Monday, 27 March 2017

They say: Apartheid is gone, get over it.....

This is a piece of writing I have planned and wanted to write for a very long time but tried with no success to find a way to start it. Every time I hear people telling other to "get over it" and most of the times these are people whom really have no idea or lack comprehension of what the impact of Apartheid really is. Well let me first start by saying, Apartheid was not a bar that one can jump over, it was not an event, it actually was a system created deliberately to destroy a certain group of people. 
Now before you go instruct people to get over it at least try and understand certain things that came with this terrible system designed by those full of hatred then you may understand why others act or behave the way they do. I will list a few things created by this system:

1.     Destroying family values: A scenario was created where men were employed far away from their homes with no option of bringing their families with, the political incarceration of men and women, the exiling of many either as banished or through seeking military training creating an environment where men started multiple families in various places and becoming absent fathers to multiple groups of children, women moving on to be with other men while married to absent husbands and at times bearing children from other men other than their husbands. Today we sit with a community that has less moral fiber and does not understand the impact that absent parenting has and its contribution to the lawless society we now live in. Children growing in homes that have no love, no rule of law and growing to be violent adults who either commit hideous crimes or form dysfunctional families. Now before one makes a comment about how much promiscuous the other group is, perhaps one should consider how that was created and forced into the lives of others. 
2.    A creation of a Violent society: Today South Africa is classified as one of the most violent societies with a high statistics of violent crimes, black and coloured communities as the biggest perpetrators. Now do you remember the time when young people were shot for no reasons? The time when police could kick down your door in the middle of the night and take young men to chastise them for apparent crimes they never committed? A time were children, toddlers stood around burning corpse of an individual who betrayed the community and turned an informant to a brutal government? The era where people disappeared with no trace and family not even afforded burial rights? Can we consider the fact that treating men like little kids at work to even referring to them as "boys" and their women as "girls" can cause them to be violent at home to those vulnerable to their power? Do you still want to talk to me about how violent people are?
3.    Creation of an unequal and unjust society: from the time when the migration of men seeking employment in Johannesburg begun, the work of separating and destroying unity amongst all oppressed started. The classification of people into different groups with different privileges was cultivated to ensure that these different groupings never unite for the same cause. Areas were designated for all the different people so they could remain separated, different classification with different statuses given per group creating the type of society we see today. People were forcefully removed from ideal locations to be place in high density areas were they could be easily monitored as a group and enjoy no comfort provided by other areas such as being closer to the beaches, amenities, etc. Stripping people of dignity by pushing them into places such as Alexander and forcing such quality of life to them.
4.    Ushering of self-hate: after the classification, segregation took place labeling groups of people with pejorative names that did not only make others feel inferior but was also meant to provide a false sense of preeminence. The so-called Blacks calling the so-called coloureds "Boesmans" and visa-versa "Bantus/Kaffirs", the so-called "Indians" although being born here called "Koelies", other African brothers and Sister "Kwerekwere", etc. Somehow this names thrived because those using them felt that they were superior than those carrying such tittles, with this the people began hating themselves as these titles also carried some stereo-types of stupidity, violence, not belonging, etc. while they so-called white meant superior, smart, beautiful, etc.

Now perhaps before we talk about apartheid being gone we should remember that the damage caused by it still lingers freshly around in the character of all, whether through calling each other names, believing we are better because of the colour of the skin, etc. We should consider than while it may be gone on paper some of the family members that had disappeared are still missing and those wounds not healed. Perhaps we should realise that the land and belongings that were forcefully taken were never returned to the rightful owners, so before you talk about how people should move right along pass apartheid recognize that they might be unable to due to the unsought comments on social media from those who "have black friends" still trigger the anger of those who have lived through the injustice of it. 

So stop telling people that apartheid has been over a long time and start acting like a person who understands the damage it caused. 

Thursday, 16 June 2016

The hijacked blood that screams below the roots of trees of freedom

A tribute to lives never lost

Writing a piece around an event that is in the public eye has never really been my thing perhaps because so much opinion is made public around such and the fight of opinions begin to cloud the core of the event. But also perhaps my difficulty around this piece is anchored on the personal question about my worthiness to write about such giants, but again this is the same reason many sacrificed themselves.

Today as I write this I'm sit in an air conditioned auditorium around the youth that have dreams, goals but most of all opportunities to make all these a reality, a right to be heard and above all a right to live. I write this piece sitting about 10 Km away from where the young people's lives were robbed away from them, a mere 10 km distance from where thunder of blazing guns failed to instil fear in the minds of young lions whose roar was heared across the globe and into the heavens. I sit in a place where the colour of my skin would have prevented me from entering, a place where my only presence would have been as a slave and not an individual who owns his destiny an individual who impacts lives of other young people.

