When heroes die


So I’ve been procrastinating to get a television, and today, it just hit me. I could’ve missed the coverage of when our dear Madiba passed on. I instantly felt awful for my slight apathy at the height of his awful illness.

Then I recalled a golden memory from my childhood.

The morning Princess Diana passed away, I threw the biggest tantrum, it was epic, got me out of church. So naturally, I chilled and watch tv. And there it was, the paparazzi dun killed The Princess of Wales And Hearts And Great Suits And Hair. I found myself calling the church to ask them to find my mother, because Diana is dead. Looking back, I don’t remember if I even cared for Diana or not, but I knew she was a giant in the world. It’s was a huge deal. The scenes on telly were incredibly emotional. People were broken.

Then I remember how we had a tape of Oliver Tambo or/and Chris Hani’s funerals. Again, it was a huge deal.

Then I remembered when Whitney and Michael died. It was all over the place. We were shattered. Whiteny’s funeral brought the word and mighty praise of our Lord Jesus to the devil that is CNN. Millions (or billions), watched and we all mourned the world’s very own song bird.

Pardon my crassness, but we will lose our shit when (I want to say if, but death is death) Tata dies. There are no words to describe the man he is. He embodies the power of the human spirit. He is a hero because that is his power. I really can’t say more. There really are no words. I’ve listened to many an interview with Mandela. He just resonates everything good.

Sometimes I just wish the story of his illness was kept private. There is just so much money to be made from his death and the vultures are just circling (Gedleyhlekisa, I am talking about you) and I suppose Mandla too? I’m not clued up on what that psycho is doing; the tomb raider headline made me tired me.

Post script
• Actually, someone call The Vatican, get a man canonised! Saint Madiba has a good ring to it.
• I wish Brenda and Mariam were here for this. Brenda, especially, was going to get her shit together and perform the shit out of a jam for Tata.
• Who are these people who are going kill the white people when Tata dies? Please don’t. If you really want them gone, put them on ships and sending them packing like they came. I kid. Leave white people alone.
• On white people. I met this political radical the other day, it was very unfortunate. He said something so scary to me: “The white man taught us his language and his ways so that we can take instructions. This was an investment he made a long time ago, it keeps growing over time, and we don’t even see it.” This scarred the shit out of me. Thoughts?
• So Mandla, The Tomb Raider…you’re embarrassing yourself! (I’m sure I’ll still feel the same once I actually read up on what exactly you were doing digging graves.)
• I’m sorry for cussing and talking about Tata at the same time.
• Happy Friday everyone

Advertisements

Top Ten Reason Why I Had To Leave Work 4 Hours Early


It’s one of those Fridays guys! I want to make a run for it so badly. I’m just not feeling today’s movement. Here are a few excuses I wish I had at my disposal.

10. I thought the build was on fire, by the time I realised it wasn’t, I was already on the highway.

9. There was load shedding on my laptop. Eskom has it out for me.

8. My girlfriend/boyfriend was threatening suicide if I didn’t come home.

7. Fuck you I got a new job.

6. My watch is 4 hours ahead, I totally forgot, so sorry.

5. I’m allergic to traffic. It can kill me, I barely made it this morning.

4. I’m a Gupta…

3. I left my bedroom door unlocked, my Gremlin was going to get exposed to sunlight and die.

2. I was here in spirit. I don’t understand what the problem is.

And the number one reason I had to leave work 4 hours early.

1. Apartheid is over, deal with it!

The DA made a controversial statement. Knowing fully well that blacks would get excited. I am said excited black. No one cares how honourable the intentions were. They MUST have known that a black like me (and many others) would get excited! Stop exciting blacks, because you want some air time on the interwebs.

The News…or not.


image

Newsroom! One of my favorite things on telly in a very long time. It’s fast paced, it’s ‘real’, dramatic, intelligent, funny and and and. It has a lot going for it. Because it is so good, it makes a lot of us feel like the intellectual snobs we are not. So I got my head out of my ass today.

