Tag Archive | reality

The Month-end Township Prayer

I’ve never lived in any renowned township or any fully fledged township either. But I have visited one if not two well recognised townships of my beloved rainbow nation.

With my observing techniques, I can without a doubt tell you that month end is a big deal in townships, not only because the thieves are out in numbers or because a group of females paying a visit to the neighbour’s house across the road is a suspected secret stokvel meeting but the mood on the streets is on a level of a different kind.

There are very short mini-skirts here, beers passing from one hand to the next there and a neighbours kid knocking on a door asking for their mother’s long overdue ‘parcel’ over there.

The jukebox is playing all the songs with a heavy bass line, inducing dance moves from the little kids playing on the streets. The spaza shop that is slowly turning into a tavern is opened for twenty four hours and by dawn, you’re bound to hear some off-tune gospel hymns sang by the now very drunk citizens.

Kombi’s are working overtime (read speeding) and giving very little if any damn at all about the potholes, your groceries spilling out of grocery bags or your head bumping the kombi’s roof everytime the kombi makes contact with a speed hump.

Gossip ring leaders are camping outside their mother’s houses scanning every passerby, their outfit, what they’re carrying and have a feast out of their personal story or just create one if there isn’t any.

Loan sharks are on every corner making sure no one crosses their line.

However, everything that happens in townships, even the ones who struggle to be townships, is the prayer of most if not all township dwellers.

This prayer is either prayed internally or in pure action, never out loud;

Our month end who is at the end of the week, hallowed be thy weekend, thy drunkenness come, thy will be done on Friday immediately after work. Give us the long queues, including our beloved KFC and forgive us Edgars for your bills will remain in arrears. Our kids shall knock on doors of those who owe us ‘parcels’. Lead us not into mashonisa’s den but deliver us at the nearest shebeen. For yours is the hangover on Sunday, skipping church and trying to catch up on sleep. The realisation come and thy weekend vanished with our money. Roads lead to ‘Pep loan’ (Capfin) for partying to ‘towner‘ has left us forgetting about our kid’s overdue school fees. We regret you for now and we shall eat bread with no butter until next month end come. Amen.

This prayer is another form of a ‘sad black story’ (there are many of those in townships of South Africa); many talents are never nurtured, too much time is wasted on nothing, skills are neglected, opportunities are missed and many (sometimes unnecessary) debts are created due to a variety of things including inferiority complex and a lack in desire to seek relevant information. Hence we solely rely on a singular source of income that is not only dissatisfactory but never enough to sustain even an average living standard. This is a pit hole we need to rise above from at a much more faster rate than we’re doing right now.

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.

Father’s Day and South Africa

Children are angry, women are heartbroken and fathers are still on the run. This is the grievous reality of many South Africans. Nevertheless, it does not take away from the order of the day.

Its Father’s day in South Africa today, so a very happy and blessed father’s day to all fathers even those outside South Africa.

South Africa is going through change and many will wonder why things have changed for the worst but the answer will not be of public knowledge but rather an introspection for every citizen to look at what their role has been.

One thing I know for a fact is that a sour attitude towards each other and continuous acts of encroachment is what will always stand against our unity and fruition.

#endfathersday

#endfathersday trends

Be it a hoax or the truth for some, I still don’t get why wrath of this magnitude can have an effect so great it tops our ‘trends map’ a day before father’s day. Maybe I’ve drastically failed to understand the pain but I do however feel the rage and I’ve also seen the harm it can do.

Whatever is begun in anger ends in shame, Benjamin Franklin once said.

And the question I’m asking is, how long will we allow wrath and anguish to shame our future?

Allow me to be completely honest; if this was two years ago, I would have seen nothing wrong with the hashtag and the reason for this post would have been unnecessary because then, my father was according to my perception nothing worthy of honour, appreciation or celebration.

He was just a man who met my beloved mother and decided to give her a baby while he went on with his daily adventures and pretending to like the idea of my existence. Before my eyes, the only person he gave special attention to was none but himself.

However, this is a new year and this year is a special year. I want to for the first time with honour, compassion and appreciation wish my father a blissful and blessed father’s day filled with lots of food, jokes and maskandi music – some of the things my father would rather be caught dead than live without besides his family of course.

