Tag Archive | family

Once Upon A Lie…

I sat down with an angel whose life experience spans from savage as a demon, devious as a devil to a well of wisdom. From a distance, she sways her being in sexiness and walks like she lawfully owns the land her feet step on. Mesmerising like a true goddess. Her presence is both amazing and overwhelming.

Have you ever been lied to…. As I open my mouth to respond, she continues as though this is a rhetorical question… So often that even the truth starts sounding unfamiliar? That lies bring you more than just comfort? They start becoming you, you in them intertwined; the truth becomes scary. You feel the need to lie even when there is not enough to hide? No? Good for you, some of us have been around; up, down, in, out, hurt, depressed wished upon death longed to live, smiled, laughed somewhat loved but not fully witnessed honesty.

Once upon a lie lived the truth. Once upon a life lived a human. Before you fool anyone else, you fool you. Now this is the realisation, before it was just a far-fetched thought that resembled everything I no longer cared to remember.

I was almost certain she once touched base with earth. This beauty of vividly placing wisdom so magically in ones tongue has to have been schooled by the great ones who witnessed life before we.

When my mom, in the middle of a highly opinionated conversation about men who can’t accept women with children, intentionally squeezed in the fact that the man I had known for then the 25 years of what I accepted as my life was not my father; life stopped and earth spun a little faster. I quickly forgot my thoughts and only the heart fulfilled its duty. My eyes were seeing things I can not in this case remember. Wow! So its true every family has a secret. Now it makes sense, people always asked why I don’t look like my siblings.

I had a lot of unanswered questions. My head was playing endless unresolvable quiz games. I did not know what to want, which question to ask first. It was like a fly was annoyingly going around my head and my hands were too short to distract its motion. At the same time I was in a strange way relieved; I did not have the genes of a man my mother mistakenly chose as a husband. That was great news because according to me, his genealogy needed to end. The world needed not of his kind in its future.

Joking about him probably not being my father – because most of the time he completely ticks even the boxes the future men trashers are still yet to invent, was suddenly a reality and bloody hell I did not expect it to be this shocking but equally numbing. I was unsure about my mother; I couldn’t believe her secret. I AM THE SECRET. Worse part I am instructed to continue keeping this a secret and never bother diving into conversation about my real father. I just have to draw my own conclusions and take joy in that for that’s all I am getting.

From where I was sitting my mother seemed FINALLY relieved. Her eyes had the obviously-this-is-not-a-big-deal look and her shoulders looked less burdened. As I sat on a chair that suddenly felt like it was hardening my butt, thinking empty thoughts, I couldn’t believe the facts of my life. I suddenly felt the need to be silent for as long as the silence can take the silent.

But…

This is life and how I came to is in my case not a big deal. However I have lots of unanswered questions. The people have had the most loveless marriage in the history of marriages. They hardly talk, be it over the phone or anywhere else. They are like cooking oil and the scalp; yes that’s a bad simile but you get my point. They can tolerate each other but the consequences are dire. Now I get it though, my mother puts up with a loveless marriage knowing very well that she deserves better so she continues living her seemingly perfect life and concealing one thing that is obviously-not-a-big-deal so she stands on pedestals she has no business standing in.

She has chosen to live a life of regret, constant anger, hiding behind the church yet knowing exactly what she is worth. Being fully aware of who she is and what she can do.

When she was done speaking I looked at my own life, questioned my existence, looked through the eyes of my head – my own lies. I realised that a smile could be a sham. We walk in pride to only spend minutes upon minutes in toilet seats wondering, crying, wishing things were better and promising ourselves we are going to work harder better, smarter to continue concealing, so that it is never revealed. At the same time, do we really know who we are or do we only take what we’re being told and run with it? What is our truth and how do we weigh its worth? If our truth had to suddenly be rendered untrue, will we have enough will power to reconstruct a new life from there? I too had unanswered questions. I wondered about the many things we’re told we are: lost generation for one. Are we lost because we did not get enough truth? And who was/is meant to bring this truth to us. Anyway what is truth? After so many lies that we’ve been told, how much of unlearning and relearning will be enough? I do not know, life seems to be a LOT. There seem to be less truths and more lies and our facial expressions never run out of memes when truths come out and the heart unfortunately seems to always be caught off guard. 

We really carry so much burden, bestowing on ourselves the weight that comes with lies is unnecessary and rather stupid. Once upon a lie lived a truth and we must ALWAYS choose the virtue of honesty.

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Xmas in the Hood

There’s no christmas tree or a chimney. You won’t find grandfather frost or any snow man. There’s no going from house to house singing christmas carols or the serving of mince pies as dessert. Its very anormal (and quite disturbing for some) seeing a house with christmas lights and decorations. And just so you know in the hood, we have absolutely no use for christmas crackers and there is also not a single drop of snow just an abundance of sunshine.