It’s clear that it’s subjective to have something qualify for ‘news’ in our respective opinions.

image

In high school, I’d sometimes catch a taxi to go home, this one time, while I was waiting for it to get full, the newspaper boy came selling Daily Sun. After he left, these two girls went on about how dumb that newspaper is and how ridiculous the stories were, how no one needs to read that. A part of me agreed. Daily Sun does have questionable articles. A few minutes later they had a fat chat about JLo’s love life. Suddenly the air reeked of hypocrisy.

image

My friend had this to say on the tweet machine today : “@Queen_Wel: I don’t see how Rihanna and Chris Brown’s relationship is news? Like afternoon drive news? -___- these are dark times children! Dark times.” Apparently this was on Highveld’s (a reputable radio station) 5pm news. Wel’s gripe was that this was reported in a ‘news’ slot.

image

Honestly I don’t know what counts as news anymore. I just know this, if you care, it’s news. If people talk about it, it’s news. That said, it doesn’t have to be about global warming or interest rates. It just has to matter to people. Even if it’s Chris Brown and Tina Turner.
image

I can’t stand the rain against my window


When I stayed in Cape Town, I used to always fall into and out of depression in winter. Depression probably isn’t the right word. I’d just withdraw from society and be a little moody.
image

As the years went by and as I forged deeper friendships, two of my close friends noticed that they hardly saw me when it rained for extended periods of time.
image

See in the Mother City winter rain can get ridiculous! You even start doubting the existence of the sun. I’d keep my curtains closed and my lights on. Couldn’t bare the thought of what was going on outside.

image

I’ve left Cape Town for three years now and I forgot about my condition until just recently. It’s been raining practically everyday for the past four days. In this time I’ve been having terrible bouts of insomnia. I’m in such a good place in my life right now. It was tearing me apart that I couldn’t sleep. I even obsessed over someone I love/like. Convinced myself of some solemn romantic affliction. Tortured by love and what not.
image

It’s just the rain. It has the ability to grow or create an emptiness inside of me. Rendering me helpless to my own untamed thoughts. Oddly enough, I always have a great appreciation for the scenic beauty rain can leave behind.

I cannot wait for it to stop raining.

Also, pretty sure it’s messing with my internet!

How would you define a dick if we didn’t have Zapiro?


I’ve been aching to blog for a minute now, but I had nothing to say. I still don’t have much to say really. But someone got called a dick and some people don’t think it’s fair.

Initially I wanted to pontificate about holding those in public office to a higher standard, but that’s a tired speech considering the people WE have in public office. Plus it will raise my blood pressure. I want to talk about the bare minimum: not being a dick.

Let’s say my name is Sizwe. I’m your average Joe, married with kids. I then go on to fuck my friend’s daughter and end up impregnating her. Would you call me a dick? Would your answer change if I had three wives? What if I was president? Am I still a dick? Would you feel sorry for me if a political satirist called me a dick? What if there was a cartoon mocking me in a leading national newspaper? Are you feeling sympathetic yet?

We can all agree, Zapiro felt no such feeling, albeit for different reasons. I think we can all find different reasons to call different people dicks. Mine is fucking your buddy’s daughter when you have three wives at home(s). It doesn’t make you a bad person…but it does make you a dick!

What is your definition of a dick?

A picture is worth a thousand words.

JZ is a dick

Hate the racist not the race


I’ve been avoiding social media for a while now, but this was on telly, I had to check it out. Another fucking white person used that disgusting word “kaffir”. And as expected the twitter choirs belted their hymns condemning racism. Which is a good thing I suppose, racist people must be exposed, named and shamed! But these racial incidences have a serious snowballing effect that might cause more harm than good. Racism is rife, but must we “ALL” get excited every time it happens?

Racism has been around since different skinned man discovered different skinned man, prejudice based on skin colour was born on that day (or not because I wasn’t there). Twitter has a way of keeping it fresh and current. But here’s the thing, in my heart of hearts I believe it is getting better. In terms of tolerance I think we’ve made progress in South Africa since Nelson became President. We will, however, not see this progress if we keep getting excited every time isolated events like this happen.

I’m not trying to make light of racism. All saying is that it doesn’t mean because something is big on social media it’s big and real in real-life. Another thing that is true about people in general, it’s the need to dwell on negative things. Same way a lie is halfway around the world before the truth has got its boots on, negativity will always take a back seat to positivity. Its racism, insidious, its scandalous, its taboo, let’s condemn it! Let’s condemn it every time it happens. But to what end? Won’t we ultimately become a country walking on eggshells?

Basically I think social media is painting the worst picture on the topic of racism.

I’m having a random thought, trying to figure out what the opposite of racism is, I guess its tolerance? I don’t know. Anyways, I’d like to think more of that happened today and I salute everyone who is tolerant.

Jessica Leandra, Darren Scott, Steve Hofmeyer, Virgin Active dude, Helen Zille (if you’re nasty) and many many many others we won’t get to know about, don’t paint the full picture of who we are as an entire country trying to heal. Really fuck them! But still calm down, we’re okay.

Racist, sexist, ageist, homophobic, classist etc, as long as there’s fear and hate bigotry will always be alive. We’ll always find a way to construct discrimination.

