Many lessons I've learned in this life of mine, yet none has quite managed to make me understand or truly know love... I know that I love, I know that I am loved... have loved... will love... but my conceptualization of love seems to differ from many people around me.. I have heard the 3words "I love you" said to a new paramour only weeks into the relationship like the premature ejaculate of an over-eager man... bile rose in my throat as I thought of the many lies that will follow this first one... I have heard them used after a "but" to excuse intentional transgressions.. I have heard them said between people who could possibly know no love... the words echo in my head like a broken record of a bad electro house song... I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you.. The more I hear them uttered, the more I feel they have no real meaning.. a cliche? Perhaps.
For me love is not just a feeling, love is action... Love is not an impromptu champagne picnic atop the Eiffel Tower on a warm spring night... it could be... but it's not... Love is found in the little things, in the little acts of selflessness, in devotion, in faith, forgiveness, in pain... love is hard work.. it is the patience you should have as you wait to reap the benefits of your commitment knowing that they may never come... it is giving more of yourself even when you feel there's nothing left to give. . . and yes, love can be a candlelit dinner with some prime cabernet sauvignon... but that is not the be-all and end-all of it.. the words of many a drunken clergyman come to mind: "through sickness and health".. oh indeed. for me, THAT is love. . . and because of that I am not sure I have yet loved wholly, truly and completely... I feel it coming.. a dark cloud on the horizon promising rain that will soak the earth and bring her to life... but when it arrives, whatever the love; platonic, erotic, agape, ludus, storge, pragmatic, manic, obsessive... I'll take mine with a pinch of salt, a lemon and tequila...
07 October 2009
11 August 2009
One step at a time...
If you had asked me a couple of months ago what I wanted to do with my life... I would have answered quite convincingly that I was going to help save Africa (with or without a cape)... that I was going to start small and hope my influence spreads like a benevolent virus (oxymoron?) and have the desired knock-on effect... RIGHT.
Somewhere at the beginning of my crusade, it soon became apparent to me that not only was I NOT going to save Africa, but that Africa (or at least its despotic leaders… yes… I have generalized) was not particularly interested in being “saved”. After all, the majority of us Africans have been brainwashed into believing that not only can we NOT be saved, but that IF someone were to save us it would most definitely not be a black African… I suppose if I were a blond briefcase carrying Swede I would still think I can “save” Africa… after all, when all else has gone to sleep, money keeps talking…
The sad reality is that Africans are locked in the vicious circle of a cancerous culture of dependency … Forget the “uneven” international playing field for a brief moment… this dependency is an illness that seems to have formed part of “our” culture… so real is this syndrome that I can smell it everywhere I go, I see it at every crossroad as homeless vagrants stretch out their hands to me and beg for “just twee rand sisi… I family to feed… just twee rand”...
Back to the greater world… Africa continues to wait for the "masters" to offer them a little piece of their cake, while they hold out the begging bowl... I am frankly tired of Africa being complicit in its own subjugation. Our continent is by far the richest in terms of natural resources, and yet we allow the rest of the world to dictate our terms of trade... The sad truth though is that Africans seem rather complacent about pulling themselves out of this unfortunate quagmire… like the begging vagrants on most urban streets on this continent… Our “leaders” couldn’t be bothered about pulling up their socks and actively seeking the continent’s development, on its own terms... In the Southern African Development Community only ONE out of FOURTEEN of the member state does not depend on donor funding for the bulk of its government budget… Unsurprisingly that country is pretty much run by the west… alas, even the non-beggar is a slave… But what IS alarming is that most of these countries have extensive resource wealth that far surpasses that of some grey island archipelago off-the-coast of continental Europe... and yet most of this wealth is "owned" by foreign "investors"... Anglo-gold, Old Mutual, Delta, British Tobacco...
How can anyone even have the energy to attempt to save a continent where people have decided that aid and donor funding is the solution? I have been taught that you can only help those who want to be helped… so here I am throwing in my dirty white towel until my fellow Africans wake up and realize that they are the help they desperately need and not the help they keep seeking.
Africa needs to tap into the continent's vast potential. This continent is by far the richest... and whoever says that the West will cease to demand our resources if we unilaterally declare independence, as it were, has never looked at the fingers of many an engaged woman in the streets of Milan, Paris, New York, London and all the other little towns and cities... Has never passed by a cafe on a cold winter's night and smelt the strong aroma of Kenyan coffee and South African rooibos... of Zimbabwe's citrus in the juices...
Or late at night snuggled under a warm cotton blanket, while sending a text message from a phone whose functioning would be impossible were it not for DRC's Coltan and Zimbabwe's chrome... Or passed by an emaciated model with her fingers wrapped around a Virginia Thins cigarette as she desperately tries not to indulge in yet another bite of chocolate cake...Thank you Ghana!
Combined with the Middle East, African produces the bulk of the world's oil... the oil that turns the cogs of Western capitalism. If African countries would metaphorically and literally close the oil tap, the tables would turn as the West looks to our continent for the oil it so desperately lacks and even more desperately NEEDS.
Our problem lies in bad governance, the spirit of corruption and elitist neo-patrimonialism... cutting out bad apples won't do... the tree must be uprooted and a new one planted.
