My Biography. 


I was born in February the 8th, It’s said that I’m an aquarian. Mostly described as a ‘loud person’ with  different personas, I was once told I sound manly over the phone and that I have a 70 year old sense of humor, meaning I swear a lot. I’m often associated with places I never visited, mistaken for people I’ve never touched. 

I am not much of a good talker, but I always endup sounding like I’m reading a book when explaining myself. See, I have carried gunshots that meant to kill me, climbed mountains of shame to finally accept myself that I am not who I thought I was. Basically I’m not even sure if I am an aquarian or was born in February because lately, I’ve been watching people’s lips move side to side when introducing themselves to me. I collect their smell to carry familiarity within my own home, I walk straight but not enough to knock on the right door. 

I’m genuinely clumsy, I was told I fidle a lot when I hear the word love. My intentions are not to make anything out nothing, I am not scared of love but people who tend to love others more than themselves, how do you give something you don’t have?. I rarely make eye contact with people, because I always find myself in the back yard of their lives and meeting their skeletons, that would give me goosebumps. I also made mistakes, I also held hands that felt like ice over my burning heart from past aches I encountered. 

I am aware of my problem, but fixing it would mean surgery that would take pretty much decades, because you can’t wake dead people even if they hold your greatest key to tomorrow. So, I am what I need for the day, I hold talk shows every morning for myself before I go outside, and meet people for the day. I choose topics that will help me sleep at night, I forgot to mention that I do not really know what’s falling asleep, except being woken up by my alarm clock, it’s only then that I realize I’ve been sleeping. 

I take note of people’s facial expressions when I first meet them, I love details and I ask questions that can annoy some people. I am an adrenaline junkie, sugar rush type of person, my friends know that I shouldn’t take too much sweet stuff because I turn out to be the worst  person full of energy. And, I am the type of person you have to warn before you introduce to people. So long story short, I am a strong woman and flexibility is always under my breath. I move like my feet aren’t touching the ground, my alter ego isn’t egotistic but rather very funny and her name is Melody. I’m a 23 year old who loves walking barefoot, my heart gets warmer once my feet feels the sand or soil with stones moving swiftly under, I love the smell of books. My name is Milani Mbombo and I am a coffeholic. 


Less is the new black. 


Fashion is everything, some people say it’s a statement, reference and an ideal goal. And then there’s style, style is a different thing and somehow a close cousin of fashion. Those two can’t be separated but they’re not the same, you can buy fashion anywhere, everyone is fashionable and comfortable.  Fashion is a ‘trend’  it fades after a while, people forget about it and get  a new one. We always hear this phrase ‘I love your fashion sense’ and we always appreciate that compliment, regardless of its definition. Some how we drift from that fashion trend and follow another ‘trend’. 

 Style is something that is irreplaceable, it’s from within, it’s who you are. You can never buy style, exchange or even fake it. Style is the soul, sound and texture of yourself and without style there’s no purpose of looking good, gorgeous and beautiful. It matches with your personality, How?, you asking yourself. I’ll help you understand further more about style,  when you are stylish, it basically means that you have the ability, eye and heart of spotting a right way to dress yourself.  Less skin is the new black,when you’re aware of your body type, personality and who you are it is simple for you to know and keep your style. It’s a class that will always be there, it sets you apart from the crowd. 

We get to buy the same outfit but we’ll never wear it the same way, you’ll wear it because it’s fashionable and she’ll wear the same blouse differently, because of her style she’ll pop out, and be the diamond in the sand. Hence, I believe that being a fashion fanatic is a norm, but being fashion fantastic is something different, and it’s a value. You should always be fashion forward but you still have to carry your style ‘class’ in your soul.

The Coffee’oclock. 


There’s a term I use, when introducing myself to people. I call myself a free ” Coffeholic ”, meaning I’m not obsessed with it, I’m just a lover of black-brewed beverages . I find people in most cases questioning my being, that you young for loving coffee so much, or you young for such behavior. I love beer and black coffee, I’m not sure what sets me aside from other people my age and my culture but I’m pretty sure, that taste, attention to detail and good nose for smell does set me to look like this weird young girl, who doesn’t fit well in her own skin color, of which I am way comfortable in my skin. 

My name brings some unfinished conversations some times, because I’d be asked twice or maybe more to explain my name in my own language, ” Milani’ in isixhosa meaning Qhamani (Blossom) , and I’d be asked many questions like ‘Are you blossoming, nicely shaped etc’, my answer would always be ” the way I hold a cup of coffee should explain to you more about myself and name, they way I carry my bag and hold out my hand to greet you should give you more information about myself”, to my not so surprising expectation I’ll be told I sound white and witty. But how?, 

Only people who’s head isn’t moving to one direction would understand the term of, Coffeholic, Coffee’oclock, coffetarian and caffeinated being. Regardless of what type of coffee you love, as long as you pay attention to the taste, texture of the mixture falling and smoothly moving its way down your throat. Then you can easily describe yourself to people as one of the above mentioned coffee phrases when asked. 

