A Line A Day – 05

~ Naledi Biyela ~ Leave a comment

Write a line someone might say to protect you…

I struggled to wrap my head around this prompt, but I simply thought of words that have deeply impacted me. Words that I still carry with me and use to create healthy boundaries.

They’re very simple:

“But does it bring you peace?”

A Line A Day – 04

~ Naledi Biyela ~ Leave a comment

Write a line conveying a list of what you’d need to survive the end of the world.

I think about the end of the world a lot. After much deliberation, my final verdict is that the end of the world is not something you want to survive.

But if I were, here’s what I would need:

Toothpaste, a pen and a journal. Maybe three journals. A picture of my mother – both of them. My favourite dress. An afro comb. Vaseline. Sneakers. A small dog named Koffi. An endless supply of coffee. My one good bra. My old, ratty Bible. Crossword puzzles. A tote bag, of course.

A Line A Day – 03

~ Naledi Biyela ~ 2 Comments

Write a line about something lost, but not missed

Ironically, the very meaning of the line

is lost on me

I miss everything I’ve ever lost

And things I’ve never had

Loves, dresses, life experiences

But especially the ones I have.

I’m a museum of things left behind

but dearly missed.

A Line A Day – 01

~ Naledi Biyela ~ Leave a comment

Write a line that starts with “If only…”

Do I dare take on another writing challenge? It would make much more sense to start on January 1st like everyone else. But recently my life was hit by a tidal wave of destruction so great, it taught me to seize moments of inspiration when they come. It’s impossible to put a timing on these things.

This daily writing challenge was put together by one of my favourite writers, T. De Los Reyes, and so I had to give it a try.

“If only I had known, that a beautiful year could still wreck you, and your very soulmate could break you.”

Ask All the Worms I Know

~ Naledi Biyela ~ Leave a comment

Somehow, somewhere, I stopped being afraid of bugs and insects. One of my favourite parts of the day is when I see a little creature crawling through my living room, and I hustle to find a piece of paper to guide it back home. This isn’t always a smooth process. Sometimes I’m nervous, but most times they are. They don’t find it easy to trust. That’s when my voice lowers to a hush, and I whisper, “I won’t hurt you, I promise. Ask all the worms I know.”

Then I let it go back into the wild, where they’re likely to escape again, and we start the entire process all over again. The reason I find this little ritual fascinating is because a year or two ago, I couldn’t look at a millipede, worm or caterpillar, without cringing or grabbing the closest weapon available (see: broomstick). What changed?

I’ll tell you… I simply got to know them. For the past few years, our yard has been infiltrated by an army of these tiny red millipedes every spring. They are everywhere, slithering through the gaps beneath our doors with quiet determination. At first, I would shriek and grab a broom to chuck them away.

Then, it happened. I was grabbing a piece of paper to pick up a hairy worm (yep, that is the official scientific name), and I found myself in awe at how vulnerable it looked as it shuffled against the sheet. I realised I had never actually looked at them this closely before… From this angle, they weren’t so much threatening as fascinating. It changed my outlook on insects completely.

The sheet of paper became my new go-to method of putting out crawling intruders – millipedes, rain worms and the like. As I continued with this practice, my fear ebbed away. I realised that fear is simply a lack of knowledge amplified by our assumptions. We find the unknown, or things outside of the norm, threatening. This might be a biological instinct we developed through evolution, to protect us from threats and predators. We can, however, be rewired to think differently.

Imagine my own surprise when I dissuaded my sister from killing a bug by throwing it out in a sealed container. I walked to the bin, retrieved it and got the little guy out. That’s me… Friend to the Animals™
Who would’ve thought?

Loving worms has also taught me a lot about people. It got me thinking about a poem by Nikki Giovanni, Allowables. In it, she recounts an encounter she had with a little, papery spider that she killed… even though it posed no threat to her. She did it almost on instinct – all because she was afraid. Nikki concludes the poem by saying, “I don’t think I am allowed to kill something because I am frightened.” That line had a profound impact on me, because it could be applied to so many social ills we face today. How many times have people died needlessly, just because human beings have acted on an irrational fear of the unknown?

Whoever coined the term phobia to mean the strong dislike of a group of people was onto something. Perhaps if we understood and treated racism, not as a moral failing, but the misjudgements one can make of a group while observing it from the outside.

