Akosuaago writes

Read, live, repeat!

  • Ihr Name ist Ama. Ich weiß, Ama ist nicht ein typischer Name, den man oft in München hört, aber an diesem Vormittag sieht Ama gestresst aus. Heute ist ihr erster Tag in ihrem neuen Job, und sie möchte nicht zu spät kommen. Sie möchte ihre neuen Kollegen und ihren Chef beeindrucken und wird sie nicht enttäuschen. Aber jetzt scheint die Deutsche Bahn zum Problem zu werden. Der Zug, auf den sie wartete, hatte Verspätung. Sie hat ihre Uhr geprüft und ein kurzes Gebet für ein Wunder gemurmelt. Kurz darauf kam der Zug an.

    Sie war so glücklich, dass sie versäumte, die Richtung des Zuges zu prüfen. Leider ist der Zug nicht in ihre Richtung gefahren, wie sie nach drei Stopps realisierte. Sie wollte schreien: Warum geht alles so schlecht an einem wichtigen Tag? Es ist nicht nur ihr erster Arbeitstag, sondern auch ihr erster Job in Deutschland. Warum ist die Welt gegen sie?

    Plötzlich kann Ama hören, wie jemand ihren Namen schreit. Die Person war so nah bei ihr und rief ihren Namen.

    Ama ist aufgewacht; ihre Mutter hat seit 5 Minuten ihren Namen gerufen. Ihre Mutter hat gesagt, heute ist ihr erster Arbeitstag, und sie solle nicht zu spät aufwachen. Das war, als Ama realisierte, dass sie träumte. Sie dachte, sie war nervös wegen ihres ersten Arbeitstags.

  • Geschlechtervielfalt: Die Erforschung binärer und dritter Geschlechtergemeinschaften mit Schwerpunkt auf den Hijras in Indien

    1. Einleitung

    In den letzten Jahren hat die Diskussion über Geschlechtervielfalt erheblich an Bedeutung gewonnen, da verschiedene Kulturen und Gemeinschaften das traditionelle binäre Geschlechtsmodell, das lange das westliche Denken dominiert hat, in Frage stellen. In vielen Gesellschaften beschränkt sich die Geschlechtsidentität nicht nur auf die Kategorien männlich und weiblich, sondern umfasst ein breites Spektrum von Identitäten, die das komplexe Zusammenspiel zwischen biologischem Geschlecht und sozialen Geschlechtskonstruktionen widerspiegeln.

    Dieser Aufsatz untersucht die Unterscheidung zwischen biologischem Geschlecht und sozialem Geschlecht, kritisiert das binäre Geschlechtsmodell und betrachtet die Hijra-Gemeinschaft in Indien als Beispiel für dritte Geschlechtsidentitäten. Durch diese Analyse werden wir die soziale, kulturelle und religiöse Bedeutung der Hijras erörtern und die weitergehenden Implikationen von Geschlechterfluidität in der heutigen Gesellschaft reflektieren.


    2. Hintergrund: Historischer und kultureller Kontext von Geschlecht und biologischem Geschlecht

    Das Konzept des Geschlechts wurde traditionell als soziale Konstruktion verstanden, die definiert, ob eine Person als männlich oder weiblich gilt, während das biologische Geschlecht die körperlichen Merkmale beschreibt, die Individuen als männlich oder weiblich kategorisieren. In vielen Kulturen wurde diese Unterscheidung oft als starr und binär angesehen, insbesondere im Westen.

    Allerdings haben Wissenschaftler wie Moore (1993) und Stocke (1993) dieses Modell hinterfragt, indem sie die Natürlichkeit des Zwei-Geschlechter-Systems in Zweifel ziehen. Stocke argumentiert, dass der Glaube an ein wissenschaftlich korrektes Modell von biologischem Geschlecht irreführend sei und dass das westliche binäre Modell nicht die Grundlage aller Geschlechterbeziehungen darstellt.

    Diese Kritik an der Unterscheidung zwischen biologischem und sozialem Geschlecht zeigt, dass auch das biologische Geschlecht eine soziale Konstruktion sein kann und dass die Grenzen zwischen biologischem Determinismus und Geschlechterrollen verschwimmen. In vielen nicht-westlichen Gesellschaften wird Geschlechtervielfalt als fluid betrachtet, und einige Gemeinschaften erkennen dritte Geschlechtsidentitäten an, die sich der binären Geschlechterkategorisierung entziehen. Die Hijra-Gemeinschaft in Indien ist ein bemerkenswertes Beispiel dafür, wie Geschlechtervielfalt außerhalb des binären Rahmens existieren kann. Ihre Geschichte ist tief in Mythologie, Religion und kultureller Praxis verwurzelt.


