kagablog

he walks down west street

in no particular direction

towards no specific destination

just for the hell of it

he stops at corner gardener

watches people and cars

racing each other

he tunes into citysounscapes

voices of footstomps

screams of hooters & the music of bodymovement

he is not a musicology student

researching on the musicality

of everyday sounds & the visual impact of

ordinary scenes

he is taking a joll

just for the hell of it

down west street

towards the beach

it could be on smith

towards berea centre

de tour into park street

passed the porn moviehouse

inside albertpark

he lies on the grass

takes a mental footage

of street kids scavenging

he is tempted to join

refugees playing soccer

he decides to be a spectator

to the movie of lovers cuddling

just for the hell of it

he points a middle finger

towards a fatcat driving by

just for the hell of it

he whistles a cat-call

to a boy passing by

for no particular purpose

he accosts a sexworker

just for the hell of it

he is taking a joll

down west street

on no particular course

he stops at the garage

enquires about the prices

features of the cars

insurance and assurance

everything a car-buyer should know

he is not going to buy

in the actual fact he does not drive

anyway he asks for the dealers’ contact

he saves the numbers on the cellphone

& scribbles the details

on a notebook for backup

just for the hell of it

he chats to tourists

asks about weather

he has no ulterior motive

he talks just

for the hell of it

he goes deep into

geometrics & econometrics

zumanomics & mugabecracy or 2010

he is on no particular mission

he is just taking a walk

down west street

towards the beach

it could be on pointroad

he walks towards a massage parlor

he has no intentions

he enters anyway

lies on the bed

wait for a girl to come

he is not aroused

there is nothing

to writer home about

regarding her tits and everything

the madiba is not standing

the condom struggles to fit in

he puts it in anyway

just for the hell of it

back at home

he reclines on sofa

& presses the remote

he hears some voices

and sees some images

it could be sabc

or ds-tv

discovery channel

super sport

or some other channel

it does not matter

he is ogling at the screen

just for the hell

he goes for the laptop

navigates the web

signs an electronic petition

on putting an embargo

on luxury cars for ministers

it could be

an appeal on burma

darfur or a plea

of the save the whale lobby

he is not wary

of the contents & the exact demands

he signs the appeal anyway

he knows it’s mere gesticulation

he’s been to the marches + pickets

the answers never come

still he chants the slogans

he knows it’s only rhetoric

(but) just for the hell of it

he sings:

you will be a cover-girl

boys will lock themselves

in bathrooms with magazine copies

men with tired dicks will

visualize you before

they go into their wives

school girls will skip

lunch & supper for your shape

housewives will not miss

a single print of cosmo

for a model figure

you will be

on skype with oprah

motivators will find

citable quotes

from your mere remarks

on how you get on with life

dr phill will google you

for a punch-line

emcees will see\use

you as a metaphor

preachers will sing your name

to tell us why or not we are

you will be in periodicals

professors will be indebted to you

for their out-come based education

lessons on gender & sexuality

finance minister will mention

your name in the budget speech

incumbent president will cancel his tour

the former will suspend his retirement

from politics for a mouth-to-mouth with you

the mail & guardian will list you first

on the catalog of 100

people to die to dine with

you will be a candidate

for united nations ambassador of

some cause or another

or a serious contender

in the genius books

of records

surely you will find a place

in the world’s hall of fame

you will be a sex symbol

chief executive officers will

indulge in office sex with you

in the privacy of their minds

corporates will strip

their social responsibility

purses naked to grant

you a fat salary

to be the human face of

their ad campaigns

of market expansion

(mass deception)

you will be in the tabloids

newshounds who never

interviewed you will be

worth no pinch of salt or dash of soup

careers of the paparazzi will

depend on your daring poses

the mainstream will be abound

with your break into the underworld

the underground shall claim you

the establishment shall award you

just to state its final word

in defining the perimeter

gossip columns will be a bore

without your daring poses

the press will tale you down

for cover stories

academia shall file you

under enigma

theology under heresy

dialectic materialism shall hold you

a symbol of the contradictions

& hypocrisy of capitalist morality

you will be on cyberspace

information technology whiz

kids will pimp you on blogosphere

perverts will suck themselves dry

with electronic orgies

of them and their internet lovers

you the alluring part of the threesome

called in to fit the occasion

appearing according to the fantasy

starring as a virgin or a professor, a sexstarved nun or a babywhore

materializing as a naughty teenager or an experienced adult

a man or a woman

sometimes simply a she-male

or a mermaid even a goat-person

you will smile to the bank

shop till you drop

…….and then

you will drop dead on the floor

coke in every drop of your blood

the tears of your fans a flood

your role model status in the mud

your wallet no longer the size of a hut

you will be in the news

bulletins carrying reports

of creditors on your case

reviewer of revenue on chase

you will pick up your pace

rise up from the claw of the grave

you will be back on track

on a raving come-back trail

soirees on the deck

a platinum selling record

a novel and a movie on your life

your chart-bursting song a soundtrack

groupies and parasites on your back

every jack will bid to be your manager

you will care no heck

fire and rehire

at the drop of a hat

fall in and out of love on the roll

a newly found love every jiffy

associates at every turn

you will have buddies in all corners

your fan base will take a climb

the nation will declare you a legend

you will be a brand of success

your name will be

a subject of patent rights

businessmen will slug it out

for a sole right to you

you will be at the centre

of copyright rows

many will live in your shadow

you will be a flower

with such a splendor

when the spell of shrink has come

it will not be easy to see

your colossal glamour will

obstruct discerning listeners & judicious audiences

to note a star on the wane

your astute eyes will not notice

when you have arrived

at the point where even you are

now living in your shadow

now and then a cynic will

see and point the signs but

experts will silence him

with one line of learned words

and connoisseurs will concur

vintage wine is eternal

you will be in the news

at government functions

having a chat with royalty

you will be heard at premier venues

mesmerizing the haves

you will be seen in Yeoville or e-point

catching a sniff with the tjaros

you will be at Gallagher Estate or ICC

receiving a SAMA

you will be seen in Dubai or Dublin

buying designer clothes

you will be spotted

in Mayfair forlorn and broke

in the arms of a boyfriend

alleged to be a motor mechanic

you will be seen houghton

chauffeured in a merc

with a girlfriend

reportedly a retired prostitute

a retrenched nurse according

to another version from

a reliable source, your confidante

you will be a riddle

battling straight answers

you will be a puzzle

shunning easy solutions

you will be a super star

your star shall forever be on the rise

you will be a living legend

your legend will not die

you will be a diva

your status will never take a dive

worshippers will build you a shrine

you will not be a straight portrait

neither a sketch of what is not straight

you will be a tornado

riding air & stirring fire-storms

in deep waters and off the hook

in and off the bottle

in & out of rehabilitation

forever in ventilation

in-between sobriety and inebriety

straddling bliss heights & dizzy concaves

……………and then

your story will become a déja-vu

you will bore the most ardent

of your groupies to slumber

with the monotony of your dramatics

your cheer-crowd will follow

the cameras in search of another spectacle

perhaps an old civil strife boiling

into a bloodbath or

simmering to ethnic-cleansing

it could be a celebrity turned politician

or a politician may turn into a celeb

a pariah might be a messiah

a messiah might become a rogue

it might be another young girl

catapult into limelight and media frenzy

by an unfortunate providence or doom

a shot at luck

a dreadful experience

or just a confluence

of time and circumstances

or media and capital

in cahoots with academia

aided by the nation’s

desperate need for heroes

might make a new drama queen

when you are out of the spotlight

with no cent in your name

you will return to your village

or hide yourself is some hovel

somewhere at the backroom

of a drug-lord-cum-land lord

or be lucky enough

to squat with an old friend

you will die an ordinary death

from pneumonia or some unknown disease

your death will be announced

in one fatal sentence

forgotten as soon

as the newsreader

jumps to other news

or you might as well be lucky

die in a brother in the arms

of a client happening to be

a CEO of an oil multinational company

death from overdose or

a suicide suspected as foul-play (zille’s chauffer involved

…..if you are that fortunate

to get a dramatic death

you will be back in circulation

your corpse be with us for sometime

there will be inquests and enquiries

autopsy and forensic what-what

a commission shall be set up

lawyers will fly from london

the parliament will discuss

possibilities of a state funeral

for quite a long time

the wars and famine

& suffering in the world shall be forgotten

the centre stage will be your again

obama and oprah

be at your funeral

osama too disguised

as a gay socialite from kimberley

speaking setswana and english

(both with Afrikaans accent)

there will be talks

of your home

turned into a monument

any book \ film\ cd\

whatever bearing

your name will sell

like snoek fish and koeksusters in rapetown

your manager will smile to the bank

the brother you never met will

emerge from nowhere

there will be legal battles

fights over your estates

every baby born

when you were eighteen will

declare you its mama

every man who lived in your time will

swear by nothing but the truth

you are\were his wife

married in community of property

at a private ceremony

you will be a cover-girl (again)

little girls will fancy being you

your body will be on the net

boys with brittle pricks will

visit your site for pleasure

you will be a super star

your star shall forever be on the rise

you will be a living legend

your legend will not die

you will be a diva

your status will never take a dive

worshippers will build you a shrine

just make sure your death is also controversial

(or your name will be footnote on the pages of textbooks \ if it’s lucky to be there)

Maredi Mello (Sowetan 11 September 2009) lambastes The Sowetan for using the name Mzansi while there is brand-name called South Africa currently being marketed through the proudly South African campaign. But The Sowetan is not alone in calling this country Mzansi. Our public broadcaster uses the name Mzansi in the motto of one of its stations. In several adverts punting the programs on its channels or celebrating main public events or announcing public and state campaigns\ events the public broadcaster uses the name Mzansi. We even have the Mzansi Awards.

