Listening proves to be a skill, still

While I may not quarrel one’s cooperation with Journalists in collecting facts, I am convinced it is an absolute slur to parenthood to admit to newspapers that your child came home after school minus his cellphone and some of his school items, further narrated to you that he was being bullied at school yet you, as the parent, failed to explore the rumour.

Had this woman listened AND heard when her child spoke, the ordeal that saw ‘good riddance of the dead’ in the lips of every pupil at Phineas Xulu Secondary School would have never happened.

Listening and hearing are two different things. Therefore, without the latter, we cannot expect a response nor should we anticipate a reaction.

Of course, this concept is betrayed by those who have not been heard and listened to.

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Thabo (eradicate indlala)

I believe that education is indisputably the best instrument towards personal development. And, I also believe that the only way I can plunge back to being poor is if I make a blunder of the prospects education has afforded me.

I believe that education is not the only lawful and correct route to putting food on the table. And, I also believe that there are alternative routes, only they require the usage of your brain with a tinge of determination, underlined by a plan.

Know that I have come to experience worry concerning you and the challenges you have, academically. The thought of you struggling to finish high school raises questions to my abilities as an educated sibling; hence self-blame unceasingly appears to arouse the feeling of guilt.

I know that poverty is a ground that breeds an environment that is damaging to people’s development; mentally, physically and emotionally.

But, know that I have come to accept and understand that there are other options you can manipulate so as to create a comfortable life for yourself.

My duties as your brother can merely go so much as making sure that you obtain basic skills that could score you a desk in an office. It is only your train of thought and ambition that can perhaps move you from that small desk by the door towards addressing blue-chip executives in a boardroom.

I am well aware that a significant path out of poverty requires a robust economy that produces jobs and good salaries. And, I am also well aware that the impact carried through the ability to raise a productive workforce can last for generations.

Do yourself a favour and defy imitating the people who constantly speak of bridging the growing gap between poor people and the rich, while unfounded are the actual actions towards accomplishing this brilliant idea and instituting it to become observable efforts.

The same voices influence young underprivileged men and women to dream big, yet no one puts an emphasis on the idea of actually waking up and working towards fulfilling that dream. As a result, your neighbours have formed part of a generation that spends most of its valuable time complaining about the government that fails them.

Beats me as to what has glued them tight on the chairs someone else built.

P.S: indlala = poverty

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Thanksgiving

I would like to believe that my life is a testimony of how true love can shape an individual; add to that the effort of good friends and how they shape a person.

As if to emulate the life of the Messiah, it appears, right from the beginning, I had a structure of support that even my mama never anticipated; from relatives, her friends and those who found me alluring in their eyes.

Like a bad skin condition, this type of support grew with me. It carried me around my township through thick and thin, it saw me move from a high school and became stronger at university up till the strange grounds of the city of gold; where it manifested into one of the things that keep me going, despite how thorny the streets around here are.

I am not sure of how my mama sustained the support till to date. In fact, I am not even sure she did anything to keep it going. However, I am doing something to paint this structure a happy colour and to give it all the strength it needs to grow even more.

As a result, I have embraced the Western custom of observing Thanksgiving Day.

I assumed this routine last year with the sole purpose of celebrating the people who have made a constructive contribution in my life in Johannesburg.

This year, the tradition continues. And, my emotions fail to rest as I am theorising ideas to show these men and women just how grateful I am that I have them in my life.

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We forget that we can

We have been groomed to believe that having a role model is ideal. Consequently, no one bothers to put an emphasis on the importance of working towards being a role model. That is why we find ourselves tailing the treads of people whose true stories are unknown to us.

We have adopted strange societal notions and have standardised these as tolerable customs.  Hence, we find ourselves pursuing studies that will merely place us in front of the camera, because we believe that is where money and true happiness lies. In doing so, overlooking that being a teacher, a lawyer and even a medical practitioner is still relevant as it provides greater joy and financial rewards.

Someone has been wise enough to make us believe that we can be anything we want to be. But the same person misremembered to tell us that it is through education that the daughter of a peasant can become a doctor, that a son of a mine worker can become the head of the mine and that a child of farm workers can become the president of a great nation.

An intelligent man once painted a splendid image of Dr. Precious Moloi-Motsepe, citing her impressive accolades as well as her association with the fabulous world of fashion. The same man did not mention that Dr. Moloi-Motsepe is an epitome of an African woman; who, like many South African mothers, was committed to creating a solid foundation for herself and her family. This man forgot to depict the challenges she possibly faced while working towards becoming what she had always wanted to be.

We have been made to accept that the ideas in our minds can only come alive if someone else authenticates them. It has elapsed in our hearts and minds that we all are one with the force that is greater than any other existing source in the universe. God.

We tend to take seriously the statement that suggests that what comes out of our lips has so much influence with regards to what we become. For some reason, however, we always fail to build a room for this statement when it comes to positives words that escape our lips.

When we are told we are failures, we take offence as we believe that is true. Yet we are nonchalant when we hear just how beautiful and good we are, simply because we know this to be untrue.

We live in a domain in which being provided for is the coolest thing. It does not register in our smart minds that we possess the same abilities as the individuals who assume to roles of feeding us.

In the games we play with our friends we always opt for subordinate roles and never the dominant ones, for the reason that we doubt we can be in control.

We forget that being black, poor or disabled has nothing to do with accomplishing the dreams awaiting us. We forget that we can. We forget that the problem is our laziness and lack of determination that has us constantly in need.

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*This piece is also published on www.sivehopefoundation.co.za

Why don't you be the writer?

In between acknowledging the existence of homosexuals in societies and the subjects fully embracing their sexuality, a few heterosexuals misidentified their preliminary grasp of life on earth as an indication that they possess power and the independence to control the actions of those who materialised later.

Several gay people exiled themselves to cabinets with the intention to avoid promising discernment of any sort. Times evolved and countries held a fresh perspective on things, and then we had gay friendly households, welcoming cities and accommodative legislations. This inspired one straight mind to assume the sits of Gods.

For many gay men and butch women the journey has been decadent while some paid with their lives; a price silently ticketed by sexist presidents, uncouth neighbours as well as families driven by fear of being excluded by communities.

Because I am free, as a homosexual individual, in the presence of a sagacious conventional woman, she miscalculated my company and acquaintance for acquiescence to articulate to me who to lust over and who not to consider.

Knowledgeable mama felt she had to warn me as the reciprocals might endanger me. One could have sworn she walked the journey with me; from denying myself of the true me, lying to family and hiding from masses. One would swear she knows what is best for me. For a gay man.

You clasped silence and they utter a word. They feel your ears are famished and your life is losing weight, hence the feeding schemes they throw your way. They believe they are observant enough as you change your position and they amend your movements.

In between sleeping with other men for sexual pleasure and the straight souls knowing, the latter subjects became the artists who felt endowed to script lines for untrained gay people.

Perhaps, Madonna is no longer God. They are. Actually, heterosexuals are God.

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