Postscript
Everyone wants to stop racism, but no one has a solution really. I don’t even have one. I can’t think of a way to stop racism. I don’t think it is stoppable. Grit your fucking teeth and pretend. Its not that hard. I smiled the whole time when I was in Durban. Jokes.

The K word makes the N word look like a lil bitch phone bill drama.

I’d also like to apologise for saying fuck so many times in this post. This is the last time I’m blogging about racism and other isms. I’m tired!

How to spot a hooker in the day


Haven’t blogged in ages. Been doing life things or just taking a break I don’t know.

 

It was two o’clock in the afternoon and I was waiting for my sister outside the shops at one of Lynwood’s many shopping complexes.

As I was waiting, I noticed this lady (not really) walking to get to the ATMs. I should say right now that I’m a very observant person, especially of random things that probably won’t mean/amount to anything. Anyways, a few seconds into my observing this woman, I noticed a few things that led me to believe that she was a prostitute. I’ll be first to admit that sometimes my imagination runs rampant and I get questionable ideas brewing in my mind, but on this occasion I feel justified. Here is how I came to the realization that this lady was a tramp.

Gait

The way she walked was the first thing that made me notice her. It was a very peculiar gait, one that I was not familiar with. At first I thought she had some sort of disability, but no, she just walked funny. She seemed to use the arch of her feet more than necessary especially considering that she was wearing flats. She looked a tad bit uncomfortable or at least not used to walking in flats. I didn’t understand until I noticed more irregularities.

Calf Muscles

She had toned calf muscles which didn’t really go well the rest of her. I knew for sure she wasn’t someone who believed in regular exercise. Her calves rivalled Zola Bud’s (okay, maybe Helen Hunt’s) but still. This is the point where my mind started running rampant, I got it in me that if someone wore clear 8 inch heels everyday and had to stand and walk around in them…they would have calves like these. These were 8 inch clear heel wearing calves and I had to see if there’s more evidence. And there was.

Skin Tone

This was a black woman, but she was a yellow-bone (fair skinned black people are called yellow-bones by not so fair skinned black people). Her yellow-bonedness was however very compromised…think Happy Sindane’s skin tone. I want to say she looked pale, but not really. Imagine the skin tone a Khoisan would have if she’d never been kissed by the sun. Like she had a serious vitamin C deficiency (don’t even know what that would do to the skin, but I imagine it would result in her kind of skin tone). Like yellow leather seats that have been left outside after months of sun and rain…yes something like that. And like we all know, hookers don’t see much of the sun.

Thing is she didn’t look homeless or nothing. I had to find more hooker evidence. I did.

Hair

Her hair nearly threw me of my game. It was as nappy as fuck nuts! Think Whoopi Goldberg’s pubs in The Colour Purple (unnecessary hyperbole). But yes it was just that bad. If we still had the pencil test, The Whiteman would deport her to freaken Gabon. In my mind I thought it looked like she’d been wearing a beanie for the past 20 years or something. Then it hit me…wigs!!! Wigs are exactly like beanies, we’ll they should at least have the same effect on hair. So I was back on my game and things just kept getting better.

Nails

Once I noticed how lovely her nails were I had that “Cell-C tell someone” moment. Her nails looked lovely. They were gorgeous. Why would you have hair like that and hot nails? Because you are a hooker in the day time! That’s why! I was convinced. But I kept looking just in case.

At this point she was done using the ATM. I witnessed the same walk and was now looking at her in a whole different light. But something exciting happened!!!

She stepped into the SUN!!!

Guys! Away from the shade of the building she totally exposed herself. The glaring rays of sunshine had her looking disoriented and perplexed. The look was unmistakeable; it was like when Eric Northman (vampire from True Blood) stepped into the sun after hundreds of years. I couldn’t help it, I laughed so hard sitting there by myself.

So there you have it guys! Now you two can see if you can spot a hooker in the day. It is in how they walk, their calf definition, tone of their skin, how their hair looks, the nails and if you’re lucky their reaction to the sun.

 

Postscript

  • Although some of the things in this blog post are exaggerated for dramatic effect, they really are not far from the truth.
  • Also this poor woman could be a victim of Apartheid or The ANC’s trifling ways. So ya: Dear ANC people look like hookers (and maybe even are) because of you! #Jokes #OrNot
  • This actually happened last year December. I found myself thinking about blogging about it a few minutes ago when I was “studying”. Procrastination is so much fun.
  • I’m actually very fascinated by hookers. If I ever write an award winning anything trust me, a hooker will be in the storyline.
  • I must also mention that when I was in varsity a friend of mine and I ran a soup kitchen from res for the homeless people of Mowbray (Cape Town). On a few occasions these two hookers had some of our soup. Very nice people. Never saw them during the day…ever.

