Weekends are for relaxing
So when we’re not exploring, eating
Or killing bats and spiders
We wear humor on our faces
We say outrageous things
And pretend the world is ours
Coz we heard it belongs
To those who can afford
To stop and smell the flowers
Tell me if you can
What haven’t we done to be twogether
The last minute bus rushes
Skipping classes, skipping town
Getting caught out in the rain
Late night bike rides in the middle of nowhere adrenaline rushes
The lies I’ve told just to be with you
I’ll gladly tell them again
…and all the other crazy things I can’t mention here
I guess the only thing remaining is for us to die
Just to be together
Wrong as it may sound when the world says we’re single
It IS true coz as much as we’re twogether, we are one
I’m tempted to say this is the most
Exciting day of my life but that would be a lie
As any day spent with you is special in its own way
And always leaves me struggling to find
Superlatives to use to describe it
Yet to say it’s special doesn’t fully capture
The immensity of the moment
And that’s what it’s all about – moments
Fractions of time that give greater meaning
To the portrait we’re constantly painting
So I’ll take this moment to say that
Even though it’s day one eight three nine on the calendar
It’s still day one in my heart
Twelve – the number of men who’ve walked on Earth’s moon
Twelve – the number of studio albums the band The Beatles released
In English, twelve is the number of greatest magnitude that has just one syllable
It’s also the number of days it takes for someone to realise
Their fate is inextricably intertwined with another soul
At least that’s true for me
I don’t know how I made it from day one to eleven
Coz day twelve was a different kind of hell
What’s even more significant is the manner
In which this awful streak was broken
The day after the twelfth day
There you were, by the road side unaware that I was approaching
The second our eyes met for the first time in twelve days
You wore that toothy grin you bring out only on occasion
– such are moments on which my world turns
In that moment I said to myselfd
I can deal with nine, ten, eleven days
But may twelve days never come between us again
Thanks for all the comely smiles
The impromptu Sunday brunches at the post office
And for being the perfect mix of crazy and cool
You’re cursed until you
See the ugliness the moon
I smile whenever I hear someone saying my name for the first time coz each person brigs a new pronunciation with them. Over the years I’ve been called Chifawanti, Chifyanti, Chifwati, Shifwanti, Twanti, Kafwanti so I can help but smile when someone encounters my name for the first time. But I smile mostly coz of the pride that comes with knowing that I’m the only person I know who bears that name.
From childhood to this day, I’ve never met or heard of any other person who goes by the name Chifwanti and I take advantage of it when I can. Last Friday I ended an interview I attended by telling the panel of interviewer’s that I was the guy they were looking for ,unique and interesting and told them they wouldn’t find another Chifwanti even if they were given a year. Of course it was chuckles and amazement after I spoke and when it’s time to hire, they will remember my name.
As a kid I was always interested in knowing what my name meant but every time I asked around, it’s like it was the best kept secret for generations coz no one seemed to know. I’d batter my dad and his brother with questions but still wouldn’t get a noteworthy response. So at age 14 I was pretty excited when my dad and I travelled to Mfuwe to visit his dad coz he had to know right, being the family patriarch and all. After a five day stay I returned home with mixed feelings: Chifwanti had been passed down in the family. As for the meaning, it didn’t have one as far as he knew. I was back at one.
About that same time I had come across my dad’s old diary from the past year. It looked like it had been abandoned halfway into the year coz the first few months were filled with work appointments and absolutely nothing after June, so definitely no revealing entries here. What caught my eye were the quotes at the bottom of every page. There was one by Ralph Waldo Emerson that just blew me away: “Our chief want is someone who will inspire us to be what we know we could be”.
It’s what I had been looking for all this time, my name was right there. So it was simple logic or synonym use after the discovery…Chifwanti translated into greatest desire as in chief (greatest) want (desire). And from that point onward I’d embraced that as the meaning of my name.
Happy as I was, I wouldn’t find the time to celebrate this long sought victory coz beyond the ‘literal’ meaning, there was the greater contextual meaning of the whole quote. To truly own the tag of chief want I’d have to be someone who could inspire at least one person in some way. But that’s easier said than done, especially if you’re looking for inspiration yourself. And so being Chifwanti is also a personal journey for me. It’s a daily struggle to realize my potential, to rise above myself and awaken my inner chief want. Yeah it’s a little confusing when you got no name sake.
So before I write I ask myself: what is my chief want or greatest desire as a writer?
To tell my own story. I don’t wanna be a sorry statistic in another damning report on Africa. It’s no secret, Africa is shaped like a question mark because it’s faced with so many ills and challenges but instead of being an arm chair critic, I will be part of the solution and will present myself to the world on my own terms and in my own words.
To give back to the world. We benefit so much from the world, in more ways than we can possibly imagine, the least we could do is give back. As a writer/poet or whatever label I take, I have to share this gift coz all I know I’ve learnt from others. And so my chief want is to go beyond the likes and comments, into the reader’s heart and mind. To inspire that one person if only I can make them read.
To continue doing what I love. I’m certainly not the best writer there is but I sure love writing. I’m more at home when I write than when I speak. So whenever I hear someone say the pen is mightier than the sword, I’m thinking the keyboard/pad is mightier than the mic. A week ago my PC froze for two days and the experience was excruciating to say the least coz I couldn’t do what I’m passionate about. And I wanna do that constantly coz it’s beautiful and therapeutic plus someone out there thinks it’s cool.