When elephants fight

The thing about power - as has been said many a time - is that it corrupts... the love of power (over and above that of money) for me is the root of all evil. It is in and of itself an all consuming desire to conquer not only one's own world, but the worlds of other... power corrupts, absolute power corrupts absolutely. To date millions of people have died in fights for power.. many more will die today... and if we sit back and say "Aaah! But that is the way of the world" many more will die tomorrow and the day after and the day after that...

Today, I write with a heavy heart... once an optimist, man has shown me a side so dark my optimism has been tainted... I find myself believing more and more each day that at the core of many men is an evil so cancerous it threatens to ruin humanity... an evil so all consuming it will mark the end of us all..

I am happy to be alive, my day has not yet come.. but many did not live to see today.. they were killed.. killed by their kin, killed by their kith, killed by their kind.. not by the beasts that lurk in the savanna, but by others like them... hacked by machetes, shot down by AK47s.. Some are alive in body, but dead in spirit. They do not see the world as they did yesterday, they cannot.. stripped of their dignity, a deep hatred thrives where love used to blossom... they are victims of an inhumane world.. a world that does not hear their cries or see their tears.. a world that you and I call ourselves citizens of..

Once an optimist, my rose tinted glasses have been stained by images of mangled bodies and lifeless carcasses... Once an optimist, I see evil in the eyes of many.. I wonder if love can ever live there.. Once an optimist, I realise that my dreams for the world may not become a reality in my lifetime... Once an optimist, I try to celebrate the lives of those who die everyday, but I cannot... I did not know them.. they are faceless.. How can I celebrate their lives, when all I can do is mourn? Once an optimist, I sit here and realise that optimism is a luxury that many cannot afford...

Today I write as innocent people continue to be massacred across the globe - most in the name of politics... My heart bleeds for all the civilians who have been killed as collateral damage in unjust wars...

But as I write, the elephants continue to fight and the ground continues to suffer... as I write someone somewhere has just been gunned down... and as I write, someone somewhere doesn't care :-(

An open letter to those of whom we do not speak...

Dear Despots,



Thanks to you, I decided to stay home as the world revelled on the 31st of December 2010... Yes, a rather crap year was in its last hours (The memory of the 2010 FIFA World Cup only a blur of bad debt by then), but I couldn't celebrate... It's not that I didn't particularly want to. It just felt like I had reached my pit-stop, that I should take a breather before I embarked on what I hoped would be an amazing 2011.. Yes, the idealist in me not-so-secretly hoped that 2011 would be the year that the ever elusive world peace became a reality.. I needed my rest. No partying for me.



You might be wondering what this all has to do with you.. It's not like you care much for the plight of the ordinary person anyway... Not least one whose passion is the one thing you love most to destroy: human rights... Well, that's just it! My not-so-dear Despots.. This letter is to you..



On 31 December 2010, as many a middle-class spawn partied up a mini storm, explosions tore through Nigeria, 60 women were brutally raped by members of the military and militia in the Eastern DRC, Cote d'Ivoire teetered on the brink of collapse... As many a person partied up a mini storm on December 31st 2010, thousands across the world caught their last breath... killed, tortured, maimed... Some died physically, most died emotionally and spiritually. Their dignity stripped off them leaving them bare... As many partied up a mini storm on December 31st 2010, the world began to burn... You, the arsonists, drank your overpriced champagne and plotted your future as many lamented their present...



On 1 January 2011, the sun arose and with it a tempestuous new dawn... Ben Ali of Tunisia was toppled, Hosni Mubarak soon followed... The people had had enough... they were tired of typing out their sentiments and living at the mercy of greedy despots... they - like phoenixes risen from the ashes - got up and stayed up until their desires were met... Or were they? Tunisia and Egypt remain unstable... the rest of the region is catching fire... burning fervently and so close to the devil's cauldron... Born of violence many shall die of violence.. so the adage goes...



I have decided to stain my satellite view of Africa with red ink... it symbolises the blood that continues to be let in our people's struggle for their right to be human.. It marks the pain and suffering that no one should ever go through. The raw and gaping wounds that you have caused. It marks your legacy dear despots..



