The ANC...a theatre of anarchy and a brutal interplay of factions

The phrase "banana republic" often comes to mind when one observes the conspicuous expenditure our ruling elite indulge in at our expense. What makes this worse is that, amid all the lashing out of our money on luxuries, we are surrounded by a sea of poverty with the time bomb of youth unemployment growing ever more threatening. While millions use rivers as toilets, live in squalors, squat in condemned and mouldering buildings, beg on the streets and resort to crime; we have a fleet of shining new jet aircraft to ferry our leaders and their flunkies in luxury around the globe. Recently Defence Ministry spokesperson Ndihuwo Mabaya confirmed to the Star newspaper that 808 million will be spent on the rental of two additional jets for Presidential travel. As people sleep in the veld, women deliver stillborn children in clinic queues, unemployment soars; education is in ruins and street children roam roam neglected. One wonders: does this government have no shame? Where are you Steve Biko and your eloquence about black consciousness? Why did you have to die and leave us at the strife of Malema and Zuma? Why Why Why!!!

A lady in my life

I can feel her innocence in the form of a daughter
I can feel her care in the form of a sister
I can feel her warmth in the form of a friend
I can feel her dedication in the form of a wife
I can feel her divinity in the form of a mother
I can feel her blessings in the form of a grandmother
I can feel her extensive repertoire in the form of praises in every stride I make
Though vultures hoover all over her
She will make it through the clutches of death
She will scorn the grave and the sight of death
When evil powers of epilepsy devoured me
She woke up and prayed
Even though the voices of her indwellers were muffled when her son(me) was at the hospital
She stood there by my side and told me joy will come in the morning
When I feel every inch of agony
Rendering me cold and numb
She prays for the pain to go away
She took a vow to protect me while I was in her and never has she gone back on her words
When I see her, I become proud
Because she is a phenomenal woman - phenomenally, phenomenal woman that's her
Malehlohonolo Tau, you are my rock!!!

Somalian caves speak in metaphors

They took nothing from anybody;
Didn't steal no man's land;
Destroyed was their Heaven, the only place they've known as home;
They didn't call their rituals witchcraft;
They didn't rape anybody to claim space in this jungle;
They didn't misplace their ancestral bones;
They didn't call themselves whores, or mixed breeds who are fatherless;
They didn't call their God, devil;
They didn't hurl insults at anybody;
They didn't race with the mighty for the gold that was not destined for them;
They didn't hate anybody;
They didn't fear what was their own
Nor gave it a weird name;
What they wanted was solace food and drink;
But everything was taken from them painful of them all, their children;
Struggling with labour pains, struggling to raise a child, and struggling to say Goodbye

The strong BLack Woman is dead - T.D. Jakes

While sruggling with the reality of  being a woman instead of being a myth, the strong black woman passed away. Medical sources say she died of natural causes, but those who knew her know that she died from being silent when she should have been screaming. Those who knew her know that she smiled when she should have been raging. Those who knew her know that she died from being sick and not wanting anyone to know because her pain might inconvenience them. She died from an overdose of other people clinging to her when she didn't even have enough energy for herself. The strong black woman is dead. She died from loving men who didn't love themselves and could only offer a crippled reflection. She died from raising children alone. She died from the lies her grandmother taught her mother and her mother taught her about life, men and racism. She died from secrets she kept trying to burn away instead of allowing herself the kind of nervous breakdown she was entitled to. She died from being responsible because she was the last rung on the ladder and there was no one under her she could dump on. The strong black woman is dead. She died from being dragged down and set upon by unevolved women posing as sisters,sisters,sisters. She died from tolerating Mr Pityful just to have a man around the house. She died from sacrificing herself for everybody and everything when what she really wanted was to be a singer, a dancer, a poet you see... She died from lies of ommission because she didn't want to bring A BLACK MAN DOWN! The strong black woman passed away. She died from the myths that would not allow her to show weakness without being chastised by the hazy and lazy. She died from hiding her real feelings until they became hard and bitter enough for her womb and brests like angry tumours. The strong black woman is dead. She died from never being good enough for what men wanted, or being too much for the real man she wanted. She died from being too black and died again for not being black enough. She died from being misinformed about her mind, her body and the extent of her royal capabilities - sometimes she refused to die but was killed.
SHE CARRIED THE FAMILY IN HER BELLY;
THE COMMUNITY ON HER HEAD;
HER RACE ON HER BACK
But,  fell to the ground at the strife of his hand...cried for her virginity - bled and died!
The strong black woman;
The srong black woman is dead 