Better to write for yourself and have no public, than to write for the public and have no self. Someone very wise said this. Don’t remember who. This is particularly true for someone who has tons of work to do and a blog account.

 

Refugees on a rampage, “Helen Zille’s a monster”


I wasn’t going to do this, but seems like I have to for myself and my mate @Miss__TC because we are tired. We choose to think about things before we have a passionate reaction that will be completely unproductive in the greater scheme of things.

Yesterday Helen Zille drew criticism for tweeting that pupils who relocate from the Eastern Cape are education refugees (or rather the ones who go to the Western Cape). When I first heard of this it was on twitter. It was said like this “Helen Zille, “The Madam” said that my people in Cape Town are refugees. Voetsek racist bitch!”. Quite a strong statement…so naturally I was concerned. I went online and I tried to find out why this person was so upset. Turns out she did in fact say this.

These are some of the headlines:

“Outrage at Zille’s ‘refugee’ comment” Mail and Guardian

“War of words over Zille’s refugee tweet” IOL

“ANC outraged at Zille’s refugee comment” City Press

“Zille`s refugee remarks smack of racism – SADTU” PoliticsWeb

And that’s it! This is what was covered in the news. I’m going to put it out there right now. I’m no fan of Helen Zille, I don’t hate either. I understand that her statement can be seen as careless, and fack maybe it is careless. One thing is sure it is certainly not going to win her any of black votes that she really needs for her agenda. But here’s the thing…here’s the BIG issue here…The failing education system in the Easter Cape. Can we give one minute of thought for that? That is why she said what she said isn’t it? Very few people spoke about that.

I wasn’t going to do this either but here I go. Again I’m no fan of Helen Zille.

refugee
-n.
1. a person who flees for refuge or safety, esp. to a foreign country, as in time of political upheaval, war, etc.

The fact is that the situation in the Eastern Cape is dire. Leaving a dire situation is fleeing. People are fleeing the Eastern Cape to seek better education else were. The province is suffering from sclerosis and its people are suffering. No one spoke for those people yesterday. We would rather go on a witch hunt for Helen Zille and call her racist. The ANC wins again. No one is calling the fat lazy cats looting the Eastern Cape government the pigs that they are. No one is charging those people with *insert appropriate noun* (whatever noun that is, it surely must be worse than RACISM since it has a DIRECT impact on your own people).

When I put up a status on facebook regarding all of this hoopla (@Miss__TC said it, because that is exactly what it is) a few of my friends commented. One friend of mine Zethu, a Doctor doing her internship in Pretoria, said that people aren’t only going to the Western Cape and it’s not only education. She gets several patients in Pretoria from the Eastern Cape coming to seek better health services too.

Excerpt from the Mail and Guardian:

“There mustn’t be a presumption that all learners who’ve left the Eastern Cape have gone to the Western Cape. To say all Eastern Cape learners go to the Western Cape is wrong because they do go to KwaZulu Natal and Gauteng.” Allan Taylor, an independent education specialist.

Look fact is every province is allocated a budget based on its needs and the people it needs to server. The Western Cape is the only province that is not under the control of the ANC. Gauteng and KwaZulu Natal have their own people to service, when their load is increased the welfare of the people in those provinces is compromised. But hey, but all those provinces are being run by the same political party. I’d like to think that if The IFP ran KZN Mangosuthu Buthelezi would certainly have something to say. Resources are limited everywhere. If people leave their province is shouldn’t be because their province is failing. These are the issues!!!

I urge you all to always keep an open mind. Don’t just take things as they are. Political rhetoric has an insidious way of driving us so far away from the things that really matter. The narrow minded hullabaloo everyone made yesterday over Zille’s statement has taken away from any potential conversation that could’ve been had about a kid in the Eastern Cape who will never get to start a blog and get to have an open mind.

The lebola/magadi stock exchange


The other day on the tweet machine lobola was trending. This post is long overdue actually, better late than never? I’m actually going to call it magadi from here on, because I am Tswana and lobola is the Zulu word for it. Since it is all about culture, let me preserve my own.

One of my very good friends in varsity was of the opinion that she’s going to fetch a very high price on the magadi exchange. In her words: “Amongst other things Rodean was a finishing school, someone has to pay my dad back for all that money spent on my grooming”. She said this with a straight face and I was inclined to believe her, because it made sense to me then. Growing up I’d hear stories about how cousin Kagiso’s magadi was more than cousin Lebo’s, because Kagiso went to Wits and Lebo went to Damelin.

