My mother and father never taught me how to be African, Has it got anything to do with the coulor of my skin?

My mother and father never taught me how to be African. I never asked them questions relating to what it means to be an African. All I knew about being African is that I was born and as such I live in this dry, windy, harsh place they call Africa.

 

Africa is a big place, the only place I knew in this place they call Africa was Bhunya; my home town, Mbabane; my capital city and Manzini; my city of groceries, the Shangaan people and a lot of Portuguse. All these within this country under the King Mswati 111 of Swaziland.

These was me, this was all it meant to be me. To be African.

As I grew up I began to see things, perceive them and learn them.  I however, never learnt to be African. I went to Torgyle Primary school, not fancy, then to Cana Combined School, and then to WEM School Swaziland. In all these school and all these years I never once was taught what being African is. Is it:

 

1.     Being Black in skin colour

Once upon a time it was normal to be black, to have a black skin as they say. Personally, being of the Bantu-Negro stock, I never understood why they called us black. I never saw myself as black, nor did I see my mother or father or any of my friends for that matter. All I saw was a variety of the colour brown. Can this-being brown- mean that I am not black and therefore not African? Does the skin colour, body shape and eye colour qualify me or any of the Bantu of Southern Africa as African as a people?

 

2.     Culture and tradition

The Boer/Afrikaner people are a people who are of European decent.

They came to Southern Africa as the Dutch and French to settle in the Cape of Good Hope. Due to problems in relation to disagreements on slavery and the black man… As they moved up the coast up into the Transvaal and ultimately into modern day Pretoria they came across many a Bantu languages, as such their language changed. It adapted to the environment-as would any other language-incorporating Bantu languages and influencing them too. Their Dutch soon became known as Kitchen Dutch and from there changed to modern Afrikaans. They learnt to love the fire, the land and the heat. They have been here for over two hundred years. By virtue of that history, do they not qualify to be African? I mean their culture is more African than many a European cultures.

 

Coming back to me, I have been here for only twenty six years-alive I mean. I spent most of those years in Swaziland and as such you could say I am Swazi. My trouble is, however, that Swaziland and by extension the Swazi are a very cultural people. I never went to the uMhlanga-reed dance, never participated in the Incwala-first fruit ceremony and never went to Lusekwane. All I knew was I couldn’t go there because I am the grand son of a Zulu chief, my allegiance therefore belongs to no other king on earth but the Zulu king Zwelithini. As I and many of my foreign friends grew up, we became aware of the dilemma of being Swazi by thought but  be of another nation in blood. Our customs and whatever made us Swazi besides the royal events was on point. We dressed Swazi, talked SiSwati, dreamt Swazi dreams, had and lived by Swazi superstations and fiercely defended our king whenever we argued against those we thought more foreigner than us.

Does that mean I am Swazi more than I am a South African?

Or is this a more difficult choice to make simply because the no colour of skin is involved in this case?

 

Swaziland has many a white Swazis within its borders. This people of European decent attend Umhlanga, participate in Incwala and go to Lusekwane every year. Our Indian Swazi speak better SiSwati than maybe even me, they definitely credit it way better than I ever did and have gone to many a places within the Kingdom I have never even dreamt of going to. Knowing all this, can we then say these people, myself included, are not Swazi? By kukhonta, some have actually affirmed their allegiance to no other king on earth but that in the person of His Majesty King Mswati the third of Swaziland. They are our Libutfo (traditional warriors) and by tradition own land, cemeteries and ancestry in common with their black skinned Swazis?

Are they not African then? If so is this thing of being African merited, earned only by the blackness of my skin, the broadness of my nose, the thickness of my lips and the curvaceous-ness of this body I by default happen to own?