I’ll give you an example. When I was in high school, a close friend of mine, Thabie, and I were having a conversation. Now, Thabie is a very animated and passionate person. In this conversation, she was sharing some grievances she had with a mutual friend, while I listened patiently. We were in the hallway at school, and she stood in front of me as I leaned against the wall. Just as Thabie raised her hands in a dramatic gesture, someone came flying down the hall to pull us apart… That someone was our deputy principal.

We stood there, shocked, as he intoned, “Leave the girl alone!” The tension seeped out of us as we realised the misunderstanding. I frantically explained that we weren’t fighting. “She’s just telling me a story!” It certainly didn’t occur to us how our exchange appeared on the outside. She told stories the way all the women in my family did, reconstructing events so vividly, it almost felt as if you were there. In this instance, she was recounting a heated back and forth with incredible detail. While I considered her mannerisms passionate, funny and dramatic, others could easily perceive them as aggressive or threatening. This isn’t a critique against the deputy principal – he apologised profusely for his mistake. Thabie is now a teacher at the same school… So he’s essentially her boss, in the funny way these things go.

But that moment stayed with me, not just because it was funny; it helped me to understand something. The only difference between my response to Thabie’s tone and body language versus the principal’s, was my intimate knowledge of her. If a stranger had cornered me against the wall and thrown up their hands, I would have been appropriately terrified. But because I knew her, the way she laughed and ate, and fussed over everyone – I felt safe with her.

I think of how often racial and social divides have been caused by judging someone’s culture through the lens of your own. For instance, a culture that prizes dignity and honour, would be less inclined to show great displays of emotion. They would instead value meekness and quiet. Now place them within a culture that prizes community and self-expression. They would consider that environment to be… Disorderly, disruptive or imposing. The latter culture on the other hand, might consider the new party’s silence and restraint as judgemental, disengaged, untrustworthy.

Conversely, if you placed an individual from the second culture into an environment like the first, their familiarity and openness would be considered impolite, attention-grabbing, and perhaps, inconsiderate. If the root of hatred is fear, then the root of fear is a lack of knowledge and understanding. If both individuals were to observe each other’s environments closely, they may begin to understand that what they previously perceived as threats were just cultural differences.

Given time, they may come to appreciate these differences, and more importantly, look beyond them. One of the best ways to dismantle the misconceptions and judgements we carry is to find the ways in which we are united.

As I mentioned, our yard is absolutely crawling with these critters. There’s a strong likelihood they creep in undetected at night while I’m sleeping or preoccupied with a task. I’ve found myself wondering why I’ve never accidentally stepped on one when I walked through the living room at night. Just a few nights ago, my question was answered.

I was, ashamedly, using my phone while it was still plugged in, hoping to get it fully charged before bed. I was about to stand and pull it out of the charger, when I saw a huuuge millipede skirting around my path and hurrying away. It seemed to have an awareness of where I was, and wanted to get the hell out of there. Thus, the reason I’ve never sat on or trampled one in the dark was their earnest doing. They wanted to avoid me as much as I wanted to avoid them. So we are alike in that way. I felt the last of my fear dissolving away. I didn’t want to cause them pain, and they were just trying to stay out of my way and survive as best as they could.

And that concludes the last of my astute observations inspired by my worm friends.
I do wonder what they think of me!

In A Broken Home (A Series)

~ Naledi Biyela ~ Leave a comment

These are the words that never see the light of the day. They’re the things I don’t have the courage to say. But have gathered up in the corners of my home, collecting dust. Dripping from the cups in the sink.
They’re the things I don’t even have the courage to think.
So I’ve placed them here, until I am brave enough. Or just afraid enough.
There are days I fear I will never be enough.
And others I am afraid I am too much.

This is a poem series I’ve penned for those who know what it feels like.

In a broken home…
It’s the quiet that gets you
The peace seems to taunt
that fragile hope
As we wait for the next blow to fall
But we hope anyway.
With porcelain smiles, we try
and sway to hidden music
Like puppets on a string
Fearfully we flicker, then shine
yearning for things to be different this time.
So we dust off the good china
crack open the special wine
and raise a toast to a loving home
And then…
No one remembers how it starts
We all vacate our skin, evaporate into thin air
To somewhere far and safe
Mine is a lovely stretch of beach
in the Carribean sea
Later, I will go for a swim…
And soon, I can’t even hear the screams.

