unHappy Africa Day

Oh how much I want to be like everyone, scream, shout and sing Happy Africa Day, how I am tempted to post pictures, put hashtags on, enjoy likes and Retweets.  How I wish I could pretend even if it was just for a moment that Today is Africa’s Day of awakening, day of unity. But then the usual messages of denialisms from those who caused Africa to bleed, to thirst not only for water but the blood of fellow brothers and sisters, those who caused Mama-Africa to miscarry brings me back to reality and my voice fails to be audible in saying Happy Africa Day.

I quickly remembered the condemnation of those that tell me how much brilliant mind I have everytime I say what they want to hear and call me to order and stop doing business with me the minute I am brave enough to tell the truth as I see it. So I went to my naughty corner to correct my behaviour as I was taught. I tried again, I thought of recording a video to sing and speak about a Happy Africa but the screams of the murdered grannies, mothers, daughters, sisters, cousins, friends and colleagues cried out too loud deep from the graves dug by the African men who were meant to protect them, I thought I should wake up and smell the roses but the smell of the mutilated, raped bodies of African women overpowered any smell of roses they hoped to receive while they were still alive and  my voice failed to be loud enough to say Happy Africa Day.

I remembered to be politically correct and not try to be a feminist because I am trash like all of them, I was reminded that I am not clean and not better than any of those men so I shut my mouth too. I do my business the same way I was taught. So I then thought of doing what I was taught by those who have been in the game longer than me, pay my way out of justice but the underdeveloped malnutrition bodies  of Africa’s infants used to demonstrate the philanthropic nature of the West filled my mind and I lost my ability to make out words to say Happy Africa Day.

So let me be not the spoiler of your fun, let me not waste your valuable celebration time because you need to finish so you may go back to your master, work awaits you. Tomorrow is back to the normal unHappy Africa

The impact of COVID19 to the 4IR

So forget 5G stories, the conspiracy theories and all. But what is the real impact of COVID19 to the 4th industrial revolution? 

No question that the  battle with COVID19 has had a very bad impact to the economy globally, but what impact has it had to the introduction of the 4iR into the global economy? The truth is that it has actually fast tracked the progress. Companies had to close doors to prevent human interaction and with it the spread, this has impacted these companies financially and otherwise but also teaching them to do things differently. 

So many have been forced to continue operating even though it was digitally, meetings held virtually, which will ease the flow of traffic when this has become a way of life. Many organizations have had this ability to operate virtually but were never encouraged to do so and with this pandemic the leaders of such organization have now been introduced to this ability. I have always since the early 2000 spoke about the benefit of some jobs being performed remotely, we don’t need some administrators to wake up in the morning get stuck in traffic both morning and afternoon loosing over 4 hours in traffic only to come work for 3 hrs at the office when they could have done more at home. Companies have realized that they don’t need as much office space as they had occupied prior. The banking sector through the use of mobile apps has shown that the is probably no need to go to the bank. 

Service sector could have done better if they had robots serving people, health sector as well. Deliveries using drones, virtual PAs, virtual classrooms for schooling, the cleaning industry could use robot cleaners, etc. The traveling and tourism could have benefited greatly  through virtual tourism while people were at home during lockdown, this would have assisted in also assisting many deal with the depression caused by a lockdown. so after this we definitely now have realized how we less of an impact our lives could have experience if we were in the middle of the 4iR. 

Time

Time

So precious , so plenty
The only thing we all have the same amount of no matter who we are as long as we live
Time the one thing even the poor can give to those they love, time.

Time the only thing thieves can never steal from you to use for themselves nor sell, time
The  one thing truly yours to decide what you do with

Never spend it sad nor in regret
If you cannot find happiness, find memories
Be grateful of Time

Lucas Moloi TheChamp talking about BEING ON TOP

Democratic Elections

As I stand this morning in this queue I reflect on things that have happened since the beginning of this mess on the land of our fathers and mothers. I ask myself if political leadership is indeed what we need and should be striving for, if the meaningless competition between individuals is really our saving grace. Democratic elections they call it, free election they term it. Democracy to who, for what? Free to forget where you come from and what you stand for, in exchange for a T-Shirt and “Amandla” shouting leaders.