They shall not cross You again

Emaciated and parentless children, looking like walking skeletons, are arriving in camps in Kenya after walking for days without drink or food. Behind them, lie arid lands and warfare. Don't bother looking for the story on the front page of your newspaper. It is on page 11, hidden among sexier stories. Our front pages are reserved for earth-shattering events such as the death of Amy Winehouse. 11 million people are affected by the famine sweeping across the Horn of Africa. I don't know how e-news reporter  Robyn Kriel does it - looking at a child die from starvation and parents not even a shred of tears in-tact. Everytime I watch Somalian inserts, I can't help but wonder if GOD hears their cries from hell - echoing in the wilderness.
DEAR GOD, PLEASE HELP THEM. THEY ARE STILL YOUR CHILDREN

Unpardonable sin

She was young, naive and led to believe. He promised her love with a velvet-tongued glove. She was used, misled and talen to bed. She closed her eyes and heard his sighs. So quickly done! what happened to fun? The months dragged passed she survived outcast. She had no home, gave birth alone. He had ducked to further his mandate. She just assumed her bastard was doomed. Without fear of favor, she demoniacally desposed off the sinless, helpless being down a pit latrine. Ignored the tiny helpless screams. Pointed out by friends at school; the police said she broke the rule. Her education interrupted while he lures another insignificant other to perpetufate the devilish cycle...SHOCKING!!! 

A tribute to women

Rise African women. Rise up to the dust of motherland. Rise out of the shadows of the African men. Come out of the dark and take your stand. Rise up my African sisters. You are the reason for life on earth. Your suffering, your pain, your blisters, your sweat, your strife, and you giving life are what you wear. No more will you live without a voice and in the shadow of a man. No more will you live without a choice and fall to the ground at the strife of his hand no, no, no. Rise up my sisters, up to the stars. Touch the sky and live your dream. Be the woman you know you are. Break your silence and learn to scream. Embrace your wisdom and your beauty - the vortex of your voluptuousness and velvety eyes. Demand respect and equality. For this and more is what you deserve. RISE UP AFRICAN WOMEN, RISE UP FROM THE DUST OF MOTHERLAND.

Journalism at its trashiest

South Africans are constantly being subjected to yellow journalism which presents little or no legitimate and well researched news, but uses eye-catching headlines to sell more newspapers. Take Eric Miyeni's comments for example - He wrote that City Press was against the blacks being successful. This is fallacious and disingenuous because there are many black entrepreneus such as the Chief Executive of the MTN Group Phuthuma Nhleko, who are successful and legitimately so.  Miyeni's comments are antithetic to the values of non-racialism or non-sexism on which our constitution is founded. What inform him(Miyeni) that Malema is successful? The man pleaded poverty at one stage and confessed to living on handouts. What an irony! What informs him(Miyeni) again that Haffajee is a snake deployed by white capitalists? Who are these capitalists - do you know? I certainly don't...If there are white capitalists out there, please inform me...This hurtful duel is a regrettable example of gutter journalism characterised by character assassination at its ugliest and is an attempt to tarnish a person's reputation. Mind you!.. he is given an opportunity to retract the trash he wrote and still sticks to his guns- I die

Haffajee does it for white masters

Contortion of bitterness and rage, constituted the axing of the very one I respected the most in my field, Eric Miyeni. “Who the devil is she anyway if not a black snake in the grass, deployed by white capital to sow discord among blacks? In the 80s she'd probably have had a burning tyre around her neck,” the pen writes

Shocking!
Even though his ranting spews soulless and gutter journalism, he somewhat has a dodgy arguable right, which you all know very well is called “freedom of speech”.
I’m not the first to admit that Miyeni’s column was full of unwarranted wobble but if his Editor removed the fiery reference to a disturbing way of killing people, the debate about whether South African media is dictated to by its owners, the role of Malema and nationalisation should be allowed to continue.
Miyeni will no longer be a part of that debate in The Sowetan as his column has been revoked; however does that mean that commenters on news sites should be barred from commenting if they cross the same greyish line that he did?

I wore You

I wore you


I wore you like a raggedy coat

When you hurled out for freedom or was it just an act?

For the feel of how warm it used be

I wore you and that was my decision



Beneath the tattered veil of night

Far from the glare of stars or eyes

I wore you;



Until one day in summer you decided to go back;

Left my tiny hands trembling when the snow wore off;

How I quivered!!!

By: Lehlohonolo tau.