The South Africa My fathers Built Part two


It has been a long time since I last felt so strong about this, my father’s country: South Africa.

I love South Africa, yes I do really find their brand of governance/rulership any where close to this nice word, special, but I do love the land, the climate and the variety of peoples mixed and living within these boarders. Fighting and all included.


The are however, aspects of this country I find a bit odd. Things I feel aren’t quet right with it or perhaps even too right for any good to come out of their presence. The following, though you may not agree with sily old me, are some of them, not all but certainly some of them. Namely:


·        Behaving as if we wish to bury not only the hatchet but the Boere along with it

The ANCs and indeed South Africa’s freedom chatter states-amoung other things-that South Africa belongs to all who live in it. That being said I find it odd that even though this sentence entrenched there is known and indeed almost sung in the streets every other rally day seems not to sift itself down into the psych and hearts of most South Africans. I mean, if you dared to be honest enough, wouldn’t you find your land right and therefor citezenry threatened would it happen that you here a full grown sober man singing and dancing to a song that goes like “Thina sizwe esim’nyama sikhalela izwe lethu elathathwa amaBhunu…Mabawu yeke umhlaba wethu” ; loosely trancelated “We the black peoples are in grief, In grief over our beloved land taken from us by the Boerer”?  I do not know about but as for me, this song would be strong enough to rattle my comfort. I would feel myself not welcome here. Why wouldn’t I? I mean the Boere did steal land from the Usuthu(King Cetshwayo of the Usuthu was made to sign a document ceding over 1.3million hectres of land to the Boer, he was sixteen at the time and the document was not in agreement put forth by the Zulu. That of only 100 Boere getting land for their helping Usuthu at war with Britains puppert, Zibhebhu). And the Boere did take the land of Sophia Town in Johanessburg under false pretence of it not being suitable for people to live in…the Boerer took much more land, they with the British stole from Swaziland, took 70% of Zulu territory for themselves and did much more of the same to others as well. So, yes out of guilt for my ancestors’ horrid doings I would feel uncomfortable here, in the land of my birth.


Given just the above picture, is it not odd that based on the Boere’s history in South Africa, we the people known for ubuntu still sing such songs and find it not wrong to do so, even though we claim we have gone through the reconciliation process and as a result have forgiven each other of our wrongs against one another.

Or have we not? If we have, why do we keep on behaving as if we wish we could bury not only just the hatchet but the Boer along with it? The recent argument arround Sir Cecil John Rhodes’ stataue at Rhode University sure points this behaviour (if not wish) out. There are many other examples as well…Have we not change Pretoria into Tswane, was it not for the same reason? Have we not changed street names to suit the new South Africa? Are we tranforming or are we simpley attempting to change how we look? Recently a there has been a cry out parliament that said that there are too many white faces in rugby…

What are we doing, was not Mandela against the changing of South Africa’s national rugby team colors in 1995, if so why then are we bold enough to want to manualy change the face of rugby? Can we not wait and let it change on its own in its own sweet time? Oh is it that the concept of Ubuntu does not apply to politics?


·        Xenophobia the Masked Jelousy

We are certainly not the only country overloaded with many a people we happen not to understand when they speak, we certainly not the only country full of our sibalies (inlaws) from Mozambique, Ethiopia, Congo DRC, and yes, even Nigeria and them nice looking Somalis. Countries all over the world are facing the same challenge as we are. Hell even the ever troubled Israel is full of Somali and Ethopians wishing to excape inhumane hardships at home. Why then is it that our people seem to think the sky is falling over our heads because of the presence of asylum seekers who, to some of us, seem to be doing a good job restraining themselve from stealing even though they obviously come into South Africa so poor and verily in survival mode?

My father never taught me a thing about Somalis, not even that they are black Africans like me. Infact colour of the skin, even my own, never even register in my father’s lips. How then would I know of the Somalis? All I knew of them is they, like the Nigerians sudendly walked our streets, spoke a different toung and

were as good as the Indians in making money out of selling Banana. The Swazi are a people good in copying how to build things. We learnt much from the Mozambican’s comming into Swaziland. I now live in South Africa; they see the Somalis, pakistani, and Ethiopian as threat to their spaza shop (little shop) businessy kind of life. I can not argue against that but the idea of walking past a busy tree every day all day and-never seeing the business opportunity the tree presents and then fume in anger when the Somali sees the opportunity and not only that but uses it is really unfaire. They go to eThekwini(Duburn), buy blunkets at lower prices, co-opperate in selling them and then make good profit out of it. After all this work, we, the locals say they have taken our jobs?

Our children have a luxury kind of life compared to the rest if not most Africa. This thing they call free education. But they do not use it. It is as if it their democratic right to rid them poor arogant selves of education. This jewel we so much yern to enjoy and grow bald selling tomatoes in Swaziland just so we be able to pay E1500 worth of a term’s education. Them Somalis will not take over your spaza shops but the country as well just because we are lazy to own up and match up.

