Tag Archive | freedom

I am Single Because…

The man who is according to my very long and detailed fantasy list suppose to be cuddling with me at night went down the isle whilst I was busy grieving after being cheated on by a man who was not only all kinds of pathetic but still maintains his highly regarded occupation of being a skillful and discreet serial womaniser.

Another thing is the man who’s meant to be with me is sceptical about the whole of me. He has professionally friend-zoned me by insisting that the five year gap between us makes him too old to have anything intimate to do with me. He keeps referring to an ex of mine everytime things start to get cosy and an inch too magical between us. He asks irrelevant questions like how many guys I’ve gone down with, as if undermining or maybe weighing my womanhood and my ability to receive and give love.

I’m also single because the not so gentle man who wants to be with me is undoubtedly not my type. Type in this particular case implies his very dry and sexually centred sense of humour that gives me cringes and annoyance in equal measure. His dominating demeanour leaves me listening to stories of his success and achievements hundred percent of the time when the only thing I need is to be held and caressed in calming silent. He is undoubtedly not my type because a conversation only makes sense to him if after his acclaimed capabilities to explore the female body (body being an undertone in this instance) ends in nakedness and an orgasm.

In all honesty, I’m single because giving and receiving love has been reduced to dirty talk, nude pics and shagging the living life out of each other’s physicality. In all of this, the heart is sidelined, its attention desired but its whole affection unattended to. Getting a sex partner seems more important than getting to know a person. And here I stand, single because all I really want are little things that grow a person in remarkable ways. Like a pair of ears, that will have interest on the occurrences of my journey and shed light unto my challenges. A mouth and a tongue that will not just be happy to lock with my lips and tongue. But lips and tongue that will create words that will mould not only me but that which we’re trying to build.

So yes I know, I’m single because amongst many other things, I’m asking for far too much from a world of individuals who pride themselves about giving zero fucks and I’m very aware that this can’t be the world I signed up to. I’m unable to adapt and I could very well be slowly dying. Perhaps they are right, I should just get a highly educated psychologist and a good motivational read because times have changed and no one saw it fit to email me the newsletter.


June 16 2013

The dj’s desks were ready and armed in the company of the biggest, loudest speakers on the market.

Nicely ironed school uniforms crisply hung outside wardrobe doors in anticipation to be worn.

It was not just a long weekend, it was both father’s and youth day.

Drinks had been bought on Friday afternoon and they were enough to keep you hang-overed for the rest of your life.

There were celebrations everywhere. Even an amateur dj had a gig.

The theme as proposed by people unknown to us; “working together for youth development and a drug free South Africa”. It meant nothing, we are educated, unemployed and drugs are our only sense of freedom.

I rose to the most annoyingly loud sound of a house or was it a kwaito track? Never mind. And then it hit me; this is a public holiday and sadly, that is all it will ever be to some.

It is a Sunday and a very special one at that, so hold the thought of an early morning church service. My compatriots need to defeat the hang-over accumulated on the early hours of this morning with a tender, delicious braaied meat. This will be followed by an ice cold cider or should it be a steaming hot tot?

A hang-over murdering breakfast was followed by a visionless loiter around the neighborhood until the time for the important qualifying soccer match came.

They sat in front of a 54 cm television screen, every one looked tidy in their black and white uniform. They didn’t know the significance of their outfit but it felt appropriate.

Have you ever been in Hillbrow and witnessed Nigerian brothers having a conversation in their native language? Well, the noise in this house was nothing compared to that. There was bickering, swearing and at one time I swore the television set was seeing its last minute.

When Bafana Bafana scored a magnificent own goal, that was the end of it. This sorrow needed to be shed, fast. Beers were out of the refrigerator, into hands right into the blood stream.

The speakers showed us what they were made of. The noise level tripled the one my ears were settling to. This was like a shebeen on a pay day evening. For a mere conversation, the voice needed to reach the highest frequency possible.

Vuvuzela’s had been abandoned and lifeless. Beer was now doing the talking. Secrets were revealed.

My compatriots are young and to them, this is a celebration, a joyful noise that means freedom.

In 1976, it was a different story. A tale that means little today to those who enjoy the fruits of its outcome.

Learners took it upon themselves and marched with the purpose of breaking oppression boundaries. This became a battle which saw some of them take their last breath.

