Ode to my ancestors

I have a great love for all things vintage. I love the clothes, the furniture and the cars. My soul always seems to crave a life I do not remember, a life lived in a different era, under different circumstances. I have a love for history, my history and that of others, stories of a life before mine. Stories of struggle and triumph. I have a love for what was because to me it speaks to who I am and who I could be. My connection to the past is strong, tangible and real.

I do not believe in the African religious practice of "Ku Phahla" mostly because my family does not practice it and for this reason I don’t fully understand the rituals or how they work. I do however believe in DNA. I’am made up out of my mother and father, I carry their DNA. They intern carry the DNA from their respective parents, we are connected like links on a chain. I understand that like a song composed with different instruments working together to make it whole and beautiful, I’m made up out of pieces of all the people living and deceased who I’m related to. Like a puzzle or a quilt weaved over lifetimes I came to be. My connection to those who came before me, my ancestors can be tracked and traced scientifically. Based on my blood you can tell who they were, where they lived and what nationality and even groups they belonged to.

I carry them with me in my cells, they have played a part in the texture of my hair, the shade of my skin, my height and my character (I would also like to blame them for my curvy little body - not always a happy topic LOL). I see myself in their faces, in the way I move and in the way I interpret life. And for this reason I believe that they need to be acknowledged. I honour them and this makes me feel that I honour myself. We are of the same blood, they made me and through me they live still.