I find coffee shops more alive than bus stations, airports, offices and taxi ranks. Yes, where there’s people there’s life but not when you put a no wifi coffee shop with people who appreciate sense of comfort from unspeakable things. Us,as Coffeholics we speak differently somehow, we’re loud enough to get our voices across the room,wild enough to kill a mouse and calm enough to interact with sunsets and sounds of waves by the beach.  You rarely find us in one place,we move around searching for taste and right words to describe our lives. We more likely to be called the Wanderlusts. 

The other woman. 


‘I’m better than the woman, you had before me. I look and sound different from all of them.’  This is the phrase that shows how weak, selfish and self-centered we’re. ‘Well she’s just another woman he’s using, Sibu is my man’, some women have such conversations within themselves about overpowering, controlling and being in charge of that certain  man’s life. 

We forget that we’re all ‘the other women’  after a session or two, we’re all regarded as weak, worthless and too submissive. I don’t believe in all that ‘other women’ phrase, because regardless of how much you label this woman, at the end of the day you also end up under that same man, the other woman was under last night, years ago or even few minutes to hours ago. So basically there’s no formula for the way this man, should see you better than the other woman than being yourself. You’re loud be loud, you’re shy be shy, bold or smart, too sassy or petty, be it. Because at the end of the day that other women, have her vagina between her legs, not under her breasts or up her forehead. No!, we all have the same body parts but not personalities. We’re are so unique so much that I believe a woman is the most blessed creature in the world,we just need to acknowledge, accept and cheer for one another. 

It’s 2017 now, he’s cheating on you then say, bye to him and move on. It’s not going to be easy but there’s nothing a heart can’t take after 4 days. Yes, you invested your time, love, body and soul to this person only to hear him say ‘you were the other woman, or she’s just another woman’,  what is the ‘other woman’  is it an object, a glass of water, a bottle of beer or a door handle that he managed to grab on his way out. The other woman is it maybe a bin where unnecessary things are trashed in?. I personally feel like that phrase is used mostly by insecured people, people who think less of themselves, cowered people. 

You are not  the other woman, she’s not ‘the other woman’, no one is for that matter. We’re all women of different standards, styles and tastes. We’re all always mistaken for the door knob, for the glass of beer, bottle of wine or even a butterfly. And it’s okay, we can never be what people thought were, or expect us to be. They touch touch us with hands full of blood, eyes full of tears and lips full of validation, and expect us to be pure, calm and honest. While they weren’t looking for us but we somehow fitted the picture but not the frame, they then attack, mock us and stone us to death with phrases like, ‘When I dated so and so, my life wasn’t like this’, ‘ You the best woman I ever had ‘,  forgetting that those women were being the puppets of his show, until this time or something hit him, he realized his hands wasn’t supposed to be there. 

Women, you are not an option, object, nor a glass or a mistake, nor an opinion, or even stain of coffee unto his shirt. You’re a wonderful woman and you matter. The other woman.


We’re what we seek within others. 


We could have been more happier with everything, if it wasn’t for the less times we’d spent on the floor trying to collect every piece. It wasn’t really worth the energy to fight with yourself over something you have no power over. My husband, who’s now my ex, always told me that ”  tears that dry on their own leaves marks, than the one’s gently wiped and wrapped up in the hidden box ”,  I never really thought about it until today. I was always wiping other people’s tears,  my children’s, family and friends. But not for once I paid attention to my own. 

‘Get education, get a husband, build a home and have children.  Be a loving wife and respect your husband.’ they spoke all these things like, it’s an achievement to live for, like it’s a golden goose. 

I shiver all the time, when I see young women with happy smiles walking hand in hand with their Mr right now. I always find my self beneath their feet trying to understand, if they see that as a way to a better life.  Someone told me, ‘money cannot buy you happiness’,  then I asked ‘what is happiness?’,  Is it people?,  things you create around you?, hands you’ve held when fear cripping in?, the smile you put on someone’s face after you gave  them something they wanted?. You can’t say get those things to someone, who’s mind is always on the drive, someone who’s heart is beating for less things that cost their lives. You can’t say that like those are objects that you can use in any war. They expect protection, guidance and time. 

