worst still exposed us to sexually transmitted infection as well as HIV/AIDS.

So prevention is better than cure – Examine whether you ready to indulge in sexual encounter. In general you could play soccer, study and do whatever, sex will always be there.

For those of you who are already sexually active use condoms, for those of you still untouched stay the same

What does keeping to one partner mean to you? Does it mean loving Linda for two days and moving to Tiny the following day because she has jilted you? Is keeping to one partner feasible, an illusion or just an ideal dream?

Behaviour change comes from within, you need to love yourself first and discover who you are. Nowadays unfortunately sex is glorified. Status and success equals sexy. Sexy means jumping onto bed with different partners.

The world tends to castigate you if monogamous. You become an instant hero if you sleep around. Quite frankly, I guarantee you, men and women who are stable in their relationship wear derogatory labels. Isishimane, ke le fitwa that is how they are profiled. A sad indictment considering the incidences of HIV/AIDS.

When all is said sex has become one of the most sought after commodity. In the street of the city you buy it like a soft drink. Even an ad that sells perishables uses semi-clad women’s. Effectively, we need to keep to one partner. That partner should be you my dear. Have as many friends but remember no sleeping partners

This brings me to the issue that is so close to all of us abstinence. We are told in places of worship to abstain, at school that message is also emphasized, this line in repeated in all walks of life. On the one hand kids would argue and advance all sorts of arguments.

It is common to listen to thirteen-year-old on talk show sighting their hormones as urging them to go for it. This arguments flies in the face of a barrage of cry for a moral degeneration. How do we instill and inculcate culture abstinence?

What do you hold in your hands?

My hands, your hands, our hands, people’s hands and the nations’ hands joined together, are a gift of hope, love and peace from the almighty. Hands that crystallize our own existences, they are a universal language spoken sublimely by lovers, protagonists, antagonists and foes. Hands are a tapestry on which we forge unity and reconciliation. Most importantly our hands are lifeblood of our selfless strength and power to give and take. In our hands flows a train of blood that drives our passion to embrace all of humanity. It is through these hands that the image of our lives is sculpted. Your hands may be coated with a sweet as honey bloodstream. Yet it is incumbent on you as to how you use them. Lazy, tough, soft, industrious, hardworking, enthusiastic and multi –skilled hands belong to one and the same royal family (the giver of hope, shaker of the universe and noble builder of nations).

Hands sometimes tell stories of joy, pain, human triumphs, suffering and happiness. The profound role played by hands in our live hinges on our spirituality, emotional outlook and physical touch. The multi – coloured canvasses where each and everyone’s hands paint their history are as diverse as the lines on our palms. The imprinted carvings (lines) on the back of our hands symbolize our signatures to realise our long-term dreams. Our signatures depend on our hands; you may have an in-satiable appetite to truly make this world a better place. Hands can inhibit or inspire a revolution in everyone’s space whether in relationships, marriages or business. Through our hands we can change our circumstances and blow our world to smithereens or reconstruct and tell our story to the rest of the world.

Amongst hands, there are hands anointed with warmth - you could scale heights once touched by them. In the same breath there are hands that bring smiles to people trapped in poverty. Look at your hands and think what you can do with them. Are your hands the type of hands that can lift, lead and give life skills? There are almost a dozen other hands that exude beauty, ecstasy and exultation. In other settings there are weak emaciated hands desperately signalling to others to help. There are hands, which reach out and touch to ensure a better life for all. These are the hands that touch people in distress, on deathbeds and during difficult circumstances. Caring hands have not only brought life to this planet. The same hands we witness touching souls affected and infected with HIV/AIDS.

Sometimes with a sense of trepidation we close the eyes of our beloved ones with our hands as they pass on. It’s our hands that throw soil on top of the departed as they travel the last miles. Do our hands ever get tired of performing the odious task? The answer is no. In the belly of mother earth dozens of men toil in the soil looking for that elusive mineral – gold. In other environments pain is inflicted and killings are committed. We can choose to condemn, curse, comfort with these extremeties known as hands. It is truth that our hands can be liberators, loving hands that long to save live.

Daily we see couples holding hands – as if there is no tomorrow. Sometimes the consequences of acts by hands are ghastly to contemplate. The image of a frail looking grandmother holding one of her terminally ill offspring confronts us daily. Her wrinkled hands at this point are stronger; life’s cruel sense of timing is displayed. The deep intricate lines that define the wisdom of our hands, makes it possible for us to extend our hands to those in dire need. We may decide to destroy, maim, strangle, rape and torment by our hands. But, in our hands there is a strand, a cushion of love, creation and embrace. Our hands are, supposedly, structured such that they can carry the world. We can care, caress and crucify using the same hands.

From where I am seated I see hands that solicit tears, from hands of an individual who is blessed with healing, hale and hearty hands. How often have my hands, your hands reached out to our beloved ones touched by AIDS. In most cases we throw our hands in the air and shrug our shoulders and pretend it’s not our responsibility. The fact is we should embrace more, without being hands off. Clapping of hands has since time immemorial created a spiritual rhythm of togetherness in places of worship inspiring a sense of love and affection to people. I get encouragement from hands that weave a blanket of care, and compassion and champion the cause of hope for the affected and infected in the breadth and length of our world. I see radiant rays of hope for the whole of humanity, as hands of the youth, adults, volunteers and senior citizens light a candle of hope for all of us touched by AIDS.

Through my hands I have produced a body of work that captures, turbulent times in our lives as we battle the AIDS pandemic. I endeavour to honestly and without any holds barred, to document all the languages I have observed spoken by hands. I have captured hands of caregivers, AIDS champions, AIDS activists, health workers, AIDS ambassadors, religious leaders, politicians, children heading households, researchers, doctors and just about everybody including unsung heroes and heroines who hand in hand give their expertise, skills and resources in order for us to arrest the spread of AIDS in our communities. I wish to extend a hand of appreciation to the hands a-plenty surrounding me, during the process of producing my works.

