Many stories have been told and so many artists have seen their dreams come true and so many others are yet to be realised. A place where art is expressed in so many forms. A place where audiences laugh, cry, shout for joy, and gasp in amazement. Where you and I can see ourselves represented through movement, dance, and storytelling. A place where some enter for the very first time and others bow out for the finale. The curtain opens and then it closes. The stage is imprinted with the footprints of ballet dancers, musicians, and actors leaving it all on the stage, baring their souls in hopes that the stories they tell and the scars they share might be beautiful to someone.
And then it’s done. The show is over. The applause has died down and the theatre is empty. The only remnants are empty wrappers and coke bottles on the floor and a heartbeat echoing off the walls.
This life has moved swiftly My hair has greyed My skin has paled i’m a little rounder plumper Objects may appear closer than what they are i hardly wear make-up now i tire easily and I have aches and pains i picked up
Along the way A train came and i travelled the years
My story changed as i turned the page and in the middle of the plot the characters too changed
i found myself in the middle of a poem
and then i stopped reading not wanting to know how the story unfolded Now i am here Hardly recognising the person i see reflected in the window the strangeness of a dream lingers familiar yet unknown
A few cracks and bruises
no one could have seen it coming
Watching the world go by in a
darkened tunnel
But there is light, there is always light as long as you’re willing to dig through the rubble i see it now as this joyride slows everything comes back into perspective
I don’t want to lie on my deathbed someday; whether that eventually is thirty or forty years or three weeks from now; and be buried underneath all my regrets.
I need to create.
I need to leave something that will live long after I’ve left this earth.
I question whether anyone will remember me for what I’ve left behind and if it is even important.
I want to spend every day of my life creating and as I sit herewriting this, I feel myself becoming emotional; tears run down my cheeks and I know, without a shadow of a doubt that this is truly my calling.
I need to create.
In the same way I need to breath.
I need to create something out of nothing.
I need to fill blank pages with my sorrows, worries, and fears and turn it into something beautiful to share with others.
I need to express my thoughts and dreams and connect with others.
And that is ultimately why I need to create, why I need to write. Why my life needs to be an open book.
I need to build a bridge between my fears and another’s loneliness.
I want to leave breadcrumbs in the form of poetry and stories so that someone else can find their way and their voice.
I need to share my life so that another person can be brave enough to share their story.
It is my calling.
My purpose.
Every day that passes that I do not write, express or create, feels truly wasted. On those days I feel as if I’ve betrayed my calling. I have wasted an entire day not living as I should.
I feel as if I did not live at all.
Even when I’ve tried to avoid it, when I’ve tried to ignore it. When I told myself it wasn’t important, there was always this nagging feeling inside me, tugging at me, pushing me in a certain direction.
And I knew, it was futile trying to turn my back on it; I am an artist. I am a creative.
You may not always understand what I create, you may not always enjoy what I share and you may even mock and laugh at me but that will only encourage me more.
Knowing that I am an artist, reminds me that I must createevery day. It is not just a calling but it is also a responsibility.
Writing is an art; the blank page is my canvas, words are my paint and the world and this life is my muse.
What you finally see before you; is my work of art.
I’ve written about this topic before on a previous blog platform under the same title but I feel like I need to revive it. In all honesty, I dislikeHeritage Day. I remember when I was in school and this particular day came around, we would be told to wear our Heritage clothes and bring cultural foods and speak about our heritage. I never knew what to do. I don’t really know my heritage. All I know is my mother was born in Namibia and I think my father was born in the Eastern Cape (I’m really not sure about that )
Now I am in the position where my kids are going through the same thing. My daughter, who is now in Grade 2, celebrated Heritage Day at her school the other day and they were told to wear cultural or traditional clothing that is synonymous with her heritage. She went to school in pants and a t-shirt and a hoodie. She came home that day and told me how beautiful her friends looked in their African attire and how her friends are Zulu or Sepedi and the like. I felt defeated.
We are Coloured; we are considered a mixed race but the only problem is, I’m not sure, in fact, I have no idea which races fall into that mixed bag of culture and heritage. I know next to nothing of my father’s family or his heritage and sadly my mother is late so I can’t even ask her anything about hers.
Maybe the reason I dislike this day so much is because I personally don’t know anything about my own history. I wish I had had more conversations with my mother about my maternal side but alas, regret always comes too late.
I’ve come to the conclusion that maybe its time we as a family start building our own heritage.