    3. Körperliche und psychologische Auswirkungen der Geschlechtsidentitätskonformität

    Das binäre Geschlechtersystem kann starre Erwartungen an Individuen stellen, die sowohl physische als auch psychische Herausforderungen mit sich bringen. Die Identität als drittes Geschlecht bringt jedoch auch besondere Erfahrungen mit sich. Im Falle der Hijras handelt es sich oft um Menschen, die mit angeborenen Fehlbildungen geboren werden, insbesondere im Bereich der Genitalien. Ihre Aufnahme in die Gemeinschaft erfolgt häufig aufgrund familiären und gesellschaftlichen Drucks, da Kinder mit uneindeutigen Genitalien oft der Hijra-Gemeinschaft übergeben werden.

    Dies kann zu körperlichen Traumata führen, insbesondere für diejenigen, die Kastrationsrituale oder andere körperliche Modifikationen durchlaufen. Darüber hinaus sind die psychologischen Auswirkungen der Zugehörigkeit zu einer dritten Geschlechtsgemeinschaft erheblich. Viele Hijras sind sozialer Ausgrenzung, Stigmatisierung und Diskriminierung sowohl innerhalb als auch außerhalb ihrer Gemeinschaften ausgesetzt. Diese Erfahrungen können Angstzustände, Depressionen und Traumata hervorrufen.

    Trotz dieser Herausforderungen bietet die Hijra-Gemeinschaft vielen Mitgliedern ein Gefühl der Zugehörigkeit, insbesondere für diejenigen, die von der Gesellschaft abgelehnt werden. So entsteht eine komplexe Balance zwischen körperlichem Leid und psychischer Widerstandsfähigkeit.


    4. Soziokulturelle Auswirkungen von Geschlechterfluidität und dritten Geschlechtsgemeinschaften

    Die Hijra-Gemeinschaft stellt das traditionelle binäre Geschlechtsmodell in Frage, indem sie eine dritte Geschlechtsidentität anbietet, die sowohl sozial als auch kulturell von Bedeutung ist. In vielen Teilen Indiens nehmen die Hijras eine wichtige Rolle in religiösen und kulturellen Praktiken ein. Historisch gesehen wurden sie als Segensbringer bei Geburten und Hochzeiten angesehen und galten als spirituell mächtig in Bezug auf Fruchtbarkeit und Wohlstand.

    Trotz ihres respektierten Status in bestimmten religiösen Kontexten sind Hijras in der Gesellschaft oft marginalisiert. Sie kämpfen mit Diskriminierung am Arbeitsplatz, mangelndem Zugang zu Gesundheitsversorgung und sozialer Ausgrenzung.

    Die Existenz der Hijra-Gemeinschaft wirft wichtige Fragen zu den sozialen und kulturellen Auswirkungen der Anerkennung dritter Geschlechtsidentitäten auf. Während ihre Präsenz die Annahme in Frage stellt, dass Geschlecht inhärent binär sei, löst sie nicht zwangsläufig die Verbindung zwischen biologischem und sozialem Geschlecht auf. Hijras sind weder einfach Männer noch Frauen – sie besetzen eine Position, die über diese Kategorien hinausgeht. Dies zeigt, dass Geschlechterfluidität kein neues Phänomen ist, sondern eine tief verwurzelte kulturelle Praxis in bestimmten Gesellschaften.

    Die Existenz der Hijras verdeutlicht, wie sich Geschlechtervielfalt in verschiedenen Kulturen auf unterschiedliche Weise manifestiert und unser Verständnis von Geschlechterrollen, Ehe und sozialer Akzeptanz verändert.


    5. Aktuelle Maßnahmen und Bemühungen zur Förderung der Geschlechtervielfalt

    Die Anerkennung dritter Geschlechtergemeinschaften wie der Hijras hat zu verschiedenen rechtlichen und sozialen Maßnahmen geführt, die darauf abzielen, ihren Status zu verbessern und eine größere Inklusion zu gewährleisten. In den letzten Jahren hat die indische Regierung Fortschritte bei der Anerkennung der Rechte der Hijras gemacht. Dazu gehört das Recht, sich in offiziellen Dokumenten als drittes Geschlecht auszuweisen, Zugang zu staatlichen Leistungen zu erhalten und Schutz vor Diskriminierung zu genießen.