Somewhere at the beginning of my crusade, it soon became apparent to me that not only was I NOT going to save Africa, but that Africa (or at least its despotic leaders… yes… I have generalized) was not particularly interested in being “saved”. After all, the majority of us Africans have been brainwashed into believing that not only can we NOT be saved, but that IF someone were to save us it would most definitely not be a black African… I suppose if I were a blond briefcase carrying Swede I would still think I can “save” Africa… after all, when all else has gone to sleep, money keeps talking…
The sad reality is that Africans are locked in the vicious circle of a cancerous culture of dependency … Forget the “uneven” international playing field for a brief moment… this dependency is an illness that seems to have formed part of “our” culture… so real is this syndrome that I can smell it everywhere I go, I see it at every crossroad as homeless vagrants stretch out their hands to me and beg for “just twee rand sisi… I family to feed… just twee rand”...
Back to the greater world… Africa continues to wait for the "masters" to offer them a little piece of their cake, while they hold out the begging bowl... I am frankly tired of Africa being complicit in its own subjugation. Our continent is by far the richest in terms of natural resources, and yet we allow the rest of the world to dictate our terms of trade... The sad truth though is that Africans seem rather complacent about pulling themselves out of this unfortunate quagmire… like the begging vagrants on most urban streets on this continent… Our “leaders” couldn’t be bothered about pulling up their socks and actively seeking the continent’s development, on its own terms... In the Southern African Development Community only ONE out of FOURTEEN of the member state does not depend on donor funding for the bulk of its government budget… Unsurprisingly that country is pretty much run by the west… alas, even the non-beggar is a slave… But what IS alarming is that most of these countries have extensive resource wealth that far surpasses that of some grey island archipelago off-the-coast of continental Europe... and yet most of this wealth is "owned" by foreign "investors"... Anglo-gold, Old Mutual, Delta, British Tobacco...
How can anyone even have the energy to attempt to save a continent where people have decided that aid and donor funding is the solution? I have been taught that you can only help those who want to be helped… so here I am throwing in my dirty white towel until my fellow Africans wake up and realize that they are the help they desperately need and not the help they keep seeking.
Africa needs to tap into the continent's vast potential. This continent is by far the richest... and whoever says that the West will cease to demand our resources if we unilaterally declare independence, as it were, has never looked at the fingers of many an engaged woman in the streets of Milan, Paris, New York, London and all the other little towns and cities... Has never passed by a cafe on a cold winter's night and smelt the strong aroma of Kenyan coffee and South African rooibos... of Zimbabwe's citrus in the juices...
Or late at night snuggled under a warm cotton blanket, while sending a text message from a phone whose functioning would be impossible were it not for DRC's Coltan and Zimbabwe's chrome... Or passed by an emaciated model with her fingers wrapped around a Virginia Thins cigarette as she desperately tries not to indulge in yet another bite of chocolate cake...Thank you Ghana!
Combined with the Middle East, African produces the bulk of the world's oil... the oil that turns the cogs of Western capitalism. If African countries would metaphorically and literally close the oil tap, the tables would turn as the West looks to our continent for the oil it so desperately lacks and even more desperately NEEDS.
Our problem lies in bad governance, the spirit of corruption and elitist neo-patrimonialism... cutting out bad apples won't do... the tree must be uprooted and a new one planted.
15 July 2009
Dotdotdot
The other day I was seriously contemplating finding a time machine... setting the date to sometime in 2008 and just staying there for a long while, while I regroup and figure out how I ended up where I am today... Then someone pointed out that even though I might feel like I want to be in the past, I know I really don't... so here I am... 6 long months into 2009 and realizing just how much I've come... and how much the world has gone... time has not stopped for me... and alas, she never will...
Whatever changes have occurred... one thing remains certain... all can never be undone. and even if some could be undone, whatever change we think we have made is likely to unearth just how much we cannot do... plus ca change... plus ca reste la meme... Indeed this year is really no different from the last or the one before...
So we find ourselves in that uncomfortable position where we realize our own insignificance in the bigger scheme of life.. and yet we do not give up... we should not... we cannot... for our significance lies not in the things we consciously hope to be appreciated for, but in the little things we do not even realize we're doing... the little change... I am told if I were a butterfly my flutter could cause a tsunami miles across the world... so each day I attempt to fly... hoping that my work can change the world... each day I fail... but tomorrow I will wake up, forget my failings of yesterday and take another leap... One day, I tell myself, one day I will fly..
Such is the way of spirited life...
Whatever changes have occurred... one thing remains certain... all can never be undone. and even if some could be undone, whatever change we think we have made is likely to unearth just how much we cannot do... plus ca change... plus ca reste la meme... Indeed this year is really no different from the last or the one before...
So we find ourselves in that uncomfortable position where we realize our own insignificance in the bigger scheme of life.. and yet we do not give up... we should not... we cannot... for our significance lies not in the things we consciously hope to be appreciated for, but in the little things we do not even realize we're doing... the little change... I am told if I were a butterfly my flutter could cause a tsunami miles across the world... so each day I attempt to fly... hoping that my work can change the world... each day I fail... but tomorrow I will wake up, forget my failings of yesterday and take another leap... One day, I tell myself, one day I will fly..
Such is the way of spirited life...
03 June 2009
I will remain a soldier...
First thing's first... these are the ramblings of an angry pan-Africanist... yes... I am a pan-Africanist and I won't even attempt to justify my position.. So, if I may, allow me to clear my throat of 23 years of repressed bile...
Now, while I do declare my firm stance as a Pan-African, I can't help but lament the constant invocation of this "idea" by many an African leader as a means through which to escape responsibility or to rally the support of their "brothers"... This note serves as an overdue love-letter to the many African leaders who have manipulated the notion of pan-Africanism to this end... I write my "letter" weeks ahead of a scheduled conference in which African leaders are expected to "unite" against what they consider to be a western backed conspiracy by the International Criminal Court against Africa..
