(Excerpt by Matthew Mokoena) The wind outside whistles restlessly; Cold, solitary tunes reminiscent to those of a broken hearted young mans bluesy notes. The song itself is split into two parts, for two voices seem to be whistling one to the other. A duet of some sought. In response to the blues, the female whistler seems to be howling over the sadness. This… is the soundtrack to a Lent-less Blue Monday. “Winter? I was not anticipating her cold embrace so soon.” I am re-acquainted to the phrase ”cold to the bone” as Oz, Karabo and I take a butt numbing seat at the Sophiatown restaurant in Newtown (a bit indecisively.) It is no surprise that she chose this joint, if birds of a feather were artists, this is where they’d flock together. Was it not Lebo Mashile with whom we set just on the opposite side of this same restaurant not more than a month ago?
Myesha arrives (like a spirit floating in an evergreen forest) I’ve never come across one, but if I had it would be at that moment. I, like most of my peers, grew up calling my elders mama or papa (before the educationally prompted shift to Ms and Mr/Sir) regardless of relation. So you might understand why young people like Karabo and I had difficulty adjusting to the untitled “Myesha.” This permission by her to omit the title allowed the free flowing conversation that ensued on the comfortable couches she had led us to. Ladies and gentlemen, before you… lie pieces of writing… passages to an evergreen spirit. Enjoy (full interview http://consciousness.co.za/interact/spoken-mind/passages-to-an-evergreen-spirit/)