Colonial mentality lives on

Today I witnessed the most despicable and most poor display of employer to employee relations than I have ever witnessed since I've been at Rhodes. For an institution which prides itself for being liberal and non-racial, what I saw today flies against such sentiments.

I was having lunch at approximately 12:30 when suddenly Ryno, the catering staff manager who happens to be caucasian, burst out from his office and began launching a tirade against one female catering staff member who seemed to have made a mistake in placing the wrong bowl at the top table.

He gestured and spoke to her in the most vicious and utterly disrespectful manner in front of students that were eating in the dining hall at that time. He continued in this manner until this woman went into his office where he continued to shout at her.

It was as though time froze for a moment because those who were witness to this tirade stood with looks of utter shock mixed with repulsion at Ryno's behaviour.

The woman that he was shouting at is black and in her late forties. She walked towards his office with tears of humiliation and helplessness streaming down her face. She had not uttered a single word in her defence but how could she, when it would ultimately be his word against hers?

The situation was embarrassing for those of us who witnessed it from the onset. A woman old enough to be my mother, verbally abused by a man who is young enough to be her son. Her dignity stripped before a hall full of kids. Was that really necessary? Needless to say, this was not the first time that Ryno was seen treating his staff members in such a draconian manner. This kind of behaviour is intricately woven into his fabric and he has always gotten away with it.

I commissioned everyone who witnessed this shameful incident to lodge a complaint with the authority that is in charge of our hall staff. I did this primarily because I know that uMama does not have much of a voice as a black kitchen worker at this university. Perhaps these impassioned outcries would assist in some way. I have faith that they will.

I just thought it very ironic that a few weeks ago Rhodes was in the media for publicly apologising for its various institutional actions which barred black students from admission to the university in the past. And yet that same spirit and attitude which was the subject of this apology is prevalent amongst some staff members.

It is individuals like Ryno who tarnish the efforts of those who fought so hard for this university to be where it is today.

As I continued with my day I found myself overwhelmed with sadness because I knew that I have a voice and uMama who is amongst the generation which fought hard for our freedom, does not.

Giving back

I was thinking to myself during the course of our final year exhibitions this evening "what experiences do I plan to take back home with me when I leave this town?" I felt a bit challenged because besides the long-term plans which I have made, I haven't thought of anything immediate which I can do to impact my community using the skills which I have acquired. Then the idea struck - food gardens and a youth newspaper.

I was inspired by the work that one of the groups have done in collaboration with Umthathi Training Project. This group basically mobilised learners from a couple of schools in Grahamstown to start planting food gardens at school as part of a sustainable development initiative. Then the produce from these gardens is used to feed the learners, some of which come from homes where food is scarce.

Umthathi is doing a great job. The problem however, is that their work does not really extend beyond the Eastern Cape. Undoubtedly, there is a need for more food gardens throughout the country because many people are living in poverty and lack the means to feed themselves. This is where I thought I could help.

I would like to identify a few schools in Soweto and Alexandra - the two main townships in Johannesburg, where I could continue the work which Umthathi is doing in the Eastern Cape. I think that I need to partner with the organisation because they could assist me with setting up a satellite organisation in Joburg.

Another initiative which I would like to get off the ground is a newspaper supplement for the youth by the youth. This idea I received when I was interning at Grocott's mail. Some learners from a few schools in Grahamstown have been roped together to write stories and contribute towards a publication called Upstart. These learners get an opportunity to work with media way before they get to university - which is a great thing.

I would like to start a similar initiative and I think that my target audience again, will be learners from less affluent schools. For them it will be an opportunity to report on issues which affect them, their schools and communities. Hopefully, they too will be exposed to media in the same way that the Upstart learners are exposed.

I think that this is a start. There will be more opportunities to impact the lives of people positively and to share that which Rhodes journalism has imparted.

Reflection

It is exactly two weeks until the beginning of my final exams. It's all so surreal. Three years have come and gone so quickly and I find myself feeling a bit teary-eyed. Grahamstown has been a home away from home, an escape, a retreat of sorts.

I actually feel a bit nervous and slightly apprehensive about going back home. The prospects of going back to something familiar are not too appealing. I feel as though I'll be drawn back into that lull that I escaped three years ago but I guess its up to me. I think that my desperation to continue studying is masking a desperation for something new - it's masking my fear of slipping back into the ordinary, perhaps a fear of having to deal with issues that I wish did not exist.

This is not to say that I am ungrateful. With everyday that passes by I thank God for coming through for me in the most powerful way imaginable. He really turned the hopeless case which was my life into something beautiful and worth living. The experience of these past three years has enriched my life and is one which will remain with me for as long as I walk this earth.

