to be African, to be Woman, to be Creative, to be Fashionable, to be Intelligible, to be be IMARA

imara by Mshana

This is the canvas and the pages on which I curate and display the life I wish to create for myself and other liminal hu-women like myself. I explore here my passion for fashion, present my literally inspired visual arts, write my visual arts inspired written works, share my linguistics, travel diaries, show my finding comfort in food, and heck, whatever else I feel like... Welcome and enjoy!

Love letters, The Reply

Part II


You really do love words! In your letter, the words are as definite as they are meaningful and passionate. However, I wish your letter was not as conclusive as it were. I see in your eyes an endless summer, and I hope you would lend me your sunshine a while longer.

The nights you allowed me to hold you were the best I have had in years..they were oddly familiar considering their infrequency. I think it might be because I smelt the rose petal scent in your perfume and was reminded of my late mother’s garden. Jabari, my good friend whom you know too well, insisted that I be careful not to make a home of your presence; the feelings you evoke in me are permanent but your existence in my life is very much temporal. I nodded in agreement and my mind was content with that arrangement. But my heart, my mischievous heart conspired to leave strings behind and make sure I am attached. Imara my love, there are strings! I am attached!

There are strings on the top on your counter where you leaned against as I first kissed you. Strings hang on my sheets where you laid, with me between your thighs. There are strings on the blue chair in my office where you massaged my tense shoulders. There are strings on that dirt road where we took our first stroll. Love, there are strings under the mwarobaini near your father’s compound where I stood and watched you walk into your house all summer. Lover dear, there are definitely strings.

Imara you made a stargazer out of me the moment I stared into your kaleidoscope eyes. I tasted the sweetness of your Swahili speaking tongue and have never since added sugar in my tea. I take of my shirt every time a thought of you crosses my mind because all the memories  I have of you are warm. My love, your oceanic soothing voice when you called my name played the strings that won over my heart.

And I know I said that it was okay if we eventually part ways, but Imara honey, there are strings now, and I am attached…do not cut me loose.

Will you pull me close?