‘Neath chestnut tresses

The silken black bandolier

Constrains their wilfulness

And poised above her

High flown crimson cheek

The sweetest rose marks

The place her Lord

Will leave a kiss


©️passionpoet Uk 2015



The glory of war; Lest we forget

Or remember everything; But learn nothing

I lust for what you have; But I also hate you

For possessing it; And for not being ‘us’

So I will kill you; Rape you

Enslave you; Smash the heads of your little ones

upon the rocks; And wipe you

From the face of the Earth


And now I remember you; The dead cannot forget

And the living shall not remember

And for the glory

We will do it all again

So the taste of blood; Never leaves our mouths

And the curse of Cain; Remains forevermore

Mingling with the dust; Of which I’m made


© Passion Poet, U.K. 2018



You thought you were doing her a Favour?

A slave.

A word that doesn’t count in the Namibian realm

A term occasionally misunderstood.

Or possibly one constantly ignored or avoided, in the Namibian context.

The day I got my first place I found Dolly outside.  She was scrubbing the household interlocks. I was just about to rent a backyard flat.  Dolly seemed to be a sweet, young lady.  The kind that could nod just to agree with you, the type that would refer you as ma’am, and still bend her knees to show gratitude.

I saw Dolly that day and couldn’t actually mind her on her grind as the desperation for a room filled my head.  On signing the rental contract Dolly stood there smiling, all she could do was nod, and frown once more.  I requested her to sign as a witness, but Dolly was shut off by a child who said, “She cannot do that, I rather sign on my parent’s behalf.”

I was taken aback by a child would just shut down an elder in the way she did then, I couldn’t quite understand what was going on.

Later, I have now moved to this place, and I have bumped into Dolly every day since. Dolly has been referring me as ma’am, or Miss.  Even if I would tell her to call me Twiiti, in some way it seemed that she had ma’am processed in her head already.  Most mornings I’m awakened by noise of scrubbers brushing behind my room.  It was Dolly.  I have now realised that Dolly was the “house help”.  I do not know if the word fits exactly but it will do for now.

Dolly is a kind-hearted, well-disciplined lady from the Zambezi region.  Never have I seen her sulky, she is a girl who didn’t chat much, or would rather prefer just to agree with you.  She spends her days scouring the interlocks, house chores, polishing the wall too.

The wall that surrounds the house!

It all went back to the day I pleaded her to sign the rent contract.  Dolly couldn’t write properly, understand or speak English properly, let alone read.  Dolly is an innocent girl who had been taken from the village to work in the city.  But what was her story, who is Dolly?

Everyone seems to be sucked into the city and why not, surely its the place to be? For her it probably meant much better living conditions, a job, a place to lay her head too and the ability to send money back home. But who and what is Dolly really?

The first time I saw her I was puzzled by Dolly rubbing the interlocks.  She went around the house scrubbing off the dirt on the floor, that dirt we we bring into the place all day and every day.

I couldn’t help but ask why she’s going through all that.

”Petrol makes the stones dirty, and sometimes our feet too”, she said.

At first I let this slide by.  But then Dolly startled me every other day.  Whilst going out, I noticed Dolly going around the house, outside, wiping the wall.  A wall for goodness sake! I stood for a while, watching Dolly wipe the wall with some cloth and a bucket.  As disturbed as I was, Dolly looked at me in her usual way and kept minding her work.

My heart sank in sadness that day.  Dolly was doing the most unusual work that I couldn’t relate to. My curiosity obliged to enquire more deeply; so I asked her directly as to why she did what she did day in day out.

‘Madame said I should wipe off the bird faeces’ would be her constant reply.

Of all the work she would do, including cleaning the flat I occupy, she would always address me as ‘Madam’ and one could never urge her to relax from her work, I would tell her to stop cleaning the flat, but she always slide in to clean up after me as if she was under some sort of compulsion to work where none was needed.

I admit I do not know much about Dolly.  Her life, her background and so on. But one thing I know is that this lady has dreams and ambitions and has her own life issues to deal with, but yet a day can start with a broom and end with a broom in the hand.  It seems that her life is one of endless domestic drudgery to please an uncaring taskmaster with the ever present threat of dismissal if she fails to please or offends.