" Dear Omar al-Bashir, Robert Mugabe, Hissene Habre, Thabo Mbeki, Mwai Kibaki, Abdoulaye Wade, Col Muammar Gaddafi, the late (but not quite gone) Lansana Conte, Idriss Deby, Mahmoud Tandja, Joseph Kabila... and your fellow despots who continue to kill the continent with your corrupt dictatorial governance... silencing dissent with the muzzle of an AK-47 and thinking up Western conspiracies against the "African brotherhood" to allow you to suck the life out of our beautiful continent.... I can only say this to you:
"Let not the dreams of our forefathers be clouded by your neopatrimonial desires to cling to power... leave not the African continent bleeding and crying for mercy. Have you not shamed your children enough by your kleptocratic governance? Must we continue to suffer as you bloat your bellies with the innocent cadavers of many who have died because of your misrule and greed? As you pillage our continent's resources and wash your hands with the blood of Africa's children, for just one second I dare you to stop and think of the legacy you leave with us your children, your grandchildren... because of you there are so few of us who still desperately cling to delusions of a united Africa... united not in strife... but united in a vision for a better tomorrow where Africa takes its position at the head of the table... lifts itself from the ashes and establishes itself as an equal... *sigh*
It is true that our greatest enemy is ourselves... As we strive to extricate ourselves from the vicious cycle in which you have placed us... we find ourselves blaming the disarray of the continent not on our failure to stand up and fight but on you... This is what you have made us... We are only as strong as our weakest point... you have brought us to our knees...
Have you no shame? Have you no heart? We cry, but you do not hear us... Ours shall not be a violent revolt... for the pen IS mightier than the sword... as I stare into the metaphorical barrel of the gun before me I have this to say to you: I will not give up... I WILL remain a soldier until this war is won "
Now, while I do declare my firm stance as a Pan-African, I can't help but lament the constant invocation of this "idea" by many an African leader as a means through which to escape responsibility or to rally the support of their "brothers"... This note serves as an overdue love-letter to the many African leaders who have manipulated the notion of pan-Africanism to this end... I write my "letter" weeks ahead of a scheduled conference in which African leaders are expected to "unite" against what they consider to be a western backed conspiracy by the International Criminal Court against Africa..
" Dear Omar al-Bashir, Robert Mugabe, Hissene Habre, Thabo Mbeki, Mwai Kibaki, Abdoulaye Wade, Col Muammar Gaddafi, the late (but not quite gone) Lansana Conte, Idriss Deby, Mahmoud Tandja, Joseph Kabila... and your fellow despots who continue to kill the continent with your corrupt dictatorial governance... silencing dissent with the muzzle of an AK-47 and thinking up Western conspiracies against the "African brotherhood" to allow you to suck the life out of our beautiful continent.... I can only say this to you:
"Let not the dreams of our forefathers be clouded by your neopatrimonial desires to cling to power... leave not the African continent bleeding and crying for mercy. Have you not shamed your children enough by your kleptocratic governance? Must we continue to suffer as you bloat your bellies with the innocent cadavers of many who have died because of your misrule and greed? As you pillage our continent's resources and wash your hands with the blood of Africa's children, for just one second I dare you to stop and think of the legacy you leave with us your children, your grandchildren... because of you there are so few of us who still desperately cling to delusions of a united Africa... united not in strife... but united in a vision for a better tomorrow where Africa takes its position at the head of the table... lifts itself from the ashes and establishes itself as an equal... *sigh*
It is true that our greatest enemy is ourselves... As we strive to extricate ourselves from the vicious cycle in which you have placed us... we find ourselves blaming the disarray of the continent not on our failure to stand up and fight but on you... This is what you have made us... We are only as strong as our weakest point... you have brought us to our knees...
Have you no shame? Have you no heart? We cry, but you do not hear us... Ours shall not be a violent revolt... for the pen IS mightier than the sword... as I stare into the metaphorical barrel of the gun before me I have this to say to you: I will not give up... I WILL remain a soldier until this war is won "
19 May 2009
No Black in the Rainbow
I not so recently got a job in Pretoria… after I received my acceptance letter I squealed a bit called my sister to celebrate and together we jumped around like the primates from which we evolved… as we were catching our breath my sister asked me how I’d “survive” in Pretoria with all the racism there. I told her that I didn’t think whatever racism remained in the country’s capital could be extreme… I would soon learn that there’s no "black" in the rainbow… not yet anyway… and on closer inspection you’ll find that there’s not much brown or "white" either…
Every place I find myself in teaches me a new lesson about life and even more about the sociological bubble I grew up in. While, it would be unfair to over-generalize and say that Pretoria is a racist city… Allow me to be unfair at this juncture. The irony of Pretoria’s racism is that it is juxtaposed with the internationalization of the country. Pretoria, as the country’s capital is a hub of international activity… that is how I found myself seeking employment here in the first place. The non-believer in me told me that people who allege racism are those who perpetrate it and so I reasoned that because I wasn’t racist I wouldn’t experience it… twisted logic I know, but I tend to try to rationalize irrational behaviour… suffice it to say, I was wrong.
My article is likely to only make people more aware of the “racism” – latent or otherwise – in the beautiful jacaranda tree-lined capital city… and in effect it might actually perpetuate the vicious cycle that South African society is failing to extricate itself from… BUT maybe, and only maybe, this heightened awareness will allow people to reevaluate their own relations with their friends, coworkers and Jack and Jill on the street… only maybe.
