“If you take a seed, [...] and scatter it across the lands, some will end up in marshes, some in rich fertile lands with flowing streams, others in sand, and others among the mountains and rocks. If the seed is tough, it will adapt and survive in all conditions; if it is weak, it will perish. The same seed in one country may yield a baobab but in another an oak. Our race is a potent seed. Whether you are from Ghana or Guyana, you are born of the same seed and you will be of the same fruit. We must recognize our fruition in London, in Paris, in Dakar, in Harare, and in Maputo. Our roots are deep and wide. We must extend our hearts and minds, like bridges, over the swamps of racial injustice, to link us together.” DiasporaPanafricanismAfrican Diaspora Book:Zenzele: A Letter for My Daughter Source: Zenzele: A Letter for My Daughter
“She told me as I sat frightened like a mouse, just like you, 'A woman's body follows the moon. It is not still and hard like a man's. Her happiness and sadness take many forms; each day the brightness of her light and the mysterious depths of her shadows may change. A woman is close to the earth yet near to the heavens. She grows like the harvest; she becomes ripe like fruit. When, after many children, my son looks at you and asks where is the beauty of your youth, tell him these words. The body of your youth stays with your youth, and the body of the harvest, that is the body of your later years. Look at nature, how she dresses herself for every season. In the summer, she adorns herself as fields of rose and pink blooms, with fruits of peach, mango, and lemon, and as the season cools, she, too, dresses in darker hues of brown, maroon, and gold, and in the rains she is all gray mist and stormy blues. A woman must always be proud and look after herself.' Those are principles we follow forever, even us old ones.” AgingWomanhoodOral HistoryAfrican Women Book:Zenzele: A Letter for My Daughter Source: Zenzele: A Letter for My Daughter
“You look at us old women, covered from head to toe in our tight headdresses and our long skirts, and you think we are like the nuns, afraid to show their bodies because it is a sin. But that is not so. It is because we understand nature's ways. We have lived long and deep in the bush with her. And she is a woman like us. My beauty is here now,' she said, pointing to her wrinkles and her breasts. 'There are birthmarks and then there are these. He-he. These are the marks of life. My face, just as it is, the map of my toils and joys, is as precious to me as your little waist and your rounded breasts are to you. This is testimony to the love I have given my family. There is not a mark here that is my own. It belongs to Baba va Tapiwa, Chipo, Farai, Tawona, and Ziyanai. It is a body of love. You see it as an old, dry, lifeless thing, but one day you will understand that each beauty has its season. The flaky, rough coconut protects the flesh and the sweet juices within. The body of youth knows its day and must live it to its fullest. The body of the harvest, too, has its time. That is mine. It is a body that has reaped and sown and gathered unto itself. Someday, too, will come the body of the earth, the final eternal one, which has no form or end, to which we must all return. I came to see you tonight, daughter, to tell you these words that my mother-in-law told me on my wedding night, ages ago, so that the wisdom of our ancestors may swell and ripen with each new bud that flowers. So our roots grow deeper and our words never die.” AgeingBeauty In Aging Book:Zenzele: A Letter for My Daughter Source: Zenzele: A Letter for My Daughter