I did not write about Dolly because I wanted to make a story of her life, but rather to evaluate the state of all human beings in Namibia.  The condition of so-called modern slavery that exists between, the well-off exploiting their underlings who have no where else to earn bread.

The malleable ones are left to take what comes their way, long hours, low pay or non pay, no job security, the risks of intimidation and violence and even sexual abuse.

By the way Human rights still function in our country, or do they?  Almost every household in the Namibia has that “one” family member who came back to take care of the family, the one that does all the household because she couldn’t finish school? The one that you sent to the farm to take care of your livestock because we think that his life is worthless anyway! The girl who is as sent to the city and never came back.

Do human rights and the luxury of ambition apply to both the rich and the poor, does one reach a certain social class to be merely accommodated?

Are the Dolly’s of this world flesh and blood like us all and therefore worthy of honour too?

Are such graces only for the haves but not the have-nots? Are we somehow colonizing each other now for our own selfish needs, just like the Europeans did, oblivious to the souls that scrub our walls and clean our latrines? Are we the masters now and they the slaves?

And these questions trouble me today as the sound of the constant cleaner clashes with my keystrokes.

My Fitness Me

My Fitness Me

July 30th I had walked up to the ‘Fitness for Africa’ gym which was yards away from the shopping mall.

“Are you sure you are gonna handle the gym, the workouts, the new environment?” Pomwene asked as we entered the building filled with machines and people all minding their bs with weights.

“Girl I am excited and nervous I do not know how long I could possibly keep up”, I replied, my voice trembling with anxiety.

I approached the reception.  I had finally signed up for a gym and my friend seemed more excited than I was about the new change I was about to let into my life.

About last year August I highlighted 3 goals to achieve by this year.  The goals that I had thought could make inner me proud and content.  For the most part of this blog I have talked about how I have always been body shamed, bullied and in fact turned into an invisible being with no one to help me up.

(No one?!🙂)

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April 2017 vs March 2018

Back then I would go for holiday in my hometown to pass time with my siblings.  Windhoek has never been my best environment so I would always run home given the chance.

I wouldn’t say home was where I had my peace but it was close to it.  One day I bumped into a primary school classmate who retorted “Are you still fat?” “You still couldn’t lose weight after years of living?”

Usually I would have lost it and probably started an argument in my defence but that day, I took her statement as a joke and moved on.

By that time I thought people must have grown up by now to finally mind their business more. But no, people would stoop to anything to make sure you are shattered and put down.

I would move around places in and around Ongwediva and still be criticized by people that knew me by the way I looked.  Well I thought I had lost a little weight from books and Windhoek life though,

But to people, I was still the same old fat girl that sat alone, lonely on lunch break.

At one point at the end of the holiday point I went back to Windhoek and had a time of deep reflection on about myself.  I would ask myself why people were so mad about how someone looked, why they needed to judge someone just because of one’s differences in appearance.

This need to distance oneself from the “fat girl” because people would laugh at you too!

So I had put myself in a position where I examined myself and constantly asked ‘inner me’ if this was how I wanted to be.  I will assess myself and ask the inner me questions like

“What if the situation could be reversed?” What then?

I found contentment and peace as the answer.  At times I just wanted to fit in, to be appreciated, and just feel how ‘normal’ feels, you know?

The normal whereby you live by 4 texts from your friends wanting to hang out, the normal were people would talk to you not just because they need help with their schoolwork, the normal where I can easily walk in the street without any negative vibe thrown at me.

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July 2017

I had books piling up, food piling up due to stress and in return, body responding to the food pile.  After my thorough self-reflection, I wanted change.  I wanted body shaming to end!

So I had highlighted 3 goals:

lose the weight, graduate and finally get a job.

Mind you I had started working out at home.  I kept that going for few weeks till I joined the gym.  Another hectic beginning with toned bodies, good looking folk everyone and me.

So the idea of joining the gym was exciting till I got there.  The idea became terrifying for then I was seeing myself as really different from the rest and I was still scared of judgment.