    Darüber hinaus setzen sich zahlreiche Nichtregierungsorganisationen (NGOs) und Aktivistengruppen für die soziale und wirtschaftliche Integration der Hijras ein. Diese Initiativen bieten Gesundheitsversorgung, Bildung und Beschäftigungsmöglichkeiten für dritte Geschlechtsidentitäten und kämpfen für mehr gesellschaftliche Akzeptanz.

    Trotz dieser Fortschritte stehen die Hijras weiterhin vor erheblichen Herausforderungen, insbesondere im Hinblick auf ihren marginalisierten Status und die anhaltende Stigmatisierung.


    6. Fazit

    Die Hijra-Gemeinschaft in Indien ist ein eindrucksvolles Beispiel dafür, wie Geschlechtervielfalt das traditionelle binäre Geschlechtsmodell in Frage stellt. Indem sie eine Identität verkörpern, die weder ausschließlich männlich noch weiblich ist, zeigen die Hijras die Komplexität von Geschlechtsidentitäten und deren Beziehung zum biologischen Geschlecht auf.

    Ihre Existenz wirft wichtige Fragen zu sozialen und kulturellen Geschlechterkonstruktionen auf und verdeutlicht, dass Geschlechterfluidität bereits seit Jahrhunderten in menschlichen Gesellschaften existiert.

    Bei der weiteren Erforschung der Geschlechtervielfalt in verschiedenen Kulturen wird deutlich, dass die starren Grenzen zwischen männlichen und weiblichen Identitäten weder universell noch unvermeidlich sind. Die Untersuchung von Gemeinschaften wie den Hijras bietet wertvolle Einblicke in die Vielfalt der Geschlechtsidentitäten und die Notwendigkeit inklusiverer Rahmenbedingungen, die die gesamte Bandbreite der Geschlechtervielfalt in der modernen Gesellschaft anerkennen.

    Zukünftige Maßnahmen müssen sich darauf konzentrieren, den rechtlichen Schutz für dritte Geschlechtsgemeinschaften zu erweitern und eine größere gesellschaftliche Akzeptanz sowohl in Indien als auch weltweit zu fördern.

  • “This is my house what I say goes”

    The woman smiled

    The kind of smile she usually reserved for her kids

    When they take a tone with her

    But then isn’t she still dealing with a child?

    Maybe older, taller and much more muscular

    But still a child.

    “Of course this is your house, you are the head of the house”

    The man smiled albeit inward

    The kind of inward smile he usually reserved for his surbodinates at work

    When he needed to stamp his authority on them

    But then is he not dealing with a surbodinate?

    Maybe some may say it is not the same situation

    But he disagrees

    In even Tones the woman continued

    I will never dispute your role as head and owner of this household

    You are my husband

    I agreed to marry you and live under your rule

    You are never wrong

    And you always make the best decisions in this family

    The man smiled

    Openly now

    Yes she knows her place now

    The woman continued

    I do however as your wife like to offer a suggestion………

    She does

    He listens

    She made her points

    Of course it was all his idea

    She would never have come up with such suggestion without his help

    She thanks him for being helpful

    He smiles

    She smiles

    She has fed and burped the squalling baby

    He sleeps now till his next tantrum

    He has stamped his authority with the wayward surbodinate

    She will know who is in charge, for now.

  • Octoberfest

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    I ate too many potatoes with some stew that my brother-in-law made. It wasn’t much of a stew, what he actually set out making was something between gravy with macaroni, but the gravy out-powered the stew and won. So I declared it to be a stew and boiled potatoes to eat it with. The potatoes were too much.

    My mother (God rest her soul) had at a young age embedded in me the frivolousness of wasted food, so I ate till I was bursting at the seams and decided “Why don’t I go out for a walk after”.

    So I did indeed put on my little dress strapped on my bag and set off on a short walk, I told myself. Before I could say Jack I had hopped on a bus thinking I would get off wherever I felt like getting off eventually, but at the back of my mind it seems that I already knew the minute I picked my bag that I was going to have an eventful walk.

    The journey let me try and draw a map for you was from Willi-Harlem Straße (with the W in Willi mentioned as V ) and I eventually got off at Heimramplatz. I then took the U-Bahn which is the German term for underground trains and got off at Theresinwiese (remember the W is V).

    This is a journey I have made countless times, Akua my niece, schools at Theresinwiese, and long before I had to move to Berlin for school I was always taking her to and from school. So I came out of the train and took the escalator up walking towards her school.