As the sun rose on 1 January 2011 I wondered: Will this decade usher in a new dawn? Will we rid ourselves of the choke-hold of our "leaders"... The sun has not set... When you're gone, dear despots... we may rest... and maybe I too will party up a mini storm on the eve of 2012... One can only dream *sigh*



Yours insincerely,



Sick & Tired

I tweet what I like... and I let people stroke my ego on facebook

A friend of mine recently started using twitter... After a few days she complained about how she has to metaphorically stand on a soapbox and hope people hear her ALL THE TIME.. By Day 3 she had 6 followers and after not tweeting for a couple of days I unfollowed her.. She asked how I could do that when we are FRIENDS... I told her that that's what I still have facebook for... so the people who think they are my friends don't think I've deserted them...

I tweet - A LOT! But that could be simply because I talk a lot too! The 140character limit helps in a way... but it only adds to the ADHD that we all try to suppress. No one creates albums of different shots of their face on twitter and if they did, I can just unfollow them until they get over their mole. I can interact with friends, foes and a few Romans while I get the news as it breaks... I use it the way I see fit.

Yes, twitter has its fair share of narcissists and it can sometimes feel like people are competing to be heard.. It has its limits, but when it comes to soothing our egos Facebook is the better choice. Facebook is the epitome of egotistical - we post flattering pictures of ourselves so our "friends" can "like" them and tell us how the sun makes our eyes pop... psssht! Then we write pseudo-cryptic posts on others' walls so that the "others" can see them and wonder what we're on about and secretly long to be in the inner circle too *yawn*.. Facebook is a lot like high school or college...

That said: I STILL post pictures on facebook *whips hair back and forth* and write on peoples' walls and post status after status so people comment... because well... we all have our id, ego and superego.. don't we?

How Angelina Jolie killed my love of cinema!

I'm a Pisces... the so-called "dreamers" of the current Zodiac (y'know, before some mad person tries to add an extra star sign that might see me being dubbed a *gasp* Aquarius *gasp*)... so fantasy is my realm... I love to read, I love to write, I love to draw, I love imagery and until Angelina Jolie and Lindsay Lohan began being dubbed "A-Listers", I also REALLY loved going to the cinema to watch movies... ANY movie to be honest... Thanks to them, I now watch films... the kind that don't win awards for being spectacularly glitzy, but the kind that have a story and manage to tell it in under 2 hours... From the Hollywood red carpet to Cannes... almost like moving from being a cocaine addict to smoking mom's lawn...

I "listened" with amusement as friends of mine .... no names... harped on about the Golden Globes.. who won what, who wore what and "Oooh I can't believe Ricky Gervais said THAT"... I was, however, happy to hear that one of Angelina Jolie's movies was a resounding failure - not only at the box office, but also according to the Hollywood Foreign Press (the people who supposedly know everything about movies and whose opinion result in the Golden Globes)..

So, what's my beef with Angie? Last year, after watching a trailer or three of her movie "Salt", I decided that maybe she had redeemed herself since the flop that was Mr & Mrs Pitt... ooops, I mean Smith! So off to the cinema I went. I must admit that a friend had told me that I should probably wait for it to show on Welfare TV, I still went! I don't want to make this a review of the movie so I'll just say this: There's something about a woman fighting crime, but STILL managing to have flawless makeup & lipgloss that makes one think it's a 1 hour 30 min long ad for Revlon... Never mind that the cinematography was terrible and the glaring inconsistencies...

But don't get me wrong, Angie does provide entertainment - on and off screen... and she does it better than Lindsay Lohan... but next time she releases a movie, I'll read a book instead. (I did exactly that when The Tourist was released... and it seems I made the right decision)

Love is that shiny coin with no tail... just two heads.. right? right?

So, some guy - his identity is irrelevant - chased after a girl for many many moons... after playing hard to get, she eventually relented.. she "agreed" to be his one and only, his pudding pie, his left butt-cheek... what he did not bargain for, however, was that she LITERALLY wanted to be a part of him.. always there, never far enough to be missed.. wasting his SMS bundle and well generally being a nuisance of a girlfriend... so he dumped her... His reason? "She's just toooooo into me!"


Now, you're probably thinking "Huh? He did what now? Guys never know when they have it good!"... When I heard this short tale, I was quick to applaud the young fella - assuming he is "young" of course... I applaud him for the year of patience and perseverance that he spent pursuing this girl and for cutting her off swiftly once he realised he'd caught himself a piranha instead of bream... He clearly learnt rather late that wasting time is... well... wasting time!


Thing is, though I sometimes blindly support whatever psycho stuff {wo}men choose to do when in love, I cannot for the life of me allow myself to back people who choose to make other people the centre of their universe... and thus cease to exist. This young lad did her a favour, I hope she thanked him..