I had found motivation in what people had thrown me for all the years of my life. Somehow it got easier because I started loving fitness as a whole.  For every change I had seen in me, other people couldn’t see till my third month in the gym.

At 3 months I have been happy making progress, from 73 kg to 65 kg.  Well some would compliment me on progress and the others would tell me that the “fat gene” is already intact in my DNA so I would lose it now and still gain back the weight.

As human as I was I would cry about it and get weak as an injured ant.  I would make progress and people were still mad.  At one point I became depressed and started exercising more to curb my stress.  My state of being was my motivation.  I needed to be fine, I needed acceptance and I was tired of being the invisible girl.

This was the heaviest part where I needed validation from society.

Overall I was plain tired, but what does a girl gotta do to be loved tho?

My fitness trainer has been the most patient human being I have ever met.  People could be throwing shade and he would pick up my pieces.  Have you ever tried fixing a broken glass?

I was that broken glass that my trainer fixed.  I would constantly get mad at him for forcing me to do stuff that wasn’t helping me, but there he was, somebody that believed in me when I have lost my faith.

“Stop minding what people say about you, do this for you not them”, he would constantly say that.  In his words I have realised that I have been living for validation, a recognition that a person or their feelings or opinions are valid and worthwhile. A hard truth to swallow.  I have been hurting myself seeking acceptance from everyone that hated me for who I was.

I had months in which I would work on my diet, work on my feelings, work on my body.  The most I could do was investing in myself, and all I could work for was to appreciate my flaw that I couldn’t alter.

You know the feeling of greatness, the feeling of prioritizing yourself and mood first before everyone else?  It matters as it completes your soul.  At this point I feel so much better than I have ever felt, it is therapeutic knowing you are in control of your own mind and body. I fell in love with weights, I am a girl that turned from reading books all day and crying about how bad I looked to applauding myself even when none could stand me.

Now when I look at myself in the mirror I no longer need to to apologise, fatty is gone and the haters are dead to me!

‘There’s no such thing as society…make You count!

‘There’s no such thing as society…make You count!

Years later I’m still single… disturbingly, it seems to bother so many people.  As a liberal feminist who is keen on making her own choices, if it’s all the same to you lot, individuals in fact have a problem with a woman who doesn’t need an approval on her status.

So many people I know comprehend a single life as despondent.  Some would go to a magnitude of saying single is not normal. Well that’s the mass‘s opinion. 

Folks are somehow convinced that when one doesn’t share life with a companion, then he/she is wretched, unwanted or something is just dreadful with them.  I feel that that is judging at the most inconsiderate level. 

Have you ever walked in‘a single person‘s shoes?  Or maybe you are single and miserable because you can’t stand your own personality!

As a person one doesn’t need approval on one’s choices whatsoever. And in a similar vein, one’s decisions shouldn’t be based on the majority’s approval either

.  Equally, just as a couple chooses to be in a relationship, I alone should have my choice too, the agency to limit myself to just dating…and without hindrance, without hesitation and the judgmental comments of people who are probably stuck in relationships and they want to drag everyone along.

Single is not a synonymous with a miserable life.  I define single as a way of owning yourself without having to be bonded by certain circumstances.  You make your own life miserable as a single man/woman because you construct your life in a way that it depends on people over and over again.  Your happiness depends on others, your hairstyle is hinged on others, and even your lifestyle is controlled by others! 

In other words, you have lost your life to society, there’s no trace of your life left in the world and you know why? As you make your verdicts dependent on your friends, family, spouse etc. slowly but surely, you lose yourself. You foment your own overthrow. Because then who’s the boss of your life?  SOCIETY, others, anyone but you.  They construct you in a way that favors them.

Just last week I ran an idea to several people on cutting my hair short after graduation.  None really gave me a positive answer on the idea of cutting my hair short, apart from my parent that knows I will look lovely either way.  You make a choice and you let society decide for you?!. Arghhh🤬

In the same way as I’m well able to choose which panties to wear in the morning and perchance which fortunate man will remove them in the evening ( when that ring finger is suitably ornamented of course cos I don’t do fornicating) I do not need anyone to make the other important choices in my life thanks very much Mr Controlfreak see yourself out!

