Trapped


All I can do is love you.

I can’t help you with being loved.

Someone must have moved the door to you heart.

All I know is that when I got here, it wasn’t there.

A part of me dies every time you sabotage the little windows you so ungraciously try to open.

My love is weakened by pity

Every time I want to let go

You make it hurt just a little more to make me stay

Your pain, my strength, your chains

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

Top Ten Jobs For People Who Hate People


So I have this buddy, Zethu, who doesn’t like people. Scratch that, she hates people. I thought about it, I don’t know many of my friends who actually like people. And there seems to be a trend accross careers. Yes, I don’t know people from all professions. But hell I’m going to go for it. So here is my list of the top ten jobs for people who hate people.

10. Call centre agents
I was one for 2 months. Calling people and having them reject you no matter how polite you are. Humans seem to have more confidence on the phone than in real life. Really makes you see society for what it is. Makes you hate them.

9. Engineers
Most of them don’t even have people skills to speak of. The ones I know, I knew. That’s saying enough.

8. Teachers
“Those who can’t do, teach. Those who can’t teach, teach gym.” – Woody Allen in Annie Hall. Need I say more? They find “a calling”, but really, they couldn’t do it themselves, and because they know how not to, they can help us all get there. Whilst hating us all along the way.

7. Taxi drivers
Sigh! Somewhere in the course of history, either the passengers or the taxi drivers started this hate. Either way, the taxi drivers came up tops. Their hate is standard and constant. When you step into a taxi, your life is immediately in danger. From the strikes they cause, to inconvenience you, to the absolute disregard for traffic laws to make more money. Taxi drivers hate people.

6. Prostitutes in Arab/Islamic/terrorist harbouring countries
The poor souls are in fear of their lives all the damn time, and they have a job to do. A classic case of working under dangerous conditions. The conditions are however because people don’t eat bacon. Some might even say that they hate people so much, that they’re doing this job to spite them.

5. Politicians
They lie, they cheat, they steal. All this in the name of creating a better future for all. The best ones do it in the name of Jesus Christ Our Lord And Saviour. They get money from the rich and promise to protect them from the poor. They get votes from the poor and promise them to distribute all the wealth that the rich possess. One needs to hate people to do this, successfully, every day…as a job.

4. Hip-Hop musicians
Their lyrics are an IQ dropper. They are worse than drug dealers. Their sole intention is to dumb it down and get paid. They thrive on the insecurities of men and women. They, themselves, are projecting their insecurities through what they call music. The hate in the music is quite obvious. They call other people, who are not like them stupid whores all the time. They don’t even like each other, always shading each other. Hateful people in general.

3. Everyone who works at a hair salon
This I purely blame on the hair products. The chemicals in those products are extremely harmful to love ever seeing and appreciating love. Most of them are single and bitter because of the chemically induced paranoia. Best know, when you walk out of a hair salon, awful things will be said about you. This group we must pity. I advise them all to wear masks at work. If you don’t believe me, watch one episode of Jersey what what.

2. Cult leaders
“Loneliness is not cured by human company. Loneliness is cured by contact with reality.” Cult leaders make a career out of absolutely drawing people as far away from reality as possible. They cut you from your friends, your family, TV, booze…essentially everything you enjoy. When it’s all said and done, they trick you into killing yourself so that you can get onto the mother-ship to Sector T9. This must come from an acute hate of humans.

And the number one job for people who hate other people.

1. Doctors
Most of my people are doctors. In varsity the all complained about how rough become a doctor is. I used to tell them to shut up. I mean if you’re learning the skills that will save human lives you must get that it will come at a very heavy premium. But alas the premium has finished them. The burden of it all has torn my doctor friends apart. Most want to run away from it. In all honesty, I blame it on the patients. They have no business being sick in the first place. Most of the time it’s because of humans being irresponsible. They see this every day, and every day they think “why human?” Why don’t you just commit suicide and be done with it. Now I have to fix you and deal with the possibility of failing.

Ergo, they hate people.

Disclaimer
I’m glad I’m in the profession I am in. Auditing! We love everyone. We are for humanity!

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.

Dating Rambo, Whatsapp and Being Ignored


This is an empathy blog post, I’ve heard this story many many times. I was having a conversation with Quest. She was telling me about a guy who’s just acting up for no reason, especially since no one asked him to act down in the first place.

 

If you’re a 20 something year old doing his/her own thing, this has probably happened to you before. I used to do this, but it got done to me, so I think it’s inhuman to do this to another mother’s child (yes, we must think of how people have mothers, and how they’d just bleed if they knew their children were being treated so badly). So I don’t do it anymore. Here’s the deal.

