Proud parent: TV personality Zizo Beda and her hubby‚ Mayihlome‚ welcomed their baby boy about three months ago and the excited couple just can’t get enough of their little prince.
Even though the duo are yet to reveal their baby’s identity to the world, they can’t hide the huge joy the little prince has brought to their beautiful world.
Proud dad Mayihlome shared an open letter pen to their little tot filled with wishes‚ promises and advice for the future. Where he also explained the meaning and how his name has been powerfully curved out of hope and strength, Vukile Tshwete.
“Your mother and I‚ give to you your grandfather’s names. It will be neither burden nor a blessing. It’s a name crafted by strength‚ beauty‚ chains. A name dreaming of freedom within the confines of oppression. Take this name. Carry it imperfectly proudly. When they ask‚ don’t whisper‚ affirm loudly‚” Mayihlome wrote in the letter.
Letter in full:
For our son Maqoma]
Written by his tata
Your mother and I will give to you suggestions. Our history will susurrate to you.
All that came before you will speak of the titans that bent the grass‚ wore the path and envisioned the view
Your mother and I will tell you about voices that thundered‚ Queens that survived torment‚ resinous of humanity for you to be mothered .
We will tell you about Lusaka‚ the warmth of a neighbors embrace.
We will plate the forgotten tale of the struggle for a more human face.
Your mother will sing to you rustic melody‚ music of her bare feet drumming uneven dusty slopes.
You will know of our hardship and poverty.
In an unconquerable symphony of partially heard hopes‚ your mother and I will present our lives to you as admonition testaments of embattled childhoods and a peoples postponed redemption.
Carry your history with purpose boldly‚ affirming while redefining what worth is.
Your mother will pontificate her amber visions of the rising sun.
I will show you the soil over which Solomon hung‚ hoping that you are neither constrained by our pain nor too free to see the cost your forebearers paid.
Your mother and I‚ imperfect like concrete roses beautifully shaped by an imperfect world‚ will instruct you to love black perfectly‚ be a star in deep night.
Darkness was never a curse‚ be the living sound of Bikos incomplete verse.
Gleam among the constellations of sparkling souls who fought the incomplete fight.
Your mother and I‚ give to you your grandfather’s names.
It will be neither burden nor a blessing. It’s a name crafted by strength‚ beauty‚ chains.
A name dreaming of freedom within the confines of oppression.
Take this name‚ carry it imperfectly proudly.
When they ask‚ don’t whisper‚ affirm loudly