Memoirs of my heritage

Hi mina Beaton
Wa Gilbert
Wa Tsamwisi
Wa Muzamani
Wa Ndalega
wa Ngwena
Wa Matsena
Wa Bhangwani
weka xinyori xahomba
Wakanga nzela ribwe
….. and growing up my grandad (bless his soul) did make us recite the names of our ancestors and our heritage of fire, as far back as was known….
So that we would always remember, and still do…
The Origins, technically our culture ain’t from around here hence the strange totem and stuff some guy just kinda made it up cause they was asked by local folk “hey whats your mutupo” and they be like “whats that“…
“Well its like your spirit animal and you can’t eat it…
So next guy was like “Love to eat strange strange things I got a strange problem hmmm
I know, FIRE that’s our mutupo…”

and these guys were all warrior like, we are the lost descendants of Shaka The Zulu after all,  noone was willing to challenge the choice and so it stayed and fire it was…
So it was written, so it was.
And ama tell my kids that story… Or blog it

Or WRITE A  BOOK

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Memoirs of a fire lord

how we became ;

curates of the fire
*memoirs of a fire lord*

Once upon a time one of my ancestors went hunting, but luck was not on his side, there was no game to be found. He ventured further than he had ever gone before and got lost. Hungry and forlorn he tried to find familiar landmarks as he struggled along with near exhaustion. Eventually he ended up at a strange strange village guided there by an even stranger pillar of smoke billowing out from its center like an ominous beacon
……

The villagers where really friendly for they hardly got visitors as their location was rather obscure and shrouded in secrecy. They welcomed him with water for his parched throat, rest for his weary feet and a feast. They served him a meal, smiling, they watched him, as he eyed the steaming food curiously, his thoughts his own , “so be it”, he thought and took a bite.
It was a meal that tasted of the warmth of the sun and heavens. The meat felt like an animal fished from the bowels of a volcanic ocean, definitely a meal for the Gods.
So nervously he asked the smiling men, “Are you Gods and if yes am I departed?”
You must understand this where he came from they ate their food au naturel, served their meat raw and bloody. So his first cooked meal had him perplexed, naturally, its warmth, its rich smoky flavor, for there is nothing that compares to your first bite of a flame-grilled succulent steak, when all you used to is a fresh kill like a lion on a rampage, leaving you with a bloody smile.
So thus he asked, “are you Gods or demonic fiends and am I dead”
The strangers laughed and replied “we are neither Gods nor demons but mere mortal forms such as you only blessed with a special secret”

He asked for their secret and so they told him

One summer many moons ago, the sky kingdom had a terrible quarrel, thunderous drumming and shooting bolts of power from the heavens, one of the bolts struck the tree-that-has-no-name which was at the center of their village homestead. It caught fire and nearly razed their village to the floor, what could they do but watch, for you see when the elephants fight it is the grass which gets trampled….
Meanwhile as they were cleaning up after the fire they gathered round the still flaming tree-with-no-name and discovered that the tree had fallen onto a wild beast transformin it into a burning carcass. Someone was brave enough to pull off a piece of the meat and taste it, their lives were never the same.
Eventually they learnt how to domesticate the flames, guardians were appointed to feed it wood make sure it smouldered forever, kindle it into flames when required.
Each family could take embers to their own private fire spits and have their little fire to cook by and douse afterwards but the central fire always glowering, eternally.

After a couple of days of rest he broke the news, over their evening fireside chat that he was ready to journey back to his own people, if the villagers would be so kind as to help him with directions and a glowing splint to take with him his kinsmen would trade generously, they granted him an escort and safe passage, for the following morning but declined the latter, told him their secret they would not part with whatever the price..
In the middle of the night he crept to the great fire and picked up a strongly glowing amber and placed it into a shell of a snail, then he stole into the forest and buried it in a shallow hole, stealthily he went back into the village and went to sleep.
In the morning he was escorted through the forest till he got into familiar territory then his escort , before they turned back searched him, finding nothing, bid him safe journey and turned back, he waited till they had disappeared into the horizon  before retracing his steps, then to the place he had buried the secret , he dug it out and it was still smouldering, although weakly he blew it back to life,igniting it into a flame, he raced back home

He was treated to a heroe’s welcome for they had feared  him dead now  he was the village champion, asked of his exploits he narrated how he had dined with the Gods and they granted him a boon of their dragon breath..

They would not keep their flame secret they lit it for all kingdoms sharing their knowledge and so thus they became known as the Lords of the fire….
He became their great chief And knowledge of the true origin of the fire he passed onto his children and them onto the next, from generation to generation, and this is our  story, our secret, my story, my secret…

The man who can’t be moved.

……just been thinking, if you stand at a corner with a sleeping bag and a cardboard box with words and a picture of a girl wether it rains or snows and some people try to hand you money or ask if you sell drugs or if you have ulterior motives since you have been loitering for long time since, ask you if you are like a crazy person because they dont understand and they tell their friends who tell their friends about you then you might even appear on the news;
how long would it take before a group of smiling men in white lab coats come and take you away….
Hmmm or probably be riot police for holding an illegal gathering by yourself
…The man who can’t be moved…

of stopping

when will I stop?
once the world has heard me?
when everyone knows my name?
or when I have opened more doors for others?
I will never stop,
when there is still so much to do
never stop
never settle

courtesy of Hennessy

of enough?

Where am i going?
Thats the big question, isnt it?
So, where would you like to go?
or will you only know you are there,
when you get there?

Here is the bigger question,
how much is enough?,
to get there?
how much is enough?,
to give my kids the best that money can buy?
to invest in a new business venture
and still guarantee you will be set,
well into retirement?
how much is enough,
to enjoy every moment of my life
today here and now?

how much is enough?

*curtesy of old mutual*

Look at me, looking at you, looking at me

Look at your blog now back to mine,
now back to yours,
now back to mine,

sadly,
yours isnt mine.
But if you could write a really blog,
Your reader could have a post that looks just like mine
look down,
now back up
where are you?

…You are on WordPress reading a post on a blog that yours could look like..

now look back at me,
whats in my hand?
its my phone with a link to find lyrics to that song you love so much but dont know the words to,
look again the link has turned into one to follow me on twitter.

Anything is possible, when your blog has a post which looks like mine,
I just dreamt myself into existence….