    The number of people waiting at the train stop plus their traditional attire, informed me of something I had forgotten, it was Octoberfest.

    Octoberfest is a Munich festival and the main headquarters for this celebration is right at Theresinwiese. I started having a mini panic and thought of just turning to the left to pick up the next train back to Heimramplatz, but I am impulsive by nature and normally leave things out for nature to play its cause, so I carried on. Theresinwiese is indeed packed with people of all kinds, this is a celebration that lasts for days and people from all over the world come to witness this. My goal was to walk up the street till I saw a tram (a term used to refer to an inner city train) or come across an escalator leading to a U-Bahn I could pick home.

    As I walked down the street I saw two policemen writing tickets for illegal parking, I smiled and walked on. At one of the traffic lights I had to cross, there was a man, who was dead drunk, at first he didn’t see that the lights were red so he attempted crossing, and suddenly realized, he stumbled out of the streets back to the pavement with the grace only a drunk could muster. We stood near the traffic light till it was green then we crossed, the drunk and I

    .Then I saw her again, a beautiful girl. Right before I made a turn to the traffic light, I had taken a glance in her direction albeit briefly, she sat in a wheelchair and two people I could surmise from the picture they painted to be her parents, walked behind her, with the dad pushing the chair. She looked beautiful in her pink sweater and a pink ribbon in her hair, a sharp contrast to the already darkening nights and the blinding brightness of bar room and restaurant lights. She was waving her arms around, clearly happy and mesmerized as I was by the city lights with its life. I asked myself, what is her story?

    As I wasn’t brave enough to ask I walked on, turning on the street with the man standing beside an ATM, clearly dissatisfied with the automated machine‘s slowness in dispensing his money judging by the way he was tapping his fingers and feet to the rhythm of the noise the machine made before dispensing off the money. Up the building the man stood by was a hotel, and out of the windows of what seemed to be one of the rooms of the hotel was a peeking neck, belonging to a boy to be probably between the ages of 16-18. He seemed to be interested in something happening far off in the distance.

    The two men sitting on the floor and sharing a bottle of coke could only be described as homeless beggars, they were engaged deeply in a conversation and I wondered what it was about. But then I got distracted when I saw a tram with the destination Romanplatz displayed on it, I could take that, it was just going my way. All I had to do was trace with my eye where the next bus stop was. Down the tram lines, I traced and I saw the train stop, so I took my time since the next tram would probably come in the next 10mins.

    As I prepared to cross the first tram lines which seemed to be out of other, I saw from the corner of my eyes, stairs leading to the U-Bahn station, with clearly written out words telling me that I had walked from Theresinwiese and I was now at Sedlinger-Tor, good, my Apple fitness app will be proud of me. I finally got to the bus stop and realized I had 4 minutes till the next tram, so I took some bad pictures.

  • Jess and I have plenty conversations, I do love him, more than I allow myself to admit and I have told him several times my feelings for him. He loves me too, that I know. But I do have anxiety issues and a bit of paranoia, It is because I know of these for a fact that I am able to keep them at bay.

    But I found out that when it comes to the people and the things I love it becomes quite difficult to keep putting both my paranoia and anxiety issues at bay. Lets take for example the day I realized that I was finally and actually in love with Jess.

    He had dropped me off at home, and on his way back home he realized that I had left my phone in his car, so he called my sister and asked to speak to me, and proposed that I meet him halfway for it.

    I agreed and set off home, I stood at where I thought I heard him mention as the proposed place to wait for close to 3 hours. It was getting dark and I stood there with fear in my heart and I imagined every horrible scenario in my head, as to the reason he couldn’t make it to the rendezvous. I had a panic attack and was visibly shaking, then I realized, oh shit! I love him.

    At the end, Jess was fine. we just missed up our meeting point and we both missed each other.

    After that incident then began our conversations, and out of those conversations Jess made a funny comment on how he thinks that the only thing that could come between us is food. That made me laugh, I do love eating actually and Jess loves making food, so its a perfect arrangement for us. He thinks my love for food is enough to be a deal breaker if ever I needed a excuse to want out, I thought so too.

    It was the book that sung, as well as a different circumstance that I foresee in the not so far future.

    The book was about a man a black man who fell inlove with a white girl. This book was set in the year 2021, a progressive year, but with people of color facing the same challenges as before. I renamed it “the book that sung” because the words in the book, floated in my brain for months till I could make a song out of it.