Don't get me wrong, there is nothing wrong with being madly, deeply into someone... in fact, I would sooner stand in the rain singing some old ballad to woo a guy if I thought I stood a chance.. risk catching pneumonia even... I really would. Yes, that's crazy, but I would only do it if I was certain that he's into that kinda crazy stuff... if I was certain that he would run out and stand in the rain with me... that we would spend the next week sharing chicken soup trying to get better.. I really would. Thing is, I know better! {I also hate chicken soup}


The trouble is some girls (and many a guy.. "Hi ex number 2, 3 and 4" *evil grin*) are just psycho like that... always in their partner's pocket, stuck to them like glue... what starts off as a parasitic symbiotic relationship just fizzles into a parasitic relationship.. when you take up more than just space and time.. when you want to ALWAYS be with them and suck them dry of life. Relationships aren't meant to kill the individuals and merge them into one ugly amorphous mass of neediness, they are meant to strengthen the individuals.. Y'know, that "winning couple swag"... the ever elusive "perfect pair"... she doesn't pretend to enjoy Saturday afternoon football and he doesn't go shoe shopping with her, but they work out just fine... Each brings their star quality to the table, appreciates the other's space and respects it.. Dial 0800 PIPE DREAM if you feel me on this.. "Number you have dialled is not available"? Snap! Keep trying....



Peace, Love and Gruyere...



Stuck in the mud... dead in the water...

In the last few days I have begun to accept more and more that South Africa is a nation divided... where race used to be the greatest cleavage, class and socio-economic status has comfortably replaced it.. much to the chagrin of those who coined the term way back when we have "redefined" apartheid... So much so that if you are a poor, black African living in one of the biggest shanty towns in the world, best believe your death is meaningless. The "investigation" into your death will be conducted by a novice desk officer and nothing will come of it.. On the other {manicured} hand, if you are a touring foreigner, visiting Africa to experience the glamourisation of poverty, rest assured yours will be the "death of the year"...or at least the week...



Yet... EVERYDAY... every single darn day.. at least one murder is committed in this country... at LEAST... most of the perpetrators never make it to the dock and may kill again... the few who do find themselves in court will mostly be acquitted - usually on a technicality, sometimes because despite clear witness testimony "there just wasn't enough evidence" to convict - and often because prosecuting these poor murderers is "a waste of state resources"... after all the NPA has the murderer of big fat fish like Brett Kebble to deal with! Even in death some animals are more equal than others... *oink*



While my heart and thoughts go out to the family and friends of the deceased honeymooner, I can't help but think of her as an unwilling martyr, one whose death has in some way got people talking about the rampant violent crime within these borders in which we find ourselves... The media... the vultures that they are, have found a carcass upon which to feast once more.. {The pun, while regrettable is purely intentional}...and we - the public - can {re}start to think about crime in South Africa...



After months of living in a relative state of psychological safety after the South African Police Service (SAPS)'s head honcho released data showing that there was a marked decline in the incidence of violent crime, we were once again reminded that we are in danger... So, please go back to locking your doors {your car, your flat, your office, even the trap door from which words spew every day... lock EVERY door} because WE ARE NOT SAFE.. Were we ever? Seriously. Were we?



It took the hijacking and killing of a Brit for us to be woken up from our self-induced slumber or complacency to realise that crime is real.. it was real BEFORE the honeymooners ventured into Gugulethu and it will continue to be real for minutes, hours, days, months, years to come if we do not commit ourselves to addressing the root cause of our societal malaise.



As bad a series as it is, I can't help but think of "Ghost Whisperer"! With all the restless souls purportedly floating somewhere close to the Ozone layer hoping their killer will be brought to justice, it would explain the growing cancer eating our society up... I'll bet my love-handles PW Botha is smiling his wry crocodile smile right now, rubbing his wrinkled hands somewhere in the doldrums of an imagined hell, thinking "I DID leave a legacy!"...


In the words of my friend Kwezi {duly tagged to avoid plagiarism charges}: "Township blacks you can kill other township blacks fine, but kill a tourist and that will be bad for income and we will set up a tourist desk, and give tourists an escort every time they are going into a dangerous area. fuck that shit."



So? Does anyone else see the elephant in the room? We painted it in rainbow colours in 1994, but we were too fixated with the idea of finally being "democratic" that we neglected to chase the damn mammal out! Trouble with elephants is they need to be constantly fed... I vote we get rid of the damn thing... the stench of its dung is not good for the house in which we live... though it will linger for a few more years, at least it will eventually go... right?