My hand drips with love; I extend my hand to my family, without who I wouldn’t be able to showcase my creation to the world. My hand of thanks giving goes to my mentor ousie Hazel (a researcher) who coined the title for my exhibition, after encountering and engaging with my artworks – may your hands spread love, reconstruct the social fabric of Nations throughout the world fighting the AIDS pandemic and touched by it’s vicious hands. Lastly, my friendly hands go down to the people of Guyana, especially Trevor Benn, who believed in me and gave me a break to exhibit my works abroad. An experience I have awaited for years, may this exhibition, on the one hand allow my hands to connect with my late mom Catherine Nomoya Mashinini and brother Minus Sibusiso Mashinini, wherever they are. May peace be upon them, their generous, giving and gentle hands, gave the world a son, a brother whose hands have always reached out and touched folks forever experiencing rejection, discrimination and isolation.

What can you and me do to save an African child?

An open letter to parents!

Where is my child, your child, our children - nowadays? Where are children who are not perturbed to walk in the streets without fear of being abused and molested? Where are our toddlers, bundles of joy who laugh innocently and incessantly? Where are the minors who are allowed some space to crawl without inviting attention from dysfunctional males? I want to know – why it is that today’s children are subjected to such untold misery? When all they love is candies and not warped adult sexual antics. Are we now accustomed to presenting our newly born babies with poison? Instead of giving them life-skills, so they connect to the future and look forward to the next day. Are we so blind to the cascading tears of minors terrorised by a section of our society? Day in and day out these teething infants extend their hand appealing for a world, where they can grow in peace and live in harmony, this is a world that eludes them. A soul-wrenching episode plays itself repeatedly in spite of the fact that those children need adults to empower them. Children have taken to the streets waving banners some emblazoned “We are only your children - please don’t hurt us and turn us into your wives.’’

Their fervent simple message elicited little sympathy and understanding. Is the present state of affairs not too unbearable for these little souls? Has our sense of raising children taken a nosedive? Do we now derive pleasure from inflicting pain on our own offspring? Has society found refuge in fostering an unstable society of children - who may grow up experiencing a myriad of behavioural problems?

Tell me then, why are our children are so terrified of their immediate environs? The screams of children crying, not for mother’s milk, but because there is an adult breathing heavily on top of them. Their pain echoes and permeates our lives like the beckoning sound of an old rusty bell. From the shantytowns, to the modest homes and reed fields of our land - we have witnessed some bloody cloths and a river of spilt blood after these vultures have feasted on children. A sad reminder to all that some little angels were made wives by adults who we mistakenly thought were worthy of trust and respect. These cowardly and perverted acts rob these children of their childhood. Of course in most instances relatives are involved, the perpetrators include parents, uncles and close acquaintances. They commit these heinous crimes with impunity. Please point out a child who could easily settle in the company of adults without any misgivings! Please take me to a mother who could voluntarily leaves her daughters in the care of males. We all know how ghastly the consequences of such a move can be. Chances are, the mother may come back, to be confronted by a heart piercing scene. In most cases she is likely to be greeted by a sight of her daughter bleeding profusely and writhing in pain. Not because she had fallen whilst taking those vital steps in life – trying to crawl or walk. The babysitter from hell may deliberately damaged the poor baby’s colon and sexual organs even as the mother turns the corner on her way home. She yells and screams at the perpetrators, they have committed this vile and pernicious penetration in a horrifyingly misguided attempt to cure HIV.

The realm of violent stories perpetuated against children by their next of kin and neighbours leaves permanent stains of shame on our social fabric. Some babies have now become scared of life even before learning to form vowels and comprehend what life is all about. Their hurting, tiny fragile bodies are irreparable for life and at worst infected with HIV/AIDS. These children risk growing up in an environment that has condemned them to the shackles of an uncertain future. The world has turned its back on its children. Our kids are presently, made guinea pigs for fools believing virgins can cure HIV/AIDS. It’s hard to fathom who invented this hypothesis, its origins and where it emanates from remain a mystery. Experts and AIDS activists have repeatedly cautioned members of the public not to buy into such dangerous mumbo-jumbo. The latest upsurge of rape against children and toddlers in particular is something that needs all the concern of members of civil society, NGO’s, Children’s lobby groups and Faith Based Organisations etc to campaign vigorously against this latest inhuman shame. We all can make a difference in our communities by teaching family members, friends and colleagues that it is a dangerous and evil myth that virgins cure AIDS.

It’s just unbelievable that we allow ourselves to compromise the health of our children in the hope of cleansing our immune system of a sexually transmitted disease. Indeed not all men are rapists, but the escalation of cases involving men raping children sends shivers of fear and loathing down the spines of all good people. Any baby who joins the human race deserves love and care. However, the same people these children look up for leadership torture them like soulless bandits. Some amongst us have seen classic example of pain inflicted upon children and the betrayals of children by adults. This pain is borne of insatiable sexual perversion, selfishness and greed concocted and packaged by adults for children.

In our prayer for children, let us remember a child who is hanging onto life, gasping for air raped of her health and childhood. Let us in the same breath cast our eyes on babies confined to intravenous drips wailing non-stop with pain eating their small body away. Let’s remember again all our babies crying for an opportunity to reclaim their life force. Our love needs to go to some babies, and children who run households. In our hearts let us light a flame of hope for children who will grow up with a part of them feeling indifferent. Let us embrace numerous children: Those children touched by HIV/AIDS. The children who are nursing and caring for their ailing parents. Let us think of the plight of dozens of children closing their dying parents’ eyes. Let us focus our eyes on orphaned children who have no clue where they will get the next meal. Let us pray for all children raped, abused and molested by adults. Let us ensure that all traumatised children are not treated as outcasts in our society. Lets create a haven for the children and make this world a better place for all of them.

As we prepare to commemorate 2001 World AIDS Day and look forward to celebrate the festive season. Can we spare a thought for our children, protect them and ensure that no children get sexually molested again.

