About my boobs…

Written by: Jane

D&T: 7 June 2016. 22:12pm


So I did a lot of research and reading on breastfeeding prior and during my pregnancy. It’s something that I was 100% sure I wanted for my baby. But many of the articles, blogs and mommy chats had the same negative feedback; “breastfeeding is supposed to be natural and easy but, it is not.”

And boy am I glad that I am as stubborn as I am. I was still determined to breastfeed. I started lactating during my pregnancy and decided not to pump (even though I had a breast pump at my disposal). I wanted the feeling of breastfeeding my baby for the first time to play in my mind and heart forever.

Sure enough, labour and delivery came. And after the midwife stitched me up, my baby started signalling that he was ready to feed. He was already on my chest so I just sat up, positioned him and offered my breast. He latched and fed immediately. The midwife almost didn’t believe that I was breast feeding for the first time!

Despite this initial success, I unfortunately was still pressurized by family and friends. They all insisted that my breastmilk would never be enough and that I should supplement with formula. Thanks again to my stubbornness, I refused to listen to them and carried on breastfeeding. I couldn’t get Kaz to latch onto my left breast as easily as he did on my right breast. It might have been due to the fact that I’m right handed and that my left nipple was waaaay shorter than my right one. This of course led to the development of mastitis in my left breast (and yes I was pumping my left breast as often as the right. I gave the milk to daddy so I could shower while he had a turn feeding Kaz).

It was extremely painful and I got a severe fever with it. My milk supply suffered but I overcame it by offering more boobie time to Kaz and I found new positions to make the short nippled boobie easily accessible. By 6 weeks, we had developed a healthy and successful breastfeeding relationship. Despite all that stood in our way.

And I am grateful that I never gave up on breastfeeding. It’s like my secret weapon. It’s the tool I use to feed him, soothe him, quench his thirst, help him poop, let him feel close to me and reassure him and his emotions. It has made us so close. Closer than I ever expected. When depression wants to kick in and dark thoughts start creeping into my mind (don’t judge, we all get the baby blues!), breastfeeding helps me chase all of that away. I believe Good really isn’t a fool. He designed breastfeeding this way so that both mom and baby could grow a bond together…

So I definitely am a firm believer in BREAST IS BEST. And it also helps that I had the pleasure of telling those who said I couldn’t do it how the nurse told me to space out the feedings because my baby weighed way above average for his age (ah, so he was getting enough, more than enough it seems, lol!)IMG-20160615-WA0036


The Joy

Radiating all through my body

Violently vibrating every corner of my soul

Lovingly uplifting my spirits

Effortlessly stretching my smile

And like the morning Sun, it wakes me up like the sweet laughter of a young child

the joy is Me

Earth Experience

What I thought a “human experience” is not how it is defined or practiced on this planet.

Children have the wisdom of old celestial souls while grown men lower their voices to gossip about women. [as if they were brought into this world by a stork]

And no one wants to admit that they are wrong and everyone walks around with a self-righteousness that is never to be questioned by humanity [only God can judge me]

They all seem to be against conformity yet, hype mentality is the most controlling and influential force in the social spectrum.

Which is confusing because there is solidarity on mundane issues but division on human and spiritual issues.

The people of this planet insist they are advancing in technology, philosophy and politically. But they use democracies to kill their own brothers and rape their sisters. The technology is destroying the only thing that keeps them alive [the earth]. Their philosophy allows women to empty their wombs of unwanted souls for the sake of their careers or in embarrassment of having another daughter and not enough sons.

They stare at screens, thinking they control the content they are exposed to but fail to realize that they are being pacified with the need to be obsessed with getting ‘stuff’ for the sake of getting ‘stuff.’

Every voice is silenced and they realize not-  how significant this is because a voice has power.

They foolishly believe that their ‘freedom of speech’ right is all the power they need to belittle and slander those who ‘sin’ differently from them. And the law is not justice as it protects the crooks.

The voice is too powerful to be used as a tool to feed the growing negativity and destroy what little good is left here.

I believe that the sound of a voice was so powerful that God himself spoke the universe into being. Just only spoke.

And because we are part and parcel of him, our words too carry power. That’s why when we pray or chant ‘Aum’ we leave this dimension and go to a spiritual one. In in the spiritual one, we are all the same. Our word are so powerful because they originate from our being, which translates to thoughts which translates to words, which translates into actions. Actions shape the world around us, whether helpful or manipulative. [yet they are powered only by words]. A ‘reality’ is formed with rules and regulations and social class and devastation.

This reality is not real. Only Love is real.

Yet we believe that because the reality it is material and tangible, it is ‘realer’ than anything else and cannot be questioned.

We speak always of what we experience with our senses but what about what we experience with our spirit-soul? Is that not tangible and real? Can it not influence our thoughts, words, actions and even ‘realities’


What a troubling thought. That the almighty human race believes that immorality is an earth experience.

