And he had moves for days!

When I met Lesley, I had already accepted a calling to be a Sangoma. Over the years he just embraced the whole thing. Every time we are invited for a ceremony he was the dancing guru. He loved it.

Joy ride...

Being shuttled to one of our many nights at the opera.

My note to you...back in 2010

My Shrine

Last night I actually saw you in my dreams. We were debating and arguing about you not coming back. You insisted on being where you are for my sake. I cried so much when you disappeared and didn't reply to any of my questions any more. I woke up in the middle of the night with a wet pillow. Your side of the bed occupied by Bruno. I can tell he misses you too. I just cried.


I don't have any unanswered questions about you and me. I knew exactly where we were when you left this world. It's your absence that brews anger in my heart. Your unexplained departure just frustrates every plan we had. I relied on you so much. I relied on your love and warmth every night.


Your presence is all around us, but not in the way we would like. I found myself going to the cemetery every day. It's still not sinking in that you're no more. Every time when I'm kneeling on your tomb crying, I feel like you'd just tap me on my shoulder and ask me what's wrong.


I never thought or imagined myself your grave would be a shrine I go to just to be closer to you. There were no loose ends to tie before you left. You kissed and told me you loved me. At some point you were on the other end of the phone calling me all sorts of sweet names and telling me how you were and what you got up to. You were so happy. That makes me long for you even more.


It had been a week since one whole day of a lover's quarrel. I kept your long email apologising even when I was the one who should say sorry. The one lesson I took from that message was when you asked that we shouldn't be angry with each other for too long. I didn't even read on and I just called you to say how much you mean to me. Little did I know the next week would be so perfect and also your last. Oh my baby. I go to a sad place just to be close to you. I don't know why I choose that place over the great memories. I miss you. I wish you you'd come back and take this pain away.

The river of grief and how to keep being by Jini Maxwell

When I think about grief, words don’t really come to mind. What I do get is the visceral feeling of being too deep underwater. When I think of grief, I imagine the sudden stab of fear that accompanies a realisation that you’ve dived deeper than you first thought: your trapped breath like a weight in your chest, the glimmer of oxygen perpetually too many arm lengths away.

Grief is more than a feeling. It’s really an environment, a new condition to your life that you have to meet with your whole self. No amount of swimming against the current, or scrambling up the banks, will make it easier to navigate. Most importantly, it is not a puzzle you can think your way out of. It’s something more bodily than that, like the mammalian diving instinct.

At first contact with water, an infant’s heart rate slows, oxygen moves more slowly, and the glottis spontaneously blocks access to the lungs, all before the conscious mind can react at all. Living with grief is an animal experience, and surviving it requires the action of a body that knows how to keep being when the mind couldn’t possibly go on. Your body knows how to keep you safe, not just before your conscious mind, but instead of it. You just have to be in it, and it has to be processed as a part of you.

The bad news is, no amount of time in rivers of grief will prepare you for a new one. The good news is, you didn’t drown then and you’re not drowning now. Your body is carrying you through the experience on instinct. Take a deep breath and listen to yourself from the toes up. Feelings are hard, inconvenient and unpredictable, but the less time you spend fighting your body’s messages, the more you can learn from them.

Survival is, in the end, a game of trust, and not of thought. You have to trust that you can survive your own emotions. You have to feel, even if it’s overwhelming. The most important thing to remember about the river of grief is you’re not surviving it wrong. It’s not taking too long. You’re not moving too quickly. The river you are in is just the river you are in, without moral resonance. Trust that you can cope with doing what you need.
It’s easier to think of grief as something of a redemption arc, starting with pain and ending with the well being you knew before. But mourning exists without narrative; it’s not something you can itemise in a eulogy. The river’s current will stick with you for longer than you expect, and you’ll emerge and re-emerge from the worst parts of it feeling as shocked by the ways you’ve stayed the same as you are by the way you’ve changed. Like a newborn in a swimming pool, trying to analyse your progress is only going to make the water feel heavier around you. Your body knows what it’s doing.

In the moments that you feel yourself entirely submerged, trust that your heart rate may slow, your throat may close and the pressure may build, but your body knows how to navigate this space, even if your mind does not. Every fibre of you is already working slowly and carefully to navigate this new emotional landscape, if you let it. That’s how survival happens—by gentle instinct, not by achievement or analysis. Take the time to be in your body, listen to every soft and hurting part of yourself whenever you feel the urge: beat to beat, without scrutiny, until you can resurface.

However you’re going, you’re going okay

The madness that is us!

This morning I woke up and remembered how you actually encouraged the madness between us.

You knew my love for photographs and used it to cheer me up sometimes. You'd get me to do weird and funny poses. You laughed so hard at my craziness. And you'd join in and just lose yourself.

It was the beginning of our solid bond. We knew we could be vulnerable to each other. That was the gateway to being able to talk about anything and everything. Even the people we had a crush on. Hahahaha! It was uncomfortable but it got easier.
We spoke about love and the difficulty of being in a monogamous relationship. There were really awkward moments, but we knew how to swim against even the toughest tides, just so we could stay together. We had seen each other in different lights and shades. We still loved each other.
When love was almost peeled away by our "humanness" we knew we needed more than just love to stay together. We got more than love to sustain us. We kept it together baby. To a point where we even teased each other about our moments of weakness.
When I could not handle it, you always reminded me of our pact. Today my friends laugh at me when we talk about you and me. I don't know how many times I told them "I'm done!". Next thing they'd see us posting selfies from our bed happy together. Sometimes we'd just escape and go to a new environment to work things out. And they always worked out. Every time. We renewed our love not only through mistakes and weaknesses. Both our families and friends pushed us closer together. They knew we are the only people who understood the craziness in each other. They were often puzzled when we made private jokes about them in public. And we'd laugh like mad people. I miss you every day Lesley Sekoto. I miss you more now. I really wish you'd come back.

Things we couldn't agree on

One famously known fact was the different soccer teams we supported. We adapted so much so we could be a team in conquering all the missions we set our minds on. But Lesley remained a staunch Kaizer Chiefs supporter and I remained a loyal Mamelodi Sundowns fan.  We laughed and teased one another whenever any of our teams lost. But it was always followed by a drink, hug or even a kiss of comfort.

We were never really avid soccer lovers, but had mad love for these teams respectively. Mainly because of where we came from. It was one of those many things that we brought together to concoct the strong bond we had. 

I grew up with a nurtured love for classical music. Lucky for me he appreciated all sorts of music even though he'd make fun of me and my music. We were from completely different worlds. We still made it work. We were always learning how to embrace each other. Sometimes it was through mistakes and sometimes through confessions.  We never took for granted the many years we've known each other. We also didn't take advantage of those years.
Lesley was the one with the bigger heart. He maintained our tradition. The good night kiss and the good morning kiss. And he'd still come for the see you later kiss. Whether I was upset with him or not. And that's why I say I knew love because of this man.
Writing about him won't warm this bed or myself like he used to. But it will keep the love we had alive.
We both hated being away from each other. And so we punctuated each other's day with calls and text messages. We were telepathic and knew when to call. I will miss that. I will miss coming home to you baby.