 

3.     Going back to my roots

There are those among us who say that we ought to go back to our roots. That sounds simple enough but really: what are my roots, where are they and are they not contaminated? Have my roots stood still, not changed, moved or even mutinied? Are they still my own or am I to share them with people of other origins, known or unknown? Can I as I am still consider myself an African-no questions asked or is my Africaness very much undoubtedly questionable? Questionable not only to my grandpa but also even unto myself? One of the major principles of being African-at least as it is thought by some-is the concept of Ubuntu. It is rather a Nguni-centric term but it does in a way explain the humanness of an African person. The African is not important to himself, his thought, his actions, his perception, personality and his life is not his own. Everything that he is belongs to the group. He is-by definition-a being who is because they are and by extension, they are because he is. Full stop. Ubuntu, the concept means that I am my brother’s keeper. We do not eat if our brother is not eating, We do not own if our brother does not own, we all cry if our brother is crying, we share our pleasures, suffer each others pains and celebrate each others victories. This is Ubuntu; this is the African’s humanness, this who I am and this is who we are.

Trouble is; are we really a people true to this Ubuntu concept?

Can we still build a house for a homeless man, no question asked? Can we still donate him both a cow and its calf without expecting any thing in return, can we still trust each other’s food, can we still welcome a stranger into our home, give him food, a  bed to sleep on and a person to wait upon his needs?

Can we afford to cast out this Eurocentric individualism, cast away these trousers mobile phones. Go back to my loin clothes, gown and headdress?

If I can’t, do I still qualify to be African? Does the failure to do this make me more European than African?

 

Answering these questions is indeed a very difficult thing. There are rather too many oddities for any one answer to or even a combination of them to qualify me or my white brother or sister African?

The truth is, I do not blame my mother for her never teaching me how to be African. It cannot be learnt, it can only be given as is. Not through learning but rather through raw assimilation of all the things, actions, perceptions and behaviors of all the personalities we as children born in Africa find roaming all around us.

Being African, European or Asian and American has nothing to do with the colour of my skin. It has everything to do with what I am taught. Why?

 

Well simply because we are born with empty minds, all that we are only filled into them, either directly or indirectly. It is that simple.

 

Key: Libutfo are Swazi/Nguni warrior regiments grouped in terms of age.

Thank you for taking time off to read this note. Please note that I am still a learner blogger and as such am prone making mistakes. Otherwise you are welcome to leave comments in the form of advise, requests or academic if not socially based critique. You are welcome to follow me @Masiza4000 on twitter.

 

 

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My mother and father never taught me how to be African, Has it got anything to do with the coulor of my skin?

My mother and father never taught me how to be African. I never asked them questions relating to what it means to be an African. All I knew about being African is that I was born and as such I live in this dry, windy, harsh place they call Africa.

 

Africa is a big place, the only place I knew in this place they call Africa was Bhunya; my home town, Mbabane; my capital city and Manzini; my city of groceries, the Shangaan people and a lot of Portuguse. All these within this country under the King Mswati 111 of Swaziland.

These was me, this was all it meant to be me. To be African.

As I grew up I began to see things, perceive them and learn them.  I however, never learnt to be African. I went to Torgyle Primary school, not fancy, then to Cana Combined School, and then to WEM School Swaziland. In all these school and all these years I never once was taught what being African is. Is it:

 

1.     Being Black in skin colour

Once upon a time it was normal to be black, to have a black skin as they say. Personally, being of the Bantu-Negro stock, I never understood why they called us black. I never saw myself as black, nor did I see my mother or father or any of my friends for that matter. All I saw was a variety of the colour brown. Can this-being brown- mean that I am not black and therefore not African? Does the skin colour, body shape and eye colour qualify me or any of the Bantu of Southern Africa as African as a people?

 

2.     Culture and tradition

The Boer/Afrikaner people are a people who are of European decent.

They came to Southern Africa as the Dutch and French to settle in the Cape of Good Hope. Due to problems in relation to disagreements on slavery and the black man… As they moved up the coast up into the Transvaal and ultimately into modern day Pretoria they came across many a Bantu languages, as such their language changed. It adapted to the environment-as would any other language-incorporating Bantu languages and influencing them too. Their Dutch soon became known as Kitchen Dutch and from there changed to modern Afrikaans. They learnt to love the fire, the land and the heat. They have been here for over two hundred years. By virtue of that history, do they not qualify to be African? I mean their culture is more African than many a European cultures.