My son on the other hand was also asked to bring a picture to school to discuss his heritage. We drew him the South African flag, he also drew a sun and a bowl of fruit and the earth. When he was done, I realised culture is what we observe. My son sees the sun in the sky, he sees the earth and he sees food and he knows he belongs somewhere. All the other technicalities of where we come from doesn’t really matter, at least not right now. My son then asked my husband what his heritage is and my husband replied, ‘Your heritage is South African’
That was the same response his father gave him when he was a little boy and had to dress up or participate in Heritage Day.
I don’t want my children to feel as if they don’t belong anywhere. I want them to know they can fit in everywhere if that’s what they wanted. That’s how I felt when I was in school; I felt embarrassed because while everyone else wore traditional clothing and spoke of their traditions and food and culture, I wanted the earth to swallow me whole or at least be invisible for the day.
My husband has similar stories and so do a lot of other Coloured people I’ve spoken to about this topic.
One the other hand, there is beauty in being ‘mixed race’; you are a cacophony of colours and sounds; you are a kaleidoscope of memories and history and you are a part of everyone you come across and you leave a part of yourself wherever you are.
I completely understand that its important to know who you are, to know about the people who came before us and to know where our bloodline leads. I am not dismissing that at all but maybe, if like me, you don’t know much about your ancestry, we can just start building our own cultures and create our own traditions and heritage.
I’ve made the decision to tell my children that our heritage is simply being human. If we start there, we can see that we are all actually a part of the same culture.
It was fun to be a part of this project. I recall, when the Whatsapp group opened, and all the discussions started flowing, I thought what a wonderful group of people who would come together and contribute to the idea of one person. I believe that is the foundation of Paper Trail.
An amazing group of writers is brought together with a variety of thoughts and ideas and it’s all mixed together in a melting pot of creativity.
I spent some time reading through the journal and it was really hard for me to choose which pieces were my favourite. When you read through it, it really highlights the importance of young people and the pivotal role that they play in society. It gives them a voice.
“Where there are challenges there is bounteous space for the cultural economy to flourish. All that is required is clarity of vision and openness”
On the Twitter page ofPaper Trail, the pinned tweet reads as follows:
“Our mission is to inspire young people through modern storytelling, and our vision is to create a digital journal that includes collaborators of all age groups to share poetry, short stories, articles and write-ups on young leaders and small businesses that improve our community.”
A TRAIL OF FAVOURITES
Like I mentioned before, there are so many facets and a variety of topics in this journal, that it makes it pleasantly difficult to choose which ones were my favourite. There are however some pieces that I would like to highlight.
“Back In The Day” by Shiara Sharanund. A learner at Westville Girls High school wrote a beautiful article that makes you reflect on the days past and how they made you feel. It sums up the idea of nostalgia stunningly. Below is a piece from her article.
An extract from Papertrail Literary Journal.
There is also a sweet little piece from a Grade 4 learner at R.A Engar Primary school. This piece made me feel a bit sad but also put a smile on my face. Since the Covid-19 pandemic, we have forgotten that the little ones have also gone through some major changes but they have adapted so well.
The following quote is from a piece written by Shika Budhoo from her column titled “Align and Shine”
“Be the producer / radio DJ of your own mind and make sure the thoughts you think stay focused on your blessings and goals.”
Shika’s column gives you easy and practical tips on how to change the frequency of your thoughts from negative to positive and I think we can all do with a bit more positivity.
An extract from the column, “Align and Shine”
Another important piece that I would like to highlight is “How To Take Care Of You and Your Mental Health” by Robin Cleote. This piece speaks to all of us and after everything we’ve been through, it’s definitely worth the read.
KOFFEE FOR THE SOUL
I also contributed to the journal and I truly feel honoured that I could do that. I shared a space with amazing writers and if you haven’t heard of them before, you surely will now. Paper Trail brings communities together from across the world through the power of words. It reminds me of my review on Letting In The Light. Another body of work that simply reminds you about the beauty of words and shared experiences.
When I thought about the column that I wanted to contribute to Paper Trail, I wanted to write something honest and something that anyone could relate to. I didn’t want to give advice, I simply wanted to reflect and that’s the brief I proposed to the founder and editor, Ekta Somera.
The name “Koffee For The Soul” was inspired by how when we drink a warm beverage, its comforting and relaxes us and that is the experience I wanted to give the reader.
My first column in Paper Trail
There is a little bit of wisdom in every piece that has been added to this journal. I am amazed at the array of writers and their contributions.
Paper Trail brings together a range of articles for every kind of reader. From recipes, poetry, history, fashion, and makeup to anime and so much more. There is truly something for everyone.
It is not just an enjoyable read but is also a learning experience.
Well done to everyone involved and to Ekta Somera for the idea of starting this journal.