But as I sit here my concentration is called upon by the screams that come from underneath the ground that gives life to the trees of freedom which provides no shade to the poor that burn from the harshness of the one sided economy, the screams that hold strong the roots of trees that bear the fruits of liberation that the people of the land are still yet to taste. The echo of battles for the naming rights of the souls that still lingers over the rivers that fail to satisfy the thirst for true freedom that many will never realise in this lifetime. But what the leaders of today are worried about is who did these young people support, belong to and enjoy membership of, these are the leaders of the same organisations which failed to provide security, guidance and safety to the ranging young lions tired of being bullied around by the bulldogs of the system without humanity.

Today many will celebrate the day, others commemorate it but these are just words from a language that introduced labels such as black, white and savages to define those whose culture they did not understand. The reality is today will be just a day that passes with a lot of noise made, ridiculous speeches and activities, embarrassing drunkenness in school uniforms but no true understanding of the anger, pain and suffering of those that stood infront of the barrel of their oppressor's gun. Today will be another day in the diary of politicians to score political points and credibility, another day for a writer like me to express the frustration of many others that live around them and sadly a day that a mother will remember picking up a bloodied corpse of a 13 years old who was suppose to begin going through a teenage stage of life but had to take a responsibility that their fathers were only too scared face. 

Well this here is not a dedication to the life of those that died for the freedom of others but a tribute to lives that were never lost, a tribute to the souls that resonate in the youth that still fight for the rights of the little man, a tribute to the heroes. #tributetothelivesneverlost

Saturday, 21 May 2016

Dear Mr Blesser

I am writing this letter hoping to meet with you in person perhaps you may bless me also, oh I forgot you only bless the young and vulnerable girls whom you can take advantage of and destroy their future. But now that you are listening perhaps I can plead with you to bless your mother with a better house, bless your family with lasting wealth, to bless your kids with better education and take care of your disabled child that your exploited wife takes care of alone without medical insurance because you are nowhere to be found.

You see the truth is your lavish spending is nothing new, I grew up in an environment where people would wash their cars with expensive Scottish whisky, use expensive brands to wipe it off, buy alcohol for the whole club, burn a car when they buried their friends then go back home to sleep in a backroom shack with a sponge on the floor. Your showing off nature reflects to me a person that had nothing growing up and probably will die with nothing. See we have seen too many like you that dominated parties, clubs, Sunday newspaper covers but today hide in the darkest of valleys like rats and hang their heads in shame when they walk pass the shops they once forced to close doors when they walked in to buy. 

Well lets cut to the chase, could you please stop blessing my sisters with AIDS, could you please stop reproducing your sperm which may carry your unscrupulous nature, may you please stop playing big by splashing what you don't even have enough of, could you please stop turning kids against their less blessed fathers who work factory jobs to take their daughters to school. Actually can you please stop being such a curse.......  #Giveusbackourgirls

Thursday, 19 May 2016


People use the term sharing so loose without understanding the meaning nor the application of such a powerful act of kindness and greatness. The only things people share are those they don't really want, we share the food we don't like, we share the poverty we live in, the pain we experience, we share only in situations where we can gain recognition, fame and praise. We don't wanna share wealth, we can barely share the space which we where all born equally in, we are too dark in our hearts to share the limelight, fail to share respect that we find victory in attacking each other on public platforms to score points that can't be used to pay our debts off, fail to share a smile when one does well without our help because we want it mentioned that it is because of us that they succeeded. We are truly a reflection to our label "Humanrace" racing to be the better than, the first, we never share things that will have a positive impact on other's life but mediocrity that holds them back. We share newspapers and magazines not knowledge books....Note ‪#‎thisstatuswillnotbeshared‬

Sunday, 17 April 2016

Keep your South Africa, I want Azania. The true struggle of a dark skinned child

This conversation came about when me and a friend, Roche Mamabolo were talking about the famous Robben Island, well the real discussion was the exclusion of other liberation movements from the Robben Island's history. Well by account probably the modern worst treated political prisoner on Robben Island was Robert Mangaliso Sobukwe who was interned in solitary confinement for 6 years following a completion of his 3 year sentence, then banned to a township he knew nothing about, refused right to medical care. A much surprising fact is the deliberate exclusion campaign of a man that has fought and suffered so much for the liberation of this country. When visiting Robben Island you are taken on a tour around the island then the prison to go inside the cells and see where prisoners lived but the Robert Sobukwe house is  just a stop by for a bus and the tour guide will tell you this here is the Robert Sobukwe's house. Is the intension to discredit all the political prisoners at the island and glorify only those belonging to the African National Congress? This seems to be working great as many South Africans and those who take time to learn about the history of South Africa seems to think that Robben Island was a place to imprison the ANC leaders, despite the island being used as a prison from 1657, imprisoning chiefs that defied the government and keeping political prisoners such as Andimba Toivo ya Toivo of Namibia.  

