Not just the good…

So I couldn’t blog this June because I was overtaken by #30daysofjune on Instagram. Interesting place I must say. I am not too sure though that I want to explore more apps of social media. Too addictive. Not a bad thing if it makes you money or helps you reach out / in.

I still don’t plan to blog in July because I am not done with school. As soon as it is done I will be here. I have to be here. But somehow the emotion – the writing emotion – gets its way and words are all over the place. My phone, my diary, my fridge, my computer. The head refuses to hold them. “Get us out! Get us out!” They keep saying. So I have to walk around with a power bank because it’s easier to dispel my thoughts while charged.

Coach Ingenious threw some writing idea at me. I am so excited about it. I literally have to block it from interfering with my daily thinking. I am learning, however, to accept that it is okay to go to bed at 1.30am because such literary moments must be expunged, exorcised, maybe expressed is a less mortifying word.

But my greatest learning is that God can use anything – writing in my case – and no I am not amazing. That will take me finishing my paper and on that day (read published and available on Amazon *dreaming is valid*), I shall distinguishly accord myself the title of writer because churning accounting manenos isn’t a joke. That paper will open doors because I refuse to close the door at 100 pages. But yes in this dilettante-ness, God is creating me a message. The stillness, the betterness, the eagerness is all coming… O my soul it is well! 


I will allow space for all the feelings my heart holds. I will not cower or hide from myself. It’s okay to feel the ugly messy things. It’s okay to feel the burning brilliance of beauty. It’s okay to feel the soft winds of happiness and the quiet bursts of loneliness. It’s okay to feel it all. It’s okay to be myself, all of myself, not just the good ~ Unknown

Thank you June! 



The Epistle of L. F. Scolari…

This past week I had the awesome privilege of attending Biko Zulu’s Creative Writing Master Class… An absolutely inspiring guy I must say… Here is my best submission for the class…

Image source here

I am annoyed. I am ashamed. I am anguished. How is it that a man of my calibre would bring such disrepute to this great nation? O how I wish it was another day, another time when we did not have the world at our stage. I hear the jeers in their celebration and sneers in their auf wiedersehens. I cannot imagine they will drink from the cup. Our cup! Curse the lineage of the octopus that ever thought to prophesy in their favour! May her eggs never rise to shore again.

Now they say it, that I should have left a long time back. That the 11-man army should have been led by a dark man, a tall man, a handsome man. Nonsense! Utter nonsense! A man is a man is a man. O my stomach churns at the tearful pains of my sons stripped of their yellow grassy blue pride. No more samba, no more choro, just weakened men thirsting for a noose.

But though a man falls 7 times, yet he shall rise again. And so I say to you my Ronaldinho that in the mid of the field your attack will rise again.  And in your defense my dear Thiago, I swear to you that your shoulder will rise again. And to you Julio, my very son Cesar I pray that your very hands will rise again. And to Neymar, my Captain and King, I decree and declare that your golden feet will rise again. I have no doubt, absolutely no doubt that Bresil will rise again.

Tesha Mongi © March 2016


Feather pen set of abstract colour
Image source Google search

Sometimes it sounds odd when I tell my friends (or anyone for that matter) that I love to write when there is really nothing to show for it. Sometimes I feel that I don’t have the time to write. Sometimes I feel I have too many stories to write and don’t know where to start. Sometimes it’s just feels like so much work and I already have a day job. Sometimes it is an excuse. Sometimes it is laziness. But sometimes it is injustice to the one who has the gift.

The gift unpacks the skill and the skill unpack the calling ~ D. Mavia

BUT because I always smile at the sometimes deep things I write, the sometimes seemingly silly things I write, and the sometimes very amateurish things I write, I will write. Whether amateur or pro, a writer MUST write FUN SIZED STUFF!

Of Coaches and 2014…

Image source here

So yesterday I was hanging out with one of my coaches… And we were discussing the things that bring joy… Well here goes…

July 6, 2014

Dear Uncle Scolari,

I hope you’ve been watching 🙂 See you Tuesday!


Your Niece 🙂

July 8, 2014

Dear Ref,

You are invited to play with us.