Every time South Africans want to talk in an endearing way about their country they use the name Mzansi. This betrays a lack of attachment and passionate feelings towards the official name. Deep down in their hearts of hearts the government and people of this country know that it is not the indigenous people of this country or a democratic majority that named this country South Africa. They also know that South Africa is a geographic position and not a name.

A truly proud people make use of the platform of political freedom to redefine and name themselves and their country based on the historical-material experiences and their shared dreams. They do not just adopt a name inherited from the colonial masters. The unofficial reference to South Africa as Mzansi is perhaps a cry from below for a real debate and critical action on the renaming of the country. It is a call for the revaluation of our national symbols.

How many South Africans - including those in government - feel uneasy when singing the “Die Stem” part of the national anthem? I have attended several meetings of the structures affiliated to the ruling party and know for a fact that they do not recite the official version of “Die Stem” at their events

introduction

The work contained in this Big Bridge feature is by no means a wide representation of contemporary South African writing. It is rather a bringing together of some writers whose work I respond to, and there are of course many fine writers whose work is not here. It is therefore not a general “anthology of South African writing”. It is nevertheless hoped this selection will give readers an insight into the diversity of creative voices in South Africa; a diversity that is in part reflective of the multicultural nature of South African society.

The voices range from established names such as Kobus Moolman and Kelwyn Sole, to newer ones such as Neo Molefe Shameeyaa. There is the performance-orientated work of Richard Fox and Mphutlane wa Bofelo, and the socio-political voice of Vonani Bila. There are mavericks such as Aryan Kaganof and Goodenough Mashego, and the subjective lyricism of Alan Finlay and Mxolisi Nyezwa. There are also several women represented: Arja Salafranca, Haidee Kruger, Janet van Eeden, Megan Hall, Colleen Higgs, Makhosazana Xaba and Neo Molefe Shameeyaa.

The short fiction selection is only a handful of pieces, but again it is hoped they will indicate the diversity of short fiction writing in South Africa: from the poetic prose of Haidee Kruger and fantasy of Silke Heiss, to the playfulness of Liesl Jobson. There are the parables of Allan Kolski Horwitz and the exploration of relationships in the realistic work of Colleen Higgs and Arja Salafranca. Pravasan Pillay’s story is a sensitive study of early adolescence while Gary Cummiskey’s surreal horror story touches on issues central to a historically divided society: isolation, the Other, uncertainty and violence.

go to big bridge to read gary cummiskey’s selection of South African Poetry by

Gary Cummiskey

Kobus Moolman

Arja Salafranca

Haidee Kruger

Anton Krueger

Janet van Eeden

Mxolisi Nyezwa

Kelwyn Sole

Richard Fox

Alan Finlay

Megan Hall

Colleen Higgs

Aryan Kaganof

Mphutlane wa Bofelo

Vonani Bila

Goodenough Mashego

Makhosazana Xaba

Neo Molefe Shameeyaa

Allan Kolski Horwitz

Khulile Nxumalo

The Theme for August is Philosophy so put on your Philosophers hats and lets hear some great philosophy
You can also do your stuff in the Open Mic scession anything goes.

The Guest Poet is Mphutlane Wa Bofelo, who has just published an anthology titled “Bluesology & Bofelosophy”

Ample safe Parking available.

All Poets and Lovers of Poetry are welcomed.

No Entrance free.

Date:
Tuesday, August 4, 2009
Time:
5:30pm - 8:00pm
Location:
Point Yacht Club Ancorage Room.
Street:
Victoria Embankment

durban

by Mphutlane wa Bofelo

Nelson Rolihlahla Mandela is undeniably one of the most charismatic, suave and diplomatic statesmen that South Africa and the world ever had. His humility and down-to-earth temperament was once again expressed by his insistence on his 91st birthday that post-apartheid South Africa is the product of the collective struggle of all South Africans rather than the work of one man or one political party. This is in contrast to rigorous efforts to romanticize and deify Madiba even at the expense of falsification of history. This misrepresentation of history and events often is by omission and obfuscation. A clear example of this is attempts by the current leadership of the tripartite alliance and many in the media and academia to attribute all the failures of the ANC-led government to Thabo Mbeki without acknowledging that the so-called class of 96 project was actually a consolidation of the project initiated by Mandela in 1994 and even long before that. Very often the name of Nelson Mandela is evoked whenever former president Thabo Mbeki is projected as the guy that steered the ANC-led government away from whatever egalitarian precepts contained in the Freedom Charter and took South Africa down the path of unbridled capitalism.

The fact of the matter is that it is Nelson Mandela who first publicly recanted the Freedom Charter’s stance on the nationalization of the mines and mineral resources of the land. People without selective memory will recall that shortly after his release Nelson Mandela made a pro-nationalization statement, which elicited an outburst of anger and criticism from the captains of industry. The following day Mandela withdrew his statement and avowedly assured Big Business that nationalization was never and will never be part of ANC policy. It is under Nelson Mandela’s leadership that the ANC consented to the sun-set clause, the repayment of the apartheid debts and the guarantee of property rights. The sun-set clause effectively slowed the process of initiating demographic representative-ness within the army, civil service and other state\public institutions. The property clause effectively stood as a safety valve against the nationalization and socialization of strategic areas of the economy, and also ensured that the land redistribution project becomes locked to the failed willing-buyer, willing seller arrangement.

As Mandela himself made a public confession, the huge amounts of money that goes to servicing the apartheid debt constitutes one the major barriers to the capacity of the government to deliver services and address the inequities and imbalances of that exist in South Africa. It was under the reign of the same Mandela that the government vigorously pursued the structural adjustment programme of privatization and deregulation of state assets and public enterprises, relaxation of taxation on Big Capital, and relaxation of trade and tariff rates. Trying to please big capital with lower tax resulted in the poor having to fit the bill in the form of increased Pay as You Earn and increased Value Added Tax. Trade and tariff liberalization caused tremendous harm to the local industry and the workforce that become retrenched and unemployed as a result of companies being forced to down-size or windup. The textile, clothing and manufacturing companies are particularly squeezed by cheep proliferation of foreign material that are products of child labour and slavery wages and exploitative conditions in the sweatshops of Eastern countries. In the face of all this, Mandela asked the laborers to tighten the belt to help kick-start the skorokoro capitalist economy, with promises that the benefits of enhanced growth will slowly trickle down to the poor.

When it became clear that the trickle-down effect is just a mirage, civil society organizations and the labor movement increased protests against the Growth and Redistribution strategy. Instead of heeding to popular opinion Mandela used his charm and the veneration and respect that the people have for him to dismiss protestations against GEAR. Again, people without a short memory or deliberate amnesia will remember how Mandela went to a COSATU congress and tongue-in-cheek, rebuffed the concerns and demands of the people against his government’s neoliberal trajectory and told all and sundry that GEAR was the lock and key of ANC economic policy and was going nowhere. So, while Mbeki had to resort to bureaucratic centralism and intellectual chauvinism to repulse popular opinion and popular demands, Mandela had the luxury of the Madiba charm-an exaggerated sense of awe and reverence towards him which almost render him beyond reproach.

How many of us are willing to concede that the political deployment of party faithfuls to managerial positions in public enterprises and executive positions in the public sector, and the cronyism and nepotism that dogged the Thabo Mbeki government started in 1994 under the watchful eye of our beloved Madiba? How many of us are willing to recall that some of the incidents of police brutality against popular dissent as well as acts of intolerance towards dissenting views happened while Mandela was the leader of both the ANC and the government? How many of us would be brave enough to put the name of Mandela in the mix when speaking about ANC leaders who owe the public an account of the arms deal fiasco?

I listened with interest at a rally of the Congress of South African Trade Unions (COSATU) in Durban last year when Zwelinzima Vavi, Dr Blade Nzimande and others said though Mandela was the president when the government ignored the alarm raised by Eskom that there is a need for another electricity station, the blame for the electricity crisis should be put squarely on the shoulders of Thabo Mbeki who was the deputy president then. Vavi and his colleagues argued that at that time Thabo Mbeki was the de facto final voice within the presidency. Strange when it comes to the account of miracles that happened between 1994 and 1996, all the glory goes to the Madiba and when it comes to the bad decisions and anti-poor policies we are told that the real man at helm was TM. Our love for leaders, including Mandela-who really deserves the reverence we have for him-should not seduce us into jazzing up history.

Yes, Mandela is a great man of peace and tolerance, but he is also the architect of neoliberal, neo capitalist dispensation. The effable, amiable and peaceable Mandela who said the government was open to negotiation on the “boere staat” idea is the same person who annoyingly pointed a menacing finger at journalist who questioned his visit to hailing of Verwoed’s widow as “a wife of a hero” on his visit to racist Orania, accusing these journalists of undermining his government’s reconciliation endeavors, which many of us found to be one-sided. When TM started throwing the ultra-leftist and racist label on whoever differed with the ANC policies, he was only following in the footsteps of his predecessor.