 

Coming back to me, I have been here for only twenty six years-alive I mean. I spent most of those years in Swaziland and as such you could say I am Swazi. My trouble is, however, that Swaziland and by extension the Swazi are a very cultural people. I never went to the uMhlanga-reed dance, never participated in the Incwala-first fruit ceremony and never went to Lusekwane. All I knew was I couldn’t go there because I am the grand son of a Zulu chief, my allegiance therefore belongs to no other king on earth but the Zulu king Zwelithini. As I and many of my foreign friends grew up, we became aware of the dilemma of being Swazi by thought but  be of another nation in blood. Our customs and whatever made us Swazi besides the royal events was on point. We dressed Swazi, talked SiSwati, dreamt Swazi dreams, had and lived by Swazi superstations and fiercely defended our king whenever we argued against those we thought more foreigner than us.

Does that mean I am Swazi more than I am a South African?

Or is this a more difficult choice to make simply because the no colour of skin is involved in this case?

 

Swaziland has many a white Swazis within its borders. This people of European decent attend Umhlanga, participate in Incwala and go to Lusekwane every year. Our Indian Swazi speak better SiSwati than maybe even me, they definitely credit it way better than I ever did and have gone to many a places within the Kingdom I have never even dreamt of going to. Knowing all this, can we then say these people, myself included, are not Swazi? By kukhonta, some have actually affirmed their allegiance to no other king on earth but that in the person of His Majesty King Mswati the third of Swaziland. They are our Libutfo (traditional warriors) and by tradition own land, cemeteries and ancestry in common with their black skinned Swazis?

Are they not African then? If so is this thing of being African merited, earned only by the blackness of my skin, the broadness of my nose, the thickness of my lips and the curvaceous-ness of this body I by default happen to own?

 

3.     Going back to my roots

There are those among us who say that we ought to go back to our roots. That sounds simple enough but really: what are my roots, where are they and are they not contaminated? Have my roots stood still, not changed, moved or even mutinied? Are they still my own or am I to share them with people of other origins, known or unknown? Can I as I am still consider myself an African-no questions asked or is my Africaness very much undoubtedly questionable? Questionable not only to my grandpa but also even unto myself? One of the major principles of being African-at least as it is thought by some-is the concept of Ubuntu. It is rather a Nguni-centric term but it does in a way explain the humanness of an African person. The African is not important to himself, his thought, his actions, his perception, personality and his life is not his own. Everything that he is belongs to the group. He is-by definition-a being who is because they are and by extension, they are because he is. Full stop. Ubuntu, the concept means that I am my brother’s keeper. We do not eat if our brother is not eating, We do not own if our brother does not own, we all cry if our brother is crying, we share our pleasures, suffer each others pains and celebrate each others victories. This is Ubuntu; this is the African’s humanness, this who I am and this is who we are.

Trouble is; are we really a people true to this Ubuntu concept?

Can we still build a house for a homeless man, no question asked? Can we still donate him both a cow and its calf without expecting any thing in return, can we still trust each other’s food, can we still welcome a stranger into our home, give him food, a  bed to sleep on and a person to wait upon his needs?

Can we afford to cast out this Eurocentric individualism, cast away these trousers mobile phones. Go back to my loin clothes, gown and headdress?

If I can’t, do I still qualify to be African? Does the failure to do this make me more European than African?

 

Answering these questions is indeed a very difficult thing. There are rather too many oddities for any one answer to or even a combination of them to qualify me or my white brother or sister African?

The truth is, I do not blame my mother for her never teaching me how to be African. It cannot be learnt, it can only be given as is. Not through learning but rather through raw assimilation of all the things, actions, perceptions and behaviors of all the personalities we as children born in Africa find roaming all around us.

Being African, European or Asian and American has nothing to do with the colour of my skin. It has everything to do with what I am taught. Why?

 

Well simply because we are born with empty minds, all that we are only filled into them, either directly or indirectly. It is that simple.

 

Key: Libutfo are Swazi/Nguni warrior regiments grouped in terms of age.

Thank you for taking time off to read this note. Please note that I am still a learner blogger and as such am prone making mistakes. Otherwise you are welcome to leave comments in the form of advise, requests or academic if not socially based critique. You are welcome to follow me @Masiza4000 on twitter.

