Maya Angelou passed away last week. I will be frank and say that I know more about her now than I did when she was alive. I love her poems: Phenomenal Woman and Still I Rise because they affirmed my feeling that I am a beautiful, strong, black woman (ignore my total lack of upper body strength). But isn’t it always so. Humanity has a knack for celebrating great people post-humously. The day that Maya died I attended a funeral. The really sad kind that leaves you angry at the world and greatly pained… the kind that you can’t talk about because talking makes it seem more pointless. Days on, the acute pain gives way to a pensive mood where you realise that you have to live vicariously; greet the world with arms wide open… else you will not be doing right by those who will never get the opportunity. Those candles whose flames go out too soon. The greatest tribute one can give them is to live. Several people have asked me why I haven’t written in a while. I have given ...