An interesting... lesson for foreigners

My boyfriend is from the USA, and I take every opportunity to teach him and his kinfolk about South Africa, leaving verbose comments beneath is status. I had an ally teacher today in Kimstories, and this is how the conversation went.

BF's status was:

Don't know why people were scared to come to Johannesburg for the World Cup #wc2010. Wal Mart is SO much scarier!!!!

And so the comments beneath, for the benefit of globalisation and learning were as follows:

Simon: There's no elephants in the USA - how can it be scary? There are loads in Jozi. That's why I use Fourways Mall. You can park your elephant for free for 2 hours.

Kimstories: only if it has a dual saddle Simon

Simon: Hahahaha Kim are you joking? Who the hell still uses a single saddle? Durban's not THAT far behind Joburg, surely? By the way I owe you a mail. The post wagon is leaving on Saturday. It should be in Durban by Tuesday.

Kimstories: In Durban our elephants are smaller so we do the single saddle thing. I know - its so embaressing! I iwll look out for the post wagon - i think it will be behind the milk delivery cows

Simon: I tried sending a letter with the milk delivery last week but they get a bit gumpy (it's not really their responsibility, I suppose) so I went with the July post wagon. I am so excited. You know that big-ass building in Joburg where them silver things come out the sky to? They carry post too, but it's expensive.

Kimstories: the milk delivery doesn't come from jhb to durban - they tried that once and now the zuzlus think maas is on purpose

Simon: The post wagon was delayed last month because the zebra that pulls it got sick. It was so hectic. We couldn't send out our financial papyrus. The Durban hunter-gatherers owe us three fish and two cows in interest.

Kimstories: you guys charge some scary interest rates. i have been asked to negotiate a sugar cane settlement (and thats not a place people live)

Simon: Last time we went down to the sugar cane fields the elephants wouldn't go into it because of the cane rats. Why do we use animals who are scared of rodents as transport?

Kimstories: don't blame the rats for the elephant neuroses
the elephants are such girls

And this is why the Yanks think we have ellies running down the streets of Joburg. Don't be surprised when the next tourist asks you where the parking lot for them is.

An interesting... macon experience

Sorry, just a short post.

Today is the first time I have ever eaten macon.

It must be the most god-awful tasting stuff that has ever been invented.

I would recommend that you never ever touch this toxic crap with any part of your body.

This utterly diabolical assault on the senses is something I would not wish on Robert Mugabe.

When I was a child I bit the dog's tongue. It was one of them slobbery dogs which licked it's own arse. That memory was recalled when the macon came within three feet of my face.

It can't be that gross, I thought. Lots of people eat it. Well, when I put it in my mouth, my body heaved with the suddenness of a bear trap, wrenching itself away from the macon. I convulsed so heavily that I pulled a tendon in my leg and dislocated my jaw which snapped my teeth together and cut my tongue off

I could have been sad about my tongueless future. But instead I am relieved that there is no possibility of me ever having to taste macon again.

An interesting... vuvuzela

Dear Europeans, Cristiano Ronaldo and whingy white South Africans,

For the last few days, I hear you have been complaining about the noise of the vuvuzelas at games. As we've been blowing them consistently since Thursday night we haven't been able to hear you whining until now.

Well, quite frankly, I don't give two fucks. This is a South African World Cup. South Africans blow vuvuzelas when they watch football. Therefore, ipso facto vuvuzelas will be blown-o during World Cup matches. Surprisingly, people who regularly attend SA football matches (for example fans and players who have been attending matches for so many years that one without a vuvuzela would be ridiculous) have all their hearing faculties and have managed to play and communicate in this atmosphere.

Do you not think it is quite odd for visitors and non-SA-football fans to go into someone else's environment and tell them what to do?

Because you are going to your first or second game ever in SA, you think you have some kind of right to dictate the atmosphere, as if it doesn't apply to people who have been watching football here for 10+ years? How would you like it if they slipped into your w(h)ine club and told you how to run it?

When I watched football in London, some chap kept calling the referee a cunt... in front of what looked to be a 5/6 year old boy. So trust me, it's not as if football culture is better in other parts of the world. There's loads of shit not to like, and if you want to obsessively hate cultural aspects of our national game, then I suggest you stay at home and watch it on the SABC with the volume off.