 

 

Technorati Tags:

 

    

My mother and father never taught me how to be African, Has it got anything to do with the coulor of my skin?

My mother and father never taught me how to be African. I never asked them questions relating to what it means to be an African. All I knew about being African is that I was born and as such I live in this dry, windy, harsh place they call Africa.

 

Africa is a big place, the only place I knew in this place they call Africa was Bhunya; my home town, Mbabane; my capital city and Manzini; my city of groceries, the Shangaan people and a lot of Portuguse. All these within this country under the King Mswati 111 of Swaziland.

These was me, this was all it meant to be me. To be African.

As I grew up I began to see things, perceive them and learn them.  I however, never learnt to be African. I went to Torgyle Primary school, not fancy, then to Cana Combined School, and then to WEM School Swaziland. In all these school and all these years I never once was taught what being African is. Is it:

 

1.     Being Black in skin colour

Once upon a time it was normal to be black, to have a black skin as they say. Personally, being of the Bantu-Negro stock, I never understood why they called us black. I never saw myself as black, nor did I see my mother or father or any of my friends for that matter. All I saw was a variety of the colour brown. Can this-being brown- mean that I am not black and therefore not African? Does the skin colour, body shape and eye colour qualify me or any of the Bantu of Southern Africa as African as a people?

 

2.     Culture and tradition

The Boer/Afrikaner people are a people who are of European decent.

They came to Southern Africa as the Dutch and French to settle in the Cape of Good Hope. Due to problems in relation to disagreements on slavery and the black man… As they moved up the coast up into the Transvaal and ultimately into modern day Pretoria they came across many a Bantu languages, as such their language changed. It adapted to the environment-as would any other language-incorporating Bantu languages and influencing them too. Their Dutch soon became known as Kitchen Dutch and from there changed to modern Afrikaans. They learnt to love the fire, the land and the heat. They have been here for over two hundred years. By virtue of that history, do they not qualify to be African? I mean their culture is more African than many a European cultures.

 

Coming back to me, I have been here for only twenty six years-alive I mean. I spent most of those years in Swaziland and as such you could say I am Swazi. My trouble is, however, that Swaziland and by extension the Swazi are a very cultural people. I never went to the uMhlanga-reed dance, never participated in the Incwala-first fruit ceremony and never went to Lusekwane. All I knew was I couldn’t go there because I am the grand son of a Zulu chief, my allegiance therefore belongs to no other king on earth but the Zulu king Zwelithini. As I and many of my foreign friends grew up, we became aware of the dilemma of being Swazi by thought but  be of another nation in blood. Our customs and whatever made us Swazi besides the royal events was on point. We dressed Swazi, talked SiSwati, dreamt Swazi dreams, had and lived by Swazi superstations and fiercely defended our king whenever we argued against those we thought more foreigner than us.

Does that mean I am Swazi more than I am a South African?

Or is this a more difficult choice to make simply because the no colour of skin is involved in this case?

 

Swaziland has many a white Swazis within its borders. This people of European decent attend Umhlanga, participate in Incwala and go to Lusekwane every year. Our Indian Swazi speak better SiSwati than maybe even me, they definitely credit it way better than I ever did and have gone to many a places within the Kingdom I have never even dreamt of going to. Knowing all this, can we then say these people, myself included, are not Swazi? By kukhonta, some have actually affirmed their allegiance to no other king on earth but that in the person of His Majesty King Mswati the third of Swaziland. They are our Libutfo (traditional warriors) and by tradition own land, cemeteries and ancestry in common with their black skinned Swazis?

Are they not African then? If so is this thing of being African merited, earned only by the blackness of my skin, the broadness of my nose, the thickness of my lips and the curvaceous-ness of this body I by default happen to own?

