I Am Here, and I Belong

It is difficult for some parents to accept that they have a gay child. I should know.

When parents are present in a child’s life, they usually notice their child’s development and begin to realise when there is a difference. Every involved parent who has raised a child has, at some point, sensed the direction in which that child is growing.

Unfortunately, many parents refuse to acknowledge the true capabilities within their child. Instead, they only see what they have projected onto them and do their best to stifle any growth that develops against their wishes. This can happen amongst siblings as well.

It took me a long time to open up, to accept who I am, and to live my truth. Coming out to my family as a gay man was not intentional. I think they always knew, but the day I finally confirmed it still hit differently.

I do not think my parents were ready for me to stand my ground so confidently and acknowledge my true self.

Back in the day, as recorded somewhere in history, around 1994 or 1995, possibly around 21 October, something happened that changed everything. A letter appeared in the then widely read newspaper, published in the Letters to the Editor section. The title read, ‘Gay and Proud’. My name and address were printed for all to see.

I did not send that letter.

At the time, I must have been only sixteen years old. It was chaos.

I remember my father being the one to break the news to me. When he drove his truck into the yard, you could hear the anger in the engine. It was around 7am, and when my father was home at that hour, you knew something was wrong.

My world stopped. Faced with this sudden situation, I denied everything, and in all honesty, I truly had not sent that declaration.

I cried bitterly. Yes, this is me, but I did not make this public. I had to react quickly and deny it all, because at that time, saying yes felt like a death sentence, by anything available to destroy me. To this day, I still wonder who did this.

I remember my older brother taking me to the Bulawayo Chronicle offices, demanding to see the editor and to view the handwriting of the person who submitted the letter. Of course, we never got that, and life simply went on.

Today, I am finally out and proud to all my family members. Life is good. Yet somehow, the homophobia, the misunderstanding, the misdirection still surfaces within my parents and siblings. It hurts when I witness their actions, sometimes without them even realising what they are doing.

I see it every day. I see the homophobia in my closest family members. It is evident. God bless my parents and siblings, they do try.

But they cannot defeat me.

I am stronger and better than they know.

I am here, and I too belong.

Our Quiet Miracle

It is amazing how someone can walk into your life, and it feels like they have just turned on the light.

Seven years ago, on this day, I met Akin and wow, it has been a collection of moments, decisions, pauses, courage, and grace. These seven years have shown us laughter that surprised us, tears we did not expect, and strength we discovered only because we had to. When I look back at our journey, I do not see perfection but instead, I see intention. I see two people choosing to stay, to grow, and to believe.

Meeting You Changed My Rhythm

When we met, I did not know I was standing at the edge of something life-altering. What I felt was ease. A conversation that flowed without effort. A presence that made the world quieter, calmer, more focused. I did not know then that this would become my safe place, my laughter, my home.

What followed was not simple. Distance tested us, time zones stretched us.
Life demanded patience and yet somehow, instead of pulling apart, we leaned in.

Love That Teaches and Heals

This love has taught me things I never learned before, like love can be gentle without being weak. That commitment does not trap you but expands you. That being fully seen is not frightening when it comes with kindness.

We are still growing side by side, sometimes stumbling, sometimes soaring but we have learned when to speak, when to listen, and when silence is its own form of understanding. Through it all, this love have shown me what steady love looks like.

Our Story Continues

This anniversary is not just a celebration of time passed, but of all the tomorrows still waiting for us. More laughter. More lessons. More moments where the world fades away and it is just us, still talking, still dreaming.

Akin, happy seventh anniversary my love.
Thank you for walking this path with me, for choosing me as I choose you.
Always, and in all ways.

Childhood Memories

Fascinating Stuff.

I have an apparent memory from when I was a little boy. I was in the car with my parents, driving somewhere, and I remember we had to cross over the railway line. It was a detour due to construction for a flyover bridge being built along Athlone Avenue, just by the cemetery.

I remember this so vividly I have often shared this memory with my parents. Unsurprisingly, they do not share this little piece of history.
My memory is of a historic moment, the construction of a bridge that has since been completed and now stands strong, generation after generation.

Well, it gets better than just a memory. It turns out that the bridge in question was built long before my dad hit puberty, and well before my mum even started laying eggs.