“It begs the question – What do you hold in my hands”

Once when I was a baby boy:

I stumble across life and I ask, is it fair of any soul to abuse, maim and waylaid his or her other half? The kingdom of lives - seventh heaven we are told belong to all of us - tall, tiny, short, shapeless, fair, fat, light, lean and what not. The primary figure I had an opportunity of laying my eyes on, the first, first time I began my journey in this world, was of a woman. In my memory box, I cannot raison d'être what was it like in the arable embryonic. Let me, for the sake of sanity; concern myself with all I remember, not the capricious. So began life and time by extension flew. I was dispatched to this place called planet earth unsoiled. I am told I had had no sin, save for the sin of my parents - if they had had any at all. I can take pride and tell the world that my folks were over the moon before I was born. Perhaps their exhilaration exempted them from the spoils of sin. You see they were rooting for a girl – I was suppose to join their line – up of four boys and complete their master plan. Their mood swing may have changed somewhat, when they were blessed with a boy. Anyway, it’s easier to just, stand in the middle of the road and profess my dad and mom to be saint. I am a happy go round and jolly fellow; I am perpetually a knot in sins by trying to be a saint. It sounds contemptuous and shallow for a folk, who don’t even know the difference between hard work and rest to proclaim he’s no sinner. Anyway, there you are, I am sinner of no delineation. I have a way of decapitate my spine in my quest to outdone myself. My background although not spruced with silverware was not hopeless. I settled for life in the middle road. I earnestly tried to survive the storms, feasted and joined the family of mankind. Enough of my concoction of contrived and unqualified genesis of self – ingratiation that borders on unfamiliarity.

Then, this woman, my mom, gave me inner strength, priceless love and joy.
What I would treasure for the rest of my life above all is the precious “gift of life” she gave to me so unstintingly. Through her I learnt to embrace and respect other folks. I cannot vividly reconstruct the event of the day, afternoon or night, when I made my grand entrance. For year now, for me, the issues of the exact time of my delivery evades my mind like an inconsequential theatrical myth. In my mind the consternation is captured in retrospect thanks to the many visuals I have seen on television about childbirth. To this end, I cannot fathom, why there’s so much violence perpetuated against mothers, children and women in general. When they gave so much in order for us to develop and be who we are. Let’s step aside and look at what is happening in our lives. Don’t we know of countless mothers, sisters, and young – girls whose screams engrave the wild waves of the Indian and Pacific Ocean? And leave energy of defilement of pain and anguish on each beautiful respective shore. Tell me if you have never seen a ferocious fellow ripping an unsuspecting lover in broad day light at a corner shop. In contemplation, in humming a honeyed tune of a social discourse I am going to pay homage to the many women who made me what I turned – up to be. And the many men’s I have encountered on my way, as I traverse this plain called mother earth. The boys who lifted me – up, when I was in limbo. To millions women across the divide, who continue to lug the cradle of love, care and support. Here’s in reading the jewel of your heart, that my vein of creativity honours you. I like you, I love you, I live with you harmoniously. My sharp sense of social commentary I learnt from your resilient spirit. One of my venerated girlfriends once said to me – “Zanele if woman could write their stories, capture their experiences and what they carry inside their breast. The poison infused on their bloodstream the debilitating scares of abuse in their system. Truth be told I bet you – you could at once realize that you are not as in touch with your feminine side, as you claim. To be honest the passage below, which you are about to encounter, encapsulate the little I know about women since caring to care. What our sisters, mothers, wives and children experience in their daily lives, in war settings, at homes and just about anywhere is of great concern to me. Lend me an ear and join me as my hand weaves a tapestry of hope for those in despair.

We learn to pronounce our first vowels a e i o u - a technique we continue to master throughout our lives - courtesy of women. Women derive a great deal of pleasure in tending to our young needs. They hone their offspring to be the best we can be in our respective fields - this comes naturally. Raising kids is taken as part of their God given duties. Our mothers take optimum care during the process of moulding, sculpting and shaping us. All in all, it’s amazing how women juggle their daily chores with the task of raising us. Women, witness our physical, spiritual and mental growth. You may ask, why has the writer developed such affinity – for women. If you have forgotten, I am born of a woman. Holds on, it’s true again that all of us are conceived after a male, had planted his seed inside a female. I have a dream; my dream is to see abuse of any magnitude erased from the face of mother earth. My love for humanity forces me to focus on another aspect of pandemic, which sublimely feeds into pockets and pockets of our social and moral fabric. It is an area of common concern for me that is pertinent and intertwined to our lives. For me it is located in the heart of love for humanity. From time immemorial I have stood against diabolic or patriarchal systems, for life is like a warm liatris wax that must massage us holistically irrespective of religion, creed or race. So, it is no misnomer for me, to take a middle route in my collage and focus on women. Maybe it’s my way of saluting the many women, from rural areas who tender to the frail and sick. The unemployed and frail grannies whose pensioning time is dedicated to taking care of their grandchildren, whilst their parents gasp for more air in the background. These old folks perform these rigorous tasks in the face of failing eyesight’s and general poor health. Women, even nurture our manhood never dreaming that we can become weapons of mass destruction against them some day. As infants we are in their power, helpless babes - even our private parts hold no secrets. Mothers become the point of reference for us as baby boys during our formative years. Why don’t we give respect to women, for they protect us like children even when we are adults, it’s a travesty of justice where reasons for violent and sick behaviour are impossible to unravel.

Clearly, the love and nurturing given to children and babies by women surpass all other relationships. Our mothers do whatever they have to do in the face of often excruciating circumstances; they bombard us with love and care. They religiously pamper us with all their selfless love. So let's take a serious look at what women have to endure, within a different environment, after raising us to be responsible citizens. In some situations women see their partners abdicating the responsibility of maintaining the blood of blood (children). Our moms and sisters hold us on their laps and rock us to sleep. At times, they proudly strap us on their backs, whilst performing punishing chores. As we take our naps, grow, play and scream, women guard us jealously, like proud and ferocious raptors. Women are prepared to put their lives on the line for the cause of our growth. Their eagle eyes and claws repel all forces – they propel us forward with energy and prayer. They're rooting for us every step of the way - to see us grow and become respected citizens. All they wish is a life full of bliss, prosperity and joy for their children.