How many of our independent analysts and academics or revolutionary poets and underground emcees will utter these unpalatable truths about dear Madiba? Does Madiba approve of this selective memory over his life and history? I want to believe that the Madiba who -despite my beef with him ideologically - I have come to appreciate and love as a great human being and a statesman par excellence would love to be remembered not as a god and perfect person but as an ordinary individual, with excellent personality and outstanding charisma and statesmanship, but human still, prone to error, capable of misjudgment on issues, and open to questioning. I therefore want to submit that the deification of Mandela is not the best way to pay homage to him, and selective memory on any of our leaders, Stephen Bantu Biko, Robert Mangaliso Sobukwe, Oliver Tambo, Winnie Madikizela Mandela, etc is not doing a service to their legacy and to the heritage of this great nation.

June 16 is a day that brings both painful and joyous memories to me as in the 80’s a whole lot of things happened as we dodged bullets and caspirs fighting to ensure that days like June 16, 21 March, 1 May and September 12 are not treated as ordinary days. I guess that is the reason why yesterday left me full of tears. Like many of my peers I joined the struggle against apartheid-capitalism at a very tender age. At the age of seventeen I was arrested and subjected to severe torture. I spent eighteen months in detention-without-trial after which I was given a one-year prison sentence for ‘possession of subversive material.’

Most of us came out of prison more determined to confront the system. We established organs of people’s power and made it impossible for the apartheid regime to continue with their business as usual. We dared to grasp the bull by its horns and established underground structures of Umkonto weSizwe(MK), Azanian National Liberation Army (AZANLA)and Azanian Peoples Liberation Army (APLA) under the watchful eyes of the system and its stooges and vigilantes. What kind of dream made us to do the kind of bold and brave - sometimes reckless things - we did when we knew the ultimate price could be death? We knew that the ultimate price was the freedom of our people, not death! You can never kill a free spirit. But when I look at the kind of conditions I saw yesterday I wonder why it is that former freedom fighters can sometimes be more vicious in attempts to abort freedom or even kill the spirit of freedom.

Yesterday I joined the Provincial Executive Committee(PEC) of the Socialist Party of Azania(SOPA) as they marked the national youth uprising of June 1976 with a visit to its members , supporters and the general residents of the squattercamp next to the refuse recycling dump near the Kenville Suburb in Durban. This the place were all the sewerage from Durban is emptied. This visit really left me in tears. The objective of the visit was to listen to the views and stories of the residents and share ideas with them on expediting the process of finding decent and habitable housing for them as well as ways ameliorating their conditions in the meantime. The chaiperson of SOPA in KwaZulu-Natal, Asha Moodley and General Secretary Patrick Mkhise told the residents that their aim with the visit was to highlight the plight of the multitudes of people who still find themselves landless and homeless after fifteen years of democracy.

Moodley also told the residents that they thought it prudent to hear from the residents what the situation is and also to be guided by them as to the possible action that can be taken to address their situation. She also emphasised that the party decided to visit after the election so that their fact-finding mission and discussion with the community should not be misconstrued as an electioneering and vote-catching ploy. The briefing that the PEC of the Socialist Party of Azania got from the residents was that their families have been squatting in the vicinity of Kenville for thirty years. In the 1990’s they were moved to the squatter camp near the refuse damp.

The major problem is that this specific place is not conducive for human settlement. Whenever it rains the whole area is flooded. The shacks are built with wooden and plastic material, and are so close to each other that when one shack catches fire the whole block of shacks is consumed by fire. The suffocating smell from the refuse dump exacerbates the health hazards in the area. The Ethekwini municipality has built eight communal toilets, four for women and four for men. These toilets are at the main road at the outskirts of the squatter camp, which makes it difficult for people living far to use the toilets. It also exposes residents, particularly children and women to crime at night. The communal taps are also located at the main road on the outskirts of the area. The residents get their electricity through illegal connections from the poles that deliver electricity to the formal houses in Kenville.

As a results of these illegal connections many children have been electrocuted to death. The residents listed unemployment and poverty as the major problems facing them and indicated there are no poverty alleviation programs by either government or NGO’s in the area. There is also no safe space and facilities for children to play. Other problems raised in the meeting was that political affiliations often is a stumbling block to the capacity of residents to speak in one voice in addressing their issues. The are three political parties with visible and active presence in the area, Inkatha Freedom Party, African National Congress and the Socialist Party of Azania. Often the government takes advantage of these divisions to throw a spanner in the works of any effort towards united action on the issue of housing. Betweeen 2005 and 2006, the Socialist Party of Azania had a series of protest marches where it submitted a petition on the housing demands of the residents to both the Provincial government and the eaThekwini municipality. There were also series of meetings between SOPA and the Ethekwini Municipality where the party tabled proposals on decent and habitable housing alternatives.

After endless meetings without meaningful decisions, the municipality representatives ultimately told SOPA that since it is a political party it must prove its worth by attaining seats in the local government where it can raise issues relating to housing or else it must shut its mouth. Last year the residents of the squatter camps around Kenville marched to raise their issues. It is alleged that at this meeting the local counselor of the area under which the squatter camp nearby the refuse dump falls told the meeting that there were no problems in his area. In view of this history, the June 16 consulatation mandated SOPA to explore possibilities of petitioning their local counselor as well as class action whereby the eThekwini municipality and the Provincial government is taken to court for attack on the rights of the residents of the Kenvile Squattercamp to housing,security and human dignity.

The meeting also agreed that residents across the political spectrum need to be consulted and that contact be made with the local development committee which was established by the Ethekwini municipality though some residents have reservation that the committee is mostly constituted by ANC members who just endorse whatever they are told by government officials. After the meeting the leadership of SOPA had a brief informal discussion with two members of the development committee.

The committee members informed SOPA that by October this year some households in this squatter camp will be relocated to the adjacent area where there are some spaces in between formal houses and shacks. They indicated that shack dwellerrs from other areas in the vicinity of Kenvile are also going to be relocated there. This means that only a small number of the shack dwellers at this specific squatter camp will actually be relocated. The said area is already dense and is still within the vicinity of the refuse dump , which means there really will not be much change in the wellbeing and quality of the lives of these residents. The resettling of people from a squalid dumping place to just lesser squalid conditions raise the question as to the significance of the change from the department of housing to the department of human settlement.

The positive interpretation will be that “human settlement” entails the provision of more than housing, and indicate that the houses will have adequate yards that provides for food gardening and other activities and should go along with social amenities and be within reasonable distance to places of employment, etc.

The negative interpretation will be that in the meantime that government cannot provide housing for all, it will re-settle people from inhabitable shack squatter camps to shack dwellings or concrete slabs (RDP pondokies” in “informal settlements with some modicum of development, but still lacking several essential amenities. The progress report (the two gentlemen were very delighted to use the term) provided by the gentlemen from the development committee seem to point in the direction of the latter definition. (one hopes that Kenvile scenario is an exception, and only time will tell). Essentially “the progress report” by the two committee members indicated no tangible progress. This means that SOPA in collaboration with other civil society organizations and progressive institutions should still consider the class action and other ways of forcing government to provide decent, habitable housing with proper yards and social amenities.

How possible is it that we have arrived at the point where people take a people’s government to court for such basic things as water and housing, which the constitution fully enshrines? Just recently a South African court ruled in favor of the people for their right to water. Guess who took the people to the appeal court to try and overturn the decision of a judge who is probably inherited from apartheid era? the appeal court ruled in favor of the people. guess who is thinking of appealing the decision through the constitutional court? who stood against the decision of the victims of the apartheid-capitalism to take the big corporates that benefited from this system to the international court. who? who killed biko and hani and solomon mahlangu and hector peterson and muntu ka myeza and masabata lwate and many others. the boers and their vigilantes only killed the flesh. the spirit of mahlangu\biko\hani\peterson\lwate is being killed here and now by us. the boers failed to kill biko and hani. we are succeeding where apartheid-capitalism failed.

we kill the spirit of tambo and biko everyday. we hate each other. we kill each other. we rape our children . we burn our grandmothers. we love beautiful things for ourselves but ask our brothers and sisters to endure conditions such as kenville squater camp. for them rome will be built in zilion years, for us it takes only one day in office as a ceo , counsellor, director, busines big shot to relocate from zamdela to vaalpark and from mofolo to houghton.

Who killed Biko? Botha? No, Botha did not, could not kill Biko. Malan could not. Only we could. Only we can. NONE BUT OURSELVES ARE THE EMEMY. To kill the enemy we really have to kill the enemy within. Who said BC is no longer relevant? Wake up Black people and all justice loving Whites and peoples of the world. Black Consciousness instill in us the love for ourselves so that we can radiate that love to embrace all human beings with love. we are still far from this dream of biko, africa giving the greatest gift to humanity: A more human face. This is only possible if we love ourselves. An african proverb say, “do not accept a gift of a suit from a naked person.”

How can a person who does not love himself and his people lie to you and say he loves you. how can you have a sense of self-respect and dignity when you live in opulence but your brothers and sisters, fathers and uncles, neighbours and relatives live in squalor. pity how it seems we joined the struggle to be rich materially but poor in spirit! ilitye lika Biko li nxonxozile lizovulwa ngubani? vuka ntsundu. tsoha guerilla, steve biko o batla masole. o robaletseng.