 

3.     Going back to my roots

There are those among us who say that we ought to go back to our roots. That sounds simple enough but really: what are my roots, where are they and are they not contaminated? Have my roots stood still, not changed, moved or even mutinied? Are they still my own or am I to share them with people of other origins, known or unknown? Can I as I am still consider myself an African-no questions asked or is my Africaness very much undoubtedly questionable? Questionable not only to my grandpa but also even unto myself? One of the major principles of being African-at least as it is thought by some-is the concept of Ubuntu. It is rather a Nguni-centric term but it does in a way explain the humanness of an African person. The African is not important to himself, his thought, his actions, his perception, personality and his life is not his own. Everything that he is belongs to the group. He is-by definition-a being who is because they are and by extension, they are because he is. Full stop. Ubuntu, the concept means that I am my brother’s keeper. We do not eat if our brother is not eating, We do not own if our brother does not own, we all cry if our brother is crying, we share our pleasures, suffer each others pains and celebrate each others victories. This is Ubuntu; this is the African’s humanness, this who I am and this is who we are.

Trouble is; are we really a people true to this Ubuntu concept?

Can we still build a house for a homeless man, no question asked? Can we still donate him both a cow and its calf without expecting any thing in return, can we still trust each other’s food, can we still welcome a stranger into our home, give him food, a  bed to sleep on and a person to wait upon his needs?

Can we afford to cast out this Eurocentric individualism, cast away these trousers mobile phones. Go back to my loin clothes, gown and headdress?

If I can’t, do I still qualify to be African? Does the failure to do this make me more European than African?

 

Answering these questions is indeed a very difficult thing. There are rather too many oddities for any one answer to or even a combination of them to qualify me or my white brother or sister African?

The truth is, I do not blame my mother for her never teaching me how to be African. It cannot be learnt, it can only be given as is. Not through learning but rather through raw assimilation of all the things, actions, perceptions and behaviors of all the personalities we as children born in Africa find roaming all around us.

Being African, European or Asian and American has nothing to do with the colour of my skin. It has everything to do with what I am taught. Why?

 

Well simply because we are born with empty minds, all that we are only filled into them, either directly or indirectly. It is that simple.

 

Key: Libutfo are Swazi/Nguni warrior regiments grouped in terms of age.

Thank you for taking time off to read this note. Please note that I am still a learner blogger and as such am prone making mistakes. Otherwise you are welcome to leave comments in the form of advise, requests or academic if not socially based critique. You are welcome to follow me @Masiza4000 on twitter.

 

 

Technorati Tags:

 

    

South Africa Without President Mandela. How are we going to Define ourselves without him?

So Baba is gone.

Well, I need no answer to that question, I know he’s gone. That much is not the problem. The main problem here is how are we to define ourselves without him?

I mean, I know we going to eat, drink and study-I mean even be rich. But how on earth am I and my family going to define ourselves without him?

 

I am not sure if you going to see the comparison but, it is sort of like ‘How is South Africa to define itself without him-President Dr Nelson Mandela-I mean? Are these people of ours still going to associate themselves with the old man’s ideology, are we, the people still to remain seeing ourselves as did the Icons of our country? Are we to carry out and carry over the things, the values and pangs that Mandela and our fathers stood for?

The King of the Zulu sees no enemy in the now Zulu Briton,the ideal Mandela sees no enemy in DeKlerk’s people and the Swazi see no profit in pursuing the wrongs of the British to their country, Swaziland.

Mean while the Zulu is content with his statehood remaining as is. The once upon a time rumbling and tumbling Kingdom of the Zulu, etched stiff in memory but only a fabled dream in reality.Is the proud African white still to hold still his blood in its cry for self determinism or is he to let it run as free as an angry and warring Zulu warrior. Blind to death and the uncertainty of things that comes with it? Are we the people to remain South African or is each soon to run to his perceived own?

 

The answers to this questions are many and too theatrical. It is therefore quite wasteful to answer them all right now but to us and the many who love many a sad things I dare say let’s start talking and pointing the fingers.

