Of Credit Cards and Other Curses
I remember the first time I felt rich. I was 11 years old and had found myself with R50 to spend at the tuck shop. It was time to splurge and shower my classmates...
Category: Nthabiseng Maphisa
Cry of the Young Heart
There was a time when the sound of youth could be heard by the tapping of a skipping rope as it hit the concrete. We would gnaw on chewing gum and marvel over the...
Pens, Books and the Colosseum
My university education has been a long and difficult journey. I have changed courses multiple times and even now, in the final year of my undergraduate degree, I am uncertain as to what doors...
Our Dance With Time
Many of us have had the misfortune of watching time move as quickly as a tortoise. There are times in our work, school or ministry that bring us to a moment of staring helplessly at a clock.
Hold up the Divine Mirror for True Self
Rich. Filthy rich. That’s what they are. Off of our vanities and insecurities, they are made wealthy. In their eyes we are piglets to be raised for slaughter. They will press and pull at our flesh and then turn us on our backs and say to the butcher: “Cut it here.”
This is How I (Now) Shoot For the Stars
I want to be famous. I want my face splashed across billboards on national highways. I want to be on the cover of Time magazine. I want National Geographic to do documentaries about my...
That Fascination with their Majesties
Nthabiseng Maphisa asks: Why are we so attracted to royal fairy tales? I am not close to any members of any royal family on earth. I am neither a duchess nor an empress. As far as my knowledge can stretch, I am not a princess, though I have dreams of living like one some day.
See the Jewels on Black Velvet
I feel bad for those who have become so consumed with the errands of the day that they have not taken the time to lift their heads and count the white threads in God’s own tapestry. They sit like jewels in a black velvet box.
Do you want Fries with that Gossip?
And just as I am tempted to bite into a burger combo, I am in the same way tempted to sink my teeth into the daily dish of parish affairs. That’s right, people, ain’t no gossip like church gossip.
Put the Final Nail in Death’s Coffin
The opening words of the sonnet “Death Be Not Proud” by the 17th-century British poet and cleric John Donne have resonated with me over the past couple of weeks.
The Quest for a Fairytale Wedding
I am absolutely convinced that TV producers and writers gather in secret limestone towers in the shadows of the night with the wind howling and rattling the windows. Together they concoct potions and spells that awaken every woman’s desire for beauty and love.
Heart’s Deceit: My Lesson From an Unrequited Crush
Every woman knows all too well the stirrings within her that come from being attracted to someone and hoping to be noticed by them. I have not escaped such a treachery and soon found myself in love’s quarters.
