Dante’s last blog

Two hours ago, I received a call from an old friend of mine who is based in East London. My friend came across a blog that mentioned my name in it and he suggested I take a look at it.

He refused to go into detail with regards to what the blog was about or who it belongs to. He forwarded me a link; a link I followed.

The link he sent me led me Dante Bello’s blog - Raison d’être! - on a post that seems to have been his last one before he died.

What my friend does not know is that I knew Dante and I knew him very well. To me he was like a brother, to some degree and although I only met him a few times, I feel he left me, and the voices he inspired to speak freely, too soon.

Never mind his short-stay; he definitely made a mark in the lives of many black Africans.

A few dubbed him provocative and philosophical, but I saw Dante as a man of principle; a soul that craved absolute good in the continent.

Since the day I saw a tweet that confirmed his death, I have not been to his blog. So, today I went back to a place Dante introduced me to, a podium I used to challenge his ideology and a platform he used to shape views on certain political and social issues.

In my view, he used this blog to speak his mind in an effort to inspire change and build character in black people, especially those who were close to him.

Having gone through Raison d’être!’s last post, I felt the need to have that same piece on my blog. Of course, not denying the late brother of his credit in the blog.

It appears Dante wrote this post about a year ago.

Postcard From Freetown - Reflections!

Moments have gone by and time is still relatively waiting for no man. This is the reality we are faced with as earthlings. I sit on a chair on my balcony reflecting and reminiscence the thoughts that flow through my mind, words lingers to chaste.

It has been a while I put pen to paper and I can’t say it’s a writer’s block but rather I’ll succumb to the sentiment that it was a wilful decision to stop writing, read more about what others are writing, immerse myself in these spaces to acquire more knowledge, ideology, views, opinions, sentiments and indulge in the literal thinking of others.

Read more here...

Happy read!

Use he who uses thee...

As a young boy, I wanted to have a straight guy for a best friend. As I grew up though, I come to realise just how close to impossible this is. Probably, the Gods foresaw this; hence I always ended up attracting females for good friends. The ‘straight’ guys that came close to me had weird propensities coupled with sexual fantasies which somehow comprised men.

I stopped wishing and started living. Nonetheless, I realised that finding good friends is as hard as bumping into this Mr Right many young people tend to speak of.  And, it’s as hard to maintain as a relationship.

Just like in relationships, some people are lucky as they have the same friends since primary school. Some meet their best friends at varsity and they last forever, and others meet good friends only once and even though they are still good friends, they are miles apart and stand the possibility to only meet again when they have grown very old and apart.

Shame, poor me...

I met my friends, the two most wonderful beings at varsity and together we became family. We became each other’s pillars of strength and we were always there for one another in every possible way.

We were so close, to the extent that the fact that our relationships never lasted we were not bothered at all. We felt that as long as we had each other we were fine, and that is all that mattered.

I remember our conversations precisely. They’d start off about our plans and dream jobs after school and what we would do for ourselves and our families. This would shift to money, oh how we loved money (I still do) and finer things in life. From money came men, sex and alcohol; these were our favourites as our experiences brought smiles to our faces.

My shenanigans made them laugh, even the stuff I had kept to myself in fear of being humiliated. Nonetheless, I ended up laughing at those too.

My goodness, I had never been that free in my life. I would walk the streets with so much confidence; one would swear East London had no homophobes. This two accepted me and made me feel welcome to the point that I failed to see any bad in the eyes of a woman. Well, and some men.

Life served its course; I got a job offer in Johannesburg, one went to Cape Town while the other one worked in East London. At this stage I realised that I am not only clingy when it comes to relationships. I am this way even in friendships.

I became so lonely and at some point I thought of going back home. The fast life in Joburg was appealing, but I could not see any excitement without my two best friends. My career became the only thing keeping me sane. However, I outgrew this. I accepted that all three of us were meant for different things in life, and if we were meant to meet again, we will. Just not today.

Just like a victim of a failed relationship of many years, now I compare every single ‘friend’ I meet in Joburg to my best friends. They are all different; well, extremely different as many of these people seem to be users, in the sense that they only ‘like’ you if you have something they want.

The most surprising aspect to this, is finding out that even the richest people use people – no matter how poor - and they suck other people for money – no matter how broke - .

This to me is very strange. My explanation to this has been that maybe the rich ones have also been used before and now they feel the need to do the same to others. Even more strange I think.

Having said that, I have come up with an attitude that works for now; Use he who uses thee and all shall be well. Failing which, I will get bitten by the snakes they are. But I am sure there are still good people somewhere around just like I believe one of these days I will bump into this Mr Right guy.

Happy read!

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!