Monday, December 5, 2011


 I sense your presence
You are close behind me
I inhale your musky aroma
Moisture seeps through curls of velvet

The night was calm, until you came
My feathers smooth and unruffled
My laughter guileless and innocent
Until you came

You brought with you the thunders,
of the rainstorm
How ivory pulsates unabashedly,
as it sings warrior-songs of urgency.

Now that you are here,
The trail is enhanced with midnight dust

Breathing softly down my back,
Sharp teeth raise scallops along pliant ridge
Waken, waken, to my sleeping tiger!
Kindle the flames of my reluctant hearth

Your quivering finger in solemn quest,
blazes path to the heavy place where all roads must converge


Friday, October 28, 2011

What matters in the end?

As crazy as this may sound,
one of the things of which I am most grateful for is my recent auto-immunity illness Grave's Disease.
The impact of Grave's disease in my life, despite the everpresent physiological discomforts,
has been largely on a psyhological  and spiritual level.
Grave's is my liberator; one who has since the onset of  illness, amplified my awareness of mortality.
Grave's is the welcome harbinger of my impending demise.
We all know that we will not be here forever.
Still there is a difference between knowledge and awareness.

Studies have shown that most people romantically assume they will live to be a hundred.
Most people assume that good health is the guarantee for longevity.
Most (healthy)people regard a long life as a given and in doing so, take life for granted:
After all there's plenty of time, right?
Ofcourse every single one of us has a time-bomb ticking away.
All Grave's has done was to somewhat substantiate mine:
A small chunck of the primal, collective Time-Bomb-For-All-Life-Forms;
a minute grain of that quietly ubiquitious and amorphous Certainty, has become customized to fit me.
Its silence traded for a subtle but audible tick-tack.
On discovering that Grave's was to become a lifetime companion, I experienced a soul-shaking epiphany.
I experienced a rare feeling of true freedom.
I fully understood the meaning of *The Principle of Reverse.
For the first time ever, it truly dawned on me, it hit me with full force that I was free to live my life exactly as I wanted.
It truly hit me that I no longer wanted to waste precious time on all things irrelevant or inconsequential;
on dogmas, superficiality and petty grievances.
I no longer wanted to waste precious time on society's litany of rules based on fear and mediocrity.
It hit me that we are entirely powerless and profoundly vulnerable.
We have absolutely no say in the matter regarding the longevity of our lives; healthy or otherwise.
The thought that every moment could be my last has given new meaning to the word exhilarating.
At the doorsteps of death, I actually discovered life.

It hit me that all we can do is to ** decide what to do with the time that we have been given.
It hit me that my only true desire is to live a fulfilled life based wholly on my own terms.
Shortly afterwards I came accross the words below.
The message they convey, encapsulate my views on the value of life entirely.

"For each of us eventually, whether we are ready or not,
someday it will come to an end.
There will be no more sunrises, no minutes, hours or days.
All the things you collected, whether treasured or forgotten, will pass to someone else.
Your wealth, fame and temporal power will shrivel to irrelevance.
It will not matter what you owned or owed.
Your grudges, resentments, frustrations and jealousies will finally disappear.
So too your hopes, ambitions, plans and to-do lists will expire.
The wins and losses that once seemed so important will fade away.
It won't matter where you came from or on what side of the tracks you lived at the end.
Even your gender and skin color will be irrelevant.

So, what will matter? How will the value of your days be measured?

What will matter is not what you bought but what you built.
Not what you got, but what you gave.
What will matter is not your success but your significance.
What will matter is not what you learned but what you taught.
What will matter is every active integrity, compassion, courage or sacrifice that enriched, empowered or encouraged others to emulate your example.
What will matter is not how many people you knew but how many people will feel a lasting loss when you're gone.
What will matter is not your memories but the memories that live in those who loved you".

"A life that matters is not of circumstance but of choice." 

