Archive | October 2013

Every Little Bit Counts: A Story of Saving

Nowadays it seems the only way inflation prefers to travel is on that fast lane freeway best interpreted on an exponential graph, making it almost impossible for the already hard hitten people of this nation to save.

As such, our country is sitting on a disturbing 67 percent of adults who do not save. I prefer not to estimate the number of our young adults, distinctly students who’d rather drink their lives out than engage in discussions of saving. It is our truth, we find saving extremely challenging and easily avoidable. Exceptionally so now that unemployment rate is on the rise and a stable, decent income is a rare luxury to come by. However, it does not take away from the fact that saving is vital and a culture we should by all means habitually practise.

Through these tough times, it has became a necessity to notably distinguish amongst other things that ‘a little can go a long – really long way’ more so if you’re an average – which is likely to be a low income earner. If you save specifically in the midst of averages and low income earnings, you create the above average possibility to yield positive economical prowess for the world you occupy. I’d like for you to keep that in mind, for the sake of this tale I’m about to tell you.

The are quite a number of saving strategies devised for our own (not always) convenience. And in our average homes, we have our own saving strategies which of course may seem absurd from a distance – like partaking in stokvels which yield food enough to last the family (including the extended family) almost half a year. What is even more perplexing is that an average black kid, raised by a very average black woman might tell you the same if not a similar tale; a story of comparison, price negotiating, supermarket hopping, street crossing and queue standing. This is a story of shopping – the pursuit of saving.

Grocery shopping is something dreadful but yet very delicate in our average communities. Saturdays after pay days are also very important. And when your average mother decides this is a perfect day to send you to town for those anticipated fundamentals on the grocery shopping list, she accompanies you with a very precisely detailed note – think of it as an ordinance, comprising of the product you are to purchase and sometimes a specific brand too. Oh and you are definitely warned well in advance of its exact cost and the supermarket it is to be purchased at. Call that the planning in advance part of budgeting where exactitude is a high regard.

This shopping list by the way, is something you have to follow with the same ultraprecision the establishers of the ten commandments thought christians would abide to this decree. Otherwise!

You don’t want to know otherwise. Because otherwise could be anything from a hard-core slap across your face to an awfully awkward silent treatment. And if you think you’ll involve the ‘popo’, you shall find your self in the same state as Whitney Houston in 2003 except you’ll still be a stupid, weak, foolish girl. For your sake, promote peace and harmony and stick to the list.

In town, mind you its that dreadful saturday after pay day in this old-fashioned, tight-knit urbanites playground and everybody came out to submit to their monthly commitments. It is over-crowded. Kgebetli Moele could very well deem this ‘another sad black story’; every supermarket, every bank and every ATM has such a long queue you’d swear we’re all after the finale of food and money on this earth. Taxi drivers take advantage of this, in many ways than one.

Remember why you’re here; the ordinance. It needs to be fulfilled. Take it as the golden ticket to your peace – the absence of scolding. The ordinance by the way is also consorted by a fee that, lo and behold, you are to stretch until every commandment is fully carried home in a plastic bag which its price was somehow not included on this fee. Cuss that intellect who approved the idea of selling us grocery shopping bags.

The road to riches. The path which leads to wealthiness (for some) is a very tough one. It is envied by all and its destination is desired by everyone. Life, being a jolly spectator of melodrama and spirals of confusion continues to hide this road from us.

The Pursuit of Saving - A Little Goes a Long Way

The Pursuit of Saving – A Little Goes a Long Way

When I saw this, I laughed. You know the kind of a past joyful memory relived type of laugh. Then I remembered, something I was indirectly taught; regardless of its quantity, a little goes a long way and wealth – even though it may seem infeasible is accumulated every single day.


Dear Diary (17/10/13)

I read a story of another hard hitten soul today and I want to share it with you:

‘I went to a majestically, all white inclusive location today. It was beautiful, with the occasional stares from the glides of the sea which always seem to be displeased about some matter. There was also the lovely, best possible view of the world’s wonder; tafelberg.

I was misplaced. The stares which I got from the human species of a different but same kind questioned my whole existence. Especially then at that place. It could have been anything, including the hand down clothes which covered that which is left of me. And then I knew; I should have stayed at home. Where my walks by the seaside are unquestioned and the content in my bag is not a scary thought to come by.

As I sleep on this floor, rats walk all over me. I have gone really low – its not saddening anymore. That which still lives within me, is on its own a mighty burden. A memory flashes and tears run down.

I was in a place occupied with overpriced buildings where everybody uses a car or those exclusive city traveling buses to get from one point to another. The heaviness of my inadequate blackness sat in all its density on my shoulders and settled on my face.

Sometimes I wish I was not me – that I do not carry the wholeness of my black nation in my head. Sometimes I wish my heart was not inscribed with their faces so that I could walk by, freely without wondering about their future and their lives. I really do wish that I was not a mirror whose portrait is that of every single black being who has struggled, gone to war and fought battles head-on but never won.

The exhausting game of rat and mouse that this blackness comes with was questioned in silence. As I wondered if its conquerors will ever reach such high value and exclusiveness. Its conquerors – those who through barefeetedness, whose childhood promised no prosperous economical value, have gone to get PhD’s and executive titles.