Just as Beyoncé once put it…this car? I bought it, the apartment you see I’m paying for it, even IF Daddy gave me the deposit.

I feel that giving someone else power over you is wrong on all levels. First of all, you let society run your life and determine what you should become.  When do you then become your own person in which you appreciate the choices you make and actually implement them?  You depend on pleasing others but leave yourself out in return, please understand that this is self neglect on a creepingly dangerous scale.

In the past I have been stuck on society’s terms too.  As the saying goes, once bitten, twice shy.  I had been living life according to how people wanted me to be. It lead to me having to keep a relationship because it looked good to society. Some would want you to be miserable (unknowingly), and you still carry on pleasing because you are blind to the truth.   

The truth is, you are your own life’s engineer, society can help uplift you but the biggest push lies in you.  Let go of what haunts you because you fear society’s judgments. Only you can set yourself free.

How do you feel about society having to determine what you should be; what and how you should wear, look like, who should you date etc?  Some husbands even decide when the love making will be and how it will be done!!! A woman should never be put in that position!

You still want to make my decisions? Come here boy n let me slap you again!




Noise of warfare all around

Smell of blood in the air

Cries of the fallen, but

Carried along the lines

His banner flies high.

In the darkest hour

When all hearts fail

And in the rearguard

Peril broods his face

Up goes the cry!

He is come, blazing eyes

In glory, blooded robe

White stallion

Mounted up on

Eagles’ wings

Jeshua conquers

Enemies kneel and

Crowns are cast before Him


When the noise of war is all around, when you can’t feel Him, when you cannot find His word, when your heart cries: Lord, if You love me, why does this hurt so much?!

Then know this:

He who took you there will surely deliver you!

Jehovah Nissi, the Lord is my Banner.

Copyright: Passion Poet UK 2018



We are night creatures

You and me, children of the

Moon destined for

Silvered remembrances

And the afterglow

Of long embraces

And coolest loving

On silken sheets

Smooth as your sienna skin

And sweet as your bosom

And the sighs of your releasing

And the effortless love

We shared, those

Wild galloping horses of

Our passion and the

Stillness of your smile

All sleepy eyed

I stood guard over you

Till the morning came

And you loved me

Over again until

Our tears melted us all away

Copyright Passion Poet UK 2018



I’ve a love song

A pretty love song for you

I breathed it in your smile

I kissed it with your eyes

And when I lay with you

I wrote my love song anew

A pretty love song

A pretty love song for you

Take care not to sing

Our song with another

Under the green trees

Or beneath the stars of heaven

The sweetness of my words

Will be bitter

Bitter on your tongue

I’ve a love song

A pretty love song…for you

The Lord God loves us with a faithful patient kind of love, even a sacrificial love and since we are made in His image how should our love for Him and our fellows be?

Dear Future ME

Dear Future ME


You got to open this note

At this point you are anxious

You are disordered, content but then a little shattered

You do not know whether to put on that gown

Or in all probability shut the blinds and get back to sleep

Breathe today…

You’ve won at present

It is the day of reveal, get up and fix your crown.

But before anything,


Rejoice that the grace of the Lord brought you this far

Your ability to thrust through the past frantic years of your life

Reflect on that.

Fix that crown and shine today

The gown you put on reflects your hard work

Or else they wouldn’t be calling your name today

And you wouldn’t be wearing it to begin with

Here you were thinking you wouldn’t make it

When days got gloomy and situations were bad

When all and sundry you supposed cared disappeared

When you loathed this life as you assumed it couldn’t get better

Look at you now baby, here you are

A glowing fully-fledged Royal Princess

A rose that grew from the rough

Bred and elevated itself from the darkest city

Remember how you wanted to quit

Because then,

You thought you have had enough

You had no inspiration whatsoever

And no soul to back you up

When all hearts around were made made of selfish stone

And every meaning associated with humanity was of a cold ruthless form

Remember that baby,

Well here you are, you made it

You made something out of life so far

You are batting at your crease

As they still play hard ball with you

They might not like it

They might not appreciate it

But this time you understand better

So breath

They have never appreciated you

Don’t be flabbergasted that they are not here with you

They have never been here, have they?

