Archive | January 2015

20-fit-in

Compliments of the season, I’m probably a tab bit late since some of us have gone back to work, hated it and loved it in the same day. However, I do hope that all of us have managed to implement strategies to take us closer to our dreams. While the year was beginning and I was busy conceptualising and implementing my 2015 intentions, I realised that indians, besides the fact that they abhor sharing restrooms with black African people [they wait until it has been cleaned by a very black African – in all cases before entering the same loo] indians don’t quite fit in anywhere. According to them, they are not black and as we all know, they are also not caucasian. So as I have sensed it before, they feel like they are dangling in the middle of greatness (not quite reaching it) and tininess (almost touching it). Anyway let’s save this tea bag for another day. What I really want to talk about is association. Since 2015 is dubbed by quite a large population of the year naming league as 20-fit-in, where do YOU fit in? I know I don’t fit most of the categories people of my standard (whatever that is) are meant to occupy. I remember late last year my indian colleague asked me what do I do with my salary [never-mind the connotations this nonsensical question comes with] because, according to her ‘many black girls go do their hair’. And since I don’t have hair (bald) what else could I use money for?. This is the same colleague that had eyes popping out in amazement when she saw that my under-arms were shaven because as she claimed she has never seen a black girl that shaves [feel free to excuse the ignorance of my colleague who has lived all 23 years of her life in a place where almost 80 percent if not more of the population is black Africans but has NEVER seen a single of them with shaven under-arms]. In all her attempts of trying to make me feel like an exclusive black, she failed dismally because the only thing I felt was being undermined, undervalued and regarded as inhumane because of being ‘black’. Anyway… Getting back to 20-fit-in some kids will be fitting into first grade; touching school grounds for the very first time and learning to sit down and not scream ‘mommy I’m hungry’ whenever they want some attention. I can’t say it will be easy but I won’t say it will be difficult either. One thing I can tell you is that it will be confusing at some point. Sometimes (or most) you won’t see the point of the things you’ll be taught but it will all be great and worth it at the end of the day (unless you have homework). One thing I’ve decided not to fit into this year is a kombi, I’m just tired of arguing over a R1 one morning, waking up an hour early the other morning and I’m just sick of being squashed into the back seat in between people who have ten times the size of my hips (which by the way are almost only visible through binoculars). One great 20-fit-in discovery I made this year though was drawing a conclusion (with the help of a book I was reading) to a question many black South Africans (myself included) have been asking since their emerged democracy (being very questionable); why is black South African history not included in the school curriculum? Well the answer to this question is the same as enquiring to your parents about their personal decisions that have gone wrong. They know the answers, you understand the answers but you still want them to admit they’re not perfect. Our own history is not taught in school because we people who have looked into it know; it fuels anger, it manufactures hate and it makes one realise that the ‘history’ that we’ve been taught is too twisted, too diluted and very untrue. The history which we’re meant to be taught is hidden, carved and shelved because in its true form lies a dark hurting truth; it leaves many unanswered questions. Our history if taught in its natural order of occurrence and truthful form, it can endanger our perceived already crumbling rainbow nation. Anyhow, my greatest fit-in this year is my first taste of democratic freedom; moving into my apartment and out of my parents house for good (praise gawd). Doing more of me, answering to nobody. Darling it smells great, the true smell of democratic freedom and fresh paint. Happy new year to you, make 2015 great. Much Love DevynStella

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