What gives me the most joy is that my mother reaps the greatest benefit of my decision to come back to school. It has not been easy for her to raise three kids who have all had their share of potentially destructive drama in their lives- teenage pregnancy, drug and alcohol abuse. Seeing me graduate after all my trials and tribulations is evidence to my mom that it's not all lost, that God is so faithful. And really, the glory is all His.

I hope that in getting a degree, I have inspired my brother and sister to do the same. I hope that I have planted a seed and instilled a culture of learning within my young nieces. For me, this education is more than just a degree. It is hope for a family without graduates. It is vindication from all those who had nothing but negativity to speak over our lives. Its a new beginning for me and much-awaited celebration for my mother.

A new creature in Christ

And then I went to church...

I was reminded that it really does not matter who condemns me because before God I stand not condemned. Jesus Christ went to the cross so that I could live and live abundantly. This includes living a life free of condemnation.

I realised that what really counts is the fact that I have long asked for forgiveness from God and that in His eyes I do not stand condemned- I am clean and forgiven.

Condemnation

I don't quite know how I am supposed to go to church and sing praises to God this morning when I am harbouring such anger and resentment.

What kind of a person are you to say that you don't care about something on the one hand and yet on the other hand you use every chance you get to remind me of that one mistake which I made. You're holding a secret grudge which you use as a weapon against me in unsuspecting moments, to disarm and humiliate me. How long is this going to carry on for?

I am so angry with you. I am disappointed and I am hurt because for a person who professes to care deeply about me, your action spells the opposite.

To my (future) husband

These are the words which I hope to say one day to the man who will find me and make me his wife. They are lyrics from a song by a 90's RnB group called U.N.V. and I think that they are absolutely beautiful:

You are to me
What poetry tries to say with a word
You are a song
All the music my heart ever heard

I can't escape
The air that I breathe even speaks of you
And I'm not ashamed to say
That I feel this way

I will stand before God
Give you all that I've got
I can promise you I'll be true
I reveal here and now
As we both take this vow
I am so in love [So in love], with, with you

Words can't express
What I confess with each beat of my heart
I'm overwhelmed
With a passionate affair from the start, oh...

Our love will grow
As the years come and go, I will be by your side, oh, yes, I will
There isn't anything
That I would deny

I will stand before God
Give you all that I've got
I can promise you I'll be true
I reveal here and now
As we both take this vow
I am so in love, I am so in love with you

I promise to honor and cherish you
For better or for worse
I'll be there for you
For richer or for poorer
In sickness and in health
Till death do us part
(And I will)
From this day on and forever

I will stand before God
Give you all that I've got
I can promise you I'll be true
I reveal here and now
As we both take this vow
I am so in love [I am so in love], I am so in love
I am so in love with you
I am so in love

There is a time for everything

It's the end of my undergraduate degree and I have decided to stop worrying about my future; to stop worrying about where I am going next year or what it is I am going to do.

I have been planning frantically for quite a while without realising that regardless of what I plan, God will have me where He wants me to be next year. I would like to stay on at Rhodes for one more year because I don't feel like I am ready to leave yet. Perhaps the truth of the matter is that I am trying to hold on to a season which is due to pass. I am trying to hold on to an experience that I cheated myself out of when I dropped out of law school 6 years ago.

I have applied to WITS and Rhodes for Honours - both programmes are great, and I 'll work hard for these exams. But the way forward from here is not up to me, I am not master of my own destiny.

I have decided to enjoy what is left of this season (my undergrad education at Rhodes) and to cherish each moment. I know that the next season will bring new things, new experiences and lessons to be learnt. When you look at life in that way, every moment becomes so precious.

1 There is a time for everything,
and a season for every activity under heaven:

2 a time to be born and a time to die,
a time to plant and a time to uproot,

3 a time to kill and a time to heal,
a time to tear down and a time to build,

4 a time to weep and a time to laugh,
a time to mourn and a time to dance,

5 a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them,
a time to embrace and a time to refrain,

6 a time to search and a time to give up,
a time to keep and a time to throw away,

7 a time to tear and a time to mend,
a time to be silent and a time to speak,

8 a time to love and a time to hate,
a time for war and a time for peace.

-Ecclesiastes 3

Rant

I hate that even in my sincerity you choose to think the worst;
That my terms of endearment are nothing but foolishness to you.
I hate how you manage to hold me suspended in what seems to be love
yet when it suits you, you pour cold water over my head,
awakening me to some obscure reality - your reality,
that nothing in this world is as it seems.

Subliminal messages

A friend of mine was relaying yesterday's episode of Generations to me when I suddenly thought to myself "I'm going to be one of those parents who are selective about what they allow their children to watch on TV because if this kind of junk programming still exists by the time I have kids, which it probably still will, I do not want them anywhere near it".

In this episode Grace, a young student living with her father, throws constant tantrums because her divorcee father has found new love. Grace's behaviour borders on absolute insolence and make one wonder whether there actually are children who behave in this manner out there.