AZANIA KE YA RONA.THE STRUGGLE CONTINUES. THE STRUGGLE IS ETERNAL

….missiles launch food rockets drop aid arms buy oil gates open cans worms eat files dustbins swallow history books redo nations spin doctors remake concepts words redefine things fishes fly birds swim blood rivers spread freedom hounds walk tall scavengers dance tigers weep devil cry foul market iron fist crush trees ants hills savanna grasshopper butternut flower skyscrapers towers life people fair game shit fly high dreamers live dangerous break glass houses fire tales talk buddy wire chicken tomato words action buzz vibe play fiddle antics gimmicks chase shadows eyes shut body cold ears deaf fairy tales market squeeze labour soul dance monkey jive big daddy capital rape public life money talks clown-poets poet-clowns mumbo-jive cheerleaders rave groupies strip…..

who needs loaded guns when one word can shoot in different directions and at more than one object in one moment, and convey a myriad and variety of messages, meanings, concepts and images at once? when you say “tank”; a poor man in the remotest corner of a far-flung area somewhere in impoverished and poverty stricken limpopo province in the south africa of ‘two societies’ will be thinking of water provision, while the man in houghton will be counting money to fill his tank with gasoline and somewhere in the world people will be running for cover as tanks devour homes and graves, and women and children become collateral damage.

when you mention “water”, queen moroka will be craving for the tongue-bath of the century in the arms of a gorgeous hunk made in the image of rich forrestor, the SAB will be thinking of brewing zillions of gallons of beer flavored by black labor, and of rushing to the courts in a frantic effort to put ‘the black labour: white guilt’ t-shirts off the shelves in clothing stores, g-o-d seekers will be rushing to a baptismal, the euro-eco-sex tourists will be wanting nothing more than tanning on hot durban beach sand, pining for some exotic “jungle fever moment”, but the old auntie in mahlathini village in braemar south coast of kwazulu-natal will be traveling twenty kilometers to a public tap or climbing the hill to a well nearby and hoping for the day when “a better life all” means a running tap in her house.

as much as life is multi-faceted, words are multi-dimensional and carry the capacity to articulate poly-vocal sounds and multiple meanings. but who decides literal and literary, categorical and allegoric attributes of words; and who determines the socio-religio-cultural, politico-economic undertones of words? is it the letter and spirit of the text and its context and the writer\ speaker and the reader\ listener? do words and things have ever-ready, fixed and rigid meanings or do readers\ listeners attach their own meanings to words and things, applying their own conceptual frame of reference and world-view that is informed by their sub-conscious and unconscious or subjective and objective experiences and realities?

do words impose their own meaning on the listener and the reader , does the writer load words with his or her own meaning and comprehension of things and impose this meaning and comprehension to the reader or does the reader make up his or her own meaning of the words, based on his or her own comprehension of things?

is the meaning of the text depended on the context or does the text breathe its own life into the context? or is the meaning negotiated between the author, the reader, the text and the context?

words can build barriers and blockades and barricades and still words can destroy the barriers and clear the blockades and remove the barricades and build bridges and transcend the boundaries of time and place and move beyond geopolitical, socio-religio-cultural and politico-ideological mindscapes and landscapes. words ferment war and conflict; and words build peace and reconciliation. freedom begins with words crying for freedom and oppression begins with words justifying it. words define things but is the meaning of words or the definition of the things captured in words static or does it depends on who or what is the signified and who or what is the signifier at that point in time and place and what characterizes the particular time and space in that particular epoch?

in everyday speak words are not as complicated as they are in the realm of politics and literature. when we express ourselves on various issues in our everyday life in informal and spontaneous discussions, we do so freely, without any difficulty. we do so without paying attention to any rule or regulation of grammar or convention of literature, and without any deliberate or conscious attempt to subject what we say to some yardstick of cultural relevance or religious, political correctness…without any effort to be stylish, clinical, technical, philosophical, “deep”, “cool”, whatever.
but the minute we set out to consciously write down our ideas and feelings and thoughts and dreams and nightmares and hopes and fears and whims and fantasies and visions and imaginations, we find difficulty in expressing ourselves freely. and the moment expressing ourselves becomes a difficult thing to do, is the moment we become dishonest with ourselves and begin to jazz-up our thoughts and feelings to avoid rattling ourselves and others out of the comfort zones.

if writing is expression, then i want to write without caring about rules and regulations and customs and traditions and the do’s and don’ts from the chiefs and priests of high life\ high art\ high culture. if writing is expression, just be you and say what you feel\ dream\ visualize\ prophesy\ imagine. image yourself, your thoughts and your world. but that is not enough. writing is also about exploration …the courage to traverse hitherto not traveled paths, walk where angels fear to tread, and piss on demons’ sacred places.
it is a continuous struggle to explore alternative ways of conceptualizing reality and of seeing the world and understanding things or using words. the writer always looks for other possibilities, other explanations, other comprehensions, alternative routes\ paths\ visions.

the writer cannot be contained in the limits of time and space and cannot be a slave to practice\ convention, habit, custom, traditions and belief systems. that is not to say a writer cannot uphold an ideology or a belief system. it is to say that the writer should not be jailed by his \ her own rhetoric. but he should at all times be prepared to explore the other side of an issue. to always bear in mind the multi-faceted and multi-dimensional nature of life and human experience. to always remember to remember that life is not a one-eyed or cock-eyed creature.
a writer cannot afford to look with two or three, let alone to look with only one eye. a writer should at all times have more than two eyes and more than two ears. never close the doors and windows of reasoning, interpretation, and intellectual exertion, and learning, seeking and searching and researching. writing is more than writing.

….missiles launch food rockets drop aid arms buy oil gates open cans worms eat files dustbins swallow history books redo nations spin doctors remake concepts words redefine things fishes fly birds swim blood rivers spread freedom hounds walk tall scavengers dance tigers weep devil cry foul market iron fist crush trees ants hills savanna grasshopper butternut flower skyscrapers towers life people fair game shit fly high dreamers live dangerous break glass houses fire tales talk buddy wire chicken tomato words action buzz vibe play fiddle antics gimmicks chase shadows eyes shut body cold ears deaf fairy tales market squeeze labour soul dance monkey jive big daddy capital rape public life money talks clown-poets poet-clowns mumbo-jive cheerleaders rave groupies strip…..

who needs loaded guns when one word can shoot in different directions and at more than one object in one moment, and convey a myriad and variety of messages, meanings, concepts and images at once? when you say “tank”; a poor man in the remotest corner of a far-flung area somewhere in impoverished and poverty stricken limpopo province in the south africa of ‘two societies’ will be thinking of water provision, while the man in houghton will be counting money to fill his tank with gasoline and somewhere in the world people will be running for cover as tanks devour homes and graves, and women and children become collateral damage.

when you mention “water”, queen moroka will be craving for the tongue-bath of the century in the arms of a gorgeous hunk made in the image of rich forrestor, the SAB will be thinking of brewing zillions of gallons of beer flavored by black labor, and of rushing to the courts in a frantic effort to put ‘the black labour: white guilt’ t-shirts off the shelves in clothing stores, g-o-d seekers will be rushing to a baptismal, the euro-eco-sex tourists will be wanting nothing more than tanning on hot durban beach sand, pining for some exotic “jungle fever moment”, but the old auntie in mahlathini village in braemar south coast of kwazulu-natal will be traveling twenty kilometers to a public tap or climbing the hill to a well nearby and hoping for the day when “a better life all” means a running tap in her house.

as much as life is multi-faceted, words are multi-dimensional and carry the capacity to articulate poly-vocal sounds and multiple meanings. but who decides literal and literary, categorical and allegoric attributes of words; and who determines the socio-religio-cultural, politico-economic undertones of words? is it the letter and spirit of the text and its context and the writer\ speaker and the reader\ listener? do words and things have ever-ready, fixed and rigid meanings or do readers\ listeners attach their own meanings to words and things, applying their own conceptual frame of reference and world-view that is informed by their sub-conscious and unconscious or subjective and objective experiences and realities?

do words impose their own meaning on the listener and the reader , does the writer load words with his or her own meaning and comprehension of things and impose this meaning and comprehension to the reader or does the reader make up his or her own meaning of the words, based on his or her own comprehension of things?

is the meaning of the text depended on the context or does the text breathe its own life into the context? or is the meaning negotiated between the author, the reader, the text and the context?

words can build barriers and blockades and barricades and still words can destroy the barriers and clear the blockades and remove the barricades and build bridges and transcend the boundaries of time and place and move beyond geopolitical, socio-religio-cultural and politico-ideological mindscapes and landscapes. words ferment war and conflict; and words build peace and reconciliation. freedom begins with words crying for freedom and oppression begins with words justifying it. words define things but is the meaning of words or the definition of the things captured in words static or does it depends on who or what is the signified and who or what is the signifier at that point in time and place and what characterizes the particular time and space in that particular epoch?

in everyday speak words are not as complicated as they are in the realm of politics and literature. when we express ourselves on various issues in our everyday life in informal and spontaneous discussions, we do so freely, without any difficulty. we do so without paying attention to any rule or regulation of grammar or convention of literature, and without any deliberate or conscious attempt to subject what we say to some yardstick of cultural relevance or religious, political correctness…without any effort to be stylish, clinical, technical, philosophical, “deep”, “cool”, whatever.
but the minute we set out to consciously write down our ideas and feelings and thoughts and dreams and nightmares and hopes and fears and whims and fantasies and visions and imaginations, we find difficulty in expressing ourselves freely. and the moment expressing ourselves becomes a difficult thing to do, is the moment we become dishonest with ourselves and begin to jazz-up our thoughts and feelings to avoid rattling ourselves and others out of the comfort zones.