    Almost during the very beginning of our relationship Jess and I knew we were both traveling out to continue our studies. We didn’t count on our schools being in the same country, as well as just an hour and half away from each other, but it did. We do love the arrangement.

    But I one day talked about going back home some day, after maybe working and stay abroad for a while, and Jess doesn’t seem to share the same idea. It is often not my way to continuously talk about an issue or raise arguments, so I made that issue slide.

    At the very back of my mind, the issue still persist silently. There is always an ongoing war in my mind and it always rounds back to the book that sung. The black man. He was going through same turmoil after being racially profiled, I read that book with my heart, and whenever I walk around, be it in school or outside, I feel this imposter syndrome.

    I do not belong, is what I tell myself and even a random person’s laughter or even stare seems to confirm my thoughts.

    I walked in a shop to buy something just lastweek, I asked the man behind the counter if he had the item I was looking for, and he sort of waved me away withought actually listening to me. I did try to make light of the situation, but I couldn’t do that for long, I just kept remembering the book, the book that sung.

    For the sake of Jess I am trying to like it here, I am boosting myself with enough confidence not to be bothered abut being the only black girl in a train, or bus, or place. But that doesn’t cancel out the urge to want to go back home one day, even if its after ten or twenty years. I want back to that which is familiar, comfortable and welcoming.

    A black American who once visited Ghana during one of the December festivals geared towards promoting tourism, mentioned how walking around in the streets Accra felt liberating. Because there she is not seen as an African American. She is just another PERSON, going her way.

    I have lived in such a liberation for a full 28years, it will take a lot for me to get used to this and I am sad. I hope it takes nothing from me, but I can only lie to myself for a short while.

    Maybe, in a years time I will come back and refer to this article more certain, bolder and sure of myself.

    Until then, this a little black girl’s way of survival in foreign land. She’s writing.

  • Love sucks

    By virtue of schooling I’m a Nima girl, went to St Kizito RC from class 2 to class 6. I had almost all my crushes in St Kizito and the most prominent of them was Precious.

    He was a year ahead of me and I was so hopelessly “in love” with him that I couldn’t stand to be in the same place with him. Anytime I saw him my heart beat increased tenfold. I didn’t tell anyone about this not even my best friend as at that time (Margaret Ameyaw).

    So it was approaching valentines’s day and I didn’t think anything of it, I mean which person at that age will be thinking about valentine’s day. But that very day I got to school and the first person I saw was Precious so handsome and smiling at me like somebody has told him that I had feelings for him.

    Fast forward we closed from school and as usual I was waiting for my best friend (Margaret) to walk me to the station so I can pick up a car home, only to see Precious approaching me with something that looked like a card and a flower in his hand. I was shy, nervous, happy at this rate my heart beat was over working, he approached, smiled and handed over the card and flower to me and quickly walked away.

    Herh!!! I didn’t know whether to open the card or not, go home and leave my best friend behind or not, walk back to Precious and give him back his gifts or not. I thought the perfect ending was for the earth to open up and swallow me because my face felt hot with a mixture of joy and embarrassment, this was was because some of my classmates were near by and had seen him hand over the gifts to me and had already started teasing me.

    Margaret (my best friend) came out the classroom when she heard the teasing, I told her that we should go cause I wanted to go home but I hadnt still opened the card. Even on our way home my friends were still teasing and making kissing faces, singing my name along with that of Precious.

    Suddenly Margaret (best friend) asked me if I had opened the card to read, I replied no and she asked me to at least open it. And I kid you not I will never forget this, I slowly opened the card to see “from Precious to Margaret Ameyaw, happy Valentine’s Day, I love you”. ❤️

    Margaret Ameyaw was my best friend’s name.

  • Amy

    Even though that is not her real name I thought I should use it. Not necessarily because I don’t want people to know her real name, because I doubt any reader of mine might know her. Amy with the beautiful hair and eyes, and a very wide smile which went on and on.

    I don’t really remember when I officially met her, my memory could not stretch that far. But I do remember that in the beginning we were friends. She would spend days with my family and I at home, because she lived nearby and also her mom had to work on weekends.

    Kids are fearless now that I think about it, we were told to never allow her go to sleep when she came around. We were suppose to entertain her with games, movies and conversation and we kind of never questioned that. Maybe our minds was clouded by the fact that we were given a “Carte Blanche”, whenever Amy was around to watch as much TV as we want, that we forgot to question such directives, or we just being kids. But we were soon to know.