My wonder is do these “Leaders” even remember or know the truth of this land? Do they care if the truth about the blood that covered the fields our cattle grazed is told? Are they just, are they genuine? Most of all are they for the people? I am wondering if I should continue voting for the same western civilized laws that have eroded the morals of this continent, the economic systems that continue to keep the majority poor for the benefit of the few. If I should buy the same story Sold by same mouths in different related colours  and equally flawed repetitive manifestos yet claim to be different. I am extremely grateful of the sacrifices of many but remain doubtful that this is actually what they died for. My heart bleeds for the nations torn apart for political gain, the land that is still occupied by those who claim to have found it with no-one living on it, the farms that still benefit a few without even tittle deeds. I am an African, filled with love, welcome those who roam my land and offer them refuge just like my fore-parents did. I am the grandson of Kholokoe, the nation that lost it’s land and had their identity stolen by false history. I am the blood of Wetsi/Oetsi spilled in a cave that ate the nation of Kholokoe for their cattle wealth.  I am the Grandson of Khetsi, the fruit of the tree with intertwined roots called Tabane and Mathulare. I am of the soil, motho e mosotho ka mmala, I am of Kholokoe, Ke Morena MATHOLELA.......

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. 

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

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

Sharing

Sharing....

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

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.....

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...

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

The champ says:: Man Up! it's called being a Father

The champ says:: Man Up! it's called being a Father: Brother I am writing this letter to you, but the words are so sharp that my conscious being cannot help but think that this is a perso...

Man Up! it's called being a Father

Brother

I am writing this letter to you, but the words are so sharp that my conscious being cannot help but think that this is a personal attack from my subconsciousness. But no it is not an attack rather a call to the individual inside of me to stand and Man Up!, to stop hiding behind the weakness that became the monster my father hid away from then transformed him to an abandoner, the only face of the father I know and can remember. This is a call to a man that is a prisoner to a young broken boy that he once was, but now that young boy controls his inability to love, protect and guide. 

Time and time again when I stumble and I'm hurt in my quest as a lover, brother, father then I am told to Man Up!. Man Up! you say? I have tried to Man Up! but in the absence of a clear understanding nor definition of this Man Up! theory we continue to fail for we do not know what defines this term Man Up, I have Maned Up! and ended hurting those I was suppose to protect, became a monster to the ones who initially saw a hero in me, Man Up! you say. Well I have been turned stone-cold in this journey of Manning Up, tigers don't cry, you are strong, faster, smart, am I? Pardon my ignorance but am I not human, can I not feel pain?

Well brother, today I am going to tell my son this: Son, I love you, I appreciate you, I am not always right and do not have answers to all questions but I have the knowledge of what I wish for you and that is to be human. To treat women as Princesses, to pray, to say thank you and pleasure, to remember that your mother is a Queen and deserves all your respect always, I want you to cry when you are hurt, I did but just had never let anyone see me, you are brilliant, don't worry about Manning Up it is built in you, work hard, smile, respect others. Well there is one thing I have always battled don't fall prey to it, forgive yourself you are only human. Now that you can read this letter, it means you have found out that I cannot beat all the wrestlers, I'm not faster than flash and have nothing on Superman. Disappointed? Well son I don't want to Man Up! I want to be a father. 

Brothers let your sons know....

Yours 

Retired Super Hero

Live Beyond Yourself

This one goes to you

My friend, brother, sister, even to you the one who has put a label of enemy to me I write this one to you to remind you of the road that is slowly becoming a memory to you. I am writing this one to remind you of the reason of your existence, the greater purpose of your life. Around you we stand scattered and divide your concentration amongst things that really do not matter, I want you to close your eyes and try remember the small limitless child you use to be, the one with little understanding of what was happening but carried a great vision of where it will end one day. Is this what you had in mind? is it where your vision carried you? are you on cause?

I do not stand on higher moral ground nor greater purpose than you, I  do not lead a greater vision than you have, I am no immortal and forgive myself for being insufficient. I may not know your challenges today but I do know that all of us are presented with a lot of them and temptations, we are equipped with a mind that has the ability to make things what they are not, a mind that could lead us to give away our lifetime of happiness for a moment of joy. 

Purpose demands of us to live a life beyond the little passing situations and joys so when we are in situations we should remember that our decisions should reflect the future we are born to lead, the purpose of our lives is beyond holding hands and walking down the streets in love, it is greater than the temporary kiss of deceit, last longer than the moment of lust we give into. It is sweeter than the bitterness of the betrayals of life, our purpose is warmer than the cold nights under the bridge, stronger than the pains on a body dying of cancer, it is permanent than the scars of rape, it a commitment that will never end-up in a divorce. It is greater than you weaknesses, it is more real than your doubts, it is enough than your insufficiencies. Your purpose has a light that shines so bright that even the darkest cloth of death cannot cover. Live beyond yourself, realise your purpose...