Our jelousy is ujustified if we contineu not to match up, oh and affirmative action does not work on a mind not psyched up to edure hard work! Kill Xenophobia South Africa…It is unjustifiable!


·        Picketing over done

Open any news site on the web and search South Africa and you are more likely to get “South African Trade Union on Strike!”or “Marikana Massacre: where to from here” as one of the headlines running for that week. South Africa is a very strike prone country, there are many reasons this thing happens. One of them is that this country is a democracy. This is my country’s banner flag as well as its foundation: without this there is no South Africa. Unfortunately we abuse it.

Strike statistics are hard to come bye but the few I managed to find sugest that the picture isn’t as grim as the media, both internationaly and localy would like to have us believe. Yes the country is in the top twenty in the list I have managed to find. Owen Adendorff and Associates (Pty)Ltd, list South African strike action on number eleven on its “Strike days per 1 million of population-2008 analysis. Denmark is the first with its 373 820 days gone to strikes. South Africa had only 10 151 days gone to strikes that year and if their prediction is any thing to go bye, we will continue not being the strike capital of the world (for more please go to and look for strike a global perspective). Unfortunately the time left to go on being a moderate striking nation is fast running out. Hardly a week goes bye without us reading about or watching a violent strike poping up its ugly somewhere in coporate jungle South Africa. Medupi technicians bulding Medupi Power station left us baffled as they recently put down their tools and went on strike. The country is under siege from a battallion of strikers writes David Gleason(BD Live, And that is the truth, We seem to believe-we leaders- that so long as the people are as of yet not on strike then we have no reason to panic and also need not address their problems. Trade Unionist have the country under siege but it is justifiable. Our leaders do not ever listen, you have to be on strike for them to listen. It is becoming so ugly that it has now gone on to wear the horrid mask of xenophopia. Exepecially when the average over fustrasted township and slump town are involved. As is, it seems justifiable to say that as far as disasters go, Marikana masacre taught our leaders nothing.


That being said, I have come to admit that that we South Africans do too much striking for our own good. I mean whats up with the crude idea of actually draging school kids and students out of class just so you could go raze libraries, foreign owned shops and goverment building up in smoke all in the guise of a well meaning strike? The scariest part-to me any way- is that my Zimbabwen teachers tell me that this is exactely how Zim’ got itself to being the world’s ricule doll of a country. Are we sure this is the right path we’ taking?

God help us…But just in case you choose not to: I think it wise to keep my passport to Swaziland within reach-oh dear!


There is much to be said about South Africa. Universities all over the world study the countries democracy, Some have even called my father’s country “the great experiment. I hate this label but I cannot argue against its merrits. We are an experiment but there are signs that we will not be an experiment for long.

One such indicator is the current awakening as to the imageof South Africa projected by the presence of colonial South Africa’s statues. Students from UCT are demanding the removal of Sir Cecil John Rhodes’ statue from the premises. UKZN students have recetlly defaced the statue of King George 5th and are demanding its removal. Oh and EFF is offering to help the universities remove the statues “manually” and I susoect they will hastily take away bit by bit. You may get your passport if you like but we are going nowhere, the Boere Volkstraad may be seeking to cede land out of South Africa and maybe form a nicely well cooked Afrikaner Republic but the truth is that they are more African than the Deutch they come from. They are going nowhere. South Africa is only just a teenager going through one nasty identity crises phase. Who likes pimples?


Sharp zinto.   



Why Jehovah orderd the Israelites to destroy the Acient people of Canaan?

It is argued that the Lord God Jehovah is a cruel vengeful God.

I have been reading much of the old books and a few Scriptures,both cannonical and non cannonical. I grew up asking questions. One of such questions is why did God order the Israelites to kill-even at genocidal level-all the people who inhabitate the land of Canaan in those days?
The most obvious answere given is that the Israelites were an ivading stateless question. As such they had to kill those nations to have themselves a country. That is true offcourse but it is not the only reason. You see, the land of Canaan was populated north South by the Giants of old. You might recall that the book of Genesis (maybe in passing) mentions the Nephilim, Giants born of Angels and Human women. Now the Canaan Giants were giants as well. They are a people said have been in the land for years. They built cities,had kingdoms and married women as much the average man. They were in every way human.

Back to topic. The Nations whom the Israelites found in the land were human in every way. They only had one problem: They were unpure. They sinned much, they were after strange flesh,they were unjust and they had a DNA not entirely human. Why? Well because they were sons of Rapha, a reminant of the Nephilim and as such they had to die because,I dare argue,in God’s eyes we would very soon be back square one: the flood.

This is a short version of a much bigger post I will post on #BLOG
It is about time we Witness for Jehovah’s goodness.