Here goes:

 

1.     The Afrikaner and The People’s Council

These (the Afrikaner) are a people born, bred and bared by the hills and valleys of Africa in all manner of the words but one. They happen to be of European decent. They, along with the major players in South Africa’s history-bad means or not- built this country. They fought the mistreatment and cruel rule of the British, lost 26000 people to the Anglo-Boere war and suffered phi-dogs living conditions in British war camps around the country. They worked hard enough to-by 1960s- have moved from running the Free State and Transvaal Republic to running Zimbabwe, Namibia and old mother South Africa herself. They achieved this using various means: some diplomatic, some deceitful and inhumane and some downright human degrading in nature and purpose. They end result was a strong dualistic state capable of great innovative inventions. It was heaven for most of the white but hell for the morally tortured white and especially the Black man who sought life in the cities.

Due to the call for a multicultural-political state, the Afrikaner inspired state died-well in many respects-and we became one people under democratic South Africa.

We however, who hunt and see things we shouldn’t are aware of the People’s Council; an Afrikaner movement which became notable in 2011, September. They are calling for a separate state for the Afrikaner people, state where they hope to rekindle their nation, culture and tradition. They hoped to start the discussion for such a dream with the government of RSA late last year (August 2014).

And so here comes fracture number one  dear mother South Africa.

Go to www.volksraad.co.za for more.

 

2.     The Zulu Nation

The Zulu are a people born of so called Negro people of Africa. Well that is according to the so called Africanist researchers of Europe. Our tradition however dictates that we are Bantu of the Nguni stock born of South Egypt and Nubia. We came to South Africa a thousand years ago via the Mountain of Asembo (Embo) in Kenya, and left a trail of evidence along the way, from Egypt to modern day KwaZulu-Natal, South Africa.

 

We, along with the Boere and British are among the role players of South Africa’s history. Shaka Zulu our main founding king united many a chiefdoms, clans and tribes into one rumbling thunder of a nation…Our domain went from a tiny spec of dominance to rivaling, the then mighty Mthethwa nation, Zwide kaMashobana kingdom of the Ndwandwe to shocking the world when we defeated the mighty British war machine at Isandlwana. We lost our dominance over a very large portion of land in South Africa not because of the British but through the ingenuity of the Afrikaner commandos who divided the main House and thus pitted brother against brother in a series of bloody and fruitless wars and finally razing down the Ulundi Royal Palace and taking our last militarily mighty king (His Majesty king Cetshwayo of Ondini) to exile in the Island of St. Helena. We were left with no king but thousands of warring chiefs who had no means to fight the British and their then Afrikaner partners.  Thus was the mighty giant put to sleep-with all its viciousness, splendor and power.

We have been in such a state ever since those days. We lost our customs, our traditions and mostly our way of life.

Even though we have a king, we fear we are not ever to regain our statehood, our young are more adept to the English tongue than to using their own, politicians have ravaged our chiefdoms in their aim to get more votes in this new South Africa, they have done so in the king’s name and that of ending poverty. We are a dying people: our nationhood is constantly being attacked and degraded to a tribe’s level, our girls are frowned upon when they go to virginity test, our Umhlanga-reed dance ceremony is a hot bad for molesters, our chiefdoms are being reduced into puppets by local municipalities and our chiefs are now referred as local leaders-as if they were some nameless soul picketing over the building of toilets instead of houses.

 

Although it has never been uttered in the media, the general feeling among the Zulu chiefdoms is not entirely that of loyalty to the government of the day. Many a Zulu are loyal to their chief and their king. But the advent of politics is slowly but surely corroding this in such a way that soon enough we will be Zulu only by name. It is good for the unity of the country geographically and maybe politically but the returning of mainly the ceremony of Ukweshwama/Incwala and uMhlanga in truth means that the Zulu are reviving their nationhood. This I say because Incwana/Ukweshwama and uMhlanga ceremony are ceremonies meant to concentrate the king’s power over the people and also to confer unity among the chiefs, tribes, clans and families.

So long as the king does this, our people are verily marching to nationhood oh and the king is slowly but surely becoming independent of the RSA government’s funds…guess what is next. Well I’ll tell you: the Ingwenyama Trust Board is a board developed to protect the land of the people living in KwaZulu-Natal. It looks after and protects much of the which used to be Zululand. Now, the black African being hungry for land-and the New South Africa’s founding fathers’ mistake in not adequately dealing with the difference between conquered land and stolen land-forced the ANC led government to re-open land claims. The Ingwenyama trust took it upon itself to quantify land lost to Zulu kingdom and also submit the land claim on behalf of the king and his people. The claim is to be submitted March this year(2015)…Oh so we here.