We will continue blowing our vuvuzelas for these reasons:

1) The noise of 60 000 of them being blown at once is fucking fantastic.

2) It makes it harder for European teams. This is what we call HOME GROUND ADVANTAGE.

3) It is as much part of Mzansi as the Nelson Mandela is.

4) It annoys British people and Aussies. Two birds, one stone.

They're here to stay. Even if you whingy gits kick them out the stadiums, we will blow them on the outside. While you're having dinner. While you're trying to sleep. In fact, as soon as we can see you getting annoyed we'll blow them again.

Because you came and dictated what we can and can't do.

And you know how well South Africans react to that.

The vuvuzela is here to stay.

Love Simon.

:====================<()

(image is not to scale)

An interesting... stereotype breakage

I follow a smart man called Kojo Bafoe on twitter. This morning he tweeted this: "The day people don't freak out when I speak Sesotho to them is day I reckon some of the racial stereotypes will be fading in SA".

So I asked him what he meant. And he said this: "light-skinned 'coloured' looking guy is not expected to speak Sesotho. Number of times I get spoken to in Afrikaans."

This immediately reflected in my own life. I have had plenty of people be surprised at the fact that I know sport so well. Gays aren't supposed to know anything about football outside how wide Cristiano Ronaldo's butt-cheeks are, let alone stand up in an argument about sport.

Do we REALLY still get surprised when things out of the ordinary happen to us?

Is it still surprising when a white folk can speak Zulu, a woman can fix cars, or a domestic worker is a vegetarian? Is it REALLY unheard of for a homo to like cricket, parking attendant to be a white folk, or a female boss to have a male PA?

Can girls not go fishing?
Can straight men not be hairdressers or dancers?
Can coloured folks speak languages that are not English or Afrikaans?
Can black folks play cricket?
Can men knit?

Are these still SO surprising, in this day and age of blended society?

(Can white men jump?)

An interesting... yet shitty issue

I am sure you've all heard about the chaos going on in Khayelitsha regarding the toilets. If you've had your head beneath a rock, here's it in a nutshell. The DA "agreed" to build toilets for people living in a section of Khayelitsha at 1 per 5 families. This was amended to build 1 per family with the added cost being offset by the families building their own enclosures of the loos. A fair percentage managed to but some families couldn't/didn't/chose not to and had to take a crap in the outdoors in full view of anyone walking past. The ANC jumped on top of this and the ANC Youth League jumped harder on top of it. After they (ANCYL and friends) protested, the DA build corrugated iron (as far as I can tell) enclusores around the bogs. The ANCYL (who have never built toilets for anyone, by the way) went and protested and tore the enclosures down. So the DA went in and took all the toilets out with a statement to the effect of "ok people can't use the bogs outdoors so we're going to take them away until we've built proper enclosures."

Well well.

To me, this was an occasion where the DA could have provided constructive leadership. I think that their latest reaction smacks of a purely reactionary and angry fox terrier. This was an incredible opportunity, in the wake of snatching a Gugulethu by-election out of the ANC hands nogal, for the DA to show what they're all about, and drop the angry-white-people-party brand they have been associated with for so long amongst people who aren't predisposed to vote for them.

Had the DA stood up and said "Yes, admittedly the negotiation with Khayelitsha residents had an unsatisfactory outcome, and we will build toilet walls for the people of the township" and then done so, they would have shown that they give a shit about the (black) poor of South Africa, and not just the middle to upper class people who vote for them. Had they gone in and fixed a problem that the poor of South Africa face, many people would have felt better about the "white" party. It would have been superb marketing. Basic facilities would have been requested and basic facilities would have been granted - something that the ANC hasn't done to a higher than expected extent.

Instead, they've behaved like someone with a cricket set who invites all his friends to pay and takes the bat away after they are out for a duck.

The priority in this situation is people who need to use the toilet. NOT the ANCYL, NOR political points scoring.The DA had the power to fix this, and they chose to be whiny - exactly what people have accused them of for years.

The fact remains that people need to use the toilet, and it boggles my mind that any politican could forget that. For any reason whatsoever.

My disappointment with the DA since last year's election continues.

And I live in Cape Town. So it's not as thought I am outside the DA realm of influence.

Helen Zille knows better than this.