Somewhere else in Generations Bridget, who is a conniving piece of work, is poisoning her supposed friend simply because she suspects that her husband is having an affair with this friend. Her husband finds out about her schemes and decides to move into a hotel while he files for divorce. So Bridget decides to take the same poison she fed her friend in order to get her husband's attention.

Then there is Kenneth Mashaba, Grace's rich uncle and the bane of Paul's (Grace's father) existence. He is the villain and uses any opportunity he gets to show himself better than his brother, catering for Grace's every whim. You can sense from his actions and the manner in which he speaks about his brother, that he is trying to win Grace over completely- she just sees a doting uncle who cares for her.

As my friend spoke, I milled over these different scenarios in my mind and thought to myself that the messages which are being relayed in this soapie are not edifying nor good for the building of relationships.

Grace is basically saying to all 20-year olds out there that it is okay to be utterly disrespectful towards your parent/s. It is okay to stand in the way of your divorced parent getting into a new relationship and ruining all their prospects of finding love that lasts. And that it is fair to give parents unfair ultimatums.

Bridget is teaching all married women out there the art of suspicion. The kinds of things she becomes suspicious of about her husband are so inane. Bridget's actions may seem crazy to any viewer but imagine the weaker audiences that actually relate soapies to their lives and surroundings? What kind of damage is this senselessness doing to them?

Kenneth Mashaba is condoning family disunity. His character is evil personified and the fact that Grace is so vulnerable to him while seeing him as her stand-in dad, is worse.

Soapies are a powerful medium drawing thousands of audiences into the junk subliminal messages which they perpetuate. The challenge lies with the audience - do you sit and lap up everything that you are fed through this media or do you take what you need and discard the rest?

After the Storm

It's as though the entire neighbourhood was expecting us. Every house had at least two or three people huddling by their front doors, staring fixedly and suspiciously at our vehicle as we slowly drove by looking for house number 14.

Children running carefree in the streets and playfully jostling each other, were a stark contrast to the bleakness that was. Houses stood; some with three walls others without roofs. Further on ahead, the corrugated sheets which used to be someone's house were strewn across a small veld. Leaves, branches and mud, paved the street. Torn clothing lay trapped underneath the dismembered furniture - the situation was desperate.

The family from number 14 had been waiting for us to arrive. The children zipped around us wearing dirty clothes, with their noses running and their hair unkempt. I kept thinking that it was their childish innocence which kept them from internalising the direness which faced their families - they were more fascinated by my colleagues - the white people that had come to their neighbourhood.

We heard about the situation in the township after the tornado hit Grahamstown yesterday morning. A lot of people lost their homes, family members and possessions. We received word about one woman whose house was completely destroyed by the storm and we decided to help where we could.

She and her 3-week old baby were taken in by the family at house number 14. It is a family of six living in a 4-roomed house. We didn't have much resources at our disposal, so we decided to buy the household some supper- at least they would have a meal for tonight.

We visited the site where her house used to stand and found that there was not much which could be salvaged from there. The municipality had come and gone, and social workers had also come to provide some counseling. Now all that this woman could do concerning her house and property, was wait for an answer or direction from the municipality.

We asked what else we could do to help but the damage was so extensive that there was not much that could be done with our hands. We left it there and said goodbye to everyone, feeling rather dejected and hoping that something more would be done to help the victims of that tornado.

Jungle fever in retrospect

A question popped into my mind after I googled the definition for jungle fever . Why is jungle fever a reference about white women's attraction to black men? Why couldn't it have said "an attraction between people from opposite races" or something along those lines?

I find the connotations of the former definition rather racist. Within this definition a black man is synonymous with a jungle, which happens to be a home for wild animals. Is this to say that white women who find themselves attracted to black men are attracted to wild animals?

It was also interesting and infuriating to read that a one of the world's most respected scientists claims that black people are less intelligent than their white counterparts but that's a story for another day.

But really now, am I naive to believe that there is nothing wrong with interracial relationships? Why do people choose to get so caught up in race issues, when race itself is a social construct? It amazes me the speed at which people are so ready to turn up their noses to the mere mention of interracial relationships when we have fought long and hard to get to where we are as a people.

My best friend told me that I should basically quite whilst I'm ahead because white men only date black women in order to be well looked after. She said that white men date black women because black women cook, clean, take care of the kids and know how to take care of their men. She also mentioned that white men love the way black women are so primal - which takes us right back to the jungle fever definition. Suffice it to say she based her skewed observation on one experience gone wrong.

I'm sure to many I come across as one with a neo-colonised mind but quite the contrary. I am just an ambassador for the Kingdom of God where the distinction between black and white does not exist .

Jungle Fever

You know- it's really not about race, it's about preference. And even that word "preference" poses some problems to many people "how come you prefer white men over black men?" I have no answer to that question but all I know is that my tendency to be more attracted to white men has been with me for as long as I can remember.