By the way, women carry us for nine months - it’s not easy. They are expected to carry on with their daily routines and regimens. They are expected to run to work, look after other siblings, and cook tasty meals and clean up. At the same time, fools poke fun at them if they have more than two. Such ridicule is never aimed at or meant for men, no one asks them how many illegitimate children they have fathered? During the divine process called pregnancy the intimate compartment where our growth takes place receives so much battering. It is common for women to experience real aches, pains and other upheavals as nature takes its course. Yet they are expected to be cheerful, friendly and happy at all times and to dote on men folk who require endless attention to even their tiniest needs.

During labour a number of women give birth through caesarean section. Others come out of the maternity wards scarred for life, with neither support nor claim to the custody of the child. In such instances, the man prefers to take an easy route out (out of sight – out of mind). Some women have to go an extra mile to prove the paternity of their offspring. They become the scorn of society as they drag men to maternity courts. All sorts of accusations fly thick and fast. The commonest is that they are trying to amass wealth through devious means. It is these very same women who during the time of our nurturing smell of baby vomit, who change nappies, who clean noses and bums day in and day out, yet they personally face – up to left hooks and jabs. Their soft and tender hands subsidize our existence and map out our destiny. Our mothers keep us warm continuously from cradle to grave.

There are many issues I haven’t addressed, lest I be accused of being righteous. But these lines carry my outmost disgust on noticing the unabated abuse of children and women. I remembered a verse I read as a tiny youngster, it was not forced - feed on me. I was at school, it kept on visiting me, and each time I summoned enough courage to face my Maker at church. It read thus “Let he who doesn’t fornicate throw the first stone” This verse rattles my being. It sorts of offers an olive oil of a chance for all who care to change. It says don’t be judgmental, take it easy. Don’t condemn, start to examine your attitude to yourself and others. It’s one verse that radiates and rehabilitates me. Sometimes I hold roses with non - pricking thorns in my hands. To all of us who abuse financially, spiritual and physically, let’s look for an alternative outlet. Some of us, thanks to many a writers on abuse, our ink will from now henceforth drip with passion for the faint-hearted and children. Fortunately, I have been exposed to the harsh reality of life. I wish some men could wear a T-shirt emblazoned “Some men are more or less like babies” for emancipation of women does not mean competition, it sort of levels the playing field.

After examining the above issues, I don’t know what went wrong with some men folks. I look at some of the intricate web hanging like an encumbrance around human relationships. And what comes to mind is – What do you hold in your hands? Oh, the whole load of abuse impoverishes me. I am deeply distressed by the perpetual killings of women, girls and men. My whole environment at times feels as if it stinks of the body bags of many women killed by their partners. Some are killed literally, others by default as they fall for dinosaurs that are talented in projecting themselves as human.

In my attempt to understand mankind and his behaviour. I ask of myself, what wrong have I done to be exposed to this artillery. Perhaps the shock emanates from guilt. I have lost count, for instance of the voices of moderation that calls my bona fides into question. Well, it’s an honour for me to present this book to all of you. I had to endure many a sleepless nights during the preparation of this book. I had to forsaken some of my friends, wherever they are, they are still dear to me. My body has accommodated some kilograms – as I work non-stop. Benevolent as I am I took time to talk to many a people who believed in me. Nothing has prepared me for the handwork that was in store. To be frank, the body of work appearing herein was inspired by a million voices reverberating from North to South – West to East. One AIDS activist from South America in Guyana once remarked of my work and said – “You are such a gifted artists - Why are your subjects essentially sheathed by the African continent?” I then, explained to him that I have never been outside of AFRICA. In retrospection I then took a journey to the whole wide world through journals and books to all the frontiers of the global village. In all honestly, I have always been comfortable to dabble with issues I am comfortable with. Let me take the opportunities of thanking all people, who inspired me to produce this book. Some have passed on, other were tolerant enough, and they let me punctuate our discussion with me incessantly sketching in the background. Once again I would like to thank, the many contributors to this volume. I am immensely humbled by your openness, sincere and innate warmth. In the name of our Father, I want to confess. This is my confession – “Father, I am a man, I was borne of a woman, I don’t know what pointed me to the area HIV/AIDS. Muziwakhe Nhlabatsi, my mentor, teacher and my political commissar from the eighties, seem to think I have in my vein an expanse of empathy, compassion and care. Of course my little contribution in making people to accept HIV/AIDS is not in a form of medical intervention, research, prevention, Home Based Care etc. My intervention is a humanitarian one, its layers of ink. I wish to give the world lines of hope. May everybody continue to provide leadership in matters of AIDS prevention, care and support. If something touches you – the best you could do is to contribute towards changing the statuesque.

Diary of my life – passions and struggles

In the early seventies I was just an ordinary township being. I had a few ambitions, one of which was to drive a bus. I was fascinated by the deft skills of bus drivers. Who wouldn’t after watching those lunatics, dicing with lives of old folks. Who were given to releasing oxygen, whenever the bus swerves left right before negotiating a sharp curve at 120 km. I was a baby then; in my street alone there were several bus - drivers. In my assessment the transport sector then seems an attractive option. Remember, those old men made a fortune, they use to recycle tickets. The closer I came to being a bus driver, was when I collected wire hangers and constructed cars in my backyard. In the process I emulated those silly fellows, as I played with my sibling in the dusty streets of the townships.

In later years, the love for medicine consumed me. (Un)fortunately the gray matter stored in my cynic mind could not filter and process Math’s, Physical Science and Biology to the satisfaction of my teachers. On the one hand my brethren were blessed in the area of IQ. Here’s one of my history that’s as sumptuous as any favourite dish of your choice. During my school days I was like a yoyo. On entering primary school, I couldn’t catch – up with anything. As a result I failed my grade. School became a turbulent exercise. Essentially you may wonder why I tell you this. This completes the picture of Zanele Mashinini who woke – up and wanted to publish a book. Still on that score, I saw many a kids pensioning in one class more like a drunk who uses a lamppost to gain support. Quite interesting they were no quitters. They were exceptional being who gave generously to all of us. They shared their lunch boxes with all and sundry. I learned one crucial lesson from them, that the hand that gives is planted everywhere in our lives like a river that flows non – stop. The hand that gives is of ordinary folks, with power that flows from sweet percolated heart.

