Judgement days

The manner in which we judge each other in South Africa is atrocious. We have shifted from being groups of people who defend each other from any negative and uncalled-for remarks made by people of opposing parties and groups straight to turning against each other.

In the process, we forsake all the evidence there is to help look at and resolve cases that seems to be shady in our eyes.  Consequently, so many souls have no hope, faith or trust in anyone outside their family circles. But, what if one comes from a family that lacks the element of support for its off-springs?

Clearly, if our lovers, friends and neighbours have forsaken us in this situation, we need not put our hopes up for rescue.

My rant is inspired by what I just witnessed a couple of seconds ago.  A lady by the name of Pelokazi Zao is a trending topic (#TT) on Twitter because of a “her” Facebook account that has a profile photo of her spreading her legs and showing-off her genitals.

The one thing that caught my eyes as soon as I witnessed this is that, this account does not have any information apart from this photo, no friends and it does not have any posts; a concept that introduced a suspicion in my mind. Alas, no one on Twitter seemed to have noticed this. Instead, Tweepets (my term for people who tweet) threw curses and fits towards this lady. And I am thinking, what if this Pelokazi is not aware of this account? What if someone set her up as a revenge for whatever reasons? What if this is a photo she took with her boyfriend/husband – as we all know, people do nasty things when in love - who might have created this, after a very bad split?

Am I the only one who thought of all these things? What are women thinking?

I have read and heard of so many stories where a young girl committed suicide after her sex video was circulated in some town or school. What if this results in the same scenario? Are we to blame the coward in her or we will be courageous enough to admit that we played a role in her death?

Judging comes natural in each one of us, despite being in denial about it most of the times. But, there is a certain limit to everything.  We have proven to be not so satisfied with being obsessed with our bodies, hence we have grown to be more selfish than one can possibly imagine.

Now, this is a story to be made fun of. Even if the worst happens to her, we will laugh and utter negative remarks about her. However, when the lightning strikes on our sides; hitting us, our friends, lovers and those we like, we then look at those who laugh at us, those who judge us without any benefit of the doubt as the bad people, forgetting that we were the first products to be bad.

I advise you to continue and laugh if you want. I also advise you to look at the laughingstock before you let your heavy lips part in slow motion; mull over the possibilities, and after all that you have considered, do note that it is highly possible that you could be the next one on exactly the same position as the person you are laughing at.

With you being the victim in this regard, I wonder if you would be posting #TTs on Twitter spreading the word to people and making fun of the situation.

Happy read!

Facebook comment

This morning I came across a line that took me back to missing having a boyfriend. I bump into this sentence by mistake on Facebook.  

“I’m proud of him for putting up with me...” that was the line.

Here’s what happens; if I see someone on Twitter whom I find interesting enough to follow, I first Google him and see if he is on Facebook or not or what information is out there about him. In doing that I go through the available information just to see if he is still worth my follow.

This was the case this morning; I came across this line on Facebook as a comment this guy –I wanted to follow on Twitter- made on a photo of his boyfriend. Immediately, I felt lonely and miserable and I could not help but think of when one of my former lovers used a similar line about me to his friends while I was in the other room. “Argh, he really loves me shame, I mean after putting up with my crap, he’s still with me... oh he’s a sweetheart...”- he would say.

This got me thinking that in as much as I always point the finger to my exes for my failed relationships, I am to blame too for failing to keep and put up with them like I had promised myself I would. At the end of the day I messed up too, but because I refuse to let the love I have for myself get tainted, I do not mind seeing the exit.

Right now, I am free as a single person, but I sure do not like doing things alone.  Maybe it is about time I get myself a very expensive teddy bear.

Happy read!

Precision as I see it

South Africa is a very beautiful country and that is a fact. From looking at it with the naked eye to experiencing our moody weather, feeling the beauty and warmth of its people and enjoying their company.

This country is rich. We have soil that produces and supplies many countries not only with crops, but with gold and wine too. We have a very diverse culture; a rainbow nation out of which result legends and the most amazing people.

We are talented. There is nothing anyone from any other country can do that we cannot do. In many cases, we do things better because we have our rich history that inspires our creativity and we have hungry minds, hence we grasp information and often make use of it by not only enriching South Africans, but everyone else from beyond the borders as well.

We have the best of good hearts. When our neighbouring countries are facing tough times, we intervene. We offer help and we get down to taking on hard labour; just as long as it is going to help the other people.