It is interesting how this memory of this bridge construction lives so strongly and remains so clearly imprinted in my mind. Of even more interest, my parents have their own kind of memory connected to this bridge.

Something About the Bridge.

Many years ago, my parents were on their way home from an event at my uncle and aunt’s place. At the time, they lived in an apartment in town. As my parents waited for the last bus, they were offered a lift home by a kind gentleman who said he was travelling in the same direction. Unsure whether the bus would even arrive, they accepted the offer and were on they way.

The journey took them down Main Street and onto Athlone Avenue. They sailed along and all was well, until just as they crossed the fly-over bridge, shortly after the cemetery, the man’s car stalled and fell silent. According to my dad, he offered his assistance to help with any engine issues, but the man did not respond.

Then, in a sudden moment, the man demanded that they get out of his car. Shocked, my parents looked at each other. The man shouted again, louder this time, ordering them to get out. They did so immediately and began to walk away. The man stayed in his car and said nothing else. After walking a few metres, they turned around, and there was no car and no man anywhere in sight.

To end their story, they tell us they held each other’s hands and ran non-stop for just over 1Km all the way home.

Even bridges have stories.

Cultural Insights: The Agbada

I enjoy getting to learn and understand things about different people and their cultures.

I got to learn about the Agbada outfit, which is a grand, flowing robe that holds deep cultural meaning among the Yoruba people of Nigeria, and more broadly across West Africa. It is both a symbol of status and a celebration of artistry, tradition, and identity.

I knew Akin would wear a traditional Nigerian outfit on his 60th birthday. What I did not know was the style he would choose. It wasn’t until the day of his birthday I learned the outfit he wore is the Agbada.

As I came to understand its meaning, the garment shifted from being simply beautiful to deeply symbolic.

Traditionally worn by elders and men of standing, the Agbada represents wisdom, maturity, and respect earned over time. It is not about display, but about presence. In that sense, it felt perfectly aligned with the milestone of turning sixty, a moment that speaks to experience, resilience, and self-assurance.

Watching him wear it, the Agbada seemed to reflect the man himself. Calm, grounded, and quietly confident. The flowing fabric and measured embroidery carried a sense of heritage and intention, reminding me that some things are not rushed, they are grown into.

That day, the Agbada was more than an outfit. It spoke about a life lived with purpose, and a reminder that age, when embraced with grace, becomes its own kind of elegance.

 

 

Thoughts Flood About the Journey Into the New Year

As we move from 2025 into a new year, 2026. There's something powerful about taking a moment to pause, reflect, and realign ourselves with what truly matters.

This isn't just about making resolutions but it's about embracing a mindset that will carry us forward with purpose and peace.

The Power of Gratitude.

Every day I appreciate the good fortune bestowed on me. I believe that the more gratitude you express, the more blessings you'll have to be thankful for. Reflecting on blessings helps maintain a positive outlook, and it always works well.When you train your mind to notice the good, you create a ripple effect that touches every aspect of your life.

Your Life, Your Pace.

It is extremely important to prioritize your well-being, enjoy life, be patient, and trust that things are coming into place. The ability to concentrate solely on your own life is a remarkable strength. I am learning to master my own life, and I have noticed that the world bends around your discipline.

Sharpen your focus, refine your habits, and remember, not everyone around you will comprehend your journey, and that's okay, it is not meant for them to understand.

Some paths are personal, not public. You don't need universal understanding, just clarity, commitment, and the courage to keep moving forward anyway.

Small Steps, Significant Impact.

Even if you cannot accomplish grand feats, you can still execute small tasks remarkably well, the ultimate rule -  slow success, effectively executed. 

There's profound strength in consistency, (still trying this with my exercise routine) in showing up day after day, and doing what needs to be done with excellence, no matter how small it may seem, words I always try to remember.

Resilience Through Setbacks.

No matter the setbacks, never surrender. Each failure teaches valuable lessons and strengthens our character.

I've heard it said, every stumble is a stepping stone, every challenge a chance to grow stronger. The path isn't always smooth, but it's always forward.

A Season of Joy Awaits.

As this year draws to a close, I'm wishing one and all and all my friends an incredible season. May it be filled with joy, relaxation, and memorable moments. Enjoy every bit of it!

