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[intro]In her debut anthology, Mfazwe uses her poetic voice to take the reader on a journey of self-discovery by sharing her own pain. Although the author acknowledges the many hurdles she has overcome along the way, the book ignites hope and courage.[/intro]

Ndinethemba: My Hope. My Strength. My Progress, written by Eyethu Mfazwe from the Eastern Cape, is the story of the black female experience, told through beautifully crafted poetry. Women of colour have predominantly been omitted from many historical accounts and swept from the books of history. It is for this reason that we should encourage today’s women, both young and old, to document their own stories. This is precisely what debut author Eyethu Mfazwe does with Ndinethemba: My Hope. My Strength. My Progress.

Mfazwe is a 23-year-old spoken word artist and writer from East London. She started writing poetry when she was 11 years old and began reciting when she was 14 years old in the Eisteddfod Public Speaking competition which she participated in throughout high school. Her work has been published in various literary journals, magazines and anthologies.

In her debut anthology, Mfazwe uses her poetic voice to take the reader on a journey of self-discovery by sharing her own pain. Although the author acknowledges the many hurdles she has overcome along the way, the book ignites hope and courage.

Mfazwe seeks hope in every circumstance and finds herself trusting in God for her future endeavours. This book aims to encourage readers not just in their circumstances but to also take charge of their own happiness and growth, and have more faith in God.

My Beloved grandmother

My siblings and I’s childhood enriched
with drinking from the tea cups
of the set she bought for us
She would give us chips and biscuits
that she would sell to others

Her compassion exuded in her face,
as she spoke that language…
generosity and kindness.
Her hugs warmer than a primer stove,
Her heart, a furnace.
Love walked in her stride,
as her prayers overthrew hell.

Her happiness danced in traditional Xhosa attire
at my cousin’s homecoming, from Ulwaluko!

I appreciated her loving personality,
but not soon enough…
“I love you” I was not able to say

Taken from me in her sixties
By death as was part of her life’s script,
But death, try as it might, could never script that precious life
I look forward to heaven’s reunion when I will finally say that which I could not.

More information on this book is available at Perfect Love Books.