I was a wimp and a down right lackadaisical scholar. Wait for this: The moment I learned of Leonard Da Vinci remarkable human anatomy drawings, which were used extensively in medicine. The least I did was jump with excitement and saw an opening for my lazy mind. In my stupor I reasoned that entering an art school was not a bad idea. After all, I was an exceptional artist in my formative years as a knee-high lad of five. I drifted in and out of love life. I learned my lessons, burned myself in the process. To this day I still savoured every bit of being jilted. Well, delusion of love is nothing else but the best art. It teaches you, to be patience, preserve and be tolerant to issues of romance. Outside of romance, I witness many a people reaching out. These were ordinary people like you and me; they had no impeccable financial resources. Their philanthropically attitude influenced me immensely. I though, I must also grow – up and make a difference. I was touched by their unconditional love. They gave jinglingly with no string attached. I admired their tenacity in the face of biting inflation and scarcity of resources.

My home was a three – roomed dwelling, if you could imagine this scenario. A kitchen that comes alive with thick billowing smoke, in both summer and winter. Come five o’clock everyday, the cloud of smoke would feed all the rooms with carbon dioxide like a choky train. In fact this was the common sight, because elsewhere in the streets, thick columns of smoke would engulf the whole township. You would be excused for thinking the place was on fire. I have forgiven my parents for exposing me to passive smoking whilst growing - up. Who wouldn’t? Anyway life goes on, there are a whole lot of other people who are chocking courtesy of my abject poverty. Our so-called bed – room is maybe 4metre by 4metre. I have purposely used “is” because this structure, which I call home, is still the same it hasn’t undergone any facelift. That room in particularly was stuffed with blankets smelling of children urine, some of these blankets belonged to my folks. At the end of the day it was common, for one to flatly refuse he has watered the bed. After all we slept in sets of four or five depending on who comes to pack – up at our residence.

Another room was used as a dinning cum - sitting room. It was well furnished, but on the one hand it resembled a store – rooms the ones that are always hit by a rocket in movies. I am glad we did not have rodents, partly because this was a clean chaos. I would have long died of bubonic plague. Inside the room in question there was everything, from a hi – fi set which was always out of tune – you needed to kick it hard to bring it to its senses. Our schoolbooks a collection of bibles and horses bet forms competed for space in our makeshift bookshelf. On rainy days my granny would send us to bet faffie – a game operated by Chinese nationals, its molded more on the lotto line, you throw you money on a number, and wait for the evitable. Completing the design in our dining room was damn cheap wooden furnisher, which was bought by my parents. They were made to pay a fortune for years for this piece of furnisher. The furnisher shop kept on sending my parents those hostile letters with windows every month. They paid for the suit for years on end. What was funny though, everybody in our lineage thought the furnisher was exquisite. I remember vividly my relatives’ pouring appellations when my parents bought that piece of furnisher. They came from far-flung areas; I cannot up to this day comprehend, what was the big deal. Come nighttime, the room will come alive with snores of dozen people. Our home offered sanctuary to uncle and extended family members from both mom and dad’s kin. Everybody was used to drop – by unannounced like torrential rains, and demanded to be accommodated.

No single individual was charged any fees for food, electricity, water and ablution. There was no system put in place to deter people from taking advantage of our hospitality. On Sundays one of my uncles bought his folks for praise and worship sessions. The prayer session would go for such a long time, it was common to hear someone stomach literally rumbling after eating the word for hours on end. Uncle and his disciples used to wear snow-white or blue dustcoats. This church uniform was at all times drenched on starch. Each time the followers of God chanted, you would literally see sprinkles of white powder flying all over. Most congregates looked like caricatures straight from comic strips. Those coats had a huge white cross-sawn on the back; fashioned on the one carried by Jesus Christ. The favourite colours used on crosses were normally sky blue. I never summoned enough courage to ask why, were people expected to wear these crosses? Not all the disciples were expected to carry a cross on his or her shoulder. At times dependent on a prophecy, you were either told to have a star. Whatever the star symbolizes is still a matter of curiosity. There was this one minister, who was amazing – he called himself Messiah. One of his traits was to smack you with pooh and sting the whole place with unholy communion from his big bum. Whenever, Messiah opened his mouth, what was noticeable was his extraordinary long set of teeth which were eaten by ganglion like a terrestrial creature. Some stale blood was at all times parked on his off white teeth. Messiah was hectic and full of zeal for life; his preaching was punctuated by gallons of spit flying in all directions. He couldn’t read a word in the bible and to compensate, he would talk in tongues. I laugh myself silly, because at the end, it was fashionable for him to say he was instructed to read the verse in parables. He was good when it comes to faking flying like an angel and landing straight on his face on the ground.

The toilet was outside some 100 metres away. It was no fun going to the toilet especially at night. Anyway, it was easier to bank your faeces and suppress any call of nature. Then, the activists in the stomach would take over and offload unpleasant smell, depending on what was served the previous night. My fathers lean figure, still tenders to our barren soil as he did some fifty years ago. The soil still swivel like a whirlwinds, my father has not stop tilting it and watering it for the past years. I had to fend for myself at any early age, I did shoe shine at Orlando Station (Soweto). Each time, it was prudence for you to mind your teeth. At any given moment some scumbag would kick your mouth and make a soccer ball out of your lips provided you touch their expensive designer shoes. I graduated from that ritual and began to guarded cars during big soccer spectaculars. It was common to come back at your point after collecting some of your daily takings and realize the car was missing. In such circumstances, the best you did was to dash home. Otherwise the owner of the car would have beaten you, until the angels welcomes you yonder. I sold chewing gums, peanuts and hold a temp in the township grocery shops Sometimes I would pass sweets and some grocery to good-looking girls. I hope my aunt and uncle wouldn’t blame me for running their business down. My parents should not be accused of child abuse. I did this out of my own cognizance, I was a street wise activist, schooled in the university of the streets.