if writing is expression, then i want to write without caring about rules and regulations and customs and traditions and the do’s and don’ts from the chiefs and priests of high life\ high art\ high culture. if writing is expression, just be you and say what you feel\ dream\ visualize\ prophesy\ imagine. image yourself, your thoughts and your world. but that is not enough. writing is also about exploration …the courage to traverse hitherto not traveled paths, walk where angels fear to tread, and piss on demons’ sacred places.
it is a continuous struggle to explore alternative ways of conceptualizing reality and of seeing the world and understanding things or using words. the writer always looks for other possibilities, other explanations, other comprehensions, alternative routes\ paths\ visions.

the writer cannot be contained in the limits of time and space and cannot be a slave to practice\ convention, habit, custom, traditions and belief systems. that is not to say a writer cannot uphold an ideology or a belief system. it is to say that the writer should not be jailed by his \ her own rhetoric. but he should at all times be prepared to explore the other side of an issue. to always bear in mind the multi-faceted and multi-dimensional nature of life and human experience. to always remember to remember that life is not a one-eyed or cock-eyed creature.

a writer cannot afford to look with two or three, let alone to look with only one eye. a writer should at all times have more than two eyes and more than two ears. never close the doors and windows of reasoning, interpretation, and intellectual exertion, and learning, seeking and searching and researching. writing is more than writing.

i said it.

If now is not later
“I will be with you now” is
A promise already broken

Just a minute is just a talk
If not a blue lie

There is more than
Just sixty seconds in a minute

“Only five minutes”
In real life is an eternity

If a day does not have infinite hours
Today is futile as a deadline
Tomorrow is of no use as a milestone
In a moment is an indefinite timeframe

Me I vote for a glass
Of beer, even a pint of malt
At least a drop of whisky
Can wet my dry throat
At the end of the day
Politicians never spell out
The “when” that grounds their “shall”
They only mention the “if’
Behind their “will”
After the outcome of the polls
When the stunned constituency
Face the Satan in the detail

When the incidents of cholera in Zimbabwe were first reported, the government in that country went on a denialism trip. It insisted that the disease was not anywhere nearer to reaching epidemic proportions and that there is no humanitarian crisis in the country. This response was an effort to dismiss the view that the outbreak of cholera was a consequence of social policy failures and a result of the general fall down of the Zimbabwean economy. This obfuscation and obscuration of social reality by neglecting the systemic and structural factors behind problems is typical of the responses of the political establishment to crisis situations. Very often the easiest escape route is to blame it all on the ignorance and negligence of the poor or to find some scapegoat.

The reaction of the South African government to the incidences and rapid spread of cholera in Limpopo in particular is equally characterized by vociferous efforts to deny that the rising proportions of cholera incidents are indicative of gaps and failures in the health system and the inability of current social policy to address the demand and supply-side factors that militates against access to information, sanitation and health services to the most poor. In its vintage style, the governments has chosen to ignore the structural conditions that provide fertile ground for disease and opted for the convenient way of blaming the outbreak of disease solely to ignorance and negligence by the poor.

The message we are bombarded with from radio, television and government newsletters is that all we need to is to wash our hands before we eat and boil drinking water and cholera and other diseases will be a thing of the past. While cleanness and neatness, personal hygiene and individual choices comprise critical health factors, harping only on these at the exclusion of addressing socio-economic conditions and structural issues is tantamount scratching the wound instead of addressing the primary problem. The fact of the matter is that there is an escalation in the prices of goods, including electricity, paraffin, and coals. A significant number of people still have no access to electricity, owns no stoves and still have to walk thousands of kilometers to hew wood and gather cow dung for fire. It is therefore unlikely that the rural and urban poor will have the luxury of having their stoves, primer stoves on all the time. Given these realities, the poors are more likely to put their stoves on or light their braziers once or twice a day when they cook meals.

This simply means that even if the rural and urban poor know that boiling drinking water will help to avert cholera and other waterborne diseases, their socio-economic situation is such that they simply cannot afford to boil water every time they have to drink it. In any case, having burning braziers and coal-stoves on all throughout the day will also mean the poors will inhale flames and polluted air every minute of their lives. It is therefore critical to acknowledge the social policy and economic path based on commercializing and commodifying basic services such as water and electricity and an urban-centred developmental trajectory are central to the spread of disease. The long and short of it is that we cannot address health issues appropriately without moving towards pro-poor social policy and insisting on an economic growth path focused on improving the income, livelihood, and capability of the most poor and indigent, particularly the rural poor and the urban proletariat.

(Eminent South African writer and poet, Shabbir Banoobhai recently launched his book, A Mountain is an upside-down Valley, at the National Women’s Conference of the Gender Desk of the Muslim Youth Movement of South Africa in Durban. Below is the keynote speech delivered by poet, essayist and sociopolitical critic and activist, Mphutlane wa Bofelo at the launch)

Like most of Shabbir Banoobhai’s recent works, A mountain is an upside down valley consists of prose and poetry that is reflective in nature, betraying an intensive process of pondering, meditating, and an inquisitive raising of troubling questions about the nature and essence of things visible and invisible to human eyes. It investigates the essential meanings of concepts and values such as love, compassion, justice and knowing God. While the very act of engaging in serious and critical reflections on the nature and meaning of life and existence is a bold exercise , it is much a bolder act to actually share with the rest of humanity one’s deeper feelings, emotions, thoughts, and imaginations.

The very act of Shabeer Banoobhai opening up not only to his immediate family but also to the rest of the world, selflessly sharing with all humanity his inner feelings, thoughts and reflections, is an expression of love and faith in humanity. This is indeed an act of subduing the self to the one and only real purpose of our being on earth…..knowing the Ultimate Truth. Through deep and serious reflection, Shabeer Banoobhai seem to have arrived at the point where all that he sees in Humanbeings and all creatures and the rest of creation is but reflections of the light of God. Even in the darker and darkest side of humanity and other creatures Banoobhai sees a flicker of the primordial and transcendental light.

Why is this possible? The answer to this is I find in the assertion of Sheikh Muzaffar of the Helveti tariqa that the purpose of remembrance of the creator (Zikr) is to open the eyes of the heart, to make us graduate from seeing with the eyes of the head to seeing with the eyes of the heart. Sheikh Muzaffar says: “If you can see through your heart you will know all men, all things, you will see like a telescope with wide lens. If you see only with the eyes of the head you are not different from an animal. An animal has a head, eyes, nose, muscle, skin, ears; you are alike, except that you can see through your heart’s eyes. When you see with your heart’s eyes, all space opens for you”

This collection of prose and poetry makes me want to believe that it is complete devotion to immersing the self in remembrance of the creator and an unflinching quest for His or Her face that allows Shabir Banoobhai to see a valley in a mountain and to behold veiled light in darkness. What runs like a thread in this book, and indeed in all Banoobhai’s work, is that looking within allows us to discover the buried treasures within us and therefore be able to live in a moment but see beyond the moment, so that we are not tempted or deluded by the life of living for the moment. A mountain is an upside-down valley shows us that seeing beyond form, tasting the essence of life, being in touch with the reality beyond the moment, is possible only when we grasp the reality that everything is invisible and that it is only through awareness that everything becomes visible.

Real awareness is moving beyond the knowledge and sight of something to being in something and ultimately to becoming something. In A Mountain is an upside-down valley and other works of Shabbir that something is love. And for Shabbir God is love and love is Godly. Loving is seeing God. Knowing God is being in love. Being in love is being in God. It is not enough to know about love\God. Real knowledge is seeing the love of God in everything, being overwhelmed and consumed by that love, being in that love and ultimately becoming the love. (Remember we said God is love.)

If you read A mountain is an upside down valley, seriously, with the eyes of the heart, you will see that, like most of Banoobhai’s work, it is all about love.

It is a reflection of a person who has arrived at a point where the only thing in his eyes, mind, ears and heart is love and has therefore surrendered his whole being to love, therefore becoming a living expression of that love himself by living for nothing but to be a loving person. When I read A mountain is an upside down valley, I cannot but think that love is the only thing on the lips of the poet so much that even when he want to say such simple things as you and me , Shabbir ends up saying love. I just want to end these thoughts and reflections on Banoobhai’s work with a poem of mine inspired by the writings and thoughts of Banoobhai and Rumi:

This love

It seems to me

Even when he wanted

To say such holy

Things as light

Or utter mundane

Stuff like candle

All Rumi could say is

Shams of Tabrizi

Simply because all

He could see

In the man freed of ego is

Love trapped in nothing but itself.