                                                     - The Beautiful Truth

* "Anything that works against you can also work for you once you understand The Principle of Reverse"From Maya Angelou's I know Why The Caged Bird Sings. 
** Gandalf to Merry in The Return of the king. Lord of the Rings Trilogy.

Thursday, October 13, 2011

Who cares about Steve Jobs?

When Steve died, I was among the multitude that mourned his demise. As with the death of every notable person in history, his fans and foe gave and gave and gave his passing the most precious commodity of our times: ATTENTION.

Shortly after his death I discovered these pictures above. Yes, how painfully true. Why all this attention for one life and none for the unsung millions passing quietly in swarms everyday into the afterlife?

The answer is not blowing in the wind.

 The answer lies in our over-consumptive  society.
 Steve we love you because your technology created instruments that enhance and fuel our addiction and love for things.
Through your gifts to mankind, our aptitude for consuming and our discard-after-use mentality have grown to explosive heights.
We have learned to love things even more than we love people.

Poor Steve. Nobody is mourning you as a person. They are all mourning the loss of an icon. The god of material things. If you stayed a nobody and maybe had a job as a janitor at some obscure little company (Apple?), I wonder how many people would notice your passing.

Your intimi mourn the loss of a father, husband and friend.
The world mourns the loss of what you contibuted to her material wealth.

Everyday multitudes are dying because our love for things make us and our governments boggle up our priorities so that somewhere somehow, someone else pays the bills big time.
Unimportant people are dying everyday, because we USE them to dig up the right metals needed to create that newest version of yet another gadget which we looooove so much.

As Michael Jackson ironically put it when speaking up for the millions who somehow failed to get the chance to become mini Steve Jobses:

"All I wanna say is that they don't really care about us".

Tuesday, September 20, 2011

Girls Like Me

Girls like me

Girls like me,
always we survive um
Girls like me,
always make um to dry ground
How we do um?
You no wanna  know
Da methods we employ?
Curiousity kill da cat
Wat we be showin',
only wat you can take

Da wounded she-wolf
always she lick her pain alone.
Da bitta tears be like black blood
not bizness to any man.
So when you: Foul Taker! You Warrior, Coward-man
come steal dat thin' from her queenie-place
leave her small, dying in da dust
belly wound en smellin' foul,

You tink you be Mistah Winnah
You tink da Winnah, he take um all!
I tell you
you be so fuckin' mistaken
is oldest trick in da book.
Girls like me,
we be pussycats
nine lives always land on four feet

We wipe um tears
We calm um gnawsome pain
Wit steady soul, we pay um price
Da back always it strait
Da eyes be bold black pools
you beter no wan swim dem

Hey! Peace man, No worry bro!
No look-a-look back, jus'
go ya way
life a party; no?
It be a fuckin' bed of roses.

Yea, dat be da style
dat be da style of girls like me:
always en all time,
we be landin',
on two strong black feet,
ready to go.

Tuesday, April 12, 2011

(Title unknown)

It was among ferns, I learned about eternity
Below your belly there is a curly place
Through you I learned to love the ferns on that bank
And the curve that the deer's hoof leaves in the sand.