In a broken home…
You can drown in a coffee cup
Burn beneath a well-aimed glare
Trip over a strand of hair
The rules of the world don’t apply there
I was something different
An anomaly that shouldn’t have existed
It was abominable what happened in that home
They say the carpet is still stained
From the remains
Crayons immortalized on the wall
A table still set for four

We still lived there
Drinking from empty glasses
Toasting to time that never passes
We go out once a week
Dressed in neat Sunday finery
In a straight line, just as we rehearsed,
Have a glorious time
And then we leave in a flurry before
The spell wears off
And someone notices the smell
Of rotten flesh and bone
We ride off, we do
In a pumpkin carriage, leaving behind a tattered shoe
Then at last we arrive to our humble abode
And seal the door closed
But no one is home

In a broken home…
You can’t quite put your finger on it
The silver is polished
And the crystal glistens in the cabinet
The floor is clean as sin
Its inhabitants seem innocent
Because this is a bloodless crime scene
All the violence happens inside you.

In a broken home…

People tell you how lucky you are

How beautiful your life looks from afar

You don’t have the heart

To kill their fantasy

You consider it a kindness, to hide your scars

Even as you live in tragedy.

Purpose and Poetry

~ Naledi Biyela ~ Leave a comment

If I could describe my life’s philosophy, journey and development in two words: they would be purpose and poetry.

While this does roll off the tongue quite nicely, it’s not just a catchphrase… It’s the essence of my identity. When I look at where I’ve been, who I am and where I’m going, all my steps are led by purpose and poetry.

Purpose, to me, is the pursuit of self. Of living with intention, and ensuring that everything I do aligns with my vision and values. It’s about taking the tough lessons and difficult experiences I’ve had in my life, and cultivating them into something beautiful, of value and assistance to others.

If purpose is my why, then poetry is my how. It is both a gift and a tool, to help me understand others and myself. Through poetry, I am able to explore more deeply the issues that affect us universally. I am able to connect with others, be brave and vulnerable, and make impactful changes in my immediate world.

With this in mind, I have decided to start up my own professional editing service… Purpose & Poetry Editing!!

If you’re new here, my name is Sthuthukile Naledi Biyela, a writer, poet and editor based in South Africa. I have two years of publishing experience and I’ve edited over 20 titles in various genres.

This editing service is open to all writers of fiction, poetry and memoirs. My aim is to get your manuscript prepared for publishing. I ensure that your work is correct (grammar, punctuation, line breaks), clear (intention, themes, readability) and flows well (cohesive-ness, consistency, narratively strong).

What you can expect from the edit:

My first priority is to hear, in your own words, the vision and intention you have for your work. What do you want readers to experience through your book? This is the emotional core I will base most of my corrections and feedback upon. Preserving your vision and artistic voice is of utmost importance.

Once I have a clear understanding of what you want, then we may begin.

I will then read your manuscript and simply sit with your words, allowing them to speak for themselves first. Then I will start my editing process.

I am also offering manuscript appraisals, an in-depth analysis of the strengths, weaknesses, structure, plot and themes of your work. I will provide feedback on how to improve any storytelling concerns.

Poetry editing:

I will help you curate an impactful and cohesive poetry collection or chapbook (from 15 poems and upwards). Please note that I will analyse each poem individually, providing feedback on its strengths (what I love) and weaknesses (what could be improved). I will look at the themes it explores and how they may be enhanced.

Next, I will look at word choice, grammar, punctuation and structure. While poetry is subjective, I will make suggestions to improve and enhance your vision. Then I will look at the full collection: How do the poems fit together? Does the order tell a story? Are there any poems out of place? Is there an extra chapter needed? Is there an overarching theme?

Loves, I’ve been blogging on WordPress for a long time. It’s still one of the most fulfilling writing platforms… Here, there is community and selfless support. If you’ve enjoyed any of my words, or wondered about the person behind them, I would appreciate if you could share this post with someone. Particularly, anyone looking for an editor. I will attach a poster for you to download and share, below.

If you are interested in these services, send me an email:

purposeandpoetry.edit@gmail.com

Poetry is my speciality. I’ve worked with fiction, but I will be forthright if any genre is beyond my depth. Memoirs are also welcome – especially if they’re written in prose or vignettes.

My packages are as follows :

  • Light edit – Proofreading and checking manuscript before publishing.
  • Standard edit – Copyediting and line-editing
  • Complete editing package – Copy-editing and line editing + Manuscript Appraisal

As a writer myself, I know how daunting the editing process can be. I will work closely with your needs, and find a price range that suits us both.

This is my first poster and you are the first to see it. I will improve upon it soon, so stay tuned. Find out more at:

purposeandpoetry.edit@gmail.com

Thank you!