Keep safe, keep moving forward, there's no need to look back, as the path ahead awaits your journey. 

The best chapters of your story are still unwritten, and you hold the pen. Here's to new beginnings, steady progress, and the courage to walk your own path. 

An Official Birthday Proclamation

Hear ye, hear ye!

On this day, it is formally acknowledged that a certain individual has reached the distinguished age of sixty. Let it be known that this milestone has been met with composure, curiosity, and an entirely unreasonable amount of charm.

Contrary to outdated expectations, there has been no slowing down. No retreat into nostalgia. No surrender to sensible shoes or early nights, at least not consistently. Instead, there remains an active mind, a sharp wit, and an ongoing interest in the world and its many shenanigans.

It is hereby observed that sixty has arrived as a refinement and experience has been worn well.

Humour has deepened. Listening has become an art form. Confidence has settled into something quieter and far more persuasive.

Let the record show that this individual continues to move through life with intention, kindness, and a remarkable ability to make others feel seen.

That curiosity is still alive and well. That presence remains his strongest language.

Therefore, on this official birthday, permission is granted to celebrate fully. To accept admiration graciously. To enjoy cake without justification. To enter this next chapter knowing that sixty looks exceptionally good from here.

So declared, with affection, admiration, and just enough mischief to make it official.

Today we say, Happy birthday Akin may all goodness, grace, and favour be with you. 

Closing the Year with Intention

As the year exhales, I’m learning that choosing my well-being is not a retreat, but a return, a return to joy, to ease, to the quiet knowing that some things bloom without being chased.This year didn’t go as planned, but it went as needed.

The setbacks shaped me gently and firmly teaching me what to hold onto and what to release. I didn’t lose my way but I learned it.

Patience came though in itself as trust, trust in timing, trust that what is meant for me is finding its way, even when unseen I know some connections deepen slowly. Some dreams arrive softly.

It’s easy to move with the crowd and to blend in, to follow noise, but I choose something braver, I choose to stand still, listen inward, and honour what feels true, maybe, just maybe that is how love, life, and clarity quietly find us.

Loving the Way You Love Me

There are many things I like about you. Small things, really. The sound of your name when I say it out loud. The way your presence stays with me even after you’ve gone.

The quiet habits, the silly ones, the ones you probably don’t notice because they feel ordinary to you.

I like how joy shows up in your face before it reaches your laugh. I like that you take your time with comfort, stretching it out as if the world can wait.

I like that you’ve pulled me into moments I would have avoided on my own, moments that felt a little reckless and very alive.

But liking isn’t the point.

What I love is the way you love me. Not carefully measured, not half-hearted, not performative but it arrives fully, sometimes loud, sometimes soft, but always honest. It knows when to rush and when to linger. It shows up with both courage and tenderness, without asking for permission.

I could catalogue a thousand details, but they all collapse into one truth that your love makes room for me to be entirely myself. And that, more than anything else, is why it feels like home with you.

On the Eve of Sixty, Still Curious

Curiosity a choice

There is something impressive about a person who reaches this point in life and still asks questions, not the loud or performative kind, but the thoughtful ones that come from genuine interest. 

On the eve of sixty, he carries his years lightly. Not as a badge, not as a burden, but as experience that has softened into humour and sharpened into insight. He listens more than he speaks, but when he does speak, it lands.

There is wit in his observations, and an ease in how he moves through conversation, as if life has taught him what is worth holding on to and what can be let go.

What I find most compelling is how curiosity keeps him open. Open to ideas, to people, to moments that could easily be overlooked. There is no rush to prove anything. No need to dominate a room. Just a steady presence, guided by interest rather than ego.

Perhaps that is the quiet secret of ageing well. Staying interested. Staying amused. Staying kind. 

Tomorrow, there will be candles and celebration. Today, there is this simple truth. A life lived with curiosity never really grows old.

Firsts That Changed the Shape of My World

There are moments in life that quietly divide us into before and after. Not because they are loud or dramatic, but because once experienced, the world no longer feels the same.

Because of him, I have known many firsts.

My first flight was not just about leaving the ground. It was about trust, about stepping into the unknown with someone who made fear feel manageable. I remember the strange mix of excitement and disbelief, the way the world looked smaller from above, and how something inside me widened. That first journey taught me that I was capable of more than I had imagined.

