Friday Mental Health Edition

 
My mother raised a brick house
My mother raised a brick house
When my mother raised me, it was as if she was building a replica of her brick house.
A mind map of the soul
A mind map of the soul
In his biography People Funny Boy, reggae producer and artist Lee Perry responds to questions about the origin of the song I Am a...
The art of darkness
The art of darkness
‘I don’t know, it’s probably just the human condition. Maybe we’re all just fucking depressed,” says Charl Blignaut. He throws up his...
A family’s unspoken curse
A family’s unspoken curse
Family reunions are as rare as chicken teeth, as my aunties would say. But every time we connect, I look at my cousins and wonder who among us will...
On the days when I’d rather stay in bed
On the days when I’d rather stay in bed
‘Even when I’m a mess, I still put on a vest with an ‘S’ on my chest. Oh yes, I’m a Superwoman.”
Staying sane in a trying industry
Staying sane in a trying industry
Diliza Moabi makes his son wear his pants sagging. Young Kwame, with black hair thick as sheep’s wool, doesn’t like it. He opts, regularly, to...
Us in the house of mirrors
Us in the house of mirrors
We have suffered from different stages of the same illness, my aunt and I — something akin to fatigue. I was 15, she was 50. We lived and hid...
Words can banish our ghosts
Words can banish our ghosts
There’s just something about poetry.
We cannot continue to suffer in silence
We cannot continue to suffer in silence
Sometimes I wonder whether other people ever feel so heavy that it seems almost impossible to wake up and face the day.

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