Be Inspired by Miss Stone

Today is another appreciation day. I want to take the time out and appreciate someone who has been in my life for almost 4 years now. This man has held on when the road was so bumpy, I even fell down. He has been scarred and hurt because at times the terrain was so harsh, no one would survive it, but he did. Today, I want to take the time out and appreciate someone God sent. I remember the day I met him. I was at a popular hangout spot. That night, my friend and I searched and searched for a party. We wanted to have fun and we made sure we would find a place where we could have it.   After about 3 stops, we finally found a spot that seemed to be alive. So, we went in and danced the night away. A few hours later, with sore feet and tired eyes, we decided to call it a night and headed for the door. As we walked out, I saw a man surrounded by people. They were all asking him questions about music and the music industry. I figured it was the Canadian DJ who was in town. So, I contin...

I have not had time to write much lately, but this morning I woke up and someone crossed my mind. A woman I have written about before. She is a woman with remarkable talent. She is hard working and has accomplished things many only dream of. She is a strong woman. She is a woman who knows what she wants and stands up for what she believes in. She is a woman who speaks her mind, heart and soul and her words, her words are never inaudible. Today, I would like to share some of her words with you, because she is one of the many women who encourage me to keep on writing and making my voice heard. And as I share her words with you, I wish to encourage you to never let your voice go unheard. Today, I give you Elusive Butterfly… A poem by Tereska Muishond… Elusive Butterfly He calls me Butterfly Do I brighten up his life as I Flutter on the fringes of his lonely smile? He calls me Butterfly Did he feel the delicacy of my wings When he lifted me into his heart? He calls...

Today, my story is real. Real names. Real lessons. It is not something I made up. It is inspired by life. The reality of life. It is a story that speaks of weakness, but also one that speaks of triumph and strength. This is how the story goes… Suraya Stilo was like any normal 19 year old girl growing up. Normal is relative, but there was nothing out of the ordinary that anyone had to worry about. Like many other young people though, she experimented with a few things. Out of curiosity. Who knows? But she experimented anyway. And like any other young person, she started out doing what everyone else was. She started smoking the hooka pipe, or hubbly as it is more commonly referred to. This was filled with flavoured tobacco, as it usually is, but as time went on, marijuana was added to it. This was more of a thrill and did more to her than the ordinary tobacco. It excited her. But soon, its effects would wear off too. She soon moved on to something that would have a greater impact ...

I sat at my desk this morning, just working on some reports. It was an ordinary morning at work. I made myself a cup of coffee and I worked away. Nothing special was happening, other than the fact that I was alive and blessed to see another day. Now that is always something special. So as I worked, an e-mail came through on my phone. I opened it and as I read it, I cried tears of joy. It was feedback I had been waiting on for two months and it was worth the wait. As tears ran down my face, I looked up and said ‘Thank You Lord’. This is only the first phase of a very long process, but with hard work and help from Him, I made it through that phase. The foundation phase. The first step. And it gives me courage and motivation to continue going. It gives me the will power to continue on this journey. I wish I could share more with you all, but at this point, I am unable to. I just thought I would ask you to say a little prayer for me in your free moments. Those moments when you have no...

Women are full of drama. Yes I said it. We are full of drama. And sometimes, it is so unnecessary. A few months ago, a Coloured girl started working here. I had seen her around only a few times prior to her working here, so we had never spoken to one another. But very quickly, I picked up on one thing: She did not like me. Now this puzzled me. We had never even said hello to one another, we had never had a conversation and we were never in the same company, so what was her dislike towards me based on? I thought maybe I was overreacting and that with time, we would get along, but with each passing day, it became clearer to me. She just did not like me. She would walk in and greet my colleague (who sits next to me) by name and not greet me. She almost walked me over one day in the passage. It was one thing after the other. So when all these little ‘mishaps’ started taking place, my claws came out too. I thought, I can do a bit better than her. And so I did. The nasty look here, the sn...

Last night,three guys told me they love my blog. Now,these were gentlemen in their own right. They were each so different and found themselves at different places in their lives, but they could all relate to what I wrote in my posts. One of them even told me that I give him a different perspective to certain situations. He said that we always tend to look at the negatives in life, but when he reads my blog, he always sees things from a different perspective. This made me think. I am by no means perfect. I go through a lot of things too. And sometimes I write about it. I just never thought that my words would mean so much to others. I never thought that my every day experiences would bring a sense of comfort to the lives of others. I started this blog after my friend mentioned that I should. At first, I did not take it serious, but as I thought about it, it made more and more sense to me. If I could do what I love (write, tell stories) and help people while doing it, I'd be selfis...

Today we celebrate our former President, Nelson Mandela’s 95 th birthday. This year it is bitter sweet though. He spends his birthday in hospital, where he has been for the past 5 weeks. So today, I thought, instead of sharing my words and experiences with you, I would share his words. His words that have inspired me and many others for years and will continue to inspire for years to come. Tata Nelson Mandela. The Father of our nation. One of the greatest inspirations of our time. I hope you enjoy the quotes I selected and learn from them, as I did. “Our children are our greatest treasure. They are our future. Those who abuse them tear at the fabric of our society and weaken our nation.’’ - National Men`s March, 1997 “What counts in life is not the mere fact that we have lived. It is what difference we have made to the lives of others that will determine the significance of the life we lead.” - 90th birthday celebration of Walter Sisulu, Walter Sisulu Hall, Johannesburg...

