Art by Mary Sibande. More at https://ruxandrabp.wordpress.com/2011/11/25/mary-sibande-dressed-to-tell-south-africas-tale/
The African Goddess lives. She can be found in townships, cities, squatter camps, rural settlements, shopping malls and in mansions where she mostly works, rarely lives. Her place is her palace. Her crown traditionally a water pot or basket, most often a doek.
You may miss her in a crowd. She is modest. But you will know her by the way her eyes smile at any child in her vicinity. She is patient, waiting for a taxi, bus or train. You may glimpse her on your way back from Sun City at 3am in the morning, waiting in the cold for transport to get to work many miles away. She is grateful to clean and scrub for the sake of her family.
She is used to waiting. Waiting for her husband to be home from the mines at Christmas. You will find her toyi-toying in the streets for justice, water, food, opportunity for her children. She sits in group discussions with marketing people talking about the difficulties of keeping herself and her babies clean without running water in her home. Without money for sanitary products, toilet paper and nappies. She is attends stokvel meetings with women who collectively save for a rainy day, when they support each other through weddings and funerals. She lifts her glorious voice in gospel choirs to praise the Ineffable Presence.
She is wise with an archaic African wisdom that is beyond what a school can offer. Her wisdom is dedicated to the teachings of her ancestors and to the earth that received her placenta in ceremonial burying, waiting for her body when she is ready to join those who came before. Her blood runs with generous love and service to bring home the distant pale skinned ancestors who endured the ice. She calls them to come home from brash overindulgence and share their knowledge of preparing for the extreme winters she has never known.
The courageous find Her joy in Life dancing in their very own DNA.
Come, for the beer is brewed
And the night is chill.
Close the door to the ghosts
To the spirits of the night.
Let the leopard cough among the rocks
He is alone and hungry
But we are warm and company is good
And there is a story to be told.
Anonymous verse from Myths and Legends of Southern Africa by Penny Miller.
Thank you for your entry to Teamsouthafrica's competition. Your post has been resteemed by @teamsouthafrica. Wishing you the best of luck :)
Wow it is 1h24 am in South Africa and what a gem I discover this early in the morning. This is a wonderful post that you did here Eugenie. Thank you for having a heart for the "africangoddess". The empathy and understanding ooze out of your post! Really very very good!
Thank you Hope777. Humbled, happy to read your comment. Blessings.
This post has received a 9.06% upvote from @lovejuice thanks to @hope777. They love you, so does Aggroed. Please be sure to vote for Witnesses at https://steemit.com/~witnesses.
Wow, that is some powerful stuff. Great story! You should add it as a comment to the teamsa competition.
I appreciate your project, the subject matter and your story. Thank you for being here, now. Will worm my way through the process of adding it as a comment. So much of new things. Such wonderful contributions. Gawking at all the splendour ;)
Awesome. Just remember to add africa and africangoddess as other tags. I noticed you have teamsouthafrica, writing & women :) I'm glad you've been enjoying it all so far.
Thanks for your patience!
Thank you @therneau for encouraging her! Such a great post!