To you my beautiful dreadfully beloved eyes; a rant poem to that women I would love to hate but sadly can only love.

I can define love all

I like

I can use all the theories

World over

Draw knowledge from

Both the Bible and the Parana

Delve into it,

Swim into it

And even drown it:

All in hope of exploring, defining, describing

Discussing and explaining the average lovers’

Love for eachother


But when it comes to me looking into your eyes;

All clue, infor, knowledge of it suddenly flashes away.

I am left with nothing of the sort but only how it feels to love.

I am left with nothing but how it feels to know you are loved

And nothing else to feel that you are loved,

Loved whole heartedly and fully,

Loved with all your faulty self and miss-shapes;

Love whole heartedly with all your plank like back side,

Loved whole heartedly with all your old dark green blood vessels sollen and disgusting cellutite plagued short stuby legs.


Loved passed all those long quarelsome nights when you feel nothing would be worth while from then onwards but the flatting out of your partner’s mouth using a well held fat-bottomed source pan in the wee hours of the morrning.

Leave him right next to the kitchen rubbish bin for all those damed inlaws you dare grudginly call yours to find him

All good and well for his shovel ride home, the imp you so much hate

As much as so much love,


When it comes to you and I my dear lovely eyes,

This thing called love defies all logic, definition, discussion or anything of the sort;

It is a monster not of anybody’s creation but its own.

We do not possess it,

It posesses us this draedful thing God made.


My dearest hated lovely eyes,

You dreadful thing;

When it comes to you and I,

This love thing makes no sense.

When it comes to you and I you beloved dreadful thing

Love becomes nothing more but this heap upon heap

Of dreadful, sily often unnecesry stick your neck out risks and near death

And humilatoin experiences ever made, by any two people inlove for that matter

My dearest dreadful moster’s eyes,


Are you aware that in all these years I have looked into you

I have never onced wondered how well you cook,

I have nevr once wonderd how well you present my dish

Or even how nice all those thousands of prentations realy tasted in this my mouth I have so mystirously forgoten about.

Not once in all my years looking into you my dearest eyes have I onced asked my poor fuzzy heart wether or not you are worth all this trouble I am in because of you.


I mean;

Am I not the sorry arse that was once upon a time the stud of the world

Am I not the same heart who on a daily bases fornicated with all them yumy backsides, hips, legs and fronts always ever so nicely packed every other sunny day?

Am I not the one once both worshiped and all the guys in town for my game?

I was my heart once not like an unyieding abysis?

Evevery thing desired went in and non ever came back out?

Am I not the same one my dearest beloved dreadful beautiful eyes?


How then is it that

I now hear that I sleep next to this ugly, flappy necked magogo,

Who is ever wearing, them old wrecked out white, holed panty hoses, my grand grandfather with all his teeth out used to hate and even today torses in his fifty year old grave should any mention them?

How then is it that

I now hear that I am made today-as in every other morrning- made to eat them cracky, rusty, tasteless rubber excuses of eggs, shove them down my dry enlaved helpless gut and still very much smile every time I look into you?


My dear dreadfuly beautiful beloved eyes

I go deep underground,

Right into the inards of the earth,

Not to dance or mock my dead brothers

But to bring you my beloved dreadfuly beautiful eyes

Eye liners, highlighers, soups,oils  and dusts of every other colour and charm back onto the surface just aso I could be able to bring you

My beloved dreadfuly beautiful eyes

More money to buy more dust,

Mor charm to make me look into your eyes  even more

To love you even more

To fail to define, explain, discuss, describe or explore my love

For you

My dearest beautiful dreadfuly beloved eyes;


I can define love all

I like

I can use all the theories

World over

Draw knowledge from

Both the Bible and the Parana

Delve into it,

Swim into it

And even drown it:

All in hope of exploring, defining, describing

Discussing and explaining the average lovers’

Love for eachother


But when it comes to me looking into your eyes;

All clue, infor, knowledge of it suddenly flashes away.



Magogo; a lady like grandmother

Panty hose; another name for stockings.

The above poem is inspired by the song ‘”Satellites” . A beautiful chocolaty and coming of edge girly song by Beyonce’ Knowels.

Thanks for reading…and sorry for some of the wording ladies!

A prayer from a weak man’s heart

I have always believed in you

I have always sensed a part of

Who I am watching

Watching over me,


Warning me,

Directing me,

Guiding me and nurturing me.

Inspiring me,

Giving me dreams,

Filling my heart with hope,

Strengthening these my frail, frail bones

To power ever present,

Ever standing


Reminding me of my name,

My surname,

My steps,

My rhythm,

My dance,


Ever so fluid

Ever so gentle

Cradling me in its warmth

And strength,

Yesterday, now,today and always.

He is always there

My God

My strength

My death

My resurrection

And my life everlasting.


I know myself

I know my God

I know my strength

For I know who I am to Him.