An interesting... ode to the Ecco Chocolate Muffin

You arrive to warm and brown,
Chocolate covers your crown,
Melted, running down your side,
I lick it up, there's more inside.

Packaged neatly, there you sit,
Rested upon that Ecco packet,
I pick you up toward my teeth,
after removing you from your paper sheath.

Your crunchy top glistens white,
with bits of chocolate right in sight,
Into them I keenly bite,
and eat and eat with all my might.

Every morning, here I wait,
They run you across the road, and through the gate,
At my desk, impatiently I sit,
Willing you to hurry up a bit.

And then you come, bearing joy for me,
I never share you with he nor she,
Covered in Lindt, you are my friend,
and my happiness will never end.
(you, unfortunately, get eaten).

An interesting... and great South African feeling

I am feeling so good about SA at the moment, and surprisingly, none of it has to do with the World Cup.

How's this for a good progressive week?

1) The rugby in Orlando

Not only did we have the allegedly Afrikanerdom team playing the allegedly Afrikanerdom sport being played in the allegedly Afrikanerdom-hating Soweto, we got great results! If, 15 years ago you'd told people that the spierwit Blou Bulle supporters would flood to a fixture in Soweto, the Boeremag would have bleksemmed you. But do you know what? It happened. And once again folks across a bunch of races got on like houses on fire - and proved again that it's the political leaders who foster race issues. Not us folks who actually live here.

2) Reaction to Zapiro's cartoon

Did you all see Zapiro's cartoon last week? Well, the Mail and Guardian ran a cartoon depicting the phophet Muhammed and there was a bit of a shitfest. The M&Gand Nic Dawes (editor of M&G) met with Muslim leaders and other folks and thrashed out the issue. You can see Dawes' and M&G's response here. What this meant is that once again we showed that South Africans still have the ability to exist together across many different cultures. In Europe this Islamaphobic fight is carried out every day. In South Africa we found a resolution and learnt. This is good progressive thinking! They haven't managed that in First World Washington or London. But we managed it in Jozi.

3) ANC loses by-elections

The DA won two-by elections in the Western Cape yesterday (ANC lost another ward to an independent candidate in Limpopo too). I am not really a Darkies Aside sympathiser, but am hugely in favour of anything that moves us further away from the one-party state we are. I don't want any political party having such a firm grip on power. The fact that this was won in a predominantly black area (from what I understand), also means we might, as a nation, be moving away from voting along colour lines - if that's not healthy politics then I don't know what is.

So, all in all, I'm pretty chuffed.

What do you reckon?

An interesting... and neverending-noise

On Sunday evenings, the bells at St George's Cathedral in Cape Town city centre are rung. And run and rung and rung. Then they stop for about 5 minutes. And then some dickweed rings them again. And again and again.

I do not appreciate this stroke-inducing contribution to my Sunday evenings. I couldn't give two shits that St George's is there. I couldn't care less who or what people do in that cathedral. BUT WHY DO I HAVE TO KNOW ABOUT IT?!

There are a few issues here.

1) I do not want to hear them. It has bugger all to do with Christianity. It has to do with them being incredibly annoying, and being run for an extensive period of time. If they were rung for 3 minutes once, I could cope easier. But nooooooo, we need to hear a few sessions of annoyance.

2) It is a residential area. People live in the centre of Cape Town. Although it is not a late hour, would I be able to go and have myself a small rock concert in suburbia at 6pm on a Sunday night? May I interrupt your American Idol by ringing twenty giant fucking bells outside your house in Rondebosch or Fourways or Umhlanga, for three or four session of five minutes? The answer is no.

3) Noise pollution leads to other pollution. In this day and age of discussing the green impact of everything, this constant ear-sore makes me close the window to try and stem its attempt to make me cut off my own ears with a breadknife. This means that the airflow in the flat stops and I am required to use electricity to use a machine to create ventilation. Yes, Christians, YOU are making me stuff up the environment and are contributing to global warming.

3.1) I also have to take pain killers as that clanging gives me a headache - and you know that the manufacturing of pharmaceuticals is bad for the environment. So well done. Kill the world with your bells, why don't you?

3.2) That eardrum-heammoraging delinquency of tune stemming from the St George's towers also scares the birds away.

3.3) And, in an extreme situation, I might have to drive away from the building in order to retain what's left of my sanity, contributing to that fuck off big hole in the ozone layer.