This was a ritual that was awaiting any youngster growing up in the sprawling township of Johannesburg. My lot was no different from that of other youngsters my age. I was bulldozed, ran errands, for thugs, who would spit on the ground and send you to some 3 kilometres grocery shop to buy a match. They would whack you in the event of you arriving after the saliva had dried – up in the soil.

I survived all the buckets of hardship and better my circumstances. This statement does not purport to say I am now an established phenomenon. My background has not changed an inch. Well, obviously we are dealing here with a legacy of more than three hundred years. We are only nine years since Democracy. Unlike some of my contemporarily I work, I earn a salary and my credentials are not that bad. Somehow, age is catching up with me. For all I know, all my wisdom acquired in years may count for nothing. So, let me not deceive anybody, I have no credentials. Save to say I am a grumpy fellow, with a great heart. Hearts don’t count for nothing; they are items that take you straight to heaven. I don’t know whether I am ready to traverse that path. My creations are used extensively on AIDS campaigns. Immediately after graduating from an art school, I vow to use my skills for the betterment of the people. Before then, I had the misfortune of experiencing first hand the smell of teargas. Anyway, there’s no one in the township, who can say they were never exposed to tear gas fumes. At times, I dabble into creative writing. I cooked some suspect lines, recite them, and then conned some unsuspecting audience. I earned a nickname “Touch and Touch” because of my multi- talented antics. I knew all along I had duped all my gullible compatriots who got damn intoxicated by my shouting sweet nothing. Surprise, surprise I continued to wrote a lot of unpalatable poetry – given some platform during protest march to vent my anger. The crippling thoughts of doing something constructive to advance the cause of my people poisoned my system. I settled for a job in the development sector. I worked with unionists, educationalists, pseudo politicians, and half-baked revolution lists. I interfaced with bible punches the ones who conduct witch-hunts and examine your standing before condemning you to the web of Satan hands. Truly speaking I was open and didn’t care whether I burn in stake. In the process I acquired an inane enterprising talents, to fraternize with time tested leaders and backyard wordsmiths. Unfortunately not a single one of them made it to the higher echelon of business, government and what not. Most of them visit me at night, to complain about poverty, wives, girlfriends and the fact that they want to leave. Frankly, for me I can stay anywhere and everywhere. Unbeknown to them is the fact that I am also contemplating emigrating because of my circumstances. Unfortunately my academic records cannot be accommodated outside of my native country. I may as well kiss the thought of emigrating for I am unmarketable.

It was not easy, we got raided, someone was arrested; call it-mistaken identity or shabby intelligent work. One of us skipped the country two remained in the country. Anyway, we were up to some mischief, we did produced some stuff, which was then referred to as subversive material. Well, there were dozen of legislation then, newspapers were gagged. Excuse my pun; it was no sexed - up intelligence work. Now, I continue working in the education sector. I witnessed many a students changing their circumstances; I like a fundamentalist, continued treading on the same plain. People graduated, moved on, spoke impeccable English, changed their ways of life. Moved to leafy suburbs, walk the talks, and became marketable anywhere in the world. But, of course I remained on the periphery – to serve agendas of my nation. My first love to serve people remains a burning passion. It is sincere genuine manifestation acquired in kindness, harness by the love I witnessed as a child. Some of the people I witness climbing the ladder snare at me. They were obviously intolerable of my financial situation. To them, I was just a talent waiting in the doldrums, for doomsday. To tell the honest fact, there were a dozen or so other cadres like myself planted in the breath and length of my country. I collaborated with musicians, artists and the civil society. Out of the turmoil, mishap and what not I weave my tapestry. Then, began a journey that takes you through my creation. I remember vividly how some of my close friends, acquaintances and colleagues would scream at me. My sin was to do illustrations in meetings, during romantic escapades and at worst inside the church. Well, I am no atheist, I do from time to time pray. And play gospel music loud to connect with my Maker, mom and all those finest people in my family, who decided to leave me. I continued to stockpile illustrations it never became a routine. A lot of people told me their stories; through my pen I endeavour to capture their fears, happiness, joy and aspiration. It was not easy; my canvass became a mixed bag of stories. There were individuals, who in spite of the exponential statistics continued to harbour the conquest of chauvinists.

The face of AIDS wangled and intertwined itself in my family. There were no mitigation factors – life was on top gear. Dreams of youngsters I know evaporated as HIV\AIDS took its toll. Politicians, Religious leaders and virtually everybody took the lead. We worked in the background, churning out materials. An upheaval took shape in my mind. I saw myself continuing to engage in constructive dialogue through my work. The minute kind of identified with my work. I thought I am also contributing to destigmatise HIV\AIDS in my communities. I listen to crazy anecdotes of people who care little about people affected and infected with HIV\AIDS. Others were as extremist, as they come the seam of their garments flowed with discrimination. You came across the lot that hoists the cultural flag. I swear this crowd, told you on your face that they were untouchable. At the end of the day, they pretended they were immune to the epidemic. Each some related their experiences; I would sketch their story. I captured everything I was told. There were numerous individuals who were completely out of depth. Whatever they taught they were beyond reproach. I learned a lot in the process, there was variety of issues. I was and still is humbled by the resilient spirits of ordinary people. People organized street campaigns, these were ordinary folks.

Love life, sex life and intimate relationships!

Let's together think of what is happening in our love life, sex life and intimate relationships!

Let's face it, sex is beautiful, love is the fire that keeps us alive and intimate relationships are a gateway to healthy hearts. Nevertheless, there are multiple issues bedevilling the world of relationships of which love and sex are the main characters.

Reels and reels of episodes have muscled themselves onto the movie that is love, sex and intimate relationships. For instance, these words might have different meanings in a poor community than in a well to do community, or in a rural setting and a suburban society.

For instance, if I happen to stay in a shack, what separates my expression of intimate sex with my wife is a curtain. And my kids are in fact exposed to the sordid chapter of screams and moaning as both my wife and I make love how do these children grow up, does exposure to our love making affect them when they become adults?