It does not make me any less African, Tswana or black. I can still speak my mother tongue,relate to people of my race and do the things which are exclusive to my people. I just happen to be attracted to white men too. Oh and don't get me wrong, I know a fine brother when I see one and it is not like many have not made my heart skip a beat.

It's funny the reaction I get whenever I mention this idiosyncrasy to both black and white people "gasp! really! why?" Funny how people still find such trivialities so shocking- I blame it on our history. I am sure that they'd all be equally shocked to know that I've never even dated a white guy.

Yeoville

I read an article in a magazine yesterday and a statement was made about how nobody has anything good to say about Yeoville anymore, how it is a place riddled with crime, alcohol and drug abuse.

My heart sank. I used to live in Yeoville for a good 20 years of my life and the memories that I have of Yeoville do not match the words ascribed to her.

Yeoville was a great neighbourhood. Not your average picket-fence stereotype, but a vibrant hub of culture, talent and great diversity.

In '86, you could walk up Raleigh street and get yourself an ice cream from a real ice cream shop.

In '89 you could still get milk delivered outside your door from the dairy, just like they do on tv.

The buzz during the day would trickle over into the night as people would gather for street committee meetings in various homes.

The great artists of today used to hang around in Yeoville, when Tandoor used to rock and Time Square was the buppie hot spot.

We even used have an annual parade!

Kids used to play in beautifully kept parks and their parents would not have to worry about them because everyone used to look out for one another.

White people walking their dogs were not a strange occurrence. Neither was seeing Jay Naidoo buying milk and bread at the cafe.

You could wake up in the morning and take a slow walk through a quiet and clean neighbourhood and just marvel at the beauty that surrounds you.

That was Yeoville and so much more. A part of me has a burning hope that great restoration will take place in Yeoville.

I hope the great vibe returns, the warmth of community, safety and a place of better memories for all the kids that will grow up there.

Soldiering on

I could tell as soon as she took a seat next to me that something weighed heavily on her mind. The canary-yellow scarf which she wrapped around her head like a Muslim woman, hid the disaster that befell her last night when she decided that she wanted a change of hair style for her ball tonight. She told me in the calmest way what had happened, as the creases of her contrived smile began to fade.

A couple of weeks ago she had knocked on my door desperately needing a person to talk to and a shoulder to cry on. As soon as she was done apologising for disrupting me, in what appeared to be my time of study, she broke down and told me about the bad space that she was in.

She was worried about next year - who would pay her fees, what would happen to her poverty-stricken family, what was God's plan for her? She was struggling to find the zeal and enthusiasm which she previously had for her life and her studies. She had even considered taking the shortcut out of her depression and just ending it all.

I listened as she poured out her heart through all her tears. I felt so much sadness about the pain and anxiety that she was experiencing. I wasn't too sure on how to console a woman that bared the equivalent of the world's weight on her shoulders.

The only thing I knew to do was to take her hands in mine and invite the Lord into this situation. I prayed. I spoke to my Father and he heard my prayer. There was such peace that enveloped the room as I asked the Holy Spirit to comfort and counsel my friend. At the end of the prayer it was as though she had awoken from a deep, peaceful and rejuvenating sleep. She was calm, refreshed and positive.

The incident last night seems to have put a damper on her spirit. She told me how she had tried to remove the old synthetic braiding from her hair but all she got instead, was a hand-full of her own hair. She had lost so much hair from removing the braids that she had to wear the scarf to disguise the suspiciously large, hairless patch.

I encouraged her to visit the salon and to get her hair cut evenly to allow for fresh, healthy hair growth to emerge. She seemed consoled by my advise. When I met her later on in the day however, she had a familiar look of desperate sadness on her face. The salon trip had gone all wrong and the hairstylist had failed to understand her instructions. Tears welled up in her eyes as she helplessly looked at me shaking her head from side to side.

Her tears made more sense to me after she told me that she had been trying to grow her hair for years. And now, all that she had to show for her efforts was the remainder of what was previously a healthy head of hair. At that point I felt bad for having a full head of healthy dreadlocks. I felt like any consolation I could offer would not be good enough. But I encouraged her anyway.

I told her to soldier on. Her hair stood a good chance of growing healthily if she would grow it from scratch. I told her that everything would be okay. Once again, she seemed consoled. The tears stopped flowing and a less-contrived smile creased her face. I gave her one last hug before walking away and thinking of how grateful I am for everything that God has blessed me with, including the opportunity to be there for a friend.

When is it gonna be my turn?

To finally have that relationship that I sit and wonder about
To fall in love with someone who is not already someone's
To be proved correct that I too am a candidate for a multi-racial relationship
To be proved correct that hoping for such is not mere idealism
To be proved correct that forever is highly possible
To have a dream, hope, my wish come true
When?