Then came my first visit to Cape Town. A city of beauty, contrast, and deep feeling. What struck me most was not only the landscape, but the people. Seeing so many faces that looked like mine, living freely, visibly, confidently, was an eye opener. It stirred something tender and affirming. It reminded me that belonging is not always about place, but about recognition. That experience reshaped how I see myself in the world.

And then there was a first that changed everything else.

The first man who ever said, “I want to hold your hand through this life.” Not as a passing phrase, but as a promise. A statement of presence. Of commitment. Of walking forward together, side by side. Akin and Brian, together. Not perfectly, not without challenges, but with intention and care.

He is a man of pure understanding. The kind that listens before responding. The kind that does not rush growth or demand certainty. He understands that life unfolds in layers, and that love is not about possession, but companionship.

As his birthday draws close, I find myself reflecting less on what I can give him, and more on what he has already given me. New experiences. New courage. New ways of seeing myself and the world. Firsts that became foundations.

Some gifts do not arrive wrapped or on time. Some gifts arrive quietly and change the course of a life.

The Weight of Quiet Influence

The Shape of Gentle Strength

We often envision strength as something loud, demanding attention and taking up space. Yet, there exists another form of strength, quieter and enduring, that does not announce itself but is profoundly felt.

I know someone who embodies this kind of strength, evident in how he listens, not with the intention to respond or correct, but to truly understand.

The Art of Listening

When he listens, there is no hurry or interruption; just a steady presence that allows words to arrive fully and land safely.

Listening, I have learned, is an art. It requires patience, humility, and genuine attention. It asks us to set aside our need to be heard to truly hear another. I've seen people speak more freely and often uncover their own answers along the way as they talk with Akin.

Akin has a gentleness that is not weakness; it is a choice, a confidence that does not need to dominate but guides quietly. His presence can be more powerful than persuasion. Being around him reminds me that we do not always need to fill the silence or offer solutions. Sometimes, the greatest act of care is simply staying, listening, and allowing someone to be exactly where they are.

How Strength Moves Through Time

Akin moves through the world with intention and grace. He does not fade into the background or demand the spotlight; he simply arrives as he is, grounded and present. Watching him has taught me more than words ever could. He meets everyone, familiar faces and strangers alike, with openness and respect. Nothing feels forced; it is simply who he is.

Growing older is indeed a privilege, offering time for perspective and an understanding of what truly matters. He wears his years with ease, shaped by experience rather than hardened by it.

Each year has refined and strengthened him and this is how he moves through the world, teaching without teaching, making space effortlessly, and carrying his years as a gift. He reminds those around him that there is beauty in kindness, presence, and becoming more fully oneself over time.

 

From Where I Find My Strength

Looking to the Hills

Psalms 121, verses 1 to 2: (KJV)
I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills, from whence cometh my help.
My help cometh from the Lord, which made heaven and earth.

I would be furthest from the truth if I claimed to be a preacher. I read my Bible as often as I can, and all I truly know is what I have come to understand along the way.

I am deeply fascinated by the strength of the human spirit. When we are faced with great challenges, we often search deep within ourselves, reaching for a source of renewal. Somewhere inside, there is a quiet pool that restores what we need, recharging hope and reminding us that we are capable of embracing the opportunities that come our way.

Learning Where Strength Lives

Sometimes circumstances do not allow us to be where we want to be. At times, we are unable to provide solutions or help in the ways we wish, and this can leave us feeling like a hindrance rather than a support.

I once upon a time met a lady who was holidaying on her own. She explained that once a year, she and her husband each take a solo holiday away from one another. I remember thinking what a wonderful understanding they shared, one rooted in trust, space and respect.

We can become so caught up in trying to please those around us that we forget to ask ourselves what truly matters. Where do I find my strength, and what does it take to be myself?

It has now been just over seven years since I've been experiencing a long-term, long-distance relationship and with every year, it has been different, wonderful, insightful, and majestic in it's own way.

This year, for many reasons, we may not be together for the month of December.
Yet this is not an issue for us.
We believe, with certainty, that in good time the best is still to come.