In the streets of our cities, there are children whose existence is dependent on eking a living selling their bodies. What aspect of these children's' love life and sex life is nurtured? In the socialization arena, would such children understand what intimacy is?

In the cover of the night, different sex activities are performed between the bedspreads. Couples take different risks and undertake all kinds of experiments. To some a thin line separates love from sex and intimate relationships.

The latest “sex craze” cuts both ways, it is a pastime enjoyed by people from all walks of lives. We have orgies in our communities. Some people get a hard on and salivate at the thought of sharing lovers. That is why “swinging” this is a love making session where sex partners are exchanged. Both adults and young school girls and boys engage in what is called “lipsticks” (a young boy by sporting different colours of make up, demonstrates he has slept with many girls.

Let's then, examine what is happening in the love, sex and intimate relationship arena.

For love, is now a commodity packaged for the gratification of commercial forces. Its present meaning is privatized, and at worst, incongruous speculators, who determine its market value, feast upon its remnants.

The media, traditionalist, fundamentalists, conformist, unrepentant sex orthodox, lusty lose souls, ‘players' and those who are deeply spiritual feel they have a stake in the intimate relationships realm.

One witness daily these groups on each other's throat baying for the blood, soul and hearts of love, sex and intimate relationships. This tug of war presents an interesting scenario; these self-proclaimed ‘market leaders' sell the world their ambiguous sensual knock and drop lines.

Essentially the media, as if ‘government of love' has taught us with its creative sex and love products: that erotic and explicit ads (influences sexual tastes of people.) Their choice of sexy story lines, convinces us unequivocally that sex is feast for fun.

(This sensual line is sold in an environment, where one in four girls of school going age gets pregnant, before the age of twenty-one. The glorifying of sexual images by the media fly in the face of youngsters particularly girls presenting with HIV infects and accounting for a sizeable number of those living with HIV and AIDS.)

Traditionalists' voices wails loud and clear agitating, in villages and in outposts' areas, rumbling steadfastly, advocating asserting that a ‘real man' need marry large numbers of women and such a custom defines who we are.

(Such make believe cultural norm planted in the minds of people at a time when AIDS decimate a community with our statistics forever on the rise.)

Furthermore, holier than thou fundamentalists not wanting to be undone, contend that no love, no sex, no condoms and no intimate relationship before marriage. Without arming congregates with necessary life- skills.

(This spiritual preaching, relayed in a world where sex, infiltrates and rears its head onto the pulpit to competing with moral judgment in the holy ground. The question is: How many times have some of those who preach abstinence, on their own will, have continue to betray their values, because they were caught in the act, with pants down, after deliberately working their ways onto the hearts of vulnerable children? Hells', heavens' of this earth!)

Conformists on the one hand, campaign vigorously for their space in the whole sex saga; they go with what is fashionable! To them, if it means having a society were screwing around indiscriminately and walking around with love bites, is second nature, so be it, they will be wildly happy.

(Their shocking and strange ‘I don't care approach' harboured when bodies of our loved ones, who die of AIDS related infections feed a vast track of land with burial ground about to become a scarce commodity.)

Unrepentant sex orthodox sing their lungs out, their onslaught tunes aptly titled ‘love is artificial', is supported by their ballads ‘life is short enjoy it with a compulsive sex drive for as long as it last.'

They go on to chorus: ‘intimate relationships were design for people to be sucked into the system of marriage.' Their favourite tune takes them to dozen bedspreads to kick-start their campaign of sleazy sex.

(Their act is undertaken in a world touched by a thankless virus, which kills indiscriminately children, youth and adults with impunity and mercilessly).

To the lusty lose souls, nothing stops them from indulging in what they call supplement food for body; they clinically plan their moves, however labourious. They pledge love to all and warm their ways on dozens hearts of those they profess to love. After, banging their unsuspecting lovers all in the name of intimate relationships they disappear from the radar. They operates from funerals, weddings or parties and wherever they lay their feet.

(For some good measure, they forget one fundamental lesson in this life, that hospital occupancy rate is so high because of AIDS patient whose daily intake is baffles the mind. One thing though no one is immune from AIDS).

The ‘players', an astute army of smooth operators, who swear by their good looks and fat bank balances, chase the quota, their desire is to plant as many children all over the shores, They readily admit to enjoying tasting multiple partners and proudly proclaimed to have generously dispatch their sperms for its their God given right to do likewise. The motto binding together these hordes are: frolic with them! flirt with them! fondle them! fuck them! and fool them full time!

(In times of AIDS, these ‘players' play a game of Russian roulettes in spite of the fact that we are all prime candidate of HIV and AIDS infections.)

In addition the deeply spiritual lot, loathe the free for all sexual encounter; they hold the institution of love high as a sacred mysticism. To this crowd love is love and not a foundation built on shifting sand blowing all over for love sake.

However, no matter how they glorify the monogamous relationship, love nowadays is instant, sex nowadays is instant, and intimacy nowadays is instant. Like instant coffee, the granite of love dissolves soon after hot water land on them. The ‘instant coffee phenomenon' sees people smooching some bodies this minute and resting on the one they claim to love and whisper, “I love you!” and instantaneously bombing out and disappeared from their (cup)id's hearts, only to have a ‘instant quickie' with another body.

In modern times, love bleeds profusely and permanently in the altar of expediency. In the same breath, on the love and sex arena, it's about whose son or daughter you are?

Young girls look for someone to supply them with gifts and these individuals must have status to complement the girl's insatiable appetite for material.

Young boys on the one hand also want to outclass their opposite number by sleeping with sugar mommies, and the remunerations are attracting, they get pampered, treated like royalty, and be left empowered economically.

Parents who understand the scale of the economy of love, sex and intimate relationships have also entered the struggle. They predetermine the pathway their offspring are to take in the trenches of intimate relationship by ordering them like seasoned commissar not to be ambushed by ‘lackluster' spouses who will offer nothing.

The truth of the matter is: by way of control, a sizeable number of parents insist unapologetically to their children to pick someone with a healthy pocket, as opposed to someone with a depleted pocket, the one supposedly who will be burdensome and become a baggage to the family concern.