I have always said that racism is an external manifestation of your own internal self-loathing and/or feelings of inadequacy. My sentiments have not changed because the racism I have suffered has mostly come from people who don’t know me, people who attempt to measure my successes and failures within a split second at the till at my local supermarket and decide there and then that I am either not worthy of their services or grab hold of their bags because, the flying spaghetti monster forbid, I might just try to snatch their handbag and run home… aaah well.
In writing this note, I had one person in mind… a seemingly friendly girl who told me that I could not live with her because “[she’s] not sure her friends would be comfortable with [her] living with ‘a person like [me]’” (her words not mine). Unfortunate as it is that Miranda had no idea what ‘a person like me’ is other than that I have a high level of melanin, she got her way… I changed house…
So, here I am… trying with great difficulty to put a little black spot on the rainbow that is South Africa… but maybe the whole notion of a rainbow is inherently flawed… given that it makes it so patently clear that we are all not one “colour”… I’ll take an amorphous mélange of colour any day… or some whiskey… on the rocks… shaken, not stirred.
Every place I find myself in teaches me a new lesson about life and even more about the sociological bubble I grew up in. While, it would be unfair to over-generalize and say that Pretoria is a racist city… Allow me to be unfair at this juncture. The irony of Pretoria’s racism is that it is juxtaposed with the internationalization of the country. Pretoria, as the country’s capital is a hub of international activity… that is how I found myself seeking employment here in the first place. The non-believer in me told me that people who allege racism are those who perpetrate it and so I reasoned that because I wasn’t racist I wouldn’t experience it… twisted logic I know, but I tend to try to rationalize irrational behaviour… suffice it to say, I was wrong.
My article is likely to only make people more aware of the “racism” – latent or otherwise – in the beautiful jacaranda tree-lined capital city… and in effect it might actually perpetuate the vicious cycle that South African society is failing to extricate itself from… BUT maybe, and only maybe, this heightened awareness will allow people to reevaluate their own relations with their friends, coworkers and Jack and Jill on the street… only maybe.
I have always said that racism is an external manifestation of your own internal self-loathing and/or feelings of inadequacy. My sentiments have not changed because the racism I have suffered has mostly come from people who don’t know me, people who attempt to measure my successes and failures within a split second at the till at my local supermarket and decide there and then that I am either not worthy of their services or grab hold of their bags because, the flying spaghetti monster forbid, I might just try to snatch their handbag and run home… aaah well.
In writing this note, I had one person in mind… a seemingly friendly girl who told me that I could not live with her because “[she’s] not sure her friends would be comfortable with [her] living with ‘a person like [me]’” (her words not mine). Unfortunate as it is that Miranda had no idea what ‘a person like me’ is other than that I have a high level of melanin, she got her way… I changed house…
So, here I am… trying with great difficulty to put a little black spot on the rainbow that is South Africa… but maybe the whole notion of a rainbow is inherently flawed… given that it makes it so patently clear that we are all not one “colour”… I’ll take an amorphous mélange of colour any day… or some whiskey… on the rocks… shaken, not stirred.
What Identity?
In December 2008 I closed the book on my Rhodes experience... FINALLY flown away from my little foster home, my little cocoon - an anthropologist's dream - a microcosm of predominantly middle-class B-grade students with social lives constructed mainly around a couple of pubs, sportsbars and nothing much else. The one thing I know I've definitely taken with me (except the somewhat beautiful parchments with my embossed name and my alleged academic "qualifications") is an inflated, albeit artificial sense of self-worth and no idea where I really want to be (or maybe even "do" in the short-run at least).
I've met wonderful people while at Rhodes - mixed in with all the rotten apples and faux smiles of the others... The wonderful people I've met are those I'll undoubtedly never forget, even if I wanted to! Most of whom have contributed to my sense of self-worth.. The "diversity" at Rhodes is just as artificial. While I cannot deny that there are certain "oil and water" elements amongst the jacaranda tree and tequila stained avenues of my former campus, the majority of us gravitated towards clones of ourselves or at least people we hoped to clone. In a language many of my fellow Rhodents may understand: You either went to Friar's or you didn't (read Equilibrium). Those of us who occasionally crossed the divide were branded anomalies and more often than not "judged" by our mates from the different camps... But what a wealth of knowledge I acquired while walking on that fence!
Over the past 5years (yes, I'm THAT old!) I have learnt more about people than I ever thought possible. I have shed "friends" like the seasonal skin of a snake and have at the same time managed to separate the wheat from the chaff. I can safely say that those people I call my friends today are indeed my friends and are people I will reminisce with about things other than the jacarandas and the tequila.. People I will cherish always and without whom my years at Rhodes would have been empty.
I have grown as a person... from my early Rhodes days when I wasn't quite sure in which group I fell and when in a desperate attempt to "fit the mould" I sold myself terribly short.. Over the years I have come to terms with who I am and have discovered that there is no mould into which I must force myself. That I am unique and that the things that set me apart are the things that define me... some characteristics might be endearing to some, while grating to others... but it's who I am. I might have to thank Rhodes for that.. a seed sown has been nurtured and watered and has blossomed into the person I am today....
That said: When next I am in Grahamstown... you know where to find me!
I've met wonderful people while at Rhodes - mixed in with all the rotten apples and faux smiles of the others... The wonderful people I've met are those I'll undoubtedly never forget, even if I wanted to! Most of whom have contributed to my sense of self-worth.. The "diversity" at Rhodes is just as artificial. While I cannot deny that there are certain "oil and water" elements amongst the jacaranda tree and tequila stained avenues of my former campus, the majority of us gravitated towards clones of ourselves or at least people we hoped to clone. In a language many of my fellow Rhodents may understand: You either went to Friar's or you didn't (read Equilibrium). Those of us who occasionally crossed the divide were branded anomalies and more often than not "judged" by our mates from the different camps... But what a wealth of knowledge I acquired while walking on that fence!