 

And so it starts. One of your friends has the best idea in the world. It usually starts like this: “I know this great guy’. You’re not particularly busy, so it’s chilled, you go along with it. It starts with whatsapp and if you’re lucky, or not, it’s followed by a date. The whatsapp conversations are nothing ground breaking, but you can survive them. You figure that you’re interesting and have things to tell someone, either then twitter and your friends. So you decide, fine, I’ll tell this here niglet things. Then you get comfortable, because somehow that’s just how it happens. Inside of you grows a comfortable excitement, still nothing to write home about, but you do happen to smile about it whenever.

 

A few days later, you go on a date. It’s a good laugh, it could easily be a scene from a B rate romcom. But you’re smart, so your expectations are again left unchanged. Then, this person wants to be dating Rambo at the end of the date. “This was great! I’m so glad that I finally met you. Wow! You’re so amazing! You’re like the best date I’ve been on in eons. We should totally do this again”. For a moment, your ego is on spinning rims. You tell a few friends, your voice goes up a few octaves. But again, you’re smart. You calm down. You get home and check whatsapp…no messages from Rambo…

 

You send a standard message, polite, breezy, chilled, informal and just generally oozing of etiquette, to comment on the date. Mind you, not because you’re ‘trying something’, because that’s what people do after a date. You go to sleep. And wake to “Yeah sure, it was great! Have a good day.”

 

You think to yourself: “Um…what is this now?”. But now there’s a script! So you follow it, “Will do you too.”

 

A day later, dating Rambo is quiet, and you have interesting things to say. You know it’s pretty much over, and he’s just not that into you, but he’s a human being right? So you say hello, and ramble on about something. There he goes, tweeting up a storm and 3 hours he replies. By now the fat lady has sung all the numbers in Mama Mia, she’s done! It’s over. Nothing is ever going to happen between you and dating Rambo. And you’re cool with it. BUT HE IS A HUMAN BEING. So than it starts.

 

You say hello, when whatsapp says he’s online. Literally, 2 seconds later, he’s “last seen”. “Is he putting his phone down because I said hello? What the hell is this bull now?”. 10 minutes later he’s back, not to reply to your hello mind you. So you think “Oh hell no! TF kinda goldfish memory does this one think I have? Does he think I forgot that I said hello to me?” Why is he doing this? You hold back all the crazy that’s brewing, until it all just goes away.

 

10 days later…you’re completely over it. But you have to holla at Obi…because you’re not too sure what happened. Obi’s response. “I have no fucking clue!!!”.

 

But I did learn a few weeks ago that there are studies that suggest that being ignored sends signals to your brain, that closely resemble physical pain. So people just want to hurt you sometimes. That’s the only logical explanation I have for why dating Rambo exists.

“When I’m weak …


“When I’m weak I draw strength from you
And when you’re lost I know how to change your mood
And when I’m down you breathe life over me
Even though we’re miles apart we are each other’s destiny”

This is from one of my favourite songs by Zero 7. Reminds me of all those exs of mine that I always left thinking “you will always be my baby’. Listening to this song reminds me of all of them. It reminds me that I was lucky enough to have these people in my life.

We are still each other’s destiny. I once loved you. That’s set in stone. Nothing will change that. Before I met you, you were apart of my destiny. 

 

Her father’s sins


I miss telling stories about the people I’ve known in my few years on this planet, or rather my few years in university. My varsity experiences were made better by the diverse people I got to meet.

A girl I know was going through a lot. For someone many considered blessed, she was going through things a girl should never go through. Her strength was in her cold heart. A heart that grew cold long before she’d had any say in the kind of woman she wanted to be. It was these things that brought us close. In a lot of ways we shared a common sadness.

It was the beginning of the school term. Everyone was excited to be back after a long holiday. That first week of term is a lot about friends catching up on all the events that happened over the holidays. I usually have the least exciting anecdotes, so I find a simple joy in listening to everyone else’s tales. Little did I know that I was in for a somewhat of a scandal when I visited Kagiso’s room for a quick catch up.

A few months before the holidays, Kagiso found out that her mother’s cancer had returned. While we were excited about going home, she just wanted to be home for her mother. We’d IM over the holidays about her mother’s illness. Although she was weak at times, she was responding very well to treatment and the prognosis was good.

I knocked on her door with so much glee. She opened the door and gave me a big warm hug. We held on for a few seconds longer than usual. This setting a tone for what was about to come.

We started with a bit of small talk. The usual-you’ve lost weight, your skin’s looking good-frivolous things that don’t matter. I could tell that she was anxious to tell me something. I figured it was about her mom’s illness. So I asked how she left things.

Without mincing her words, she jumped right into it.

This is Kagiso’s story

When I was younger my father had an affair. My mother is the kind of mother who believes in protecting her children’s innocence so she’d always cover for him. Yes he was a businessman and he travelled a lot. But there were many nights where my home was without a husband. Not because he wasn’t there in presence, rather he wasn’t there in a way that I could swear on a bible that he was a loving and caring husband to my mother. Although he adored his children. I never questioned that for one bit.