It has becomes scandalous in some households for some to witness their clan's name and heritage associated with so-called underprovided in-laws! If their brood dates someone who is deemed insignificant in the social equation, such an individual gets marginalised.

Be that as may be, on the contrary, love is said to love without any set of parameter. Sex is said to be a sacred expedition that must be enjoyed by two hearts that beat as one. With, intimate relationships christened conglomerate of emotive feeling of happiness able to passionately write poetry that flows in the veins of partners who are close to one another.

Nowadays, one observes in awe as scorn is thrown on the doorstep of those who dare challenge the present status quo, permeating the love and sex zones, which shouts, please no strings attach! People go for the kill, its no longer the question of love, its now lets do it for the fun of it.

Affection, enthusiasm and elegancy that were once the characteristics of love, sex and intimate relationship are no longer such noble elements. What is the outcome of liberalisation and democratization of love?

People argue we live in a global village and change is inevitable. We are urged and told, you can now enjoy sex through the Intern et with someone abroad. You are asked, why not move with the times, love and sex does not at all equal cuddling.

The sex toy industry is booming, you could buy sex toys and help yourself, without having to wait for that call, which may not come. These competing options make love, sex and intimate relationships a hard buy.

Juxtapose our present environment with what is on offer in the market place, you realize the future does not look bleak but chances are the landscape is changing rapidly.

Some individuals prefer to buy semen from the sperm bank to manufacture their children. Naturally, the aroma associated with love and sex becomes inadequate (it just becomes an act of cognitive dissonance).

The family structure has become a weak thread as cohabitation becomes an option of choice. If those in these arranged associations are not satisfied with each other's sex drive, they move on! This scenario has contributed to love and sex becoming an issue of economics.

The beautiful and colourful weaving in the tapestry of intimate relationship is soiled and bears marks of tears all over. The body of intimate relationship lies comatose, extremely sick, love coughs, collapses on sex, all wheeled to the intensive care theatre to be resuscitated.

For once, the status attached to love, sexuality and intimate relationship represents overwhelming amnesia. The revolving door of arranged love; threatens the social fabric of sexuality and intimate relationship. The open season in the ‘faculty of love' has pooh poohed intimate relationships and pronounced negatively on sexuality, a once lovable activity bonding two souls as one.

Of late, no one is expected to invest feelings, passion and emotions on love. Practically, sex is sold like beverages on street corners. Men of all shapes and sizes drooling to the core, drive around looking for love and sex and intimate relationships in sordid areas, whilst their lovable partners are clutching bouquet of love flowers.

Nonetheless, the intimate relationship is now about politics of what the media interprets as best practices. The price tag and the premium set on both the love and sexual activities deplete the pockets and reduce intimacy into insignificance.

The trend of commercialization of love and sex is planted and etched like a tattoo on body and mind of men and women, by media, its either you submit or die. Nowadays it is no longer, a question of “I love you!” it a question of “I lick you!”

The traditional roles of love have been ripped apart in the trajectory of inconsistency and misinformation. Repeatedly we witness how love is miscarried on the altar of expediency and no one dares mourns its shameful demise.

Divorce has now become a norm, as society fails to live by its vows. “Until death do us part” is a run off the mill declaration that now means until my dick falls apart.

The amniotic-fluids meant to incubate love, sex and intimacy now experiences no love. Love dies in the embryonic stage slowly before growing. Sex is patented and owned by pimps who trade on innocent women and children.

In the same breathe sex lies like a wasteland with no one in sight to help resuscitate it. I am the first to contend sex is beautiful, however the alphabet that has become a surrogate cousin to sex – AIDS, HIV and STI has become a new player.

Once again, we have not seen people shying away from painting the town red with their behaviour. An intimate relationship is a commodity found in taxi ranks, trains, beer halls, workplaces and places of worships.

Intimacy has now developed a new meaning. People influenced by divergent viewpoints want to emulate their role models. The media feeds us a frenzy of hunks who sleep around without condoms.

Quite remarkable, the urban legend feed us a delicacy of sumptuous diet. We are told that curves are delicious and worth all the trouble on earth. Frankly, the myths on love, sex and intimate relationship can fills reels of pages.

The streetwise ‘ingenious sex' experts who concoct their diatribe by implying that your physical appearance counts, insinuate that big mouth, big feet and big whatever (my guess is as good as yours) suggests someone is gifted in the private parts department (and it worth dying for these few human species, because they are hot under the sheets!). Now you witness people not looking for love but looking for features.

This may sound disharmonious; but the grapevine has at one stage feed us this diet, that matter of fact sound cheap and intolerant. We were made to believe that our brothers from across the continent are well endowed and hot. A penis envy debate ensued where some of the locals did not take kindly to such supposition. And you may ask what is the moral story here, the love, sex and intimate relationship has its own form of prejudice a theory that takes many shapes and forms.

Trivial issues such as who rules the loves, sex and intimate relationship regime unsettle people in the dating arena. Insalubrious remarks form an integral power play in the battle of who rules the love sector.

The exploits of the media in carrying in-depth stories of a woman, who dated one hundred and fifty men, demonstrates what stuff love is made of. If you do not show any sex prowess, forget it, you will not be a role model.

On a lighter note, on line dating getting so much attention, individuals just pick up a dozen partners at a click of a button. Have sex with them wherever they are. When all is said and done, we are living in interesting times.

The world has to redefine love, sex and intimate relationship. The religious sector, youth, politicians and everybody has to come on board and be part of the debate. Because, the institution of love, sex and intimate relationship has undergone a face change.

Urbanisation, poverty, unemployment, globalization and empowerment of women have transformed the demographics of love, sex and intimate relationships. Daily commentators, shocked to their wits by incest, rapes of both minors and adults, the abuse of women and children, ask repeatedly what has become of love? What went wrong with sexuality? Where is intimate relationship?

Well there is no need to despair, the present scenario is an episode, that marks a time and space we are in. Pretty soon this period may give us a lesson on nurturing love, nourishing sex and nursing our intimate relationships!