In my humble effort

To verbalize this searing affection

Words and imagery fail my heart

For I still visualize objects other than your face

& mention something other than your name

Many lovers take

Their vows of love

On the love only

For the sake of love

Declared for the man in rags

In every word and deed

Even in just a blink

Of the Mehvlana’s eye

The whole world is

In wonderment

At how just a sigh

Of the beloved can

Ring a serenading

Melody in the discerning

Ears of the lover

As for me my love

It is the yearning

Of my soul for my ears

To be tuned to your heart

To the point where

In each of your move & heartbeat

Even in your gasp for air

And your very last breath

I can hear a love song

Already I have failed the test

Just by calling a word and object

Other than your precious name

When the yearning of my heart is

Only your face in my eyes

poet, essayist, socio-political critic and activist Mphutlane wa Bofelo recently launched his book of poems, stories and essays, Bluesology and Bofelosophy, Jihad Mokubung had an intimate conversation with this prolific writer and unflinching humanist.

Let’s start with the title of your new book, Bluesology and Bofelosophy.

As the colour of the ocean blue means deep thoughts, as a template of dark clouds it means depressed, lonely, melancholic, but blue is also the colour of the sky, meaning blue is also freedom & peace; space & tranquillity… Bluesology is simply the coming together of all shades of blue. It is an articulation of all moments of being, the weaving together of all human experiences- individual and social, tragic and comical, ecstatic and pathetic, optimistic and pessimistic. The essays and reviews section of the book is referred to as Bofelosophy because opinion pieces by their virtue articulate a writer’s philosophical and ideological convictions and theoretical affinities. In my case these influences are Sufi teachings, Black Consciousness, and Radical Humanism. I also tap a lot into surrealism and Marxist literary theories, particularly George Lukacs theorizations in “Realism in the Balance” where he expounds on the dialectical relation between the “appearance” of events as subjective, unfettered experiences and their “essence”, and argues that good realist can create a contrast between the consciousnesses of their characters (appearance) and a reality independent of them (essence) by employing abstraction to penetrate the laws governing objective reality, and to uncover the deeper, hidden, mediated, not immediately perceptible of relationships that go to make up society.” I am specifically persuaded by Lukács ideas on the need and the ability of art to confront an objective reality that exists in the world.

Tell us about your love for writing.

A catalyst for my love for writing and poetry performance was my love for reading. I believe that reading is an act of reflection, which heightens one’s appreciation of writing, which is an act of self-expression. Reading and writing, meditation and self-expression are intertwined. If you spend more time on reading you are likely to sharpen your writing abilities. If you spend sufficient time engaged in acts of pondering, reflection & meditation you are more likely to mature as far as self-expression is concerned. I see writing as an act of dialogue and engagement with the self and the natural, socio-economic, political, cultural surroundings. Poetry is the use of imagery to probe for intrinsic and essential attributes of things seen and unseen, and is therefore a window to the soul of the individual and his or her people, community and society. But the true poet is not trapped in himself or herself or in his\her community nor is he or she confined to the immediate environment. S\he reaches to the entire world and is part of all peoples of the world by virtue of his\her realization of the inter-connectivity of human experience and the universality of the resilience of the human spirit.

Through intuitive, innate knowledge and the use of imagination the writer and artist can transcend time and space and interact with the material and esoteric realms beyond his or her physical reach. In short the writer sees with more than the naked eye and listens also with the heart instead of just the ears.

Do you have a spiritual discipline, and how does this influence your writing and social activism?

I believe the highest level of spirituality is wrapping one’s self in the foremost attributes of the creator- love, compassion and justice. Being loving and compassionate; sharing my life with others and giving my time to all just causes. To keep myself in balance I try my level best to keep to daily prayer and meditation, daily reading and regular jogging. Listening to good music and attending poetry circles, arts exhibitions and motivational and educational gatherings is also helpful. Through the writings of Rumi and other Sufi writers I fell in love with expressions of Islam that eliminate all barriers and intermediaries between human beings and the creator. According to the Sufis the sheikh becomes not a barrier or an intermediary, but rather plays the part of a facilitator and guide who selflessly shares with the students the wisdom, knowledge, information, skills, techniques and discipline required for one to negotiate his or her way up the mountain or river. A great deal of this entails the knowledge, control and conquering of the self and liquidation of the ego, which enables one to rise above the dictates of the natural, psycho-social, politico-economic and cultural environment. In Islam the essence of the Most High is love and the first step in the journey of the love of The Supreme One is to see beauty in all creations, to behold the work, glory and Grace of the creator in all beings, and to embrace all beings with love. In one of his saying the prophet (Peace Be Upon Him) is reported to have declared something to this effect “Allah will say to his servant, “I was hungry but you did not feed me, I was naked and you did not clothe me” And the servant will say, Glory be to thee, you are beyond all material needs, how can you be hungry or naked?” And Allah will reply “a servant of mine was hungry and you did not feed him, a servant of mine was naked and you did not clothe him” In another tradition the prophet (PBUH) is reported to have asked the Almighty to make him die among the poor and to be raised among the poor, as he was born among the poor. These traditions stresses the fact that service to humanity and standing for justice and freedom and taking the side of the poor is an act of journeying towards Allah. My focus is more on advocacy and education & training on against racism, sexism & classism, and on peace-building and social justice, youth development and personal development & organizational development. I find Spoken Word Theatre and Creative Education to be powerful tools and mediums in this regard.

How do you approach writing?

For me, there is no particular blue print on how to write. Different thoughts, ideas, feelings, moments and scenes give birth to different ways and forms of artistic expressions, and every piece of work has its own life, and can also evolve and change with time and circumstance. What I have in my head or on a piece of paper can gain a different form once I am on stage.

What do you consider as the most critical challenges to you as a writer and an activist; and how do you think you can overcome them?
As an artist and an activist it is critical that I be loyal to my beliefs and values without being a purist, try as much as possible to locate and contextualize my work within the time and place I find myself in without imprisoning my work and myself to the constrains of time and place. Like all artists and activists I have the challenge to keep and sustain the energy and passion for writing and social activism and pay as much attention to providing love, care, and sustenance to my family and next-of-kin. I have to guard against capital throttling my creative and imaginative voice and still be able to make the word to put bread on the table. This demands that one be always in a vigilant and positive state of mind, always exerting one’s mind and rising above circumstances to yield to the voice within. The overall challenge that writers in Azania (South Africa) face today is that there is a low culture of reading coupled with low levels of literacy as well as the general level of apathy and materialistic and individualistic tendencies propped up by global capitalism. Government funding for worthy literary and arts programmes is wanting. You have to be a pop star to attract government and corporate funding. The challenge for a literary, cultural and socio-political activist like yours truly who is jealous of his independence and the freedom to think is to be self-reliant. I think the way of simplicity makes it easier for one to be free from being co-opted or corrupted by capital and other worldly gains. Living a simple life provides better chances for inner peace. If you live a simple life, you are free from the lures of wealth, power, fame, and celebrity status. The only power and wealth you are interested in is the one that is in the hands of the people as a collective. For me, the choice for humanity today is still crystal clear; egalitarianism or barbarism.

Are you not holding on to an ideology that has passed its time, with this talk of an egalitarian society at the time when the dominant view in society is that socialism is dead?

My commitment is not to dogmas and dictums, institutions and rigid ideological formulas or grand master-plans, but to the ideals of egalitarianism; to the belief in the equality, dignity and worth of all human beings….to the values and ethics of sharing, caring, compassion and collective and cooperative rather than individualistic and competitive living. A child cannot die without being born. Socialism is not dead. In several of the countries that went by the label “socialist”, socialism was actually aborted or miscarried as a result of tyrannical, extremist, puritanistic, utopian, elitist and revisionist tendencies. What we need is democracy and socialism- actually I prefer to use the term egalitarianism- from below.

But do your strong ideological convictions not constrain your creative and literary works?

Like I said, I have strong affinities to the values and ethics underpinning the quest for an egalitarian society but am not rigid as far as the structures, the platforms, mediums, apparatuses and processes are concerned. The context and the dynamics must always inform us. As far as an analysis of how society is or should be organized there is no grandmaster-plan.

There is no road-map, compass and time-table. That’s why I have begun to participate less and less in party politics and more and more in community platforms and grassroots-based struggles. I prefer broad, united front platform rather than narrow sectarian podiums. But off course, I am not a neutral. Whenever I have to choose between labour-demands and the welfare and well being of society and the environment on one side, and the interests of capital, the concerns of the elite and the dictates of the market on the other, my leanings will always be to the former. This means that if there is a party that espouses an egalitarian society I will be more inclined towards participating in its structures and programmes… as long as I keep my freedom and right to think independently and critically, and to act in accordance with my conscience. An artist and social activist, may or may not belong to a political party, but a artist and social activist should not, and must never be a party hack, blind loyalist and parrot-like propagandist….Otherwise who will be society’s watchdog?