4) Before anyone tells me that Christians are easy targets or whatever gunk is usually written under columns about religion, I would have the same issue with any other window-permeating geraas at that volume - religious or not - at 6pm on a Sunday. Whether it's Christians, Muslims, Jews, Buddhists, Zionists, Sikhs, Hindus, Rastafarians or Helen Zille's bloody birthday party, I DO NOT CARE, and do not wish to know about it for that extended period of time.

How's about a compromise, St George's? Why don't you ring them for one session of three minutes? That way I know it will end (currently it's a complete lottery unless you know the schedule of the church) and can plan my evening around trying to escape it. Is that reasonable? I think so.

An interesting... Saturday

Really, I just had the kiffest day ever yesterday.

I was reviewing the Cape Royale on Friday night so myself and my boyfriend woke up in a swanky hotel room. The sun was shining and Cape Town was being beautiful, as it is when it is not foggy and you can actually see it.

I bounced down to the Promenade to kick off the day with some exercise. We headed back to the hotel to fill ourselves up with breakfast and, after a complimentary 20-minute mssage, we checked out and headed off to Fish Hoek to watch my sister play hockey.

It's a stunning drive through leafy Rondebosch, down the M3, up and over Ou Kaapse Weg, weaving among hills with the Atantic glittering ahead of us, separated from the green land by the white beaches of Noordhoek and Kommetjie...

Laden with wine, we watched her tear up and down the field while we drank wine and smoked and blew a vuvuzela in support of her team - the the amusement of some, and the chagrin of others. They got drilled, so we were forced to sit behind and "commiserate" afterwards... in the glorious African sunshine.

On our way back to the highway, we decided to stop and have a squiz at Muizenberg Beach as neither of us had been there before (I know... and I've been living here for like 8 months or something). And we just sat and spoke kak for a bit. But good kak.

A good conversationalist is hard to find.

And we sat there on a pretty empty Muizenberg beach, talking about the world, South Africa, relationships, family, and how it all fits together. We spoke about important things. unimportant things, clever things. We laughed at dumb, funny and silly things. For ages.

While we chit-chatted away, people passed us walking their dogs, children ran past squealing and throwing sand at each other. People, sea-wet up to their ankles, kicked up small amounts of sand as they moved their feet.

And then the sun started going down, so we brushed the sand off us and went home.

Pretty cool day, if you ask me.

An interesting... weekend in the Winelands

My boyfriend and I spent last weekend in the Winelands, sipping wine, eating good food and generally just being happy. Here are some pics.

It's just beautiful everywhere, isn't it? This is taken from Graham Beck.

This is the entrance to Moreson.

Ok I know there are clouds everywhere, but these ones were just so pretty.

How stunning is this? I nearly creamed myself with excitement when I saw it.

You should all go to the Winelands. It's fuckin stunning. You can get packages there for R999 at the moment with Kulula. Just putting it out there.

A Fairy Tale

Once upon a time there was a group of dwarves who lived in a forest in a land far far away from any ash cloud. They kept themselves fiscally active by mining after nationalising them a few years earlier than this story. On the way to work every morning they would sing "hi-ho, hi-ho, it's off to work we go" (to the tune of Dubula iBhunu) or Awulethe uMshini Wam'.

There they would happily take the gold out of the ground and sell it and give the excess proceeds to the people living in the forests (after all the mortgages, champagne funds, watch and CLK car payments had gone off).

One day as the miners were driving back home, Grumpy Shivambu spotted a shoe in the middle of the road so he stopped and looked around. And there, lying face down on the ground, sobbing her eyes out was the beautiful and well-known Princess Sonono Khoza of the Orlando Empire. Dopey Malema, who had stopped just behing Grumpy Floyd ran up to help and shouted "quickly, put her in my Jeep - it's that white one with no number plates. We can take her home and help her." Then Dopey Malema phoned the cops for a blue light escort home so they got there faster.

Upon arrival, it became apparent that Princess Khoza was pregnant. Then she gave birth to a boy which she called Happy Sindane. "Please", she begged of the dwarves, "Don't tell anyone I am here. My father, King Irvin of Orlando must not know I had this child out of wedlock." What Princess Sonono had not told them was the identity of the father of the baby.