Old Skool

Things were very different when the idea of magadi first came about. Magadi negotiations were a lot about pride and the values families instilled in their daughters. Men were only too glad to pay sizeable amounts of cattle for these young women. However, it wasn’t so much about the consideration given up, but more about the symbolic celebration of a women’s worth, to her family, society and the man she was to marry. The worth of a girl/woman was based on a few things, to mention a few:

  • The kind of family she is from and their standing in the community
  • whether she’d be able to bare children. So they’d look into how fertile the mother and other females in the family have been
  • whether she’s a virgin or not. I don’t think Tswana people did this. I think this is a nguni thing
  • aesthetics also played a role, and
  • her weight. Apparently big girls are well nourished and it shows that they are well taken care of by their families (heard from a nguni friend).

It is also important to remember then that men were the sole providers in the family. As such, for the bride’s family to allow a marriage they had to be satisfied that indeed the groom will be able to take care of their daughter. Back then living standards were relatively on the same level with the exception of a few. That few would marry into those families which they associated with in terms of wealth.

Nu Skool

While some families still have the same ideas of yesteryear, others don’t and it’s become a little dicey. Thing’s exist today that didn’t exist then, creating challenges that are left unaddressed. These things have in my view skewed the real meaning of the whole practice of magadi. From the list above we can already see how some of these things have no meaning in modern society.

Back then marrying families knew each other or at least of each other. Standing in the community was easily determinable. How’s Mashudu’s family from Polokwane going to know how respected Mbali’s family in Johannesburg is? Fertility is hardly an issue these days because children are no longer viewed as some sort of wealth. As for beauty today and beauty then…that’s a whole blog post on its own. You also find men of modest means marrying into families of considerable wealth, and vice versa. Both parties come to the table with different expectations. Inter-cultural marriages also present a different set of issues; interracial marriages are probably ten times worse.

So then what do we have to value Mbali’s worth? Education, future earning power and a loose assumption of what kind of family she is from?

I find that the major challenge with this practice nowadays is the issue of money, money, money, money!!! Putting a price on everything seems to be how this ritual is practice. The potential monetary gains to the bride’s family leave the groom’s side to potential abuse. These issues are further exacerbated by the paranoia caused by divorce. Back then this was never an issue. The money paid was an “investment” for life.

So what now?

Fact is we need to assess if it’s still worthwhile to have this practice. Like polygamy it’s comes across as archaic and it might no longer be relevant in the times we are living in. Women can now provide for themselves as well and sometimes even better than men can. Being the “bread winner” and the magadi payer aren’t the masculine tasks they used to be.

As much as I love preserving our cultural heritage and customs etc, I need to feel comfortable with paying an amount for someone I’m going to marry based on random valuations. In my head it is honestly so much better to give cattle. Cows are a source of life and survival. Those cows would give milk and meat and hide. Cattle are still celebrated in the rurals and it’s tangible. It makes senses.

Ever wonder what happens to the money these days? Some families give it back to the couple as they know they need the money to start a new life together. Others want to use it to help pay for the wedding. Then there are the families that use it to pay debt, get new kitchen units and whatever other things they want. Do you see my problem?

Good luck with your future magadi negotiations. Ladies I hope you fetch a high price. Gentlemen I hope you can afford it.

DISCLAIMER: If something in this post purports to be a fact, please be so kind as to look upon it as an opinion. I have not researched any of this; I’m just sharing what’s in my head. Please also try to have a sense of humour.

 I once heard a story of one malume at magadi negotiations trying to get an extra R1000 because the girl had a learner’s license.

 

 

“In our future you wouldn’t look twice” #GTFOH


DASO knew that this here poster would cause a stir and why wouldn’t it? Its two attractive naked people with contrasting skin tones. For crying out loud, it looks like a Jean Paul Gaultier perfume spread in a magazine. And the slogan, “In our future you wouldn’t look twice”. Like interracial relationships have anything to do with politics, as symbolic as it may be.

I would’ve loved this picture if it wasn’t blatantly used for ballyhoo. I think it’s in bad taste. Like when Helen dresses like a Soweto street vendor to “get down” with the people. Using shallow differences is not the way to sway people. Or me rather, it is best to speak for myself.

If a picture is worth a thousand words than The DA has for me said enough for the next few weeks. I don’t know if The ANC has responded to this poster yet, but I would urge them not to. This is D-grade fodder for bloggers like me. Shame on me for giving this attention, but it’s what you wanted so here it is DASO!

Everything is changing. People are taking their comedians seriously and their politicians as a joke. – Will Rogers