Over the past 5years (yes, I'm THAT old!) I have learnt more about people than I ever thought possible. I have shed "friends" like the seasonal skin of a snake and have at the same time managed to separate the wheat from the chaff. I can safely say that those people I call my friends today are indeed my friends and are people I will reminisce with about things other than the jacarandas and the tequila.. People I will cherish always and without whom my years at Rhodes would have been empty.
I have grown as a person... from my early Rhodes days when I wasn't quite sure in which group I fell and when in a desperate attempt to "fit the mould" I sold myself terribly short.. Over the years I have come to terms with who I am and have discovered that there is no mould into which I must force myself. That I am unique and that the things that set me apart are the things that define me... some characteristics might be endearing to some, while grating to others... but it's who I am. I might have to thank Rhodes for that.. a seed sown has been nurtured and watered and has blossomed into the person I am today....
That said: When next I am in Grahamstown... you know where to find me!
The knife cuts both ways
I have been on a writing hiatus and have particularly not said much insofar as Zimbabwean politics is concerned... but following the death of the Prime Minister Tsvangirai's wife on Friday 06 March, I have been drawn into the fold.
Now, FTR I do not condone the deaths of many - caused by the cholera outbreak, hunger and alleged political violence - or the fact that our country is suffering from hyper-hyper inflation (currently pegged at 231 million percent - who knew that was possible?!)... and we're not even at war! I, however, cannot deny that President Mugabe - from a pan-Africanist, revolutionary struggle, rights to land perspective - has a point.. but for the purposes of this article I shall not delve into the complex intricacies of land reform, land tenure rights and land ownership rights... google is your friend in that regard..
The purpose of my note is not to play devil's advocate, but to clear the air and to help people have a more objective outlook on the situation in my beloved motherland.
While, Zimbabwe has been ready for "change" for nearly a decade now, I don't think a politically immature former weaver is our redemption. You are free to criticize me on this, but first hear me out...
On Friday 06 March 2009 at around 16.00 (Local Harare time), Mrs Susan Tsvangirai and her husband were involved in a car accident caused by a collision with a USAID truck that had veered into the wrong lane. Both the US and the UK have expressed their deepest sympathies and have declared the incident an accident. WAIT one bloody African minute... so when it's a US/UK truck that collides into a government official's car it's an accident, but all other high-profile road deaths were orchestrated by ZANU PF? Seriously now..
But that's not even the point of my article... the point is that the Government of national unity (GNU - read "ZANU PF led government") has been condemned by the media and lay arm-chair critics for not providing the "second most important man in Zimbabwe" sufficient protection. I too would have argued this had Tsvangirai himself not rejected a GNU motorcade and state-sponsored security personnel, alleging that he is not "comfortable" with the GNU yet and that he fears that the security forces are still under Mugabe's control... So, while the death of ANYONE is saddening and is a reminder of just how easily life can be taken from us, Tsvangirai is not entirely blameless here. He had the option of greater protection, but instead opted for a 3car motorcade (with cars not designed for security purposes). For one, Barack Obama will tell you that when you suddenly become "important" you need the most protection you can get.
Let's not topple the already fragile GNU by alleging conspiracies... sometimes accidents do actually happen... and if it indeed wasn't an accident, I think people should be considering that the truck was a USAID truck, driven by an employee of USAID and not an axe-brandishing war-veteran. However, Given the speculations, it is clear that a credible, independent investigation into the car accident is needed. The results of this investigation will help settle the matter expeditiously... and then we can get to the business of reconstructing Zimbabwe.
Remember... knives cut both ways...
That said... can the change promised start already...
Now, FTR I do not condone the deaths of many - caused by the cholera outbreak, hunger and alleged political violence - or the fact that our country is suffering from hyper-hyper inflation (currently pegged at 231 million percent - who knew that was possible?!)... and we're not even at war! I, however, cannot deny that President Mugabe - from a pan-Africanist, revolutionary struggle, rights to land perspective - has a point.. but for the purposes of this article I shall not delve into the complex intricacies of land reform, land tenure rights and land ownership rights... google is your friend in that regard..
The purpose of my note is not to play devil's advocate, but to clear the air and to help people have a more objective outlook on the situation in my beloved motherland.
While, Zimbabwe has been ready for "change" for nearly a decade now, I don't think a politically immature former weaver is our redemption. You are free to criticize me on this, but first hear me out...
On Friday 06 March 2009 at around 16.00 (Local Harare time), Mrs Susan Tsvangirai and her husband were involved in a car accident caused by a collision with a USAID truck that had veered into the wrong lane. Both the US and the UK have expressed their deepest sympathies and have declared the incident an accident. WAIT one bloody African minute... so when it's a US/UK truck that collides into a government official's car it's an accident, but all other high-profile road deaths were orchestrated by ZANU PF? Seriously now..
But that's not even the point of my article... the point is that the Government of national unity (GNU - read "ZANU PF led government") has been condemned by the media and lay arm-chair critics for not providing the "second most important man in Zimbabwe" sufficient protection. I too would have argued this had Tsvangirai himself not rejected a GNU motorcade and state-sponsored security personnel, alleging that he is not "comfortable" with the GNU yet and that he fears that the security forces are still under Mugabe's control... So, while the death of ANYONE is saddening and is a reminder of just how easily life can be taken from us, Tsvangirai is not entirely blameless here. He had the option of greater protection, but instead opted for a 3car motorcade (with cars not designed for security purposes). For one, Barack Obama will tell you that when you suddenly become "important" you need the most protection you can get.
