My voice against violence on women and children

While I may pride myself as an individual who is recognised for his exceptional work in relation to the communications and PR industry, I am keen on being acknowledged as a man who is ardent on issues concerning moral conduct in social spheres, at work and at home.

For that reason, my beliefs are sharply grim towards the ill-treatment of fellow colleagues, friends and strangers through discrimination or undue preference, in relation to their religion, gender, race, creed, sexual orientation or HIV status.

Consequently, as a way of observing the commencement of the annual 16 days of activism for no violence against women and children initiative, I would like to draw attention to the fact that violence against women and children is extensive and deeply ingrained in our society and the violence, to a large extent, is physical and perpetrated by men known to women as partners and friends, but even more so fathers. n

With that in mind, I would like to ask all the men in my cliques, at work and at home to speak and pledge against any sort of abuse of women in their surroundings. Of course, my wish is that this pledge is practised beyond the 25^th November 2012 to 10^th December 2012.

I, Ulwazi Dladla Mgwadleka, a son, a brother, a friend, a lover, a colleague and a neighbour, vow to escape inflicting verbal vindictiveness, or any sort of abuse to my female counterparts.

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*This article is also published on www.justcurious.co.za

Abandoned advantage

For me personally, 2012 is the year of (certain) dreams coming true, while for my country the pressure is boiling its tail to abandon Iran and source crude oil from elsewhere, despite the difficulty we could face in securing new contracts. No need to clench round rings and cross fingers, South Africa will make a plan… I hope.

However, for institutions such as the University of Johannesburg (UJ), 2012 appears to be a year of mortification. Not so much of an enthralling entrance, considering the stampede that claimed the life of a mother, leaving several people battered in January. Couple that with the death of the 20-year old girl who passed away last weekend due to an alleged illegal abortion–gone-wrong.

This is a university that has produced a large number of professionals, decision makers and prodigies who have contributed immensely towards the development of the South African economy.

Therefore, the problem could not at all be with the lecturing method. Yet, as my former employee would have assumed, the issue possibly lies in the way the school handles its liaison with the outside world through public relations.

Surely, such incidents do occur in other academic institutions. Perhaps, what distinguishes the others from UJ is the rigid seriousness and value these institutions hold for their communications departments; not just a matter of mannerism, but by employing competent entities to help shape and protect the image of the university.  Especially from the vultures news agencies are.

Often, we interrogate the ability; some entities have, to survive horrid scandals in the face of others failing dismally to escape the results of not-so scandalous actions; yet such consequences are capable of ruining one’s image and reputation to the maximum.

My humble index finger is keen to dub the communication or PR department of an organisation, which experiences such indignity, the abandoned advantage. Having said that, a number of companies still see acquiring public relations expertise as waste of time and money. Yet they tap their cheeks whenever a small issue, that could have been easily controlled, spurts out of control.

Of course, I am no better, given the fact that I am a product of Walter Sisulu University.

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Me & Mr Jones: I remember

I remember having drinks with two friends; a very attractive guy and an elegant lady. To me this was a foreign land. A home and where school is for her, while this is where he use to study. Now, he only comes to visit his peers from church.
 
I was very familiar, and friendly with the double shots of Southern Comfort and lime I had in my hand. He was having the same while she went for something she felt was less 'hard', a Savanna.
 
With a cigarette at hand, she was blurting away. One would swear I have known her for ages, but I had just met her a few minutes ago. Thanks to Twitter, she asked to meet with me because she had heard of my PR proficiency. I'm not that good in the field, but I fitted her criteria of a young, vibrant, smart gay man.
 
We were chatting. She was enjoying us. He was entertaining. My Blackberry Messenger (BBM) was demanding my eye; Mr Jones was dining right across where we were. I wanted to see him. Gosh, I have been looking forward to this day.
 
I knew he was dark, but unsure of how tall he was. His Facebook photos depicted a tall skinny boy. Contrary to what he believed, he was good looking. He is near News Cafe, his text showed. I excused myself and up I went, carried away by self-reliance that would have fed a lot of starving children in Rwanda.
 