It is for this reason that I resented my mother as a little girl. I felt like she was the one driving him away. I was a child then, it only made sense. I’d often think ‘Why doesn’t mommy kiss daddy hello. He’s been gone for so long. She’s so mean to daddy’.

One night, I walked in on her talking to him on the phone. She was in tears, weeping, begging him to come home. Saying how much she missed him and how much she loved him more than she (the other woman) did. This was a rude awakening for me. Unnoticed, I walked back to my room. I felt heavy and empty at the same time, almost lethargic. After what felt like a great deal of effort, I made it to my room. I couldn’t sleep.

I felt like an awful child. All those times I’d bombard her with questions ‘Mommy, where’s daddy, when’s he coming back. Mommy I want daddy’. Those memories played over and over in my head. I felt real guilty for the first time in my life. I learnt how to hate for the first time in my life. I felt remorse, compassion and empathy. I cried myself to sleep. I aged twenty years on that night.

I said nothing about this to anyone. I kept this to myself. I decided to be everything I can possibly be to my mother.

Fast forward ten years later. I go home for the varsity holidays. My mother was doing better than I could’ve ever hoped for, considering what I’d seen the last time she was ill. Everything seemed normal on the home front. It was home and glad to be back.

A week into the holiday, I get a phone call from Kirsten. Her parents had bought her a new car. She wanted us all to drive down to KZN. I obviously didn’t want to go, but I told my mother about it and she insisted that I go have fun with my friends. I was skeptical. But I went anyways.

We left for St Lucia on a Friday morning. We got there in the afternoon and jumped right into action. Did the things that juvenile girls do on a juvenile weekend away. On the Saturday morning everyone was hung over. But I drink like my father so I could function. I seized the opportunity to drive Kirsten’s new car and I drove to the local grocer for supplies. I wasn’t prepared for what was waiting for me.

I see this man, pushing a trolley a man who resembled my father. A man who was my father. He was with two boys, twins, not much older than my youngest sister.

You often hear people talking about near death experiences, how your whole life flashes before your eyes. The same thing happened to me. Everything I’d buried and masked through the years greeted me in that moment with insolence and spite. I was suspended in time. Everything in front of me was moving so slowly. My subconscious was taking in every single visual element of the cruelty before me. My eyes were fixated on those boys, and yet it was like I was feeling more than seeing. My cold heart was breaking. I could almost hear it over the sounds of cash tills, beeping scanners and trolley wheels.

I just stood there and watched as it became clearer that those boys were his. It was in the way they looked, there was an undeniable resemblence. The way he looked at them was another like a stamp that would forever seal what I felt for my father, nothing.

I watched them walk away as a tear rolled down my cheek. I just then realised that I’m my mother’s daughter. Every time my father walked away, she’d helplessly watch with a broken heart. Nothing can prepare you for anything like that. There was no comfort for me. I felt a loneliness I hope to never feel again. All the company in the world left the store with my father and those boys.

This middle-aged lady briefly saved me from my initiation into hell by coming up to me and asking if I was okay. I don’t know how much longer I would’ve just stood there if she didn’t come. She had such kind eyes, I suppose in that moment Charles Manson himself would pass for someone with kind eyes too. I opened my mouth to speak, but I somehow found myself deep in her bosom, weeping. I didn’t care, I couldn’t care. I’d just lost my father. I needed to mourn him. I was inconsolable. She was rubbing my back and stroking my hair. It was like a granule of sugar in my bathtub of lemon zest, and I couldn’t be more grateful. She kept saying something in Zulu, but I couldn’t hear her over my sobbing.

Slightly embarrassed, I eventually stopped. I thanked the lady, left her clueless and rushed out of the store.

The sun was blinding, but it was different. It felt different. It wasn’t as warm as it was before. I became clear to me that things had changed again in my life. Once again I had aged.

I got into the car. It then dawned on me that I still had things to buy. But I just didn’t want to. I also remembered that I was with four other people, who I so desperately didn’t want to be around anymore. ‘Ah fuck, those fucking perky bitches’, I though to myself. That’s when my good friend Obi called, it’s like he knew something was a miss. He asked me how everything was. I knew I couldn’t handle another episode, so I played it down and told him how much I hate those fucking perky bitches. His advice ‘drink them away’. Just like that, I decided that’s how I’m going to survive the rest of my weekend. It was the only way.

With my head slung low, ashamed for such an extroverted display of emotions, I walked back in the store. Grabbed everything we needed. Then I rushed to the bottle store and bought enough gin and tonic to sedate me until I got back home.