Daddy…
With wishing you a grand father’s day, I also want to tell you that I’ve forgiven all those years you spent working instead of being with me; reading me a bedtime story, teaching me how to escape washing the dishes, defending me against mom’s scoulding or maybe telling me my awfully crayon coloured drawings are pretty.

Today is about you and your role in my life which you took upon even though you were not 100 percent ready but took part and did what you could. I will not crucify you for things you were not able to do but I will always remember the things you managed to do.

Happy father’s day daddy dearest and I really do think you’re a great dad and an exceptional father even though there is room for improvement like there is room for me to be a better daughter.

🙂
DevynStella

Observations. Life. Critical and Sensible Experiences

YOU HAVE TO EXPERIENCE LIFE, MAKE OBSERVATIONS, AND ASK QUESTIONS. Dante Smith.

OBSERVATIONS
The toilet is a room for thought when you don’t have your own personal space.

Its all fun and dreams when you’re sweet sixteen living under your parent’s wing. But reality invades your life, hard-work introduces itself and life begins without your consent.

People are likely to choose money over time and they spend most of their lifetime chasing money. That’s why we have a nation of people who do not have time for other equally or more important responsibilities.

Winning is such a great feeling. If winning is not in your reality, keep it in your brain. Just keep winning.

Courage is everything.

Constant encounter of disappointment is discouraging and very damaging to one’s esteem. Too many disappointments make one lower their standards and expectations.

Laziness is concealed discouragement.

Loud mouths are slackers.

Parents find it difficult to accept when their children have different views to that of their own. Especially where religion is concerned.

Creativity never expires it matures and grows exponentially when nurtured.

New media is prestige and comes with dire consequences when misused.

IF YOU HAVE THE OPPORTUNITY TO PLAY THIS GAME OF LIFE YOU NEED TO APPRECIATE EVERY MOMENT. Kanye West.

LIFE
Every generation sees the flaws of another.

Everyday has its own plans no matter how strategic you plan.

Money is strength, it makes situations lighter.

Life changing growth results after intense suffering.

When one gets initiated into adulthood, challenges get really tough.

People tend to have more opinions over other people’s situations.

You will suffer greatly for your desires. But when you don’t have basic needs you suffer the worst form of affliction.

You get paid for what you’re good at but greatly rewarded for what you’re passionate about.

When you’re young nobody tells you that anguish is when you’ve given your all to achieving something but still remain JUST not good enough.

Child headed households are due to misfortunes and faults of the parents.

People will always want what they don’t have.

I BROKE INTO SHAKESPEARE’S TOMB AND STOLE HIS REMAINS, GRINDED THE BONES, SMOKED IT, THEN GOT IN THE GAME. Nasir Jones.

CRITICAL and SENSIBLE EXPERIENCES
Annoyed is when you’re living under your parents wing and experiencing a restricted level of yourself.

Sleepy is the condition you get after you’ve spend your bedtime credit social media networking.

Happiness is the totality of your effort coming into fruition.

Constipation is when you want to move out of your parent’s house but money disagreeing with you.

Confusion is when you don’t get what you want and have to work with what you don’t have in order to create what you like.

Freedom is when you do what you’ve never thought you’d do and amazingly exceptional at it.

Peace is when you allow only one hopeful thought to occupy your mind without any physical distraction.

Finally, I am Ready to Vote…Again

“The really important kind of freedom involves attention, and awareness, and discipline, and effort, and being able truly to care about other people and to sacrifice for them, over and over, in myriad petty unsexy ways, every day.” David Foster Wallace.

I am part of a fairly large proportion of young South Africans, who did not only misunderstood (some still misunderstand) the concept behind voting but also despised the whole process completely. After digesting the words of Sir David Foster Wallace, I realised the heroine I needed to be for my descendants.

When the voter registration dates drew closer, conversations about voting enormously increased. As it was the case study of many young South Africans, the moment I heard anything synonymous with voting, I shunned my ears and hopped into Twitter where something to laugh about and forget your reality is bound.

Now that I think about it, there is nothing increasingly annoying than a corrupt official telling you about your right to vote when the only thing they are in point of fact concerned about is who you vote for, with their party having to be your first priority, of course.