Let's not topple the already fragile GNU by alleging conspiracies... sometimes accidents do actually happen... and if it indeed wasn't an accident, I think people should be considering that the truck was a USAID truck, driven by an employee of USAID and not an axe-brandishing war-veteran. However, Given the speculations, it is clear that a credible, independent investigation into the car accident is needed. The results of this investigation will help settle the matter expeditiously... and then we can get to the business of reconstructing Zimbabwe.
Remember... knives cut both ways...
That said... can the change promised start already...
26 June 2008
Life, l'amitie and all other L's
So, its been a while since I've written a seemingly positive note... so here goes..
I will start with a quote from Antonio Smith courtesy of a Spur sugar sachet:
"Enjoy the little things in life...for one day you may look back and realise they were the BIG things"
Life is about cherishing the little fleeting moments and immortalizing them in our memories for they define who we are and possibly who we shall become... Often people live in regret, crying that they still haven't achieved their dreams, that their bigger picture is hazier than a Picasso reject... and yet each day we do a little, we do something. Each day, we touch someone's life, often unwittingly.
Regret is the deepest sign of weakness, its an internalisation of defeat. Why can't we all just seize the day? There comes a time when you just have to turn over the page and stop living in the past (or living a dream like I'm prone to doing)...Its not worth the stress after all...You just have to let go, let loose.
Its a rude awakening when you realise that you can not always be a winner in life.Comme maman dit toujours : "Quand vous gagnez toute l'heure, vous appreciez jamais vraiment votre succes". Profound words that have taught me to appreciate the little things.
I need to constantly remind myself that life is too short to be troubled. Heal...start anew...live for today and for YOU.. After all...your mistakes (or past weaknesses) can only make you stronger... This brings me to my next and last point.. the necessity of friends. I'd probably be a hermit were it not for the fact that I can't imagine a life in which I can't share with another (others). Would there be a point?
The other day I was listening to my music on shuffle and this catchy phrase kinda stuck... yes, it is by Snoop Dogg!
"There will be ups and downs...smiles and frowns...Share with me, fairy tales are make believe"
So, yes.. there is some inspiration in rap music after all! Indeed from this and in life I've learnt that one's most valuable asset is the company s/he keeps...Without whom life would be a lonesome journey...a journey not worth taking. For whats the point of smiling or frowning if noone sees you do it?
In appreciating my friends, I look at my own mistakes. Friends are, after all, human and while I err, so too can they. So, I've learnt to forgive and forget, to smile at every chance I get and always remember that when things are hard....they could be worse...Lift my head above the water and jus KEEP WALKING.
Life is a struggle...a constant war between what you wish it could be and what it wants to be..No one person has ever won a war on their own.If you can turn to your left and be received with a smile...you're lucky...if you can turn to the right as well and still find a smile...you are among the wealthiest in this world...for wealth is not measured by the amount of money in your bank account, but by the joy that surrounds you each day...
Maybe I talk sh*t..who's to tell...I'm still fighting my battle, but with a smile :)
I will start with a quote from Antonio Smith courtesy of a Spur sugar sachet:
"Enjoy the little things in life...for one day you may look back and realise they were the BIG things"
Life is about cherishing the little fleeting moments and immortalizing them in our memories for they define who we are and possibly who we shall become... Often people live in regret, crying that they still haven't achieved their dreams, that their bigger picture is hazier than a Picasso reject... and yet each day we do a little, we do something. Each day, we touch someone's life, often unwittingly.
Regret is the deepest sign of weakness, its an internalisation of defeat. Why can't we all just seize the day? There comes a time when you just have to turn over the page and stop living in the past (or living a dream like I'm prone to doing)...Its not worth the stress after all...You just have to let go, let loose.
Its a rude awakening when you realise that you can not always be a winner in life.Comme maman dit toujours : "Quand vous gagnez toute l'heure, vous appreciez jamais vraiment votre succes". Profound words that have taught me to appreciate the little things.
I need to constantly remind myself that life is too short to be troubled. Heal...start anew...live for today and for YOU.. After all...your mistakes (or past weaknesses) can only make you stronger... This brings me to my next and last point.. the necessity of friends. I'd probably be a hermit were it not for the fact that I can't imagine a life in which I can't share with another (others). Would there be a point?
The other day I was listening to my music on shuffle and this catchy phrase kinda stuck... yes, it is by Snoop Dogg!
"There will be ups and downs...smiles and frowns...Share with me, fairy tales are make believe"
So, yes.. there is some inspiration in rap music after all! Indeed from this and in life I've learnt that one's most valuable asset is the company s/he keeps...Without whom life would be a lonesome journey...a journey not worth taking. For whats the point of smiling or frowning if noone sees you do it?
In appreciating my friends, I look at my own mistakes. Friends are, after all, human and while I err, so too can they. So, I've learnt to forgive and forget, to smile at every chance I get and always remember that when things are hard....they could be worse...Lift my head above the water and jus KEEP WALKING.
Life is a struggle...a constant war between what you wish it could be and what it wants to be..No one person has ever won a war on their own.If you can turn to your left and be received with a smile...you're lucky...if you can turn to the right as well and still find a smile...you are among the wealthiest in this world...for wealth is not measured by the amount of money in your bank account, but by the joy that surrounds you each day...