When Haiti was faced with a fatal earthquake that left thousands of people dead, South Africa was amongst the states that took on the responsibility to help. When an internal quarrel arose within the Zimbabwean cabinet, our own Thabo Mbeki had to act as a mediator, as a result, we now see cordial relations between opposing parties, despite the permanent profound hatred that will forever remain.

Like any other beautiful creature, of course, we possess a bad side. Unfortunately, when the bad in us surfaces, all the beauty and the goodness in us vanishes. Consequently, many dub us many negative things while we see deeper dark spots in ourselves too.

Sadly, in seeing predicaments within our own fabric of society, we tend to disagree with each other which is a process that usually result to incarnations that merely segregate us with the same tools we use to join our forces against any external rival; race, gender, ability and sexuality.

Discussing solutions appears to be easy to us, those who see the cabinet via television and stadiums. We tend to assume –and sometimes believe- that our government is lazy to sort out issues. What makes people like me see things this way really?

Our public officials lie. They refuse to admit to failure in any case. Instead, they produce confusing statistic figures that leave me –who left mathematics in Grade 7- blinking a million times. These figures never sit well with my tasting buds.

Our government comprises corrupt individuals who see money and instantly think of illegal tender dealings, bribery and impish expenditure of taxpayers’ hard-earned cash, while their salaries sit to grow mould in their Swiss bank accounts.

Are they to blame? Yes. Yes, because they promised to work for the benefit of the public by developing and implementing strategies that will see many uneducated people getting jobs, sick and frail poor people getting the necessary help they need and the existence of humanity, unity and love between men and women, children and elders, blacks and whites, gays and straight people, able people and those who are challenged; physically, mentally and otherwise.

Of course, government alone cannot do anything. Just like citizens could never succeed without the help of the government. This is where things begin to shape up, and everyone know and understands this simple concept. But, is it exercised? No.

That is why many people – in and outside the government - throw tantrums that leave many of us bending trying to pick up our jaws from the floor.  From the likes of Julius Malema who pride himself with uttering discriminatory statements about women and people of opposing parties, to Steve Hofmeyr and Annelie Botes who express their dislike of the Black race in public forums citing to be stating their views the only way they know how.

That is why families are betrayed. They send their children to schools and entrust them in the hands of men and women who vowed to act as parents to them, whereas disgusting acts of children having sex and using drugs takes place right in their yards, with many other children watching while some entertain themselves by capturing such events on videos.

If it’s not such, gay people excuse their laziness by blaming homophobia, black South Africans exploit and discriminate against other black people from neighbouring countries (from the same countries that sheltered some of our politicians during the apartheid regime), men engage in sexual activities with young girls promising them the world while the reap their viginas apart and certain women create plots to kill their partners just for the love of money.

No one knows better, but when our minds work together we become better. Even with these incidents, we are able to and we can sort things out just by quitting the selfish motives we carry within us when dealing with each other.

As a black person, I need to know and learn to accept my faults. I need to understand that, the world does not owe me anything. In fact, I need to get up and work hard to accomplish my dreams. I need to understand and believe that I am capable of becoming what I want to become. I need to have it instilled in my mind that I am talented and all that the other person can do, I can do better. Also, I need to drop the hatred, fear and intimidation I get when I come across a white person. However, I need to understand that, if I express discriminatory statements about people of other races, I am racist.

The same applies for Coloureds, Indians, Whites and Chinese.

We go around saying we are proudly South Africans. It is about time now we prove that by working towards building a rainbow nation just like we had claimed we were since 1994.

Branding t-shirts with hearts is not enough.

Happy read!

Alone

About a month ago, I got appointed as a permanent member of staff at a company I had recently joined. Happy, feeling triumphant and thriving as I was, I knew these were the news to share not only with my beloved mother, but with those whom I call my friends too.

Before I even tried calling my two best friends, a thought ticked in mind, and all of a sudden I realised that I can’t, I can’t call them and tell them this. I mean, I could, but I just needed a much better way of doing it instead of over the phone.

Both these women are of essence and have been an inspiration in my life from the first day I met them. Thanks to them I managed to finish my studies at varsity in spite of the family disputes I had. The things they did for me I will never forget. Things got to a point where I felt that if I had needed new underwear, they would have bought it for me. That is how much they took care of me.