Conspicuous by their absence

So breath for it is your day

You have conquered

You have risen above it all

The more bad and the little good

The less help and more stress

The sleepless nights of sweat and tears too

Do not beat yourself up again

I hope you get to know your strength by now

I hope you convince your stubborn heart

That you are a virtuous woman

A fighter that rose beyond unspeakable circumstances

You are stronger than you know it

Even your daddy Andrew can testify

And the King above can tell it all

A daughter of the King of Kings



Body Shaming part 2

Body Shaming part 2

On my last post Body shaming part 1 I have highlighted a few issues personally encountered as a child.  Body shaming never ceases, like many other oppressions it seems eternal, pernicious, it has no gender specificity and can never leave the victim in a good state.

Nowadays, people are indeed radically obsessed with appearances, and when they do not like something, a certain body form, they perceive it as unpleasant, abnormal and mostly, never good enough.  Sometimes I think folks still do not understand the effects of humiliating someone because of their body size.  A part of my life has been snatched from me by the bullies who have been persecuting me based on my body weight. So I weigh twice as much as you, you terrorize me and I walk home shattered, what then?

As I progressed into university life I noticed that I was as getting bigger, putting on weight.  Yes I was getting fat! This was the direct result of adjusting to a new setting, the fear of being bullied even more as I was in the capital city, and also the fear of failing.  My fears were driving my appetite as I misread anxiousness as the need to eat so I had fill my belly. And a full belly makes for satisfaction and reduced anxiety…until the reckoning with the mirror and the scales. Since l was unable then to work thru my feelings I was in a sense eating them. A morbid but all too common reaction to the bully as destructive and powerful as cutting yourself, hitting the bottle or using opium.

At that point in time I have been telling myself that education was all I have to show for myself, no one has any interest in my BS, at the time I couldn’t even apprehend what self-love meant, I had not yet learnt to love me and value myself so self loathing was the result accelerating the vicious circle.

I am a product that of what society has implanted in me, I am a child groomed by an oppressive system, underpinned, aided and abetted by an equally oppressive media The commercials have for years consisted of scantily clad skeletal bimbos draped over flashy cars and other consumer goods whereas more curvy well proportioned women were not portrayed in such favourable positions…if being the sexual fantasy of a manboy can still be considered a good thing in the post modern media world?

Skeletal is good but curvy is bad. This oppressive system was not anchored within a sound health framework that promoted positive action on better nutrition or increased physical activity but by entirely upon perverted idealisation of size zero and the Pollyanna bigots whose mentality is grounded in an anorexic social conditioning that emphasises the controlling of women and girls. Such oppression come from the same torture chambers as paedophilia, scientific racism, Naziism and the like.

body form does not define an individual

Now this is where it gets weird.  On my unplanned weight loss journey I got negative critics as well. I mean what do people want?? Human beings were not satisfied by the weight I’ve lost.  Mostly they judged me on how worse I looked now that I lost more weight.  From the rumor mill you will overhear that I developed an illness that led to the sudden weight loss.  At this point I’m certain that one could never please people, people will be people and you will remain you.

At this point I can truly say that I have learned how to take care of myself, appreciate and love myself, which I never did before, humans are still chattering like morning birds with lyrical diorrhoea. You lose 10kg they will talk, you gain extra 10 they will still talk.  This is intended to kill your motivation. People need to know what body shaming does to people.  People need to realise that regardless of our body shape, what will never change is our value as individuals.

Nobody is morally inferior due to differing body form but everyone is God’s creation made in His perfect image.  Judge not and you won’t be judged.

If they are big, support them and they want to change help them to if you can or leave them alone. Give both body forms a chance to live, as existence wasn’t just for specific people. Oppressor step back or face the consequences.

They rock their own worlds, stop trying to make us feel we do not belong where we are. If we can’t ever appreciate others’ situations, then lets’ re-evaluate and work on our own egos.  That is to say we mind our business if we have no better word to utter to others. We are all different but equal and that makes each of us unique in our own splendors. Oh for a perfect world where lion and lamb lie down together (so long as the lamb is fat says the lion…)

Till then…