(Jihad Mokubung is a hip hop scholar and cultural activist. This article first appeared in kush.co.za)

It seems to me
Even when he wanted
To say such holy
Things as light
Or utter mundane
Stuff like candle
All Rumi could say is
Shams of Tabrizi
Simply because all
He could see
In the man freed of ego is
Love trapped in nothing but itself.
In my humble effort
To verbalize this searing affection
Words and imagery fail my heart
For I still visualize objects other than your face
& mention something other than your name

Many lovers take
Their vows of love
On the love only
For the sake of love
Declared for the man in rags
In every word and deed
Even in just a blink
Of the Mehvlana’s eye…………..
Everyone cannot but be
In wonderment
At how just a sigh
Of the beloved can
Ring a serenading
Melody in the discerning
Ears of the lover
Even me my love
It is the yearning
Of my soul for my ears
To be tuned to your heart
To the point where
In each of your move & heartbeat
Even in your gasp for air
And your very last breath
I can hear a love song
Already I have failed the test
Just by calling a word and object
Other than your precious name
When the yearning of my heart is
Only your face in my eyes

Around the candle

Mosquito dances in trance

Drunk by the wine of light

She twirls herself to ashes

Yearning for nothing

But to melt in the blaze

For any being to consume the light

It must be consumed by the flames

This infatuated craving

To kiss the hand and be enchanted

By the face of the master

The obsessive watch of the sheikh’s steps

This turning and turning will continue

Till the eyes get blind

To the face lovers see

Everywhere they turn

The beauty of dawn

And the glory of the morning star

I see only at dawn-break

The splendor of the setting-sun

I look for only in the west

The grandeur of the birth

Of the new moon I seek for in Ramadaan

But everywhere the lover looks

At anytime of the day & every place in the world

The beloved is there

06\01\09

There is a great likelihood that the newly formed Congress of the People (COPE) will be in control of the local government in my hometown of Zamdela in Sasolburg in the Vaal Triangle area after the national general elections of 2009. On my recent visit to Zamdela I found out that almost every prominent leader of the tripartite alliance that I have known in the area- from the turbulent 80”s to the euphoric post-1990 era of the prominence of the exiles-is either an overt or covert leader, member or sympathizer of COPE. Even some dyed -in -the wool SACP members and die-hard socialists –including my former comrades in the Black Consciousness Movement- are actively campaigning for Congress of the People in the area. In taxis and in the streets, at shops and at funerals and wedding ceremonies in Zamdela and the surrounding areas there is hardly a conversations that ends without the name of COPE being mentioned. A friend of mine who attended the launch of COPE and is in the middle of the mobilization project insists that the whole Free State will be governed by COPE come next year. It seems his optimism about the performance of COPE in next year’s elections is shared by people in other parts of South Africa. In a bus, on my way back to eThekwini, I overheard a young man talking to a friend on the mobile phone. Speaking in Sepedi, he invited his friend to join COPE “We will be the government there next year. Come on board, we want to give you a position in the municipality.”

Speaking to people on the streets of Zamdela, I discovered that frustration and disappointment with the lethargic, almost non-existent delivery of services is the main reason for the popularity of COPE in the area. None of the people I spoke with cited ideological or policy issues as their reason for jumping out of the tripartite Alliance into COPE. The majority of people I talked to said they have simply given up on the ability and willingness of ANC councillors to improve the pace and quality of the delivery of services. Amongst those disgruntled with the ANC-run local government are members of the eight hundred households in Chris Hani Park-including my own family-who still live in shacks in almost two decades of ANC rule. Chris Hani Park emerged as an informal settlement\squatter camp in 1990 after the ANC-aligned Zamdela Progressive Civic Organization encouraged residents to illegally occupy the area in a bid to upstage the AZAPO-dominated Zamdela Civic Association which was involved in negotiation with the municipality for the area to be a legal residential zone. Both civic formations are now defunct and the rest of the residents of Chris Hani now live in “RDP houses.”

Squatter settlements that emerged after Chris Hani have all been done away with, as the local government has successfully resettled residents and has built RDP houses for them in new settlements. At the moment there are plans to build RDP houses as of early next year at Amelia, the new settlement in which people still leave in shacks. But there seem to be no hope for the eight hundred families of Chris Hani who are still in shacks. Residents say concerted efforts to get a clear explanation as to why these families are still in shacks and when are houses going to be built for them have only yielded vague utterances and a empty promises from the local government and their ward counsellor. People in my ward told me that the main reason why they are neglected is that they have a useless, erratic counsellor. Now, these residents and others in Zamdela pin their hope on a COPE government.

But here lies the problem: the same councillor whom residents have lost hope in, has jumped on the ship of the same COPE that they believe is their only hope for a real better life for all. There is almost certainty within the circles of COPE that this man will be retained as a councillor in our ward, or may even get a mayoral post or some big position. The situation is the same in most wards and other townships. The very people under whose leadership and administration the residents were faced with lack of service delivery have joined COPE and are likely to be in the hot seats next year. This includes disgruntled former councillors who were laid off by the African National Congress and those who are still in council or are in administrative positions. Simply put, we have a tragic situation were the masses of our people who have joined COPE hoping to escape the poverty trap in which they are confined due to incompetent, unscrupulous, self-enriching leadership and inefficient civil servants, will wake in 2009 to find the same people being in control of their fate. For instance, the provincial organiser of COPE is our former mayor. Under this gentleman’s tenure in office many families had to spend years relying on the generosity of their neighbours for water because of the religious way he executed the ANC’s cost-recovery policy, turning off the taps in many households. I have first experience of this because my family has been on the receiving end several times.

The practical reality is that many families would like to pay for water and other services but simply cannot afford to. The majority of us are unemployed or part of the large army of the under-employed, struggling to eke a living as hawkers and artisans, temporary\ casual labourers, and informal workers. As it is the case in many of African countries and the Global South, in our country the majority of workers are in informal economy and the NGO sector, and multitudes in the formal economy are actually under-paid and under-employed workers. Yet the same COPE is waging a vociferous war against the social grants, which several researches have indicated have provided relief for many families, resulting in some households moving a little bit away from the bottom-end of the poverty line. If it were for the poor, COPE would be saying it will address the inadequacies and shortcomings of the present policies and programs by improving on reach and depth of the social grants as well as their accessibility. It would be talking of making the social grants to be part of a holistic and integrated social policy and economic strategy that includes improving the livelihoods and income of communities through among others land transfer and subsidy and capacity-building for small-scale farmers, farming cooperatives and small businesses, and intensive public works program, investment in industrial development and socio-economic reconstruction projects, skill development programmes and improving the access and quality of social services. Instead of this, COPE promises to tighten its screw on social spending and even be much harsher than the ANC in handing the people over to the invisible hand of the market.

While COPE presents itself as the hope and millions of our people seem to see hope in COPE, the million dollar question is whether the poor will cope under the policies of COPE. Unless its policy trajectory changes from the current neo-liberal paradigm, it seems that COPE is just another capitalist dope that will dupe people only for a while, till the false promises become known for what they are. My fear is that given the high expectations and the tremendous hope the emergence of COPE has given the masses, when their expectations are unsettled and “the new beginning euphoria” –or what my comrade and brother in Conscious Hip Hop, rapper and emcee, Icebound calls the BMW fever- disappears, this country is likely to go on fire. Previous massive and widespread civil protests against lack of service delivery as well as recent outbreak of violence with xenophobic and regionalistic undertones where but a taster of things to come if those in power continue to subject our people to the short-end of the capitalist stick.

Book: Izinhlungu Zomphefumulo (Emotional Pains)

ISBN: 9-780981-406893

Author: Bongekile Mbanjwa

Publisher: Botsotso

Reviewer: Mphutlane wa Bofelo

Izinhlungu Zopmphefumulo(Emotional Pains) is a ground-breaking, bi-lingual collection of poetry published by Botsotso Publishing, the small publishing outfit that is unflinching in its commitment to promote interaction and communication between the diverse artistic, cultural and socio-political voices and lifestyles in South Africa. Bongekile Mbanjwa’s aptly titled collection of IsiZulu poems -whose English meaning is rendered by fellow poet, Siphiwe ka Ngwenya- is a personal anguished cry of a tormented soul that has gone through the trials and tribulations of life as a well as a reflection on the psycho-physical damage of cultural emasculation, moral degeneration and socio-economic injustices on post-apartheid South Africa.

The poet puts a strong emphasis on the ravages of personal traumatic experiences and social decay on self-identity and self-worthiness:” My real self is enslaving me\ my real self is turning me into a mad person\ my real self has locked me into a corner\ my real self has tied my hands and legs \ I swagger when I walk \ and came back with my tail between the legs like a dog” Beneath the rhetoric question- “how can you blame me?”-there is a sense of self-blame, resignation and hopelessness: “we have tried \ the struggle is over\ deep waters are quiet\ let us give up”

Several poems in this collection deal with the theme of encroachment of western civilization on African Culture, culturally irrelevant laws and socio-political arrangement and the disintegration of the African norms-and value systems, the family and other social structures due to the assault of the regimes and regiments of globalization. The poet seem to associate the past with the light of morality and culture and the present with social decay and the decline of values: “The house of Zulu was standing \ you could swear that it was a ship\ but now it has fallen\ I look back and see light\ I look forward and get \ a mist clouding”. The dichotomy between traditional\rural and modern\urban is also captured in photo-images of a cow, a man clad in ipheshu, a young woman in traditional attire and a sprawling township juxtaposed against pictures of a car, a young man clad in denim jeans and shirts and dark sunglasses, a young lady in a mini-skirt and sky-scrapping flats.