Maybe I talk sh*t..who's to tell...I'm still fighting my battle, but with a smile :)
On niggas, faggots and the like
I've seriously had it with all the hate in this world. I always say that hate is an external manifestation of internal self-detestation. For if we all thought we were adequate and had high esteems of ourselves, then we wouldn't "need" to hate. In hate, we show just how much we feel threatened. Indeed hate is fear disguised. The "other" is only as different as you make them out to be. Maybe the solution is to cease labelling oneself.. for then, you wouldn't have a justification for labelling anyone else... aah random thoughts...
The other night all these thoughts ran through my head as I sat down with friends for dinner ... As with most of my conversations, debate arose. The issue was: "niggas", or more aptly the use of words like "nigga", "kaffir" and such like.. Naturally our debate progressed to other pejorative language uses such as referring to homosexuals as "queer", "faggots" etc... My note will however focus on the primary source of the debate: NIGGA
What was the debate about you ask? It can't have been about whether such terms, with their negative connotations, were indeed derogatory for thats clear. Our debate was about who is justified to use these terms.
In my opinion it is NOT OK for anyone to call me a nigga, not even myself. I thought my stance was only natural and that everyone should agree (I tend to do that). I argued that there is no such thing as a "nigga" and thus no one should be called that nor should anyone use the term. I was fascinated by the response. Not only did my assertion not have overwhelming support, it was practically rejected in its entirety. I was told that because the term "nigga" was historically used to refer to "people of my kind", I had justification in "reclaiming" its use. Dare I say, I still find that opinion appalling! I was never a "nigga" and I find the use of phrases such as "people of my kind" does nothing to solve the many hate based issues the world faces today.
I don't see the worth in (re)claiming a derogatory tag, all it does is perpetuate the "hate" I constantly speak of. How can reclaiming the term better me? By calling myself "nigga", am I not joining arms with the very people who look down upon me? And what governs which term I can reclaim? I am a "nigga" today, a "coconut" tomorrow. What benefit do I gain from insulting myself? I don't want to reclaim a negative tag, but if I must, then there should be no problem with everyone calling me "nigga".. after all, if I call myself a nigga, then what harm does it do me if someone else does too?
I guess for some its OK to "hate" oneself, but not to be hated. (my use of the word "hate" here is synonymous with tagging oneself and possibly internalising stereotypes)
I say this because, Jacob pointed out that in gay circles it was OK to call homosexual men "queer" and lesbians "dykes", but that people who weren't gay shouldn't be allowed to. I fail to understand the logic in that madness. I desperately need someone to enlighten me. How does calling yourself and the people you love "queer" - a synonym of "odd" - not make you seem self-deprecating or self-loathing? And if my sexuality (or my race) is but a mere fragment of my identity, why should I allow it to define who I am?
I am many things, but if you can't call me Ottilia (the only all-encompassing word that defines me), then rather call me nothing at all. I don't care what popular culture tells you is OK, I am not a nigga and labels really are for boxes.
As with all other things... this is MY opinion... you might think differently. And if you do, tell me why :)
The other night all these thoughts ran through my head as I sat down with friends for dinner ... As with most of my conversations, debate arose. The issue was: "niggas", or more aptly the use of words like "nigga", "kaffir" and such like.. Naturally our debate progressed to other pejorative language uses such as referring to homosexuals as "queer", "faggots" etc... My note will however focus on the primary source of the debate: NIGGA
What was the debate about you ask? It can't have been about whether such terms, with their negative connotations, were indeed derogatory for thats clear. Our debate was about who is justified to use these terms.
In my opinion it is NOT OK for anyone to call me a nigga, not even myself. I thought my stance was only natural and that everyone should agree (I tend to do that). I argued that there is no such thing as a "nigga" and thus no one should be called that nor should anyone use the term. I was fascinated by the response. Not only did my assertion not have overwhelming support, it was practically rejected in its entirety. I was told that because the term "nigga" was historically used to refer to "people of my kind", I had justification in "reclaiming" its use. Dare I say, I still find that opinion appalling! I was never a "nigga" and I find the use of phrases such as "people of my kind" does nothing to solve the many hate based issues the world faces today.
I don't see the worth in (re)claiming a derogatory tag, all it does is perpetuate the "hate" I constantly speak of. How can reclaiming the term better me? By calling myself "nigga", am I not joining arms with the very people who look down upon me? And what governs which term I can reclaim? I am a "nigga" today, a "coconut" tomorrow. What benefit do I gain from insulting myself? I don't want to reclaim a negative tag, but if I must, then there should be no problem with everyone calling me "nigga".. after all, if I call myself a nigga, then what harm does it do me if someone else does too?
I guess for some its OK to "hate" oneself, but not to be hated. (my use of the word "hate" here is synonymous with tagging oneself and possibly internalising stereotypes)
I say this because, Jacob pointed out that in gay circles it was OK to call homosexual men "queer" and lesbians "dykes", but that people who weren't gay shouldn't be allowed to. I fail to understand the logic in that madness. I desperately need someone to enlighten me. How does calling yourself and the people you love "queer" - a synonym of "odd" - not make you seem self-deprecating or self-loathing? And if my sexuality (or my race) is but a mere fragment of my identity, why should I allow it to define who I am?
I am many things, but if you can't call me Ottilia (the only all-encompassing word that defines me), then rather call me nothing at all. I don't care what popular culture tells you is OK, I am not a nigga and labels really are for boxes.
As with all other things... this is MY opinion... you might think differently. And if you do, tell me why :)
The "other" is a state of mind
And the headlines read: "16000 people internally displaced in a week, 34 reported dead... when will it ever end?"
Its sad that our world is cluttered with degenerate human beings who, despite millions of years of evolution, still fail to accept that the "other" does not really exist. What cowardice it is to attack someone because of (mis)perceived differences. The problem of xenophobia is particularly riling because more often than not it manifests itself in violence..