    Her mum had dropped her off per usual on Saturdays, we were happy to see her. We had gathered later on to watch TV and we realized that Amy was no where to be found. My sister walked into the bedroom only to find her sleeping ever soo soundly, we woke Amy up for a good 10mins and she never woke up.

    An initial suspicion that she might have died in her sleep was quickly quenched when we realized that she was breathing, she just couldn’t wake up. We quickly went out to inform a grown up who was in this case my dad, he just happened to be home and before we told him what happened, the fear in our eyes betrayed us.

    My dad called my mum, waited patiently for her to come and went inside the room were Amy was sleeping and started praying.

    Amy came from a long line of fetish priestesses in a sense she was was marked for priestess hood even before she was born. Her mother refused and protested because she was a Christian and it worked for a while till she (Amy), mistakenly ate food that was met for the gods during a popular festival in Ghana called “Homowo”.

    Homowo is a festival that is mainly celebrated in the southern part of Ghana by a group people popularly known as the GA’s. The celebration normally takes place in August and its a symbolization of when the ancestors won a victory over hunger. The word Homowo can be broken down into two syllable. “Homo” meaning hunger, and “Wo” is a hooting sound in the GA language.

    During the festival there are songs, dances and a special type of food known as kpokpoi is prepared, eaten, and also thrown around by the various paramount chiefs “for the gods”.

    Amy ate the food for the gods. She since then was marked by the gods as a wife for them, and since her mother refused to send her to the shrine to be officially inaugurated, the gods resorted to getting through to her whenever she sleeps.

    As a child, I lapped this up. I didn’t understand what was going on but I knew that something was wrong with Amy and she became all better, when people prayed over her or she held a Bible to her while she slept.

    Amy is married with two kids now. I don’t know remember when she got better, or when the gods the let her alone. But I am older now, I googled “A sickness that makes you sleep like the dead”, and it gave me Narcloepsy.

    Was it Narcloepsy? The Gods?

    I am just happy Amy is safe.

  • Beautiful Boy

    You taunt me

    But I would still like to flaunt you

    Dark hooded eyes

    Shadows fluttering like the wings of birds beneath those eyelashes

    Who hurt you?

    No

    Don’t answer that

    Who loved you?

    But I guess you never intend to answer them anyway.

    Not now

    Not ever

    Not to even to yourself

    But I have seen the way you hide behind the cocoon of yourself

    An image of

    Nonchalance

    An indifference attitude

    They way you swagger in your tortured soul

    Your restlessness in your wandering spirit

    A carefree imp

    An incorrigible sadist

    Who hurt you?

    Wait,

    Who loved you?

    I would like to unravel you

    Peel away these shadows that lurk behind your eyes.

    Strip you of your every masquerade mask you wear for every occasion

    I would like to see you naked

    Not naked in form

    But of mind.

    I want to see your defenses down

    I want you to lower your guard

    Can you?

    And you still haven’t answered my question

    Who hurt you?

    Oh! Shoot

    I meant who loved you?

  • The man

    I saw a man.

    I wish I could say in my dreams.

    That way he would be mine and mine only.

    But no.

    He was real.

    Every delicious dark chocolate skin of his was real.

    His walk

    His look.

    He gestured.

    I was transfixed.

    His smile.

    His eyes.

    He looked my way.

    I was dumbstruck.

    I saw a man.

    I mistook him for a girl.

    He was beautiful.

    Every movement of his body oozed sensuality.

    Like a prime feline it seems as if every movement of his was calculated.

    Just a measure of smile.

    Not too wide.

    Not too close.

    Just a slight movement of his arm

    Not too wide.

    Not too close.

    Just a slow glance at my way.

    Not too obvious.

    But a registration of “yes! I saw you!

    I saw a man.

    Feets bare on the ground.

    Trousers somewhere mid legs.

    Brown shirt with an Afro hair.

    He was simple.

    I should not have noticed him.

    But he had this flair around him.

    This energy.

    Animalistic.

    I was soo caught up I forgot to look away.

    I saw a man.

    He took the mic and sang.

    He gave me a cheeky look.

    A cheeky smile.

    And a stare created from the hottest pit of hell.

    It was an inferno!!!!

    It burned!!!

    I saw a man.

    But I doubt if he even noticed me.

  • How are you?

    I need a second to gather my thoughts,

    If given an hour I can write a book.

    My answer if am able to say it

    Will be one full of drudgery, emotions, pent up feelings revealing secrets.

    But I do not have an hour

    Or minute

    What I have is now.

    I am fine.

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