You will find presents, they are just not in a stocking under some christmas tree. If you’re hoping for a delicious taste of some good fresh roast turkey, forget it. There is however a variety of tasty meaty dishes. You also have the option to have all of our most favourable salads (mashed potatoes, coleslaw and a beetroot salad) in one plate to form part of our rare ‘seven colours’ meal.

There’s a tradition of love, sharing and ubuntu but how each of these is practised lies solely to the specifications and desires of each household. One thing’s for certain is most urban dwellers return to their ancestral villages to taste that rare embrace only found in each ones roots.

There’s pure smiles, great laughter, through-back stories, catch-up conversations and a real great feast. If you’ve never celebrated christmas in a South African kasi style, I’m sorry to be the bear of bad news but you don’t know life.

We celebrate christmas in a way that only we know how. The christmas trees, decorations and santa claus does not form part of our christmas, its just something we see western people do on western movies and fortunately we haven’t made it part of our traditional way of embracing christmas but that doesn’t mean the commercial world has stopped trying to enforce it unto our lifestyle.

In the hood christmas means an excuse for the kids (and everyone else) to get new clothes, be swagged up and connect with loved ones. Neighbours gather around a table and exchange not only gossip about whose lost a lot of weight but share delicious homemade soul food. Kids walk on the streets to show off their new clothes. ‘Bakers choice assorted’ and a glass of expensive juice is what you get if you go to the neighbours for whatever reason. You also get to be invited for ‘christmas’ by that very friendly neighbour you haven’t seen in a while. And for once, you get to have a well balanced meal.

Christmas is mostly celebrated because it brings families together and love is the main purpose of the day. Some families start the day with a morning church service and others dive straight into christmas lunch preparations. At the end of the day, everyone just wants to be merry.

So still on that christmas(y) note; merry christmas to you, I hope you eat, drink and be very merry.

I am Not Ready to Forgive Oscar Pistorius

I can recall the first time I truly felt the spark and connection towards the treasure that soon became our heroic ‘blade-runner’; Oscar Pistorius. He ran like a beast. He made the race tracks seem like they were engineered solely for his fulfilment. He was the spectator’s inspiration. Our very own African dream.

Oscar without knowing, made watching the paralympics a proud moment for most if not all South Africans. I and many of my compatriots were very proud of him.

The 14 of February 2013 was a shock that due to twitter became a subject of comedy. I couldn’t believe it. Because Oscar could do no wrong even that murmur of him complaining about his blades, I couldn’t take that serious.

How could a harmless looking fellow be a woman killer? My head is struggling to make sense.

I didn’t know Reeva (I will never know her) or even heard of her before. There were pictures. She was beautiful and there was a sense of calmness visible through her face. Her pictures revealed a well thought-out, humble and loving soul. A woman more worthier than taking her last breath in a toilet cubicle.

The Oscar trial revealed quite disturbing news about our heroic blade-runner; a gun enthusiast, a bully and an anger fuelled man. This was a beast. A beast that out of God knows what, shot and killed a woman that ‘wish-fully’, had dreams to nurture and love him for the rest of his life.

The way I had felt about Oscar Pistorius the double amputee runner took a complete turn when I met Oscar Pistorius the culpable homicide convict. The passion was gone. The inspiration had disappeared and I could no longer look at him with adoration. I had been deceived, betrayed and convoluted. But most critically, I had overworked my imagination trying to make some sense of the situation in my head.

At some point, I thought Oscar would take time out of his then messy schedule and apologise. The same way he took time out to remember his twitter password to write inspirational words. But this time he would apologise to us, the people who never knew Reeva but loved and supported him; the people he unknowingly deceived and traumatised. But I hope he will see the need and clarify to us someday.

In my mind and heart, I can’t forgive Oscar Pistorius because besides the fact that he killed someone who had no means to escape the shots and then oddly screamed like a woman, his side of the story infuriates me more than it should put things into perspective. Secondly, Oscar is proving to be a lousy bugger that sees absolutely no business in ‘veritas’ and makes very little if any attempt at all to acknowledge his flaws.

Even though I pity him at this stage, I cannot picture Oscar running like he can, flying our South African flag high and passionately singing our South African national anthem in a certain paralympic game. My mind won’t allow it. And I’m ready to allow my mind to allow it.

RIP Robin Williams

I have thought about death more than once. It could be lingering in my subconscious as you read but you’re allowed to overlook that because such thoughts are sinister encounters experienced by those who fail miserable to face life head on.

Depression is a serious issue and its a pity that our society sees it as ‘state of mind’ for the weakly.

I may have not known what Robin really battled with but I’m saddened that he couldn’t overcome it.

I can’t imagine the dark pit hole he found himself drowning in after a ‘magnificent’ day of making nations laugh.