Yes I am not ashamed 🙂

As for Zuniga,

Let us not find you roaming on the streets of Rio 🙂

Scolari’s Niece

July 9, 2014

Dear Uncle Scolari,

Just want you to know that I still have my jersey on despite the obliteration, annihilation and desecration that this evening has been. I wish I could cry but I really don’t get that part of football; one day hubby will explain 🙂 And though this is bad history for a country whose national sport is football, some day the team will rise to the occasion and the kids of our kids kids will hear and witness the great turnaround. Even the mighty fall 🙂

I haven’t called Baba but I can hear his every 2-minute intermittent hearty laughter penetrate my walls as he recounts the play. O boy! I know he will call, not to gloat, but to give his sincere ‘poles’. But such is life na asiyekubali kushindwa si mshindani. And though we could slither to position #3 on Saturday, the truth is Uncle that more work is needed. But do pat yourself a little because the overall performance was definitely better than SA 2010. SA was bad /o\

In related stories, I have been receiving hate mail, sorry mail and all sorts of mail because of my stand. I stood with you in 1994 and I feel no differently today. And so I send my a million hugs to you, my cousin Cesar, Neymar, Thiago, Gonzalez, David Luiz, Paulinho, Fernandinho, Gustavo, Marcelo and the entire squad. I know Cafu, Dunga, Bebeto, Denilson, Rivaldo, Ronaldo, Roberto Carlos, Ronaldinho are equally concerned so it is not a battle that you do not have to fight alone. #TukoWengi #TukoPamoja

OK, I need to be at work tomorrow, sorry today… So sending lots of hugs, hugs and more hugs. But do remember Saturday, we need a ‘kufutia machozi’

Lotsa Hugs ♥ ♥ ♥

Ms Felipa 🙂

July 13, 2014

Dear Uncle Scolari

I didn’t make it to the pitch yesterday but seeing the results today, I’m glad I didn’t. And with that kind of play, I don’t think we will even qualify for Russia.

It is time for a new crop of players, players with extensive international exposure. Beach football is not FIFA complaint.

It is time to re-toughen the team’s work so that if Neymar is knocked, Fred or Gustavo or any other man can cover for him. Better still, improve their weight so that no Zuniga can ever threaten them.

It is time for a new coach because it is disrespectful for you and Jurgen to share an era 🙂


Felipa Muller (yes he proposed) ♥ ♥ ♥

July 14, 2014

Congratulations Germany!

You most certainly deserved it! It’s a wrap, it’s been real, it’s been Brazil 2014!

L♥tsa L♥ve Felipa Scolari-Muller 🙂


Image source here

Got home before the sun. The kids were still playing on cabro. Shame there are no more grounds. Drove slowly, very slowly. Mama says hooting scares children. Confuses them too. Reversed slowly, very slowly. Sometimes the ball conveniently bounces to this slot. Finally home. Turned off the engine. Picked my bag. Sorry baggage. Then this boy, about 2, moved away from the crowd and walked towards me quickly, very quickly. He had a rock, a very BIG rock. “He is short,” I thought. He’ll miss if he aims for my face. He looked up and hugged my leg instead.

at arm’s length…

Image source here

One day I will fall

In the clasp of another

That day I will sing

To the King as his Queen

Partaking of the forbidden

I will savor every moment

The kissing of his feet

The washing of his feet

The teaching of his sons the way of his feet

I will savor the sweet

I will savor the sour

Till then I will keep at length

At arm’s length


Tesha Mongi © Jan-13

unashamed (the sequel)…

I get amazed some times when I write… because I really don’t know what the piece will finally look like… for this particular one I didn’t think it would turn out to fit a sequel but O well, it is well 🙂

Naked and ashamed we stood

Not really knowing where to stand

So we hid

Weeping, we held together arm in arm

Life had come short

It was bad

He knew better…


We are tall, almost 6

Reaching places not everyone can

If it was taxes, we were ready

not this

Despite the pain we stood our ground

Covering selves in Horatio’s hymn

‘It is well’ we sang


Honour the Man who graciously gives

Bless His name who graciously takes

For in a while we weep

But soon He returns our sleep

We will therefore not belabour our nakedness

For in the same way we came

We will return, unashamed…


Tesha Mongi © Jun-13