In pursuit of equality, recognition and freedom, innocent young souls became victims of tear gas and rubber bullets. In 1976, youngsters traveled a journey to youth emancipation.

Today we celebrate, in whichever way that suits our mood a freedom that took away lives.

After 37 years, the wrath, has little if any meaning at all. We could be lost, we could be lacking knowledge, we could be clueless but we’re lucky because in a non impressive way, we portray freedom. The human in our young mind has forgotten, as people are prone to, the minor things we take for granted were achieved through the shedding of blood.

Today we are emancipated from the chains that held the 1976 youth but we too face boundaries which shrink our magnitude. We however attempt to break these boundaries single handedly in a thousand different directions.

June 16 2013, maybe you could have done it more differently and maybe you did achieved the best results and maybe you spend it commemorating the day your father walked out of your life and never came back, maybe even that thought was difficult to trace for you were just an embryo when he left. No matter your form of expressing appreciation and way of commemorating, I hope you had a fruitful youth and father’s day.

A Philanthropist’s Dream in an Angry World.


Love and anger – the two feelings which embody what we are, they reveal what is deeply stored within us. These feelings are the main trigger of our actions, the same actions which hold together the POWER to determine our future, the MIGHT to dictate where we lend up. Love and anger – they hold us firmly together or leave us severely divided. We need to choose at all times, an appropriate feeling for the encounter at hand. We cannot deny the effectiveness of the past roaming within our presence- the feelings it arouses. We however need a reformatory for our psychology,to free the mind which is locked behind steel misapprehension bars. We must engage in a battle to free ourselves for the sake of our kids. We have to do away with the noose which till this day serves the vision of the oppressor. This is the same snare which bounded our fore fathers from dominion. For the corrosion we know the trap to cause, we are entitled to journey so to be the last generation to withstand its whiplashes.


The command of inferiority which was instilled in our intelligence is still in operation to date. The abase through skin colour is still effective. Now the question is how do we emancipate from the ideas of the past that rendered our fore parents inadequate? How do we claim our fortress, reclaim the dignity our grandparents were robbed of? How do we make this forlorn, angry, anguished, survival of the fittest world, a state of peace? How do we generate an unfettered nation from the anger we have inherited? This world is inappropriate for our kids. We have fallen heroes and heroines, they did their best and we are on a slightly longer voyage to that of Mandela’s freedom walk.


I like the heroes of ours, they fought, battled and maybe made some informed decisions, nonetheless, they gave a today which is much better than their yesterday. They granted us privileges they never relished. Privileges to extend our reach to an altitude they never traversed. This privilege is an opportunity to expand our magnitude, to explore our civil-hood. Our focus should be more than improving livelihood. Our kids are dependent on our decisions. Every move we make has the capability to manifest as a source of strength to their challenges. We have the power to choose the benefits they delight in. Our decisions are more than our own – their ability like that of our forefathers can cross centuries.

love is oneness

love is oneness

I am not a specialist, but I would jump at the opportunity to prescribe unity to our scattered souls, strength to our fragile physics and love in replacement for the hate we have embraced. I would grand us a mind-set to neutralise and conquest the ideas of the past that corrode and trap our aptitude into reaching the highest of altitudes. I would strive to find the scientific codes which will enable us to see the facts from the lies in-between. We are not inferior, we are not disqualified but it’s the strength of the past forces that limit who we can become. This is not a struggle of our own – it is a cry from our future generations, a plea to annihilate the anger in us. We are conditioned to better the environments for our generations, it is an obligation we are ought to complete, an avenue to diminution the challenges of our kids, it is however improbable with the sordid we comprise.

Some people expert far more than they can bargain, but I want us to be proud, to look into our past and smile for we see the fruition of our battle, we understand the victory we have granted our kids. It would be a miscarriage on our part if our generations undergo worse degrees of gruesome crime, appalling rape statistics, abhorrent acts of terrorism, overwhelming truth of unemployment – these are challenges we are ought to overcome. We shall grow up,look into our past and rejoice knowing that we have secured a future for our kids. The questions that lie in the atmosphere are abundant. I do not have many approaches either, then again,one cannot complete this battle single handedly. If you cannot make matters of your livelihood favour you, let them at least favour your kids for they do not deserve to suffer from the hostility which history revealed in us.

we are ought to save our kids

we are ought to save our kids