Because of this, I fell in love with the both of them. I just knew they have become a part of me that not even my biological sisters are not part of. They have created an image –in my eyes- of the perfect woman I would go for, given I happen to be restored from the wavy ways of a French curve.

Now, I had just got appointed permanently, while they both struggle with their careers. A part of me said, no... No, no, no. The best way to tell them is face to face. That way they will see it in your face just how much you still love them-and how devoted I am to them- regardless of the challenges they are facing in life.

They would see a great deal of the artefact they helped to established. Just how much I am flourishing, all thanks to their existence.

Sadly, seeing them was impossible. So, I could not see them, and yet I could not bring myself to calling them to tell them the news. Nonetheless, they found out, hail to the power of social media.  They both were excited for me. They still are, and they are proud of me.

Having said all that, I wanted to celebrate my news. My mother is in the Eastern Cape and my best friends are miles aways from me, so my Joburg peeps had to do.

But then again, what peeps? I have, no friends in Jozi. All that I have are people whom I find joy in making happy. I like being the reason people are smiling and enjoying life. That for me is just a perfect recipe to create a very good surrounding and friendships for oneself. One that lacks reciprocity, of course.

Experiencing the company of these kinds of people has made me realise that finding and building good friendships is as difficult as spotting Mr right amongst strippers.

And so, I am thinking, isn’t there a principle in small print somewhere, stating that, when a person is nice to you, you repay by being the same? Sense of decorum perhaps?

One ‘friend’ said I am asking too much, for a boy who settled easily in a city where out comers are usually welcomed by experience that live figurative and physical scars in their lives, scars that haunt them forever, hence they never survive it.

But I cannot live without friends. I experienced having the best ones not so long ago, and so I am addicted to having them. Is that too much to ask or maybe I am doing things differently? Weirdly?

I am alone, let’s face it. Soon I will be lonely. Funny how –when I was young- I use to pray to God not to make me the type of person whose career flourishes while personally I do NOT have a life.

Happy read!

I broke his heart...

I am sitting here contemplating whether or not to write this post. But then again, the ‘other party’ has been blogging continuously about the matter at hand. So why not let out what I feel in the only way I know how?

I am single. It’s been two months now if not more. I can’t even remember because I don’t think I want to remember.

We broke up because it was time. I mean, we both knew things were not going well between the two of us. He was very much aware of that, but he just didn’t want to let go. I could have let things be the same too, but I value my happiness more than anything in this world. As a result, I decided to be the one who says it’s over.

Obviously, he did not take this very well, and for reasons –known by him only- he felt that I didn’t care and that I was sailing through life very smoothly now that I ended things with him.  He also thought I was leaving him for someone else. What he didn’t know is that, I lost my focus at work because I was trying to figure out how do I keep him in my life but not be in a relationship with him.

I knew very well that him and I could never be friends, but I thought since we shared a very tight and special bond, we could create something that could fall in-between a relationship and a friendship.

Sadly, the conclusion I reached did not match any of my wishes. Instead, I stopped speaking to him. Basically, I cut all communication between us. The aim here was to get him to get over me quickly. Having said that, I knew how much that would hurt him.  He hated me, as a result.

Why did we break up? I simply could not find myself in him. We not meant to be.

In realising this, I failed to communicate with him properly. I kept this to myself, but eventually I reached a stage where I was very uncomfortable and unhappy with what we had.  Hence I decided to be open about it. After all, I come first in preaching honesty to all my friends. I could not be caught dead being dishonest to someone I love.

We spoke about this and we came up with ways to sort it out. Later, however, I realised that he had stopped living his own life. He started living for me. He stopped socialising and communicating with his friends. He started worrying more about my friends, my problems, my hard time at work, my family issues and all those kind of things. I didn’t like this. And I told him, but I was farting in the water, it seemed.

I know I look for myself in all those I date. But if I find that one lacks that ‘me-ness’, I tell them, but I don’t want them to shape themselves to fit that. It’s just something I expect them to have at a go. Unfortunately, I was experiencing this with someone who was already insecure, because things came to a point where he felt all the guys I was friends with wanted me and I loved them more than him.  

This was absurd, and therefore I did not intend to entertain it. I hated it, and we often fought about it.

I fuelled his insecurities by disclosing –out of honesty, I thought- crushes I had on a couple guys he knew. This was the boiling point for our problems.