The worst part about depression is that the sufferer tries so many times to internally and personally deal with it before the rest of the world takes notice. Sometimes people remain quiet because the stigma associated with the condition is so enormous you’ll only feel it once you personally suffer from depression.

I respect that through all your silent and spoken battles, you were still able to make others laugh.

Rest in everlasting peace Robin Williams and I pray that your loved ones have enough strength not to question your decision but love you always.

Let’s Gather OUR Families – A Connectedness Approach

This is a sentiment evoked by a television show I recently watched. They were strategising the construction of practical ideas which can reduce hooliganism in townships. Societal issues always trigger my attention for I have so much to yet invest in my people. I am aware of their strength and power as I have more than once off-loaded my heavy heart unto their hands and danced to the sounds of their joy. Wherever I go, I always know, their struggle is my struggle and their tears are my anguish. So it’s natural that when they are infected, I pay more than the required attention, to analytically gather solutions to sufferings.

Hooliganism would briefly be characterised by many as notoriety. The strategies to defeat this ‘notoriety’ were based on approaching and turning hoodlums into economically viable society individuals. I observed that these solutions were limited to sport recreational activities. I also noted that the methodology applied by grown-ups in phenomenon’s which young individuals combat is not well suited for both parties to understand and execute for favourable outcomes. The gap in both parties lifestyle is to take the blame, parents become overwhelmed by fear that in spite of raising their kids well, history might repeats itself and their beloved kids might find themselves in the same or worse complications that THEY battled with. Parents are always trying to protect their kids from the problems they haven’t yet faced. This in turn becomes an extreme vexation for youngsters as they want their own experiences so as to explore who and what they are.

In my perception, hooliganism is more than just – oversized t-shirts, underpants revealing baggy jeans, overly explicit language, engagement in criminal activities and finding pleasure in music with foul language. These are just some of the effects of the real disorder. The core syndrome as I see it is emotional starvation. These people lack love, attention, affection, appreciation and acknowledgment from the people they hold dear to. When somebody’s well-being is emotionally enfeebled, he/she is in battle with the functionality of the world they occupy. Hence the individual is driven into emotional vulnerability and is prone onto informed decisions in proceeds for emotional breakthrough. Hooliganism in turn serves the purpose to overly apprehend this vulnerability and estrangement; it provides a safe-house for the emotionally vulnerable.

Teenagers have a complex way of gathering thoughts and understanding ideas. They operate in a completely different realm to that of their parents. They might grow in a similar environment and experience almost the same situations but their reception and reaction to the encounter will be different to that of their parents. We must understand that we are not coded to react to problems similarly. This encounter has proven to be challenging for parents when it comes to helping their kids deal with problems. They are unable to reach a bridge of flawless communication and understanding. Parents do not always consider that kids have different needs the same way as people. People are different, kids are also people and that makes them different too, therefore, it is out of prudent to treat and raise your kids in a similar fashion, probably one of them needs more attention that the other.

I’ve read a few factual books on serial killers and found a common link between them and hoodlums. Most, if not all serial killers have had a deranged up-bringing; they came from broken families, families that lacked a solid foundation and structure. It is either there was abuse (in all aspects), negligence or otherwise the kid was bullied at school and the parents were so immersed in their own lives to notice. I’ve also found the exact same aspects to carve hooliganism. Usually teenagers will lack a voice at home – no one is willing to listen, care, nurture or make them feel loved, accepted and part of the family. Hence they venture into other activities more togetherness orientated such as hooliganism, where they will feed on their hunger for love, protection but most importantly a voice. They engage in such so as to find the fundamental family connectedness which they lack.

Before the sporting activity ventures to halt hooliganism, I would focus on building the family structure. Families should engage in activities that draw them towards each other, there should be enough hours dedicated to family time so as to increase ties which are meant to connect families. Every member of the family should find comfort, strength, motivation, appreciation and love at home before anywhere else. Everyone’s presence at home should be acknowledged and appreciated. An individual should be comfortable at home to freely express him/herself without fear of judgment and degradation. I believe that if our families are a source of strength, we would not feel the need to seek fulfillment outside the family institution. The number one ingredient in societal problems is family trusses which have dire loop holes. Don’t make home a foul place for your family members, give them love, support, credit where its due, and let them be aware that you’re there for them.

We are human beings and emotions carry us. When we feel that our emotional realm is not satisfied, we engage in acts which the society deems as “attention seeking” whilst it’s just our way of blowing a whistle notifying people that we need emotional support. We live in a world where people are emotionally scared and for that reason we find ourselves in this world of crime, terrorism, drugs and so forth for people are in veagence to heal their wounds and they do this in notoriety (so as to cover the emotional scars of wrath and inferiority) to attract superiority and command.