As I was driving, a part of me kept hoping I’d get involved in a freak accident. I just needed a little distraction, some else to suffer through, anything but this. But I had to think about my mother. This triggered another emotional reaction. I hadn’t at all considered her. ‘Did she know? Oh my God, this is why she has cancer again. That bastard is making my mother sick’. My mind was like a network of trains with multiple collisions. I had murderous thoughts. I was fuming! ‘He gave her cancer, he gave her cancer twice’. Over and over again in my mind.

Before I knew it I was outside Kristen’s holiday home. I sat in the car for a bit. Had a croissant and washed it down with a massive gulp of gin. Braced myself to face everyone.

The girls were barely awake. This was a grace I was truly grateful for. I was to get sauced before I could have a conversation with anyone. I fixed myself a good shot of GNT went outside and lit a cigarette.

And so the weekend continued. Juvenile! Most of it was a blur, as per my intentions.

It was Monday morning and time to go back home. It suddenly hit me that I wanted one of them to see that something wasn’t right with me. I wasn’t going to say anything obviously, but not at any moment did one of them come up to me and ask if everything was okay. These are girls I’ve known for over ten years. Couldn’t they tell that I was going through hell? I found this quite disturbing.

As we were driving home. I contemplated the kind of person I was. Questioning if I was perhaps acting normally to my friends. Was this who I was? Maybe I was going through hell long before I saw my father in that store. I was already there. I mean, hell is hell right? How much hotter can it really get?

The girls dropped me off first. We had a quick chat reminiscing about ‘the good times’.

Before I walked in the house, I took a deep breath, as if to channel some divine being into me. And just like that. I decided to be that little again.

With my new discovery unnoticed, I walked into the house. I said nothing about this to anyone. And again I vowed to be everything I can possibly be to my mother and now my sisters too.

As for my father. I don’t have one.

Here comes the bride, and she has a pen…


A dear friend of mine is getting married. Today I told my friend exactly what I thought of marriage. I don’t think she was impressed with me. Here’s what I said to her.


Love is a miracle, marriage is a contract. Let’s not get confused. Marriage is for tax benefits, a great party and the practical convenience of a binding agreement. What we are really excited about is love and a lekker party. 

Getting married does not guarantee, companionship, sharing, caring etc. Love guarantees these things.

Marriage guarantees tax benefits, shared legal liability, power of attorney… 

Remind me of this when I get married too. So I don’t forget that above all else I’m in love!’ *end quote*

Now I feel like I’ve upset her and I’m going to sit at the table close to the toilet. Or maybe I won’t be invited to the wedding at all. Lol! But this is an opinion I had to express. And, I suppose, a less than humble side of me felt like I am wise and this wisdom had to be shared. In all honesty I didn’t think I was saying anything that isn’t true.

LGBT activists are fighting for marriage equality because of all the statutory benefits that come with marriage, that they otherwise wouldn’t have if they merely happily live together. That just proves that it’s a social structure meant to make life easier. And every one should have that. 

I’m going to get married someday or maybe not. I don’t know. I’ll be comfortable anyway. 

All I know for sure is that I want to love and be loved. I want love and permanence in one person. No wedding ceremony or  nuptial agreement will guarantee me that. My character and the character of the love of my life will.

Postscript 

  • Maybe, just maybe, marriage is daunting enough and no one needs to here Obi’s opinions.
  • I want to hear people say I want to be in requited love, rather than hear them say ‘I want to get married.’
  • A lot of my peers are getting married lately. Tis the season for realz. 
  • I’d totally get married for the hell of it. Like all them dumb famous people. 
  • Before marriage and religion, there was love. No one created love, someone put it inside of us. Marriage and religion were decided on by a few people who were lucky enough to make it on earth before me!
  • I really hope I still have a wedding to go to!

We’ll be around for a while. We’ll always find a way.


They all agree that our planet is going to run out of resources. Their solution? Asteroid mining, which will inevitably lead to finding other planets to rape. They call it innovation. It’s happening now. Billionaires are investing. The human race isn’t going anywhere! We will rape, loot and pillage the entire galaxy if that’s what it takes. 

In the 60’s we landed on the moon. That’s a massive accomplishment. Bigger than Twitter and Facebook…and the latest Merc that makes cappuccinos. I don’t for one minute doubt that mining will take place on Mars and/or another planet in the not so far future. 

The best, or worst depending on how you look at it, is how much money ‘they’ all have. They’re all so proud to say that Capitalism is bigger than governments.

It’s scary…and I want a piece of it. I’m going to need at least 10 billions and all the filthy rich friends I can get.

2012 in review


The WordPress.com stats helper monkeys prepared a 2012 annual report for this blog.

Here’s an excerpt:

4,329 films were submitted to the 2012 Cannes Film Festival. This blog had 15,000 views in 2012. If each view were a film, this blog would power 3 Film Festivals

Click here to see the complete report.