RITHULI ORLEYN

GOD is no-more mysterious than the odds of swimming through the sewer of township past year-20 mark word up biko god is the miracle of odds that got you through the door called year-zero where other 14 year-old moms like yours made it there on a siyaya taxi and on arrival in that backyard questionable clinic greeted your could-have-been zizamele preschool mates shook their hands and beheld their downcast eyes in red tone skin marveled at their best behaved umnqayi-in-hand cultural etiquette saw them twice as bundle of joy wrapped in blanket xa bephuma well more like hoped for it but didn’t make it out of the hospital let alone out of esuthwini god is the chance that you are not one in half-that-marikana lot amakrwala oomgcineni whose muffled massacres don’t get to be tv newsrooms worthy and shwashwi front cover topical you were not botched in the bloodstains of choice though god gives us all choice first long before she gives us the gift of life god gave you the miracle of both “Ii-blades zeengcibi-lenkce zamampondo hustling a quick buck this december at the expense of 20 plus patriarchs” again did not touch even the strand of your hair god is the odds that all you got was the name trash on facebook at worst god is the sunrise that has you frying eggs ne bisto this side of free-from-polio-scare dance floor he is the words “I made it” out your mouth the morning after your black friday kuyafiwa kwasesh and 16 december undead life god is the two feet you surf trains with elokshin just because “so bored” just because “sbwl” your would have been salukabakho gone awol is the measure of how thick the shield of the blood of the lamb in your devil-may-care-life this december is you see god exists don’t let them unbelievers fool you he is the piecemeal miracles their drop-by-drop collection through which it is a possibility that you are not merely remains of blood clots on a nappy or sanitary towel in that backyard clinic 25 years ago god is the throw of the dice for sure but one reshuffled by year twenty five he’s the push-back that got you sane and safe with your junior degree from that mental institution called rhodes wits and u c fucking t.