                                                -Robert Bly

Friday, April 8, 2011

Liever dood dan geil (Eerst te zien op

Laatst zei een vriend recht uit zijn hart en vol bewondering tegen mij: “Ik vind je zo lief, je bent zo’n lekker geil wijf en een schone jonkvrouwe”. Hij sprak daarmee zijn waardering uit voor mijn vrouwelijkheid in al haar facetten, maar deed ook daarmee iets opmerkelijks: hij integreerde de twee afzonderlijke delen van het vrouw-zijn die, verrassend genoeg, vooral door vrouwen gescheiden worden gehouden, namelijk het
(lieve) Madonna-aspect en het (geile) Hoer-aspect.
Het bijzondere aan zijn compliment vind ik zijn woordkeuze: ‘geil’ in plaats van ‘sexy’. Menige vrouw zal claimen dat ze deze aspecten wel integreert in haar waardering van het vrouwelijke en dat het mannen zijn die ze al te graag gescheiden houden.
I beg to differ, want mijn ervaring is dat moer of hoer, het maakt een man die je leuk vindt echt geen bal uit. Bij vrouwen is het ook zo dat ze bij hun integratie altijd het woord ‘sexy’ zullen gebruiken in plaats van ‘geil’. ‘Sexy’ is politiekcorrect geworden maar ‘geil’ niet. En hier ligt volgens mij een wereld van verschil.
Het woord ‘sexy’ heeft als woord zijn betekenis volledig verloren. Het is gereduceerd tot een huis-, tuin- en keukenbegrip. Vandaag de dag in Nederland is ‘sexy’ niet meer dan gewoon een aanduiding voor iemands uiterlijk of kledingkeuze. Zelfs kinderen op de basisschool complimenteren elkaar met het woord ‘sexy’ als ze nieuwe gympen hebben, dus sexy is dead, as far as I’m concerned.
‘Sexy’ is voor als je een statement wilt maken binnen de grenzen van het maatschappelijk maaiveld. ‘Sexy’ is stout maar keurig, het is sociaalmaatschappelijk verantwoord. Kleuren binnen de lijntjes en toch jezelf tot een Picasso verheffen.
Maar ‘geil’! Dat is een verboden vrucht!
Niemand wil dood gevonden worden met ‘geil op zijn persoonlijke CV. Mannen zullen er misschien geen bezwaar tegen hebben, maar emancipatie verbiedt dat jij je als man openlijk, in een serieuze setting laat kwalificeren als geil. Bij de geëmancipeerde vrouwen van nu kun je het helemaal vergeten: die zijn echt liever dood dan geil. Ik zie ze met regelmaat voorbij huppelen op Twitter, waar ze zichzelf en hun matties aanprijzen als ‘power-vrouw‘. Ze heten tegenwoordig godinnen, heldinnen, super-woman of topvrouw en barsten van de girl-power; maar geil-power? HELL NO!
Liever keurig en sexy dan ‘geil’. ‘Geil’ is een belediging, ‘geil’ is voor de gevallen vrouw. Vooral de hoogopgeleide vrouw wil uitblinken en gezien worden aan de hand van haar brain-power, terwijl haar laagopgeleide zusje het doet met haar niet geringe arbeidsijver. ‘Geil’ is voor als je op het punt staat seks te hebben, geen normale staat van zijn. Nou, ze moesten eens weten.
‘Geil’ is where angels fear to tread, baby. Een constante buzz van een kundalini-high, waar je U tegen zegt; rauwe energie, de smeerolie van de maatschappij, oerscheppingskracht. Ik weet dat het in de dikke Van Dale net iets anders beschreven staat; namelijk ‘begerig naar seks’. Daarom verruim ik hierbij als ervaringsdeskundige de betekenis van het woord.
Voor mij is geil-zijn is een soort caramellaagje dat uit mijn poriën sijpelt. Ik voel me niet alleen begerig naar seks bij slechts the scent of a man, maar ook in touch met alles, mee vibrerend met al dat overvloedige prana om me heen.
Dat vrouwen niet graag geil worden genoemd, zegt iets over de staat van de ware emancipatie van vooral vrouwen. Wij zijn stoer op alle fronten en willen vooral ons eigen geld verdienen, maar zijn bang voor waardeverlies in de ogen van mannen als we geil worden gevonden. Dus spelen we op safe en kiezen we voor het ouwe, truttige ‘sexy’.
Nooit heb ik me als Afrikaanse vrouw gereduceerd gevoeld tot slet of minderwaardig gevoeld omdat ik een geile vrouw ben, integendeel. De G(eil)-Factor is de nieuwe X-Factor. Het is deze G-Factor die een bling geeft aan alles wat ik doe, mij woest aantrekkelijk voor de opposite sex maakt en een damn good moeder voor mijn kids: fel als een leeuwin maar zacht als honing, rotsvast als een muur en toch easy like Sunday morning.
Ik vraag me geregeld af wat er zal gebeuren als mensen met zijn allen op zoek gaan naar hun G-knop in plaats van elkaar afkraken op basis van ras, sekse, geloof, politieke overtuigingen en dat soort ondingen. En dat ze bij het vinden van hun G-knopje 3, 2, 1 aftellen en dat ding massaal eens lekker ingedrukt houden: Buzzzzzzzzzzzzzz!!!
Gloria in Excelsis Géo.

