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sadness

D.N.A. #blacklivesmatter

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I’m mostly skin-colour blind, but in this post I want to reflect on the struggles within the black communities.

You know that moment you have to protect your kids from some particularly mean neighbour? Well you won’t be protecting them if you did the same to them would you? The question to most blacks is: “How much do black lives matter to you?” More than your money? More than your tummy? More than playing life with that fine body? More than greed?

The title is inspired from Don Cheadle’s line : “Another Dead Niggers Association”, while talking to Kendrick on Kendrick Lamar’s hit song D.N.A. This song looks at the heritage of the black communities and the conclusion is quite poignant: “Sex, Money, Murder – Our DNA”. You can read more about it on Genius.com.
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Einstein is asleep in a Bepanda rubbish heap.
Newton is learning how to swim in Soweto poop.
Shakespeare is slumped in a car with extra lead
Losing the grams he suddenly gained on a Vegas road,
Then Dumas does same: different street, same oozing scenery.

D.N.A.

Is it a case of which or is it that each black life actually matters?
The geniuses seem to be electrons in the society’s first chapter,
Then the atom goes positive in self-wrought treachery

D.N.A.

You took Dube for his car, Njawe for his mouth, Lumumba for his mind, Pac
For his revolution, X for his convictions, Luther for his wisdom, Sankara,
For his vision, And their names scream from an unending roster in front of Peter.

Dead Negus Association

Then our mothers turn preemptive and kill
The next Mozart for fear of hunger, dump
The next Leke for fear of parental anger.

Where are the tears in these instants where the now seems better for all?
How to un-wrench my heart when the news comes out the radio speaker,
And the souls fly around one last time before going unaccomplished back home?

The miracle of the genetic mutation that brings genius to uplift our communities mostly gets lost earlier than on the blueprint:
Each gone by a gun or its mum.

(c) Nyonglema

People will treat you the way you treat yourselves. May blacks love their neighbour more so that hating you doesn’t look anymore like something you taught everybody. Love black lives

joy

My Weight Loss Routine Part 2/2 #freeWeightLoss #health

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“You’re too sedentary” I recall my parent’s warning
As I swam in bites and kilobytes on a monitor
Forgetting the world, forgetting to exercise, eating junk
And battering my circadian cycle to a pulp.

And I made up my mind: I’ll get the Best of Both Worlds
(Not the K&J album…but my passion and my health)
Through a plan that’ll fix the issue at hand
And shut the mouth of that mocking sphygmomano.

So my 3 point plan was :
1. Eating less overall by halving breakfast and supper all through and lunch until my body stops groaning when I’m not stuffing more than I need into my mouth
2. Bye bye snacks and irregular meals. I shall have no more than breakfast, lunch and supper and damn you for taking me to that “soya” spot during off-meal hours!
3. A couple jumps before, while (if safe) and after I shower when the sun defeats darkness and when darkness gets its revenge. Then a diligent stretching session before I sleep.

It’s 2 years now and I’ve been failing then trying my scheme again,
And I’ve beat the scale, sphygmo and the jeers:
I’ve been at 83kg now for quite a while,
And I didn’t have to pay anybody a cent to pack this smile

(c) Nyonglema

joy

My Weight Loss Routine Part 1/2 #busyPeople #freeWeightLoss #health

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Oh! I still remember the blow the scale dealt
As my feet finally feared less enough to step on
And my eyes lost the fight, staring down
At the figures flashing, then fixed against the screen.

95kg?!! How…when…wait this isn’t working.
This isn’t happening! How could this happen?
“Wait”, I said as off unbelieving I reset the lie
But felt the shock as I to myself no more could lie.

The funny looks of mean bastards jeering,
The rejection felt in taxi seats, public places
The TV’s bashing of me, through photoshopped “perfection”
And the promise that this was all going to get worse!
Oh crap!

So here I am in a world new to me, unknown to me,
Wishing to step out of the discomfort I face.
I still love me, for all God gave mummy to give me
But the sphygmomano also dealt a worse blow:
As my heart flirted with pressure beyond what vessels could hold.

I had to make a plan.

(c) Nyonglema