We will attend separate Christmas functions and meet different people. Our hope is that the connections we each make will remind us how vast the world truly is, and that some of those connections will grow into lasting friendships in the year ahead.

Recognising the Source

We have all faced a challenging year, but we have always held onto the hope for a better tomorrow.

Our source of strength and ability to use the wisdom granted to us, helps shape our lives in the direction that brings us closer to what we truly deserve.

 

There is a Writer in My Garden.

A Place That Teaches Stillness.

Kirstenbosch Botanical Garden sits quietly on the eastern slopes of Table Mountain, held in place by beauty, history and stillness.

Akin and I have made it a purposeful habit to return there. It is one of those spaces that asks you to slow down, to look properly, to breathe more deeply. Walking through the gardens, surrounded by layers of green and with the vast mountain standing guard behind us, it feels impossible not to be present.

On our next visit, I plan to have a picnic. The thought lingers gently, stretched out on the grass, food unpacked slowly, with the magnificent view doing most of the talking. It is the kind of place where words would arrive easily and stories would surface without effort. The setting itself invites reflection.

With all this in mind, I found myself thinking about writing. About how memorable moments must be shared, and how history can only be preserved through the actions we choose to take today.

Decades of Story Telling.

I thought about Akin, and how for close to three decades he has been sharing his stories, the good, the bad, the weaknesses and the strengths.

There is a particular beauty in his ability to tell a story. It is never rushed or crowded, but shaped with detail in a way that allows anyone reading to step inside.

His writing does not assume knowledge or demand attention. It opens itself up, generous and clear, making space for understanding. That, to me, is a rare skill.

Being a writer is not only about putting words on a page. It is about seeing.

It is about noticing the small shifts, the pauses, the things others pass by. I believe a writer understands how to shape thought into something shared, how to translate complexity into something human. This is not learnt through practice alone, but carried instinctively.

Akin has that instinct. A natural gift. A quiet brilliance that does not announce itself, but reveals itself through precision, rhythm and depth. His technique feels effortless. Each sentence knows where it belongs, and each idea is given room to breathe.

As I imagine that picnic, sitting in the gardens beneath an open sky, I am reminded that it is a place rooted in growth, patience and careful tending, much like Akin's writings. 

Stories, like gardens, require attention, honesty and time. When nurtured well, they become spaces others can walk through and feel changed by.

Today, I celebrate that gift in him. The writer who does not simply tell stories, but builds them with care. The writer whose words invite you in, and quietly stay with you long after you have left the page.

Random Thoughts.

Now that I am older, I find myself respecting my parents a little more. When I was a child I blamed them for many things they probably never had sight of, and at that time all I wanted were things that I thought would have made my life better.

Ok, at that time I probably didn't know what would have been better for me, but still I had my own ideas and remained headstrong with my choices.

Apparently, I am that one child with the unhinged mouth, although that is all according to my mother, I know she is wrong,  as I still challenge her to this very day.

All I know is that such talk is a rather one sided story from her defense.

Throughout my life, I have always been that person that is all always ready to help the next person. 

With all that, I believe I am lucky to have been blessed in my life, in that for more ten years of my working experience, I have had the chance to have worked within the field of geriatrics, and with that I know I have gained the gift of patience. Working in an environment of mature people rubs off onto you in ways you that you develop an understanding that is somewhat enlightening.

I know I have gained a quiet strength, and learnt slowly, and in that it has shaped me im the way I see people and the world around me.

Curiosity Bites.

I have always been a naturally curious person, and once that curiosity led Akin and I down what felt like endless steps, at a Clifton Beach in Cape Town, where we walked and walked, holding on to the promise of some sort of reward at the bottom of this endless stairway.

Whatever expectation we had of probably having a refreshing drink awaiting for us at the end of a gruelling descent to arrive at this place, was drowned by a very forgettable experience, you are far better off taking a quick swim in the icy Atlantic waters and calling it a day. Yes, a cold shower would have done a better job.

Cape Town itself is a wonderful and beautiful city. I have only come to know it because of a man who also likes to explore and he is far more adventurous than I am.

Something New, Something Unexpected, Something Remarkable. 

My first taste of Cape Town was a cultural experience, seeing so many people like me as the majority. Definitely a cultural shock.