Chinello Ifebigh werkt aan een onderzoek voor haar volgende boek over de ‘booty-call’: ze wil weten hoe mensen kijken naar seks binnen een vriendschap zonder dat er sprake is van een relatie. En of u daarvoor even deze enquête wilt invullen.

Friday, March 4, 2011

Snowball Effect

Awhile ago, I wrote a guest blog for a company called 210th.
The title of my blog was Ode to the Booty Call
As the name already implies, this blog instigated a wave of interesting, positive reactions from both men and women all over the world. Till this, day I am still getting emails and new twitterazzi because of this blog.

In lieu of the intensity of these reactions, I decided to pursue this subject and have started writing a book on the subject of booty calling.
My approach is that modern booty calling is about intimacy between two people who know each other fairly well.
The Booty Call is a different thing all together from a classic One Night Stand; which is usually a one time thing where the parties involved are relative strangers. Modern booty calling has come a long way and in my opinion is evolving into an "act of friendship".

Right now, I am doing research on the subject and would greatly appreciate it if you would take a few minutes to anonimously share your thoughts, opinion and (past) experiences on the subject.

The more information I have, the sounder my book so please help me out by participating in my questionnaire but more importantly by, also sending the link of the questionnaire to all your friends.

To partake in the questionnaire klik on this link:

Here is an excerpt from the famous blog, where it all began: Ode to the Booty Call:

To say the least, I was excited and very honored to write this blog for 210th . Usually, in the days preceeding a blog, I allow the theme of my chosen subject to embed itself into my subconscious. This way, eating, breathing and dreaming this theme, I am able to write an excellent piece of work on the subject at hand.

This time however, the themes of 210th initially made me break out in a cold sweat: A high- class erotic online boutique for couples with love, attention, intimacy and communication as the elements geared towards bringing couples Closer Together.

Nothing wrong with the above except for the fact that I am a happy single. How can I, from my single girl's point of view, write a blog on a product aimed only at couples? How does it make me, a single person feel at the fact that these exclusive items are not really intended for people like me? Does not being in a relationship exclude us singles from intimacy and erotism?

Granted, when one has no relationship, erotism restricts itself to a solo adventure. Infact the most exciting man in my bed these days is my six year old son. His bedroom toys, a proud and motley collection of Toy Story characters.

Still all hope is not lost. Luckily in today's modern world there is an excellent alternative which allows singles to share and enjoy erotism and intimacy with someone else: The Booty Call.

Booty Calling refers to the act of (regular) sexual intimacy between two people who are not in love with- or in a relationship with one another. It is a mutual agreement between two autonomous individuals and above all, an act of friendship. It is far from perfect; I know, but when deployed under the right conditions, it can work perfectly.
The key word here is mutual. Booty calling is about having equal mutual interests and intentions in temporarily satisfying each other's intimate needs in a safe and respectful manner.

Genuine Booty calling is truly an act of friendship. It is about two people who are comfortable enough with one another even without sex. It is definately not about using someone or taking advantage of the other. The objectives of the booty call should be clear and concise to both parties at all times: Helping each other to fulfill a healthy need without unecessary complications and stopping without rancor when one party wants out.

The perfect Booty call is defined as...

Read the rest HERE