Do you know the one you love?

So... I've told myself that by the time I'm 30 I want to have visited at least half of the African countries... because I cannot continue to claim that I love this continent if I do not know it intimately... If I have not laughed with the Dinka at dusk, danced with the Masai at dawn or eaten amongst the pyramids like those from the House of Ptolemy .. I have told myself that until then, Africa will be the love I speak about, the love I hope to know, the one with whom I shall spend the rest of my life... but not that I truly love... not yet...



Yes, I am committed to my continent...It is here that I was born and it is here that I shall take my last breath... until then.. until the day I return to the bowels of the African earth, I will fight for it and help to make it strong... and when Africa has risen from its ashes and stands up high, I will creep into the shadows and watch my love shine... not because I do not want to be seen with it, but because I want the rest of the world to fall in love with it the way I have.. to see it's beautiful face and dare not lift a gun to tear it to shreds... to see it's evergreen glow and want to nurture it all the days of their life... What is love, but a selfish emotion if it is not shared? But, let me not contradict myself, I cannot claim to love Africa yet... I do not know it...



So, I ask you... do YOU know the one you "love"? Do you know their mind? their body? their soul? their essence? If you don't... how dare you claim to love them? How very dare you?

While you lay asleep... her heart broke

Monday... yet another one... quite like the one before and the many Mondays that have preceded it.. yet this one Monday felt different. Each step she took was tentatively done, almost as if hesitating to go on. Something was bothering her, she wasn't sure what.. she wondered why the passersby stopped and stared... then she looked down... there was nothing, she was confused.. then she looked back.. and there her heart was - bare, out in the open - no longer beating, yet not bleeding. She had forgotten ever tearing it out of its burdensome cage and laying it on the ground.. then she remembered. She had put it there hoping you would see it and take it in your hands...she sighed.. had she only taken a few steps since she put it there?.....

.... Why had waiting for you to lift her heart felt like an eternity? She looked at her lonely heart laying desperately on the pavement beneath... it was broken, but it did not bleed... She thought about leaving it there, ever the optimist, then decided it was better incarcerated in her being... she told herself that it would continue to beat without you.. it must... life would go on.. Had she waited just a few more moments, had she not been so anxious, had she been patient she would have seen you moments later - risen from your slumber - running to grab her heart... but she didn't.. you didn't. Fate was having a go again.. It would not be today, but maybe on a Tuesday? Maybe on a Tuesday her love wouldn't be late, maybe he would take her heart and hold it forever.. maybe he would set it free from the confines of her being... maybe...

Short note on love

I was told yesterday that love is a theory...I respectfully disagree. The notion of love might be -for the most part- theory, but love itself is practical.. it is not an imagined emotion.. it is the things you do, the things done for you... how they are done & why they are done... it is experienced in different ways & therefore cannot be quantified or qualitatively analysed by others.. yet we all know one thing: Love is.

Oh when the defeated wail...

S/he (the gender is irrelevant really) said as s/he lay curled in a foetal position watching the assailant drift away: "I now know what it feels like to have the wind punched out of you... I imagined that after the pain there would be relief... but there isn't... there is an empty numbness... an unanswered question... a scream caught in the lungs and failing to get out.. I now know what it feels like to have the wind punched straight out of you...


I ask myself whether this feeling would be there if just seconds before the punch I had not been in debilitating mental ecstasy.. a state of self induced euphoria.. I was daydreaming.. my guard was down. Any other day that punch would not have made its way to my diaphragm, it would have died an early death in the grasp of my agile hand. Today it didn't. It couldn't. It - like the rest of me - was caught off guard.. I was happy or so I thought... I know now what I didn't know before I was awoken from my blissful slumber.. Happiness is but an illusion.. when the veil is lifted by the punch of reality, there is no sorrow... there is just an empty numbness... an unanswered question.. "Why me?" "


These are not my words... I wrote them, but it is not me speaking... they are the words of a defeated subconscious.. Whose? I do not know.. Whoever s/he may be s/he should be your exact opposite... so as you read this - again - think in reverse.. For whoever this may be failed to take heed of one of the most fundamental lessons.. that as you soar, remember that at some stage you must land. Do not let the illusion of your own "greatness" cloud your vision of reality. With clear vision and awareness that the higher you are the more painful your fall, you will find that "failure" is nothing more but a lesson of which you must take due cognisance if you are to move up. move forward. grow. excel.