I knew for a fact I was wrong; for telling him this, and for letting things reach a point where I look for a ‘perfect’ relationship while I’m in a relationship. I was wrong for getting involved with a kid.

You can just imagine the sort of damage it did to him, when I dumped him. I felt so bad. I felt so evil for causing him so much pain after having told him a million times that I love him, and that no matter what I will stick with him.

He is too young to be in a relationship like the one we had. He needs someone who is not going to complicate his life. Someone who will help him grow up. In fact, he needs someone of his age exactly. Not me. I am a mess that needs solving. Unfortunately, he was not the pertinent creature to help me in this regard. I needed myself to sort this out.

Having been hurt so bad by two people whom I thought loved me, I broke someone’s heart. I put him through the same pain I hate to go through. The one dent that never goes away.

I am to blame.  I would love to shift the blame to the issue of gay relationships that never last, but only last when faithfulness and cheating are considered the prime principles. But, I will not.

Happy read!

Solutions

Instances, examples and problems,

Emergencies, pain and silliness;

My body inevitably fails to connect and reasons cannot be defined.

Less sleep, more pills, mind drugged, my soul is dead,

And my young mind perished in the name of love.

Can I testify and say I was an actor, stage names, lies and imperfections defined me.

Forgetting lines, having no father but trusting in a man,

Failing schools tests, lacking direction but finding joy at varsity,

Limitations and boundaries dictating the light in my tunnel-shaped journey.

Instances, examples and problems,

Emergencies, pain and all;

Tradition abandoned, rules broken while hearts are in a process of being repaired,

Oh I cry, in the name of ancestors as a black soul

I cry in the name of those who live in the moment

I cry in the name of love; that which never existed.

I defined myself in the same way my enemies scrub their floors,

I explain my existence to those who felt I owed them.

I analysed my behaviour to a woman whose genitals stretched as God moulded my parts and shaped my heart, the same heart I have in my hand.

Instances, examples and problems,

Emergencies, pain and cluelessness;

I sleep around, I am sick; I no longer reap, but suck fruits less tasteful than bananas.

I forgot I was a man, I knew I was, but I had to thrust my being where my feet are forbidden as a man.

I forgot I was a loner, I knew I was, before I fell in love and felt good about it,

Deception fooled me; lust blinded me hence I often came quickly.

My traditions have found me, I chose you though I know you ditched me intentionally,

My heart is all repaired; I had to sort it, even though men stabbed me repeatedly in it,

I have found myself through instances, examples and problems,

Emergencies, pain and all.

Survival....

Enduring life, living under circumstances

and suffering in poverty, lacking dreams

as the mind is frustrated.

Simplifying terms is hard, you're calculating your meals so hard

and your stomach cant relax

as your intestine is confused.

Your mind is standing up while you're sitting down,

you can't resist the charm of crime

and you tired of waiting because

you're running out of time.

Siblings are here, they are looking at you,

your father is dead

he left your mother lying there,

hopelessly waiting on you to go out there

and come back with something that can feed these hungry eyes...

You dropped out of school,

Yes you are no good,

but who am I to point a finger at you

when my back encloses two young responsibilities

and a mother who brought home acronyms

on her way to get food me.

Every night I let my face soak in the sea

because every time my mind hits conclusions

I see a limited number of my family,

I see a couple of eyes without family

and I just cannot decide without having her...

Ndive ndisitsho

Gqabi elintsakantsaka,

Lintlakantlaka lithwaxwe zimbalela,

Labuna, labola, lavuthuka.

Uqwalasele kugqutha,

Ufifi lombono lwavela,

Luveza intlantsi yenkwenkwezi,

Ikhanya phezulu phaya,

Umilise izitho emgangathweni,

Welula umqondo, kwahlaziyeka imbilini.

Nkazana entushuntushu, nkazana emfutshane

Siqishimbana sentyatyambo, ndisinekile nje ndiyakubulisa.

Nango amehlo am enyibilika,

Nantsi intliziyo yam intlimpinika

Noko, akophi gazi, luvuyo nje, nokundweba kwengqondo.

Chula ukunyathela ke, simomondiya

Musa ukunyathelwa ke, zizihikahika

Ndikujongile, ndikuhoyile, ndikubukele

Ndikubambile, jonga isandla sam, sikukhongozele

Ndikuqwalasele, ndikuncumele njena, yiyo lento ndikonwabele

Mother earth, The universe or God...?