It amazes me that one can discriminate against another because they hail from across an imaginary line. People forget that we are all one and the same despite some differences in external physical appearance, concentrations of melanin, language.. Even if we were "different", whatever happened to loving thy neighbour as you love thyself? Is it so hard to express positive emotion? Must we continue to seek success by hurting others?
Xenophobia and all other forms of hatred towards people we perceive as the "other" only show how much we reject our own adequacy. As if by killing off those you "fear" are taking away your resources (resources which you claim entitlement to.. whether or not you really are entitled to them is another issue altogether) you'll suddenly become better... solve the problem. Hate is a cancer,that cannot be "cured" by cutting off the undesirable bits.
And yet, we sit and watch as South African across the country assault and murder foreigners... Did South African people not recently celebrate and ululate at the demise (or perceived demise) of apartheid? Did it "just" happen? It was through the actions of a vast majority of people - most of whom were foreigners - that South Africa became "free". Through the actions of people who believed that even when the worst seems to be upon us, something CAN be done. Harbouring the exiled freedom "fighters" is but one of many ways through which foreigners aided the South African "revolution"... Were it not for the same foreigners being attacked today, "freedom" would not exist in South Africa (well, not for most people anyway...)
The sad thing is while groups are sprouting across facebook condemning the attacks, very little is actually being done... mostly, I suppose because of the negative attitudes that pervade our society today...
I have heard suggestions that the perpetrators of this xenophobic violence should be killed. Quelle horreur! So, these people want to KILL the people who are attacking foreigners. To what end? To perpetuate the cycle of violence?
The xenophobics are clearly in the wrong, but killing people off because you think they are wrong is exactly what the xenophobics wished dead are doing!
On the other hand there are those people who argue that, even though xenophobia is a problem, nothing can really be done. I am appalled by such defeatist attitudes! There IS something that can be done. IMHO only someone who sees some justification to the violence would suggest that nothing can be done.
Earlier someone said to me that all these drives for marches are a waste of time and an elitist way of dealing with xenophobia. I can only say that its unfortunate that such ignorance can exist at varsity level. Marches are an effective way... clearly this person was not aware of the school children of Soweto, who on June 16, 1976 marched in protest of the apartheid regime, or the women who marched to the Union building in 1956 to protest pass laws. If they were they wouldn't have made such a statement.. Indeed, it was through marches such as these that the tide of change began to rise...
Yes,society thinks what they are doing is appalling but what are WE doing about it? By sitting back and doing nothing are we not part of the problem? Issues such as these should be debated in the public domain, protests should be held and those who have, through their xenophobic violence, harmed others (psychologically, physically, emotionally or otherwise) should be brought to book...
Its sad that our world is cluttered with degenerate human beings who, despite millions of years of evolution, still fail to accept that the "other" does not really exist. What cowardice it is to attack someone because of (mis)perceived differences. The problem of xenophobia is particularly riling because more often than not it manifests itself in violence..
It amazes me that one can discriminate against another because they hail from across an imaginary line. People forget that we are all one and the same despite some differences in external physical appearance, concentrations of melanin, language.. Even if we were "different", whatever happened to loving thy neighbour as you love thyself? Is it so hard to express positive emotion? Must we continue to seek success by hurting others?
Xenophobia and all other forms of hatred towards people we perceive as the "other" only show how much we reject our own adequacy. As if by killing off those you "fear" are taking away your resources (resources which you claim entitlement to.. whether or not you really are entitled to them is another issue altogether) you'll suddenly become better... solve the problem. Hate is a cancer,that cannot be "cured" by cutting off the undesirable bits.
And yet, we sit and watch as South African across the country assault and murder foreigners... Did South African people not recently celebrate and ululate at the demise (or perceived demise) of apartheid? Did it "just" happen? It was through the actions of a vast majority of people - most of whom were foreigners - that South Africa became "free". Through the actions of people who believed that even when the worst seems to be upon us, something CAN be done. Harbouring the exiled freedom "fighters" is but one of many ways through which foreigners aided the South African "revolution"... Were it not for the same foreigners being attacked today, "freedom" would not exist in South Africa (well, not for most people anyway...)
The sad thing is while groups are sprouting across facebook condemning the attacks, very little is actually being done... mostly, I suppose because of the negative attitudes that pervade our society today...
I have heard suggestions that the perpetrators of this xenophobic violence should be killed. Quelle horreur! So, these people want to KILL the people who are attacking foreigners. To what end? To perpetuate the cycle of violence?
The xenophobics are clearly in the wrong, but killing people off because you think they are wrong is exactly what the xenophobics wished dead are doing!
On the other hand there are those people who argue that, even though xenophobia is a problem, nothing can really be done. I am appalled by such defeatist attitudes! There IS something that can be done. IMHO only someone who sees some justification to the violence would suggest that nothing can be done.
Earlier someone said to me that all these drives for marches are a waste of time and an elitist way of dealing with xenophobia. I can only say that its unfortunate that such ignorance can exist at varsity level. Marches are an effective way... clearly this person was not aware of the school children of Soweto, who on June 16, 1976 marched in protest of the apartheid regime, or the women who marched to the Union building in 1956 to protest pass laws. If they were they wouldn't have made such a statement.. Indeed, it was through marches such as these that the tide of change began to rise...
Yes,society thinks what they are doing is appalling but what are WE doing about it? By sitting back and doing nothing are we not part of the problem? Issues such as these should be debated in the public domain, protests should be held and those who have, through their xenophobic violence, harmed others (psychologically, physically, emotionally or otherwise) should be brought to book...
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