There he was. Cute, I muttered. He wasn't tall. He was not tall at all. He was still dark and very lovely though.
 
Hand shakes, wry smiles, hotness oozed between the two of us. Within a few seconds I had made him relax. Or had he made me relax? We were both not nervous; clearly we were two adults who were very much used to meeting strangers.
 
I walked him back to his res. At least I had established that he's not so busy, hence I had planned to have him hang with me, him and her. This was his territory, but I could tell that Mr Jones was did not go out much. Well, his time had come.
 
I went back strutting in excitement. I informed the crew that we will have a 'guest' among us. They got even more excited when they learn that I wanted to pursue Mr Jones.
 
I remember we moved from point A to B because freshmen are not allowed anywhere else except point B.
 
I remember the number grew from three; two men and a lady, to three men and a lady. The big man was in the midst. Rounds flew, allowing intoxication in the mind. By now everyone wanted to see Mr Jones. Right then, my BBM was buzzing. I'm here, where are you guys, his text showed.
 
He's here, I told the crew. I went to meet him halfway. He came to join us. Everyone loved him. Everyone loved him alright.
 
One drink too many. Stones was getting even more packed, but we had reserved our space so that we had enough to dance on. Or should I say that space was for me and me alone? I mean, I was the only one dancing.
 
I believe it was during my dancing that Mr Jones managed to forge, between himself and my male friend, what I had expected to develop between him and I.
 
I remember the big guy pulling me aside to ask me if I could see what was going on between the two. It was clear, but my mind was to slow to capture such disturbing moments. My friend entertaining my lovely Mr Jones, no harm in that, I thought.
 
I remember seeing their lips lock. I giggled, not because it was funny but, because it was strange just how roles have changed in one day, over few hours, between two good friends; all for a stranger. My then potential lover.
 
I remember the big guy and I waiting on Mr Jones and he to finish smooching. How lovely. No! How weird? Actually, ouch. Very ouch.
 
I remember confronting him inside a cab we took as we were heading home; to his place. "I can't believe you," I said, with a mouth that surely reeked of liquor. "Can we not talk about this now Dladla," he suggested. When was the right time? After they have established a solid foundation for their love for each other?
 
I remember, not hugging my friend when I left for work the next day. I remember nursing a weird pain in my belly every time their BBM statuses suggested they were together or going for a night out together. I remember forcing myself to accept that I had lost and my friend had won. I remember texting both of them wishing all the best.
 
To be honest, they made each other happy. I do believe they loved each other.
 
Despite what I thought in the beginning, me and Mr Jones could have never worked out. The fact that I was a R96 away while my friend was merely R20 confirmed this. Besides, Mr Jones was a student, something I had recently decided to stay away from. I, on the other hand, was very clingy; something that would have annoyed him to the point of ditching me.
 
I believe this is the realisation that brought me to man up and be 'happy' for Mr Jones and my friend. As a result, I had just the perfect idea. The plan was to invite both of them over at my place for a day or two. We would chill, eat and have fun just like old times.
 
The main idea here was to restore my friendship with my friend while setting things with Mr Jones to however they were before I found him appealing. Also, Mr Jones had never been to my house. He had always heard of the parties and braai that I usually host. Now, the time for him to come had arrived.
 
"When do you want to host us? Mr Jones and I have broken up," text from him showed. I gasped alone in a taxi home.
 
I remember feeling anger intensifying inside me. I almost lost a friendship with him. For what? A fling? Couldn't they have worked harder on whatever the problem was? After all the shit their relationship put me through, they failed to nurture what they have started? Actually, I was hurt. For what? Just for a spare of the moment kind of thing?
 
It's like they were both spiting me, with him saying let me get the taste of what my friend was after while Mr Jones pursued his inquisitiveness in regards to how it feels to be with the friend of the guy who wanted him.
 
I feel their relationship cost me. Now they threw all that away. Just when I was beginning to get my head around the idea of them dating.
 
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