While Mbanjwa is a social worker and expresses affinities with the poor and marginalised in most of his poems, ironically, some of her poems suggest that she shares the view that children and offenders have been granted excessive rights in South Africa. In the poem “Iqolo”, the child-support grant, which many researches have indicated has played a tremendous role in rolling back poverty, is accused of making “all beauty to disappear”. Despite researches showing that a lot of the money from the child support grant and other social grants is used by families to address basic needs, the poem refers to the child grant as a big fire, and asserts that through the grant the government is hitting the community with a slap with a back hand. The negative attitude towards the grant is informed by the perception that young people deliberately fall pregnant to be able to qualify for child grant, leading to unprotected sex, which works against the “ABC” message of the campaign against HIV\AIDS:” “The youth is crying for a child grant\ you spoke about the condom\ you will regret it\ the majority say, “if I could have so many babies I would be rich” In the poem, Kufana Nokufa, the emotional pain suffered by a victim of betrayed, jilted love is likened with death: “it brings shame \ it brings hatred\ and brings anger \ confusing the mind\ and life vanishes.” The poet recalls the romantic moment of meeting with prince charming and the ecstatic experience of falling in love: “I pronounced love\ you welcomed me with affection\ you gave me real self\ and covered me with jubilation \ I sweat from happiness.” She contrasts this with the bitter ending, as she and her beloved got estranged: “I struggled like a frog \ things got worse\ you fumed with anger\ I got angry as if drenched by water” Though the reasons for the fallout are not mentioned, the sub-text seem to portray the poet as the victim in the relationship. The imagery the poet employs to pour out her bleeding heart evoke feelings of emptiness, a sense of worthlessness….A sort of dying:” I am a bed of wishes\ I am a pillow of pain\ I am a blanket of questions \ Endless questions.”

Rhetoric questions seem to be the device the poet uses to highlight a sense of hopelessness, directionless-ness, and a lack of clarity of vision: “An endless questions comes\ how does a tree stand without its roots? How can it grow without it being nurtured\ what about a shadow where Zulu will rest?” The endless questions resurface when the poet pour her soul out on the myriad challenges and problems bedevilling her country: “ crime is taking another step\ how many corpses are going to lie down\ how many drugs are going to enter our country\ how many are going to shake the hand of HIV\AIDS\ South Africa are you silent?”

The social- worker-voice of Mbanjwa- who has worked at the Natal Society for the Blind and is currently working for epilepsy South Africa- comes out in poems such as “For you to understand”. This poem is an emphatic take on disability, chastising patronising and paternalistic attitude towards the disabled people, forcefully appealing to readers to put themselves in the position of people living with disability: “to be a breast of money\ for those who are able\ and be the belt for civil servants\ and be a grass mat for the feet of the rich\ for you to understand\ you must have a disability\ and ask for help day and night\ no one will listen\ the government and the community\ they all empathise\ they empathise your worthlessness\ but for you to understand\ you must have disability”

Mbanjwa does not stop at recording and articulating pain and suffering, in poems such as “hold on”, “We are here to stay”, “Be proud of yourself”, she preaches the message of hope and inspire the disabled and marginalised of the world to believe in themselves and to assert themselves above the environment that seek to contain and limit their possibilities:“ Enter where others enter\ arrive where others arrive\ I say, be proud of yourself”. Though Siphiwe ka Ngwenya has tried his best to make the English version of the poems to be as proximate as possible to the meaning conveyed in IsiZulu, to feel the beauty of the language and the spirit of the poems it is useful for one to hear them being read in isiZulu. There is no doubt this effort by Mbanjwa and Botsotso will go a long way in pushing forward the agenda of the promotion and preservation of indigenous languages of Azania\ South Africa.

It was a secret open
To the whole hood
Your old man had
The habit of fondling
Little girls when
He had one too many
Everybody whispered
Questions about
How your sisters’
Babies were fathered
When no boy could
Dare to touch them
In view of the poisonous
Stick of your dad
& the religious manner
They kept away from men

I just shook my head
Every time my friends asked
Why the little girl next door
Wore the face of a woman
Though I also noticed
Something matured in your smile
Every time you talked dirty
& my body told me things
Anytime I watched you walk
I peeped through
The window and saw
You sandwiched
Between my big brother
And his cousin
You were only twelve
At sixteen I was still
Confused about the messages
The scene sent to my body
Years later I found myself
Humming a ballad
Between your thighs
The night before
I had seen you
Jump out of the jalopy
Of the archbishop
I am yet to find a melody
Equivalent to the seasoned harmony
Of the music of our bodies that day
I think I have an idea
What crazy idea
Raced through the mind
Of the city mayor
When he decided to divorce
His wife of forty-years
To make you
The mother of his children
When you are half
The age of his lastborn

I swear by the owner of life
I speak nothing but the truth
This kid has a disturbed mind
She cannot distinguish
A smooth caress from a rough-ride
She mistakes a gentle coming
For a lethal thrusting
This is understandable
She lost her virginity
To forced penetration
I know this too well
I pay for her therapy sessions
I counseled her on
Her first rape experience
Through all her ordeals
She sobbed on my shoulders
I gave her a lap sleep on
After-all a comrade’s daughter is my child
Believe me when I say
My baby is lying through nostrils
I did not impose myself
She invited me between her thighs
After the soothing massage
I was obliged to offer
Like any father to a distressed daughter
Your honour read my lips
I am not on zol
Just ram and maple
On a rolled paper
I dislike the pipe
There is an aristocratic air about it
In the name of respect
For the cultural rights
Of all peoples of the land
You surely will not convict
A man whose customs forbids
That he leaves a woman hot
By the token of baby-oil
I rest my case

The present is
In the eye of the beholder
History in the fancy
Of the interpreter
The fate of the past
At the feet of the narrator
Or is it in the whims of the writer

The future is a speck
Of dust on the coat
Of a dreamer
Today is tomorrow’s yesterday

Yesterday is a heritage or an antique
Buildings are ruins or monuments
Depending on the eye-sight
Or is it the insight of the viewer

Today is an illusion or a reality
Art is life or commodity
Foreigners are aliens or tourists\ immigrants
Fish is food or game
Hunting is livelihood or a sport
Rivers are rivers or exotic sites
Mountains are mountains or scenic spots
According to the lenses of the camera

Some say it is not so much
The vision but the position
Of the photographer
Tomorrow is a cliché or a certainty
Incidents are experiences or statistics

Culture is civilization or superstitions
Subject to the affinities of the observer
Or the objective of the observation
Do we ever subject ourselves to the view of the subject?

A dead snake you can ignore
We have seen pythons
Being domesticated
Cobras can be belts
Bullterriers can be tamed
Anyway dogs are generally friends
But you never know
What a cockroach can do
You can disappear whole nations &
Extinct communities at the click of a button
But these things survived Hiroshima and Nagasaki
Not to talk about hurricanes and plagues
They breed too much also

Zwakala Books, Ditiro Productions and www.kush.co.za hosts D-urban wRites on 19 December 2008 at 5pm at Urban Zulu. The event will see jazz meets reggae and poetry find its voice in Hip Hop as Deejay Kush Khosa and Deejay Coolfire spin the discs and the stage is left open for spoken-word artists, emcees and everyone with something positive to say to express themselves. Entrance fee inclusive of copies of selected writings from www.kush.co.za –The Ultimate Afrikan Kulture website- will be R 20.00. Venue: Urban Zulu 321 corner of Berea and Bullwer road

Botsotso Publishing launches three new books in Pretoria and Johannesburg:

BLUESOLOGY AND BOFELOSOPHY by Mphutlane wa Bofelo:

The poems, stories and essays of Mphutlane wa Bofelo work within a framework of thinking that is an amalgam of philosophies: Black Consciousness, humanistic Islam and socialism. His voice is both lyrical and satirical, even as his barbs are sharp and his kisses tender. His beats are complex poly-rhythms that roll on in incantatory style or achieve a mystical brevity. This multi-genre collection appropriately represents his spiritually creative and socially active life.

IZINHLUNGU ZOMPHEFUMULO (Emotional Pain) by Bongekile Mbanjwa; English translations by Siphiwe ka Ngwenya;

These thirty-five poems reflect life in Kwa-Zulu/Natal but have a wider relevance as the perspectives of a woman dealing with the uprooting of the ‘old’ ways and the uncertain evolution of the New South Africa. As Bongekile Mbanjwa says, “Inhloso yokubhala lencwadi yezinkondlo kumbhali kwabe kungukwenza ubuhlungu, ukudideka kanye nokuhlukumezeka okwahlukahlukene esibhekana nacho imihla ngemihla yokuphila kwethu. Leminjunju kuyofuneka ilandelwe yisisombululo salenkanankana.” (My aim in writing this book was to expose pain, confusion and the different types of abuse we face every day of our lives. I also wish to show that this suffering and pain must be followed by solutions.)

SECTIONS OF SIX (edited by Allan Kolski Horwitz) features work by Khanyi Magubane, Matodzi Gift Ramashia and Alison Green (who will be present) and Natalie Railoun, Abu Bakr Solomons and Thuto Mako;

The book contains compact selections of twenty poems by each and is complemented by photographs by Natalie Railoun, Neo Ntsoma and Thuto Mako. The range of South Africans’ often fragmented experience is best captured when individual testimonies are placed side by side – not to replace but to augment each other. These six poets cover a wide spectrum of situations, moods and concerns – sections of six spirits laid bare for those who wish to appreciate the multiplicity of our identities.

The launch will consist of readings by and dialogue with the poets.
In addition to this sustenance, light refreshments of a bodily nature will be served to the needy – physical, mental and spiritual. Do you fall into one of these categories?

Pretoria: Friday, 28 November

Time: 6pm

Venue: National Library, 228 Proes St, Pretoria

Johannesburg: Saturday, 29 November

Time: 3pm

Vene: Xarra Books, Mary Fitzgerald Square, Newtown