I knock, I knock and knock

through doors that never seem to open.

I knock and knock through doors that ignore me.

I knock through doors hidding messages from me,

doors that are depriving me of all the good

I was born to inherit.

I knock my knuckles so painfully

on wooden doors, that are holding nothing

but detours and impediments.

I knock and knock and knock

on doors in hopes, in dreams and in plans to find answers.

Mama wam...

One cold morning in July

I kept clicking and snapping my fingers

to a rhythm my life was making.

Still today, I still hear the song

written by my clenching teeth.

I knelt down, picking up

my past experiences and memories.

I bent over, looking to find

happiness in my mama's face.

Instead, a storm crashed my backbone

having me paralysed.

Again, I knelt down, picking up

pieces of shattered dreams and broken hearts.

I bent over, looking to find

healing in her eyes.

Instead, the end is written in her face.

Every now and then,

the drums of bible scriptures

make a sound in my ears,

instilling faith, hope and contentness.

My nostrils exhale and release

confusion, disturbance and fear.

I clear my throat with a glass of tears,

I dry my eyes with a towel of loneliness,

fear and desperation.

Yet, again I knelt down, picking up

my brother and sister, I lift them up.

I bend over, looking to find

fulfillment joy and hope

instead I see misery, confusion and hurt.

I looked down, shoke my head

not giving up, but thinking of a plan.

Right there, she looks up,

she nods, she applauds and she likes...

Guilt

My mother use to work for a place called, Spargs supermarket, in Mthatha. She worked there for as long as I can remember. According to her, she started working at Spargs when it was still a small shop. Now, the place is as big as any Franchise could get.

Even though she no longer works there now, for reasons I cannot know because I'm a “kid” (Of course, I can take a wild guess), I posses fond memories of the time.

Memoirs of time...

Each and every day, my mother would come home with a very fresh white loaf and two packets of fruit. Back then, Spargs plastic bags were red and black. Plastic bags were free. Today, however, they are white and green.

I would approach her, as she would be walking unsteadily, with heavy plastic bags, towards the gate. I knew that when we get inside the house, I hold the power to choose first, whatever was worth my lips. I don't know how and why I don't get fat, that woman fed me, alright.

Amongst all the goodies my mother would have, I would find sandwiches that were given just one bite and take aways that are were touched, but not really touched.

Questions of a child...

At some point, I felt the need to ask my mother what was the deal with the touched, but not really touched take-aways and half bitten (for a lack of a better word) sandwiches. She replied saying, one of her colleagues likes taking her out to eat during lunch time. This friend always buys (my mother was as broke as a church mouse). She would buy all the stuff my mother felt was -only- for rich people.

My mother says, she would only bite her sandwich once and not touch it again. And then, she would chat non-stop till lunch hour was over. That was the strangest thing ever, I thought.

Nonetheless, she justified herself to me saying; she didn't do this weird act because she didn't like the food. She loved it. But, she never felt right chowing all the goodies that her children are not familiar with She never felt right eating not knowing what her kids could be eating. Instead, she felt it was better to bring the touched, but not really touched take-aways and half bitten sandwiches home, for her kids to share...

Bad Habit

Later in the years, I found myself suffering because of this weird act. A leaf does not fall far from its tree, says a saying and that's exactly what happened to me.

I am the kind of guy who dine with friends at restaurants; Mugg n' bean, Cappello's, Metro restaurant, etc and I would order all the stuff I feel I like, or that I have never tasted. But, every time the plate is placed in front of me, the first thing to touch the plate would be my guilty conscious.

I would begin to think back home; Eish, do they have food to eat, if they would see me now, would they think I'm selfish or maybe I have forgotten about them? Am I wasting money? This whole thing would inflict all the memories of my mother bringing us her leftovers. However, I would continue to eat my chicken-a-la kings and drink the sweet rose.

I don't keep on eating because I don't care. Lord knows I do. I work -if I can call it that- and from the little amount I earn I give some of it to my mother, every month. She appreciates it, I know she does. She raised me up to be a different person and to be a man who is responsible for his family. Of course, I am all that. At least, I believe so.

The feeling of guilt never seem to fade, instead it grows. But, I always suppress it by thinking of the call she usually give me, every time I had just sent her money. She wants me to spend 'my' money however I want. She doesn't want me to do things the way she did. She wants me to have fun with it, but most of all she wants me to take good care of myself with this money.