I wish they could see that we are all just spirit-souls having a human experience and not the other way around.


I never really felt free but then again, I was never sure what freedom really meant or what it even felt like.

The masses say it’s a driver’s license or some rock concert that I might be too young to attend.

I’ve did those things and yet. they did not set me free.

But then again maybe, who am I to demand a thing as paradoxical as freedom when the masses themselves are enslaved. For they are me and I am them and the rules of the universe are the same: even for the creator of the universe.

My eyes are on fire thanks to my ignorance. Ignorance. Fire.

And my back hurts, because I am a Slave.

Don’t Tell Me What To Do

As a young African, woman of colour; I struggle with something that seemingly affects me alone. Now that may or may not be true but my experience will always be my own. I live in the age where women are kind of equal but not really. There is a constant battle between the subjugation of the female gender and the female attempt to be recognized as a completely advanced modern women. The 21st century woman is not worthy of expression of her womanhood by ways of a paid 6month maternity leave, but she is also not worthy of expression of independence by earning the same salary as man for the same job.

Still, everyone has their opinion and they feel entitled to have others take their opinion seriously. My story of began in my early primary school days when i was told that I was too tall and too chubby to become a ballet dancer. I was persuaded to instead pursue karate where I would often be paired to fight against 30 year old men because they were “in my weight division.”

High school was the chance to begin anew right? Wrong. Grade 8 and 9 were arguably the worst years from my life. I just wanted to be given the platform to express myself. And it was denied. I begged my parents to put me in the National School of the Arts. They refused telling me that art was not a career and that I needed science and maths if I was ever to be somebody worth looking at. They even blamed me for failing maths and physics. To the point where I started to blame myself for not being smart enough. I decided that when I had to choose my subjects for grade 10 until Matric, I would take all the art subjects and history. Then my friends told me that I can’t do art because it wouldn’t lead me anywhere. Naive and scared, I changed my subject to physics and biology. My teacher then proceeded to inform me that because of my horrible marks, I could never study science. He recommended I take History, business and computers. I was less then happy but continued in those studies until Matric. It was ironic because I actually graduated from Matric with a B symbol and an exemption to do a Bachelor’s degree. I thought that this was my chance to study performance and music. But

somewhere along the way, it came into my head that I should please my parents by studying what they studied. Which is Law.

I never got admission to study Law. And 3 years later i received my degree for Bachelor of Arts in International Relations and Politics. My parents beemed with joy, but like at every other important moment of my life, they never told me that they were proud. I craved their approval and enrolled into law school the following year. Believing that I needed to have a professional degree to be taken seriously by the world and by my parents.

And now I realize that this was the worst mistake I’ve ever made in my entire life. Not because law is hard or because it is boring. But because I had seized to be that bright eyed ballerina girl. I am no longer me because I allowed people to tell me what to do and drowned my creativity so that I would not have the inspiration to fight back from the pressures. Pressures of needing acceptance, pressure of being marketable, pressures of being a modern African woman with a bright future.

I killed myself at the instruction of those around me.

But it’s not to late,

I can resuscitate myself.

As long  as you don’t tell me what to do. You don’t have that power anymore.

A Long Walk

The sun kisses my burnt skin and I embrace her with a smile

The whistles in the trees sing my favorite song and my heart beat plays the drum to the soundtrack of the summer.

Still warm from the honey red bush beverage that reminds me of the land I call home.

I stroll.

The ropes on my hair sway gently in the breeze in perfect harmony with my white cotton skirt.

I raise my arms to the sky and wave at Ra, reminding him to set (or so I like to think).

I laugh, deep from my chest and change my footing to a skip in my elation.

Every moment golden and every thought completely silent and at peace. Allowed to breathe and allowed to just be. Be everything that is in the universe for I, myself am a universe. The planetary alignments and solar eclipses of my mind remind me to ground myself in the beautiful red soil of mother Africa. My planet of birth. And she calls me by my name. The sand burns the unders of my feet.

Him (an Ode to Marvin)

His skin is so sweet on my lips

The exotic flavour of his secret kisses and the soulfulness of his brown skin illuminate my senses.

I am totally aware of how our bodies move and how our souls dance together in a ray of sunlight.

The intention was born in that moment and all the pain will be forgotten in the glisten of the son when day breaks.


A spark that awakens the essence of myself in the mode of sacrifice.

and he looks at me like I am art and the difference is that I feel like art when he looks at me.

and when I look at him I see everything as it’s supposed to be and who he is to become.

and he showed me who I am to become

and ode to HIM

Hare Krishna

And I stood in front of Him.










I was unrecognisable from who I really am and what I really look like… and I heard a sound…

“Hare Krishna”

I cried with happiness as I witnessed the most Beautiful Lotus Face.

and who knew my name. and I knew his. Elroy.

He who sees me.

and he Loves me.

Through a sound that vibrated my Soul. and this sound become the Song of my Heart.