So this topic raised a lot of questions that goes to the foundation of our nation; were people like Sobukwe, Biko and others killed because they were deemed more "radical and difficult" than the ANC leadership imprisoned in Robben Island? Were these leaders killed due to their Africanist stance and belief rather than agreeing to talks with the oppressor of what our liberation should entail? Is it because they rejected the idea of working with whites in building a country rightfully theirs along western ideology guidelines? Sobukwe labeled the ANC "liberal -left-multi-racialists, Biko criticised the adoption of a white value system as a standard in South Africa. Was democracy our idea? Is being included into a voting system that is built on the western values/ideologies serving us better than our African traditions and governing systems? Did the remaining leaders sell us out to enrich themselves, those closer to them and if not why is the majority of the Black race still living in poverty with the exception of politician together with the politically connected capitalists? Have we traded land for a vote because all we have is a penniless vote with no land to grow our crops while the developments continue to rise and occupy the African skyline we call ours perhaps the only reason we were allowed a vote was because we had agreed to not question the economic standing, generational wealth and land ownership enjoyed by the white race. 

Well the biggest question I suppose in this whole dilemma is who fought for the liberation of Azania and who had the right to negotiate away the birth rights of the  people of the land? It seems that everyone is focusing on being recognised as the owner of this liberation, the ANC claiming to have brought liberation for the people of South Africa. The claims on ownership of the Sharpville shooting, June 16 and many other days that demonstrated the plight of an African child in the hands of a cruel system that killed children, raped women, chased fathers away from their families and labelled grown men and women as boys and girls. A system that removed people from the land their ancestors were born on yet this system still strives and rules over the same land, a system that has turned those against it to embrace and administer it to their own people. But for the people of Azania the struggle continues. 

History will judge all of us and our descendants will bare the heat of it, but until then the plight of the poor people of this land continues. As to our leaders putting the people first....Dololo.....

Tuesday, 29 March 2016

Can my people stop inventing dance moves!

I have been avoiding this post for a long time now but have come to the point of no return, like can my black people stop with the dance moves? Is this all we are good for? Well let me confess that I have two left feet and would probably trip all over if I tried some of these moves I see around, so maybe I am talking out of jealousy as some would say but believe me I have nothing to be jealous about.

I am worried though that I see so much posts of my black people dancing at times even naked, young kids who learn dancing before anything else and it brings me to questioning myself whether this is the only thing that we are great at. Why aren't we talking about our technology inventors, entrepreneurs, authors, etc. why always dance../ When we are shot at by the police we take to the streets dancing, when the government is not delivering we take to the streets dancing. We seem to invent a new dance routine every week, or perhaps it is just me being boring...

Wednesday, 27 May 2015

African Song

I am from a place called Africa

A dark continent with dark people filled with melanin and dreams that belong to others.  People whom not only a skin colour but also dreams are referred black, those unsure of their ability and ready for the taking they say: Yet in the darkness of this night called Africa I fail to see the stars, moon nor the scorching sun that invites many to come tan while enjoying the beautiful warm temperatures of our seas during the day because the sky of Africa is covered by the wings of huge planes that carry many from the so-called first world but the only first thing about them is to take from others what doesn't belong to them. I am from a place called Africa

A place where those who want to demonstrate their humanity and at times stamp their dominance come to give help and take away its children, change their African given names into names that they can pronounce instead of learning what they call native names. A place without its own identity nor collective language as different parts of it has adopted languages of those who once colonized them. I am from a place called Africa

A place where people kill each other in the name of religions that owe their existence in other parts of the world but their own, A place where its children dreams are to grow up and be something else rather than an African. A place that has given birth to life, civilisation, a cradle of human kind but lacks humanity and murder each other like senseless controlled robots because even animals are capable of loving.

I am no poet, just a simple writer with no rhythm nor rhymes to excite the dance inclined mind of an African child whom this piece is written about. I am no philosopher with doctrines of right/wrong to gauge my intelligence versus that of the first world and its habitants whom this piece is written for. I am from a place called Africa