I always thought to myself, what is the point of this entirely unbeneficial (bearing in mind that I’m like everyone else and I tend to sometimes forget the good moments a person brought through one mistake) process. The reality of the appalling percentage of corrupt state officials and malice in my country completely clouded my judgement and nearly deprived me of a beautiful tale I could through pen, paper and interwebs, foretell my generations.

I will not for a second lie to you, this has been an extremely too long a contemplation process, especially that 2013 has been an unfriendly son of the soil type of a year to me. Living through all kinds of villain engineered forces; from being a statistic of severe depression, undergoing the excruciating throb of unemployment, abuse and crime – to such a high degree that at some point I was left bag-less – minutes before my important presentation, where my whole life, including every legal document a citizen needs to have and two cell-phones (not contactable too) gone in a split second, being worried about being a victim of fraud, to being alive and hating South Africa and the criminals, who are in all ways my brothers and sisters. I have finally decided that I will vote.

I will, with pride and maybe a bit of sunburn or perhaps some wet clothes, on a date still yet to be announced, be shuffling forward in a queue which by the grace of politicians, will move in a speed of light, to cast my vote. For with a better understanding, I am now ready to do so.

Ready does not in any form imply that I believe for a second that there is one political party affiliated individual with ideas, vigour and prowess to overcome the atrocious state of malevolence and detestation we South Africans find ourselves in. It just simply means that I am ready to face the stones and hardships of being a proud and active citizen.

I will vote for I have realised a privilege behind marking an X near somebody whom I’m naïve enough to believe that they will bring change in a split second – that’s how we’re taught to think in this country. Either way, it does not take away from the fact that voting is a significant part of being a citizen in my country. As I know it, voting does not deliver instant change, if any change at all, but it gives the voter a new perspective, a new hope, a new drive and a new understanding.

I remember the first time I voted. It was a different experience. I had anticipated it, called my then boyfriend and he advised me on whom to vote for, not a very political opinion I must say. But I enjoyed it, the fact that I was finally a citizen whose activities were going to be counted. There was a level of excitement that I cannot put into words. All I remember is a smile in my heart that blossomed unto my face and the mounting joy when I actually did the process. It was inspiring. The mysterious X letter holds the victory of my forefathers, those who’s strength, persistence and will-power lives through the supremacy of expressing who you are and what you stand for as an individual. As I stood in the ballot box, I realised that voting ignites the love and belief one has for their country.

I will vote, as a sign of respect and salutation to my forefathers. It is my way of crafting them a gift card, acknowledging and thanking them for taking care of the land and the world which belongs to us. It is my promise that I am willing and will do everything I can to make this world a better place which as the poet once recited, belongs to our descendants. I want my generations to draw inspiration from me, the same way I’m drawing inspiration from the heroes and heroines who are my forefathers/mothers.

Through my vote I will continue the struggle, as our beloved Rolihlahla Nelson Mandela said; the long walk continues. Oh Nelson Mandela that is one man capable of a grand entrance and an outstanding departure, God bless him; may his soul rest in peace. I hope for the devious deeds of politics and politicians, we do not encounter any; ‘do it for Mandela’ type of political canvassing campaigns.

Before this whole thing starts to get boring, I would like for my compatriots, who’ve not yet registered to vote, to chew on Coretta Scott-King’s words; freedom is never really won. You earn it and win it in every generation. That is what we have not taught young people, or older ones for that matter. You do not finally win a state of freedom that is protected forever. It doesn’t work that way.

My fellow youngsters, I would like all of you to contemplate about the kind of nation you want your future generations to look back to. And always remind yourselves to take part in your own country and be proud of where you come from so that your generations will be proud that they stem from your withins. If however, you plan not to vote, bear this in mind; if you are bored and disgusted by politics and don’t bother to vote, you are in effect voting for the entrenched establishments of the two major parties, who please rest assured are not dumb, and who are keenly aware that it is in their interests to keep you disgusted and bored and cynical and to give you every possible reason to stay at home doing one-hitters and watching MTV on primary day. By all means stay home if you want, but don’t bullshit yourself that you’re not voting. In reality, there is no such thing as not voting: you either vote by voting, or you vote by staying home and tacitly doubling the value of some Diehard’s vote. By David Foster Wallace.