Colour Fool Letter - A letter to all of us

Dear Reader

The one who sees colour before the person wearing such skin, to you who judges others purely on the effects of melanin. Well I guess we are all racist and defend our racism by all costs. I use to think that this was a South African problem until I saw white police officers in the United States treat the black men as shooting targets, same across the world. Well I am not writing this letter to attack whites, blacks, pink or brown whatever you want to be seen as. This letter seeks to help you think beyond the colour of the skin, assist you to hear the human rhythm of the heartbeat that is similar for all, to notice the colour of the blood you spill while it looks identical as yours. I seek not to make you one as you will not be, nor to unite you cause you see more differences that similarities. 

I only seek to let you know that it is ok to be different, that we do not need to be the same to understand and love each other. Maybe I am the fine one to talk when I still cannot even forgive the things that some "White people" have done to "some Black people". But as I sit and observe while country men fight each other about colour disguised by artificial things such as statues I realise that their battle is not about anything but the colour of their skin, I am saddened by my White friends who welcome me in their houses without noticing my colour to the point of using the term "them" when referring to "blacks" in their discussions with me, letting me drink and eat in the same dishes as them while their helper is not allowed to use the same glass to drink water nor allowed to use the toilet inside the house rather the one built specially for them outside. I am sad  when I visit my mother with my white friends and she still battles to call them by name stopping herself many times from calling them "Master" or "Baas", when my coloured friends take me home and their parents give them funny looks and start moving everything of value out of sight.   

Hope is renewed however when I see my kids play with their friends and see no colour, when they see no limitations based on the colour of their skin but abilities as human beings, when they wipe each others tears and blood without realising the colour of the skin but the pain they feel. When they call each other by name and not race.  When I come back to my life I realise that no matter what happens between me and my friends somehow they will not see me as a soul but as a colour, I am BLACK and we are colour fools...

Who knows God personally? - Letter to Religion

To you

The most faithful, the godly, the righteous as you would like to be called. This is a letter to you in an attempt to talk to you about God, what do I know about God you ask me? Well let us just say I know that we are far from where we are suppose to be. Everyday I am reminded of how spirituality has been reduced to religion, how different groups of people would discriminate, kill in order to be the right ones. Every time I speak with individuals of a certain faith I am reminded why people have given up on religion, how many perish in the world rather than come closer to God because of the very same people who preach to be the ambassadors of faith. 

Oh how you have killed each other and the innocent that dare to find themselves in the middle of your battle, Everywhere around me I see a bloodbath of religion, the crusades that killed over a million people around 1095-1272, The Inquisition in 1484 that saw an estimate of 350 000 innocent men, women and children  butchered, The Witch-hunts from 1484 until 1692, September 11, Gwoza in Nigeria, Garissa in Kenya, Islamic jihads, Arab-Israel conflict, etc. How do you expect me to follow your God? The God that condones for those who think and believe differently be killed? How do I believe your teachings when you speak of love and forgiveness while you butcher those you are in disagreement with. How do I buy into your paradise in the forever when you can't live in peace with each other in the today, how can I believe in the blessings of your God when those around you starve while you live in utter comfort and luxury?

Oh you religious followers, has any of you ever wondered what your role in the kingdom of God is, have you asked yourself what your purpose is? Do you still remember what the principles of your religion are, the cornerstone of your existence? The teachings of Muhammad, The sacrifice of Jesus, The Peace of Buddah, do you still remember the reasons of what you are doing? Oh you mortal souls of religion, is your God the God of vengeance and not forgiveness, a God of killings and not healing, the Master of Poverty and not Blessings, is your God the one that condemns. Wasn't your role to heal, love and bless others, does God still live in you? What if religion is only poetry? Well I doubt this letter will bring any change in you while the Holy Book couldn't.

I will become - Letter to my dream

Hi there

I hope you can hear me as I whisper a greeting to you afraid to speak out loud just now I wake you up and you begin running away from me. I have spend over 30 years chasing on you and the speed you travel with needs more that just endurance to keep up with you. Oh but how pleasant you are, all things I wish for surrounding me, no troubles, no battles and no struggles. You are so sweet that my life tastes like the juice out of a green lemon that still hangs on a tree, but then again I realise that at least you are not an illusion but a possibility. Oh beautiful dream when will I meet you in person, hug you, feel your warmth and comfort? 