I have been thinking about my high school days a lot lately. And when I look back at it, I realize how lucky I was. I realize how lucky I still am. I had my fair share of problems as a teenager,and like any typical teen, I thought that my world would end every time a new problem arose. In hindsight though, they were really not that bad. I had it easy. Better than others. I remember the day that this all became clear to me. I was walking to Child Protection Services with three of my friends. My close friend's father had hit her with his fists. We were going to see a Social Worker,we needed advice. So,the four of us sat there and my friend started telling her story. She spoke of how her Father hit her. It got me thinking how lucky I was to have a Father who protected me at all times,at any cost! I was blessed to have a Father who had never laid his hand on me. My other friend soon spoke too. She told the story of how difficult her relationship with her Mom was. She recalled how ...

I woke up this morning before my alarm went off. I opened my eyes, checked the time and it was 5am. Unlike other mornings, I was not reluctant to get out of bed, in fact, I did so with pleasure. I checked my phone for messages, but realized that although it was on the charger, it was dead. I struggled in vain to get it on and eventually gave up. I ran my bath water and took a nice hot bath instead, choosing not to worry about the phone or the messages I might or might not have received. As I got out of the bath and put on my clothes, the electricity tripped. Again, I struggled in vain to get it back on, and eventually gave up on that too. So, I lit a few candles and got dressed by candlelight. No electricity. No phone. Just me and my thoughts. I left my home unusually early (at 06:20am), but managed to get the lights back on before I left. I drove to my parents’ home, had a cup of coffee with them and finally went on my way to work. As I drove to work, I saw homeless people, up and ...

I attended a play this past weekend. A play titled Te Veel Vir ‘n Coloured Girl (Too Much For A Coloured Girl). I sat there for an hour and I was enthralled. I was captivated. I could not take my eyes off the four women on stage. Four women sharing their art and their voices with us. The four women on stage, namely Tereska Muishond (who is also the Playwright), Tyla Jade Muishond, Justinovia Kettledas and Leonie Christians, portrayed the struggles of being a Coloured Woman. They showed us the daily battles that are fought by our women (and men). They showed us the joys of being a Coloured woman. The strength that we possess that we so often underestimate. I was reminded yesterday that although we are often seen as a misunderstood race, in our own way, we understand each other, and that’s all that matters. We are often seen a race with no culture, but we are so colourful and rich in culture, that it cannot be easily understood. They have tried to categorize us, but we cannot be put...

I am a woman with flaws, but all those imperfections make me perfect in my own way. I am a strong woman but I too need the strength of others when I am weak. I am a woman who carries with me, my greatest asset: my smile. But I too need the tears from cheeks wiped away when my smile has faded. I am a woman who walks with my head held high, even when the world tries to break me down, and even then I might need some encouragement to keep walking. I am a woman who laughs. A woman who cries. A woman who prays. A woman who believes. A woman who searches. A woman who hopes. A woman who stumbles. A woman who triumphs. And a woman who makes mistakes. A woman who never gives up. I would like to think that through it all, I am a woman who lives. But just like any other woman, I am often insulted and persecuted. Just like any other woman, there are stones thrown my way too many times. There are people who try to push me down in order to heighten themselves. Today though, I have this to ...

Real. ‘Actually existing as a thing or occurring in fact: not imagined or supposed.’ Not artificial. Not fraudulent. Not illusory. Real. That is a word that often scares people, because sometimes that which is real, is not pleasant. TuPac Shakur said ‘There should be a class on sex education, a real sex-education class. There should be a class on police brutality. There should be a class on apartheid. There should be a class on why people are hungry. But there are not. There are classes on gym. Physical education. Let’s learn volleyball.’ Now that is real. As I look around, I see girls who have just reached high school, falling pregnant. Some walk around with their big bellies, proud of the fact that they are with child. And yes, a child is a blessing, this is a gift from God, but surely it cannot be right for a child to be raising a child. It cannot be right for a young girl to show off her pregnant belly to the world, when she does not fully know what this world is about...

I was having a conversation with a friend of mine this morning. We spoke of the daily battles women face. I would like to share a part of this conversation with you: Phelo: We are warriors Me: We are. But we get bruised in battles too Phelo: And we toughen up Me: Still doesn’t make the bruises hurt any less. It might prepare us for the ones that are to come, but they still hurt Phelo: Too much. God must be a woman Me: And thus, She knows our pain all too well Phelo: And moulds us to be the best through hardships Me: Strong exteriors, but sensitive too. Just the right balance to endure and learn, to experience and move on Phelo: I like that Me: This chat is the material for my next blog Phelo: Whatever that is Me: You inspire me. Always. Phelo: I guess life inspires you Me: There is inspiration all around us Phelo: Good or bad times Me: I love you. Through the good and bad. Phelo:   I love you too Toy. Now this chat went on, b...

I have written about my sister before, but I thought it appropriate to write about her again. Now, anyone who knows my sister and I, know how different we are. Although we look alike, we have different mannerisms. She is soft and not easily angered. I get angry easily. She always seems to be the calm in the storm. I think I often cause the storm. Through all our differences though, my sister seems to be the one who always puts things into perspective for me. She tells me to pray when all hope seems gone, she makes sense of a situation when I think with my emotions, and she brings serenity when all I see is chaos. A few days ago, I called her. I was crying because of something that had happened. I was angry, frustrated and hurt, and I felt like just driving off somewhere, listening to really loud music and venting, in any way possible. But the first thing I did was call my sister. And there, on the other end of the phone, came this sweet voice that took all my anger away. The pain ...