Yeah well, in that case, the First Lady has spoken. Screw the guilty conscious; Let me dine in the company of true minds, life is not life without a dish of good food and an exquisite taste of dry white wine. I admit, it costs. But, I am worth it and I worked for it...

Happy read!

Each day

Tall, slim and fat

black and white people

walk, run and pass the streets.

Rushing for deadlines,

sad minds and night shifts.

Hands in their pockets,

morning breeze blew their hair

while licking their lips endlessly.

Each day mothers promise their babies for tomorrow

today cooking porridge for nations,

Heads aching, hearts breaking and souls resting

just at the end of each day.

Each day, I smell the smoke of fire

from nearby firms,

from and to a place that holds

the expression on my face

happy, satisfied and successful.

Of course, I am still a student

I take in and hold my breath

for every word you utter.

I exhale and release my breath

for every story you tell.

Eish, I am a race,

I put on a vintage beige blazer

just to maintain my integrity.

I put on my ragged brownish scarf

just to warm up the neck and my dignity.

Each morning, I freeze myself deliberately

because, My mama deliberately wanted the best for me...

Wait, I redeemed her good will.

Each evening, I wipe away the shadows of failure

in your face, her face and mine.

In your place, hers and mine.

Family time

December is just two months and a few weeks away, and I am faced with two options on how and where I should spend it. Either I go home, and spend my December holidays with family or, have my two younger siblings come over in Joburg to spend the holidays with me.

The latter, is of course, appealing, not only to me but to my mother as well. However, when I sat up at night thinking of the costs and comparing the two options, going home came up less costly than having my siblings up here.

As parsimonious as I am, I considered the expensive option and came up to a conclusion that I want my siblings to come up here.

I want them to see the world, and I want them to get the experience I got when I went to East London for the first time. That same experience broadens its self when I came to Joburg to follow my dream. I want to help them get rid of the mentality  that, a person from the Eastern Cape has to hide or run away from home to come and make money in Joburg.

The first time

The very first time I came to Joburg, I saw a place full of opportunities. A place so diverse, it takes people of different tribes to help a Xhosa folk find himself. This place has taught me so much about family value because I have bumped and made friends with people who left their homes and never went back. But of course, now they need their families because they have nowhere else to go for the reason that their friends have abandoned them.

This place has showed me just how to have a good time. Yes, Cape Town offers a very high class way of living. But Johannesburg is a perfect example that a black person can make it and will make it if only that person chews on hard work every day.

This is where I took note of just how much young (black) people are hungry to be independent, be successful and responsible of their families and loved ones. As a result, every time I have to do anything for my family and loved ones, I feel that sense of pride accentuating the mere fact that, I am making it and I am a responsible young black man.

Now, who am I to deprive my siblings all this inspiration? Why procrastinate a deal I can sort out in the present moment? Will I not be to blame when my siblings find crime or sleeping around more rewarding than getting education? What if I die today? Will they ever get to see and experience what made their brother yearn for Independence?

I am the most selfish person on this planet, but I refuse to be so in this regard. I love my family, and loving them means, I must (especially if and when I can) help them get the inspiration I think they need to succeed and be happy in life.  Of course, my primary aim here is to highlight just how much access one can have when one endures education and believes in it.

I know it’s been a while since I have been home, but I feel that this is a one of those things I have to do while I can still afford (or be indebted) to do. I don’t know what tomorrow holds for me. The best I can do is making my siblings happy in the only ways possible. After all, I am a celebrity in their eyes. So, why not Oprah-fy them up?

Happy read!

A gay song

Whatever happened to Joe Thomas? That guy advocated for women left, right and left again.  If it wasn’t Joe, it was Jaheim letting us know that he can do Anything his woman wants, and Just in case he doesn’t make home on a certain night, he asked if he could make love to her just for the last time. Women worship these songs. They live by them and they shape up their relationships with them.

Yes, straight men on the other side have the likes of Celine Dion who Drive all night to get in their rooms. Men love this. A woman who shows initiative and ‘drive’. How beautiful. How wonderful. How lovely that these two groups complement each other this well.

Having said that, I feel that the world would have been a much better place had Luther Vandross, Michael Jackson, George Michael and Ricky Martin not hide their sexual preferences by proclaiming they had love and feelings only for women. Maybe the gay industry would have been so much more on the faithfulness side of things and less on the sleeping around seeking for true comfort.