Well unlike "Tumelo" my imaginary friend you stuck around and still visit me regularly, still inspire and motivate me. I have had days when I woke up in the morning without food in my stomach, no fuel in the car, days with an ATM card that a machine wouldn't even recognise and felt like giving up. The times when giving in to the little voice inside my head telling me that I won't make it and at those times you screamed out loud; "I'm just around the corner", well my friend it has been many corners that I even lost count but surely the ones ahead are much less than the ones behind me so I'd rather carry-on moving forward.

Where you are involved I become a soothsayer and see things in the future, I love the greenness of the grass I see, the crystal clarity of the skies, the brightness of the sun, purity of the nurturing rain drops that falls from the invisible clouds to feed my happiness. I see the well nourished children of Africa, striving economies of Africa, great leaders, I see cures of diseases and not treatment, I see recognition of philosophers, I see an Africa that is sufficient, no borders, I see an Africa of producers and not consumers an Africa owned by those born of it. Well my friend this vision is you, it is "My Dream" and i believe in you, till meet.  

You are not my destiny - A Letter to Poverty

Poverty

Well I don't suppose I should even ask you how do you do cause clearly you are well and striving, Africa, Brazil and many others are in a shameful condition because of you. You are responsible for such destruction, death, pain, shame and I am sure it makes you feel great. What I ask myself is where your origins are? Are you an illness, a condition created by some to control and shame others, are you a state of mind, an inheritance to the unfortunate? Where you reside there is so much taken away from the people there and the indignity to dish feeds the very same elements that turns siblings against each other, plant hate amongst nations and encourage abuse of many by those who are free of you. You turn humans into prey of the birds of the sky, soak healing hands into blood while they turn into murdering hands, your persuasive ways capture even the mind of a child that cannot yet comprehend language and then you turn into their reality.

I was born in an environment where you ruled, the world you had created and as I grew older I knew that I did not want to be a citizen of your country, a resident of your prison. I decided that you will not be my teacher and take every opportunity to remind me of how unworthy I am of anything better than you, I refused to be continually beaten and abused by you while I return for more. So I took a step, a stand against your rule, no you are not my destiny, you are not what I am meant to be.

You can remind me of the times I slept without anything in my stomach, show me a pictures of the same pair school shoes I wore all my high school life, the school uniform that was torn by the washing it received everyday because there wasn't an alternative and remind me of the stomach cramp that became my focal point in class daily because I had nothing to eat in the morning. Well guess what I am not ashamed of that history, it doesn't highlight your greatness to me but my ability to rise above such challenges and no I do not need hands outs. I am what God intended me to be and the greatness in this life is mine, I may sleep without food, sleep in the streets, have no clothes to cover my back but I have the will and the knowledge that you are only a temporary situation and not my destiny.

Suicide Note

Suicide

This is not going to be the usual pitiful letter and you normally receive, or should I say the letter that glorifies you and magnify your existence. It is a letter to put things into perspective, to place you in the space where you belong. One thing I will give you is you have taken away so much dreams, robbed the world of so much talent and stolen such lives. I wish I could tell you that your days are numbered but I realise that so long people don't understand their purpose you will remain in existence. 

So this is what I'm gonna say to you:

Your rope will not get tangled around my neck and overpower the beautiful scent of my cologne with the dark smell of death, it will never get a chance to replace the gentle smooches that caress my neck with the tight squeeze that will release my last breath. My legs will never shake with fear from the wrath of the grip your rope delivers when one kicks the from underneath their feet.

Your blade will never taste the sweet taste of the blood that runs through my veins, it will never cut the flow of power that runs through my wrist, the wrist that joins the blessed hands to the powerful arms that are made strong to hold life together. No I will not drink your pills nor poison as this stomach is filled with the fruits of hard work and the only hunger I experience is the hunger of success and a fulfilling life.

I will not jump down from any place you place me as the only direction appealing to me is up, I will not let you deceive me that where you put me to jump from is the highest place I will ever reach, no I am not jumping under nor in-front of anything but above what you make me to be. No I will not scatter my brains out for you, they are too precious and gifted, I will not send a bullet through my skull. No no no

Suicide you have made many write sad letters to their loved ones, well here is one to you. I wish I knew what you really are; a spirit, demon, state of mind, addiction I couldn't care to research. You have claimed too much that is not yours, a thief of note you have been, a liar but yet a looser and I win, do you feel defeated? good cause you messed with the wrong one I am #TheChamp...