The king, His Majesty Zwelithi has as of yet not being heard saying any thing about this land claim on radio or TV. As such, we are in no postion to verify or falsify this news but Ukhozi FM did tell us that there might be such a claim last year(2014). If true, it would seem the Zulu are well on their way to becoming a nation with its own land; beautiful and all boarded. A big chunk of South Africa gone. Be it ends up so or not, this spells out one huge crack, can Mandela’s cement hold it?

Oh and we are livid over the changing of King Shaka’s Day into this Heritage Day of theirs. Why? Well who is the Zulu without his father, the Great King of the Zulu nation?

Here comes prospective fracture number two.

 

3.     The ANC

Ah the hero of modern day Republic of South Africa. The ANC is a popular and very strong political party that is currently the government’s ruling party.

 

It is multicultural, adaptive to the times and has traditionally very strong leaders as its head. Examples are, Nelson Mandela, Chief Luthuli, Pixie (?)  KaSeme and many others… The ANC has a very long history, they moved from a movement of Black African Southern African kings like king Sobhuza of Swaziland, king Dalindyebo(?) of KwaXhosa, African elites and many others to being a movement of the people almost across Southern Africa and not just South Africa.

Its crowning glory is the Freedom Charter and its statement; “South Africa Belongs to All who live in it”. The party has endured many a tribulations, from being horridly persecuted by the then apartheid government to its members being at odds with the Inkatha Freedom Party(IFP). 1994 was the year the ANC became the ruling party of South Africa. It took the people to the world, gave them peace, gave them land and houses of their own, promoted the opening of universities to African blacks and many more Indian Africans, free education to the black African and many more opportunities previously closed to us African blacks. They made many promises two.

 

The issue of land is a big head-ache for the ANC. Why? Well, because many a black Africans deem themselves a people with no land-well we Zulus retained much of ours. They still see themselves as sojourners right in the land of their birth. Because of the Afrikaner, they, today have no land. Their land along with their graves, kraals, and main house ruins are under the control and mercy of the hateful Afrikaner…Even today: in new democratic South Africa.

It does not stop there. To make matter even worse, the Agreed upon “willing seller willing buyer” land repatriation principle adopted by the ANC to bring people their land is very much a head-ache to the ANC. On one side is the African black, very much in love with his ancestral land, on the other is the Afrikaner who sees himself not as a colonialist or even conqueror of the land but verily the discoverer and founder of that very same land the African black wants.

The willing buyer, willing seller principle is therefore not an easy exercise for poor ANC.

 

Then comes dear old money and its so called economy. Much of South Africa’s economy and therefore money, banks and everything was made by the Briton and the Afrikaner off the breaking back bone of the African black, South Africa today is a democracy, that being so, means little to us the poor of this country besides off course that me still in money terms still as we were back then when we toiled and bled under the National Party and its apartheid.

On top of that is the poor delivery of the syllabus by mostly the poor schools, unruly and often very scary school children and their hopeless  hurts and love for short cuts. Oh, and the EFF is pushing for not just Nationalization of mines but also for the removal of Mr. President Jacob Zuma from the presidential seat. They did this right in parliament when they asked the president to “Pay back the money” used by the state to secure and upgrade his home at Nkandla.

Ah dear crack, the ANC affiliated speaker used the so called white shirted police to remove the EFF out of parliament. Oh and somebody used a portable military grade signal jammer to disrupt mobile phones, radio and TV signals-when are them soldiers coming in dear crack?

 

The above are but only signs that the country as is, is in trouble. I am no politician; I simply wish not to go back to the old days: back when living in my country, on my mother land KwaZulu-Natal was a horrible thing.  So Babe is gone, I know we are still going to eat, drink and even be rich. But how are we going to define ourselves without him? President Madiba is gone, how we South Africans going to define ourselves without him?

Fix these cracks or verily the rainbow colors will simply go their separate ways.