I’m probably bitter, for I’m one of those whom life has given a hard kick on each and every body part and getting up is a premium expense.

In my life, there are more painful smiles than joy. I smile because I’m human and I’m also without joy because I’m human.’

Mother earth, nurture that black child who will rise above her own blackness. Let her remember the pit hole of the blackness in which she came from. Guide her into providing that pit hole with more than enough blossom and ever shining light.

The blackness we carry is sometimes a reminder of things we ought to forget. And the blackness we embody is also a path of brightness.


Black to Black

Disclaimer: if you take offense to this post, good! You’re probably a black man, or women overly indulging in the oppression of the white people.

Black to black, from a black South African sister with probably an IQ lower than that of a yet still to be conceived foetus, to a black nation of South Africa – the majority constituents beings of this nation.

You’ve hopefully heard or seen the outrage of white people over your conduct and behavior towards them as ‘the minority’ group of South Africa. If you haven’t, please visit our split second daily update opinionated newspaper – Twitter. Use the hashtag Red October (one word) and you shall know exactly what you should have known.

Black people, let me start of by saying that I love you, deeply. I mean my mother, father and their parents parents are also very black, just like me and the rest of you. And I love them.

I would like to address the matter of the #RedOctober campaign. As but a black girl of this nation, I think we need to change our attitude towards white people. The oppression and abuse that white people encounter every day and are extremely enraged of needs to stop my black compatriots. Even you coloured and Indian ones, you must also listen.

My black dimes, how dare you singularly afflict white people! Don’t you know that these people are just the minority group of this country who have bigger problems to address, like choosing the adequate sun protection factor(spf) containing lotion for this damn scorching heat of this African land which their forefathers somewhat landed on?

How double dare you rape, abuse and kill only these people? Why them? Don’t you know they are also human beings who are trying to make a living which you lot, through these racist black economic empowerment deals and affirmative action policies continue to enjoy?

My black gems you infuriate the living life out of my follicles even my hairline is making its way to the grave. You selfish culprits – making the minority feel vulnerable and inferior.

Speaking of which, you need to urge your government to at least give soap and those fancy floor cleaning products on the commercials to the cleaners (if there are any) of those filthy hospitals of hers. Write an open letter, a tweet or send a fax, whatever it takes, so long as the message gets to her that the white people of the red october campaign find her hospital’s odor very unpleasant.

Those hospitals stink particularly to the white people of this country because they are the minority group whose descendants by no means benefited from the apartheid regime. Therefore they do not have enough money not to mention the facilities to enjoy the same luxury of somewhat acceptable pleasant odor of medicine that you lot get to enjoy in these overly expensive privately owned hospitals of yours.

Oh and that pathetic educational system that you keep feeding into the brains of the white people, especially their kids is particularly inappropriate as these are just young melanin disadvantaged individuals in the process of carving a better future which by this act y’all are stripping out of their hands – which vaseline serves as your equivalent of a sumptuous hand cream.

Other than indulging and sending your own kids to extremely expensive private schools who deny white kids due to their particularly uneconomical requirements, you could be more involved in certifying that the education system of this country is favourable to all beings of this scattered rainbow nation.

You could make yourselves useful, you know, creating employment opportunities which will benefit everyone member of this country regardless of their race or ethnic group. You could join hands with one another and start being a rainbow nation which your leaders preach and your constitution foresaw.

You could spend more time on those long crystal clear boardroom tables, which white people serve as cleaners, brainstorming ideas that will not only yield profits for your own overpriced BEE fast car, but ideas that will work towards nurturing and securing a future for all South Africans. Not internationally acclaimed certificates.

What y’all are doing is all forms of imprisonment worthy injustice. Why must you make the white men skeptical about their future? How could you?

Black people. I cannot stress enough the vitality of putting to a halt the oppression towards white people.

Steve Hofmeyer even mentioned that they (whites) are ‘not used to being raped by other(black) ethnicities’. I know this is a bit confusing my black cadres. However all this means is that do NOT rape white people, for they are rather used to and I guess enjoy if one of their own commits this act to them. So please my people, let’s allow white people to enjoy this one ALONE.

Dammit! Silly me. How can I be so cynical, white people don’t commit such abhor driven endeavors.

So all in all, the red october campaign specifically asks the lot of you, by means of something close to your hearts; march, banners not necessarily the red balloon part, to adhere, hopefully by force (like those beware of the dog signs) to their safety and security through understanding their anger, frustrations and needs.

I plead to you my black diamonds, let us not have white people marching in the hot skies of Africa just so they could be heard. And if you are the nanny, gardner or serve as their laundromat (I’m glad you still have some form of income), I sincerely hope you carried out your duty purposefully without the need to ask further questions of an overtime payment. Those souls have encountered enough, the least you could not do is bankrupt them.

In closing, now that you’re pissed off, I at least hope you got the message because singing, out of rage that song which Julius Malema resurrected from the past could damage the now very well tanned white people.

In the words of my black president, Jacob Zuma; yinde le ndlela esihambayo.

Black to Black
With African Black Love