Sweet Honey Nights.

Sweet Honey Nights

   I spent many years
   Trying to understand my mother
   And I am sure she tried even harder
   To understand me--her youngest daughter
   We were so alike, and yet so different
   A powerful river of determination
   Ran in our blood
   When she wanted something
   Mama sure went for it
   I do the same!
   And I remember it was great
   When both of us wanted the same thing
   But when our wishes differed
   The storm, the heavy rain of tears, and the pain
   To this day I remember that well

   After she died I realised that
   My mind did not recall
   Any of the good times
   The pain and the tears filled my thoughts
   Soon I knew I had to go back
   Shake up the bones
   And try to find the other stories
   From the bones of memory

   The grass from her grave was swaying
   In the wind, whispering a quiet rhythm
   For a long time I stood and listened
   Lost to my immediate surroundings
   Caught up in a time when I was very young
   More playful and excitable than I am today

   And then I think I heard a jawbone move
   I felt my ear starting to itch
   And  I think I heard these words:
   'Sweet honey nights, sweet honey nights
   Winter times in the Eastern Cape
   Close your eyes, remember the smell
   And the taste of honey
   Sweet honey nights, sweet honey nights
   Smile a little, swallow once and the story is yours'

In her anthology Love Child, a combination of poems and narrative, Gcina Mhlophe shares her personal journey through the social and political landscapes of the 1980s, and her development as a writer, playwright and performer. For many years now she has been South Africa's favourite storyteller. In 'Sweet Honey Nights' remembers her mother bringing a bucket of honey from the forest to the warm thatch hut where she and her siblings were resting on sheepskin rugs after a delirious and filling supper. 'Wide eyed and full of anticipation we suddenly felt our stomachs making space for what was to come,' she writes, and while the winter wind howled outside, Gcina felt like she was in heaven, 'savouring our sweet honey night."

Gcina concludes this story saying that one needs to have sweet memories such as these in the difficult and violent times we are living in. "Working so much with young people as I do, I keep trying to add my own share of sweetness; little mouthfuls of honey, one spoon at a time.."

--Love Child, University of Natal Press, 2002