After all life  is a journey, not so much of a destination but a transformation. It’s a trip,  enjoy the ride.  Life is like a camera focus on what’s important and currently what’s important is getting my life together for my kids. Capture the good times develop from the negatives and if things don’t go well take another shot. Accept what it is let go of what it was, and have faith in what will be. Don’t be confident that you’re better than others. Be confident that you’re deeply yourself something that no one else has power to be. I,sometimes use to think fortune favors fools until I learnt that life is what you make it. We all come out of the same jungle with different roars, scars and blemishes, that’s the turning point differentiating girls from women. I just want to say ” Dear women I’m sorry, dear black people I’m sorry, dear emigrants who come to this country seeking for a better life I’m sorry, dear everyone who isn’t a over classed person of color. I’m sorry because they started a life at the top of the ladder where it was already written for them,yet we were born at the bottom of the ladder, underneath it given a pen and no paper since ours wasn’t already written for us.” The are two sides of the stick and mine is just broken and edgy yet the other side is as smooth as a babies bum. It is sad that we still live in an embarrassing country, where we still judge somebody’s character by the size of their pay check for those who have and skin colour or, the type of chromosomes they have. I know a lot of people who were failed by education and marriage myself included. I have enough reasons to hate both. We all have to be the same now because of this redundant life system.
We are what we are seeking within others.  



Our hearts never really lie, but our mindset keeps us away from the truth. I can’t remember how we got here but I remember seeing his face, seating next to him and, well the next is history.’Why you so quiet?’ he asked with a smile, I couldn’t think of anything else except asking, ‘Are you always like this, I mean with your one night stands, so accommodating and warm?’ I asked.My plan was to get under him,and be over my ex, like in the movies. You need to get under someone to get over someone, so I tried it out, ‘I don’t think, I understand you’ he said this, with his mouth full of pizza, that we apparently ordered last night. Maybe this morning, since I can’t remember anything. He’s got this mule by his upper lip, I find it to feminine for a man to have it there, not that he is, but he just seemed to full, to abbreviated, to calm.He was basically the opposite of what I was looking for, or hoped for. ” I mean like, you so nice to me that you even asked if, I drink my coffee before cereal or after?,how did you know I even like or drink coffee? ‘ I was surprised, surprised that he listened, he paid attention on my routines. This tall, yellow bone with brown eyes, handsome anonymous men, laying between my legs.

I couldn’t remember his name, and he probably told me last night but, I was to drunk in sorrow and blames to remember his name now. But one thing I know, he didn’t force me, or drugged me.I saw him first, and I knew it right away where I’ll take my last sip at. So I was aware of the whole setup and I was fine with it, I needed a scapegoat. I really needed to feel all sorts before I could build myself up again, I needed to break down and strip every piece of me, to see what’s beneath.So he, happened to come to my rescue for this urgent situation I had going on.

‘You don’t remember my name, I can see your eyes ‘ he said, getting up to open the window for fresh air. I was taken aback by his calmness, I just followed his walk, body moving like, he carried a song in his heart.He looked deep with everything he does, I analyze a lot especially people around me, finally I found words falling out my lips without thinking, ‘ do I even have to remember your face after today?’ I said, he chuckled a little. ‘ Wow! I guess, you always say what you think right away, of course you don’t have to remember my face after today.’ I was embarrassed and shame was whispering behind my back, ‘I guess we even, you also don’t remember my name, so I take this as my que to leave’ I was rushing my words not giving him a chance to talk back, I already had my pants up and tying my shoe laces, when he said ‘ I’m sure, boxers are for man and panties for women. Not unless this one isn’t yours’, I froze because I knew it that I had lost it somewhere, and he might knew where my panty was,but I was just ashamed of asking and little awkward for me.I got up so quickly and safely told him ‘well,i was coming for that one, just that don’t feel like wearing it today’.He read mind, I think I was to obvious that I’m used to this. As a gentleman, he said nothing and gave me back my underwear, and I didn’t know if I should say goodbye or just cheers. We use goodbye to people we love, cheers to people we hang out with and bye to random people we meet. I had shared a bad with this man. ‘I’m gone bye’ I said, I was already by the door, when he said ‘I’ll walk you take you home’,I stumbled over my own tongue, tripped over my own heart. I’m definitely still drunk. ‘no thanks. I’ll be fine’ I said.He called my name twice and the third time the door, was already closed. I heard his accent of Model C rugby players, while he was calling my name. (loading pages)

We’re never really alone. 


Some friends might have left us, some stayed, but you’ll find out that,the one’s that left us are the one’s caring us, in their hearts, smiles and lips,more than the one’s behind . These people rarely speak to you, rarely check up on you, but when they do they make sure you feel the load off your chest.

We’re carrying every piece of each other within, regardless of what happened. We can never force a circle into a triangle, like we can’t force our hearts to stop carrying them. Pain is nostalgic, same with love, happiness and peace. Once you jump off that circle to another,you’ll always find yourself fighting your mind, heart and tongue to stop the glimpse of memories you have;

We’re rarely honest with ourselves,we always recommend leaving the haunting museum with; bold sign‘ Do not disturb’. Forgetting that we all have each other’s pieces, and they either hovering above our heads,or dancing in between our fingers, they might even be hanging on to our lips.