Cape Town is a place that keeps unfolding, and somehow, Akin is that one person that is always at the centre of that unfolding, even when the day arrives that I will suddenly speak Afrikaans fluently, I know he will be there to witness it.

What I am really trying to express is how grateful I am for a man who allows me to be entirely myself, and who makes space for brand new experiences in my life. He has opened many worlds to me, not through grand gestures, but through a kind of gentle companionship that invites discovery.

This morning, on our way to work, we saw someone standing on a street corner sharing words from the Bible. Something sweet and comforting passed between us for a moment, I wanted to turn to Akin and pull him into my arms for a warm hug, simply because I could feel that he had sensed the Holy Spirit in that instant. I knew he had blessed that moment in a silent prayer.

It is in these quiet, unexpected moments that I realise how deeply my spirit settles when I am around him. Somehow, adventure seems to follow him, and I find myself walking into it beside him, time and time again.

The sparkle of December

December always feels a little enchanted. It is a month where lights shine more softly, time seems to slow, and ordinary moments glow with something unexplainable. Even simple words take on a beautiful meaning. 

I'm reminded of how one word mentioned to Akin can become the start of an interesting discussion. He hears it and something sparks to life inside him.

With him, a single word is never just a word; it is a doorway. I can say something as simple as "stars", "coffee", or "art", and suddenly he is unfolding an entire world around it. He makes connections I would never have imagined, weaving history with humour, science with emotion, and logic with warmth. His intelligence is never something he flaunts, it is something he shares. Every conversation feels like an invitation into a space where ideas are allowed to breathe, and in that spark the room shifts.

It is never loud or overwhelming. It is thoughtful, confident and wonderfully assertive, the kind of assertiveness that does not dominate but gently guides. His voice leads in a calm, steady way.

So I find myself feeling not only the magic of December and the warmth of the season, but also the warmth of his mind. His intelligence is bright, steady and always awake, inviting rather than intimidating. In a month filled with lights, it is his thoughts that glow the brightest.

Here is to the man who can take a single word and turn it into a universe.

Born Early and Built Strong

Some stories start with thunder, others with quiet determination. He arrived before the expected time, a tiny preterm baby born fragile yet fiercely alive. From the very beginning, life asked him to push through to rise and to grow against the odds, and he did just that with a steady resilience that has shaped him ever since.

I often think about how those early moments have become the foundation of the man he is today. Strength forged not in comfort, but in challenge.

A calm confidence born not of ease, but from overcoming. Perhaps this is why he carries such a remarkable tenderness for people. His hardships never made him guarded; in fact, they made him empathetic. He understands instinctively how much a gentle word or a simple moment of connection can mean.

One of the many things I admire about him is how naturally he moves through the world in an approachable way. While others may hold back, he leans in, and where conversations feel forced for many, for him, it unfolds effortlessly. I’ve watched strangers share their stories with him as though he carries a warm light that invites trust. He doesn’t rush people. He doesn’t pretend, and I’m sure people around him can feel that.

It’s a rare gift, this ability to connect without trying.
To make someone feel noticed, included, and understood. Whether he’s talking about art, history, or the eccentricities of daily life, he brings a sincerity that disarms and delights.

Today’s entry is an acknowledgment of that quiet magic. Of a life that began small but became expansive; of a man who has never stopped overcoming, never stopped growing, and never stopped extending his warmth to the world around him.

And today, I celebrate the way he turns everyday encounters into moments that matter.

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Architect of Quiet Moments

On the Eve of Sixty.

Not with fanfare does a life accrue its gold,
But in the patient layers that its stories hold.
In lines of code that quietly build a world,
In timeless plays, on canvases unfurled.
A gentleman walks not with boast or show,
But with a depth of thought that others know.
A blog, his steady intellectual light,
An archive against the ever-fleeing night.

So, for this month, I’ll trace with careful pen
The landscape of your life:
Not just the peaks, but all the subtle shade.
Shaped by love, by history, by art so thoughtfully made.

Upon six decades lived in your unique ways,
We start not at the end, but in the sweet
Ongoing middle where past and present meet.
For sixty years are but a prologue told,
The next grand act is yours to still unfold.

Today, we raise the curtain on your year,
And say, with love: How glad we are you’re here.