Yes, it is very nice that all these famous men come of their glass closets. Such actions inspire many souls in South Africa and in other states as well (Ghana, Afghanistan and Zimbabwe). However, now that Michael Jackson decided to take his little secret to the grave, let us all stand up in unity and help the last men standing gain confidence and pride in singing to and for their lovers of the same sex.

I can hear Ricky Martin already singing, Mi hombre y me golpeó toda la noche... While on the other hand Will Young cries, Él me ama y mi drama...

Who knows, maybe the rate of gay men committing suicide might decrease, and the world would be a very happy place. Of course, this process would entail serious counselling for the infamous homophobes like George Bush and Lulu Xingwana.

As for the closeted souls, we shall continue to compose songs and poems that might inspire all of you to step out of the closet. A closet is such a stuffy place to live in. Trust me, I know. I once lived there.

Happy read!

Karma, bitch!

I stay in house with a friend of mine. It’s his house,but he insists I consider and call him my flatmate. Him being a pink pet, and I brighter bull, people assume that we’re dating but I am keeping it descreet because he’s old enough to father both my younger siblings.

Funny how I use to think and say the same about some of the people I knew from way back when I was still at varsity. Now that the tables have turned, I find it very laughable.  However, when one of the people I am friends with cornered me, this one time when I went to visit him, and insinuated that I have some sexual relations with my flatmate, I somehow felt angry.

Karma is a bitch, really.

Making money eGoli

From an early age, I knew of three places in South Africa where one can make money regardless of whether or not one is educated. Those places are Gauteng, Western Cape and Kwazulu Natal. From what I heard, back then, Gauteng was the best place to get jobs, with the mines supported by hard rocks that are made solid by the sweat of every broke illiterate black men.

My turn came to come and see this place my fellow Xhosa peeps dubbed eRhawutini. Of course, before coming here, my perception of the place had changed from that which I had when I still wiped my snorts with a tongue. I had grown and therefore all that I saw and still see is of the view of a grown up.

The young

There are many young people here and most of them –if not all- possess the same aim of making and having lots of money. Yes, they are inspired by the old and rich people of this city and they want to vacate their homes for better houses in Sandton, Kyalami and Fourways.

To a few, this is a feasible plan while to many it’s a dream and an impossible one to attain because of the lack of one of the most important useful tools for success; education.

With that being said, uneducated youngsters do manage to make this money. A few do part-time jobs in Petrol stations, in the retail industry, supermarkets and restaurants. A lot, however, get this money from practically pick-pocketing people on the streets. The latter, in my opinion, possibly makes the same amount as the young men and women who are ill-treated by attention seeking celebrities in restaurants. They merely chose this path in life because for them it is the easiest, despite the danger it involves. Funny enough, most of the people who do the pick-pocketing end up living on the streets. It is then that the dangers of this path prevail.

The business people

I am not referring to business people in the corporate sphere nor am I talking about street vendors but disabled people on the streets who live to beg people for money on freeways. Yes, I consider them business people because to them what they do is way of making money. Of course, they don’t have to work. Showing the car drivers driving by that they are blind, crippled and homeless is enough to earn them a living.

I look at these women and men and ask myself as to why do they go and beg on the streets instead of walking to government’s social departments and apply for disability grants.

In my opinion, if they have the minds to get into a taxi all the way from Soweto or Joburg CBD to Sandton streets, Fourways or Randburg just to merely stand all day long and beg for money, they are smart enough to know where to go in order to apply for free money.

I am thinking, they realised that the easiest way to get money is to manipulate pity and guilt out of those with good hearts. They know how to stand for one to pity them, they know just what to say for the old grannies to feel sorry for them and they know what kind of expression they need to apply on their faces just to get that one young man feeling guilty.

Many years back, this business was rolling. These days, however, people do not buy in it. I think maybe they have come to realise just how much of a scam this is. Only a few people submit to it by giving money to these people. Some went as far as taking some of these people into their homes in an effort to provide sustainable help to these beggars.

Sadly, those who helped live to tell a very shocking tale of someone whom – after being helped – found a way to rob the helper of every valuable possession s/he had. As a result, these people end up going back to beg for money on the streets.

I have come across two people who tell you upfront that R5 or coins are not enough. I found it surprising that at such a state they could be so choosy.

Happy read!