These Bearers of Ubuntu, These Bearers of President Nelson Rolihlahla Mandela’s name

I do not feel like going to the meetings today

I do not feel like going there would do anything for me

I do not feel I do have the strength it takes for me to see people today

Happy people,

 

People with their mothers happy,

People with their fathers alive,

People with their sisters not crying their eyes out

In heart ache, disappointment and despair;

People sure of themselves

 

People unlike me,

People not doubting themselves,

Not doubting their actions,

Their every step,

Every sweat

Every thought.

People who do not question the need for their every breath

The value of it.

 

People who are sure of themselves.

People who eat well,

Those who dress well,

People who not disturbed by this thing they call life

 

They are oblivious to these pains

Excused from these our burden

People who live in our dreams

Nice life problems people

Those to whom our lives are nothing but horrid three second dreams.

We who are dead.

We who are alien

We who live on the outside.

 

We who they slaughter on a daily bases,

We whose murder is but only a kill to them,

We who die on their hands like flies

I who my father’s blood is but a phi-dog’s blood to them

This, my mother’s blood is but a bitch dogs blood to them

 

Pangas to them know no wood,

Knobkerries’ to them know no old man’s shaky hand or frail bone

The African’s hand no matter what shade or degree of warmth knows healing

His kind eye to me the outsider is but a false promise,

A lie.

This, my brother’s praise full tongues is but what the spider’s web is to the fly.

My mother cooks food to her children but gives me poisoned honey.

I die not knowing.

I the African son die right inside my own father’s throne room.

I the bearer of Ubuntu smile from ear to ear,

Sing and dance to my mother’s, my father’s, my own sister’s and my own brother’s death.

I chase him out of my house.

His own house.

I the bearer of Ubuntu.

 

These bearers of Ubuntu

Bearing torches in the night

They come to these shelters we call our houses,

Shinny mentally sharp thingies carried by no hands

White teeth smiley and cheery

Deep, warm voices singing and happy

 

These bearers of Ubuntu

I do not feel like going to these their holy meetings

These bearers of Madiba’s name

They come to my sheltery thingy voices happy,

White teeth smiley and cheery

 

They torch it down,

Me screaming and squirming as is a women in labor,

This, my brothers,

They drag this dog I am by its right foot powerless,

Pangas sharp to cut a hair they cry,

Knobkiries strong to carry my granny’s weight they snap

Voices warm to be my mother’s they laugh,

Voices deep to be my father’s they laugh,

This my own people they laugh.

 

They laugh as the stick snaps on my neck,

They laugh as the panga eats away my flesh

They sing as my wife, pregnant with child dies

Her blood drenching my face,

Our blood drenching their red warm soil,

My mother

Our blood drenching their faceless teeth white as they were

Spit on my face as its life leaves it,

The memory and feel my mother’s red breasts leaving me

These, the bearers of my Ubuntu

These, the bearers of President Nelson Rolihlahla Mandela’s name.

 

I do not feel like going to their holy meetings.

Is it not where they plot to kill me right inside my father’s throne room?

These bearers of Ubuntu

These bearers of Nelson Rolihlahla Mandela’s name.

N. B. Thank you for finding some time off to read my posts…For more insight in reference to this post, please visit www.news24.co.za and look for South African news on Xenophobia,farm murders directed to the Afrikaner and the general public’s women and children. 

key:

Panga is another name for a bush knife.

Ubuntu; is Zulu for the concept of Humanity as was developed in South Africa by the Nguni people.

Knopkiries is a fat headed walking stink used by the old.

A little something stolen off my little sister’s diary.

My relationship does not need your
approval,t doesnt need ur blessing,it
doesn’t need ur support and if isn’t
positive it damn sure it doesn’t need ur
opinion
I like hu I like ,when I like them bcos I
like dem ,hu I let into my life doesn’t
concern YOU
I dnt cre wa yu heard bout dem,how they
were when they were with yu or how yu
feel bout us being together….
If we. Dnt work out t bcos we figured
that out on our own so save ur damn
questions,comments,concerns,re
servations and opinions for your own
relationship