It was the evil King JZ from the neighbouring kingdom of KwaZulu - the homeland of AmaZulu, the Golden Arrows and Maritzburg United. Sonono did not want her father ever knowing.

However, the (Sunday) Oracle got wind of the story and set about investigating. She dressed up ike Khanyi Mbau and headed for the forest. She found it easy to find the dwarves house as she followed the sounds of hoop-la at the chapmagne party. As she neared she saw one of the dwarves being thrown out, and someone shouted "BASTARD, TAKE THAT TENDENCY SOMEWHERE ELSE". The Oracle ran up to the ejected dwarf, and it was none other than Bashful Lehlogonolo Masoga who was so pissed off and told the Oracle everything.

The next day, the Orace told the kingdom and all hell broke loose, and there were tears and gnashing of teeth. King Irvin declared war against King JZ and the armies readied themselves singing "we will kill for Zuma" or "bring me my machine gun" or "dubula fokken anyone".

Behind the scenes, though, JZ knew how to win the war. He phoned King of the World, Sepp Fatter and asked if he could have the World Cup. If so he would allow him a nice blue-light convoy through the Kruger Park - twice. Fatter agreed immediately and all of a sardine, JZ controlled all the soccer in the world, weakening King Irvin's kingdom. "Boo-ya!" said King JZ as he had won the war easily.

Then, in a complicated deal, organised it so King Irvin got R500 million rand so they became friends again. And no one knows what the hell happened to Sonono because she hasn't been in the news since then.

An interesting... change has already come

I live in oddly the most racist city in South Africa, but also boasting some of the most chilled subjects when it comes to race integration. This utter anomaly that is Cape Town was on full display at Assembly just off Buitenkant Street last night. Freshlyground launched their new album there, so there were a lot of black folks in the place ("a lot" being relative - probably 80% white and 20% black - more than you see in the average Cape Town establishment). I only arrived afterwards when Freshlyground had gone and some odd, yet interesting, Eastern European dancy music was playing.

After about an hour, people began dribbling out and it got to a point where there were only about 60 of us left there - the averages were now probably around half black folks and half white folks.I was drinking so my maths may be off.

The DJ eventually got over his Eastern European obsession, and started pumping out some local tunes. And we danced to a few of them. Out of the blue, he started playing Vuli Ndlela by Brenda Fassie, and simultaneously, the dancefloor all became excitable. I shrieked like an excited schoolgirl because it is one of my favourite songs, and then I realised that my friend's new boyfriend was also amped that it had come on. It is not often I come across other white folks that know any Brenda Fassie songs, let alone are able to sing along with them phonetically (I know it's lame - I have fokol idea of what the song is about, but I know how the words sound, so I sing along).

Straight after Vuli Ndleda the DJ played Weekend Special (also Brenda Fassie) and the mood on the dancefloor carried on. Now, I have no co-ordination whatsoever, and it is just not a nice thing to look at when I begin throwing myself around during a song. I can't dance to save my goddam life, but what I lack in ability I make up for in effort and enthusiasm. And my enthusiasm was directed to some like organised dance movement thing by other people - we threw ourselves in and tried to copy (some more successfully than me) and all danced together.

Yup, the white folks and the black folks and the coloured folks and old folks and young folks and gay folks and breeder folks all danced together. If Nelson Mandela had seen it he would have orgasmed.

South African folks, dancing together, to classic South African music.

Really, this divisive shit we like to espouse all day gets over-ridden by what happens when we all get together with a few drinks and some tunes and just fucking chill.

Christ, I love living in this country.

If you go out looking for some happiness here, you'll find it. Easily.

An interesting... exploitation of men

I just read an excellent piece about Lolly Jackson and the hero he temporarily became in the news.

In this piece, the writer notes: That women in strip clubs, and naked in tatty newspapers, are objects to be ogled at, and worse, is a fact of life. If any of those women want to take part in those activities of their own free will, of course, it's up to them. I am sure that there are women stripping out there who do so happily and because they want to. But at the same time, I am certain that the strip clubs of our country are filled with many more vulnerable women who have no other option, or who can do nothing else.

We have seen this debate go on and on and on - does the stripping industry (if I can call it that) objectify and degrade women? Many groups think so - some fairly forcefully.

But I have always wondered why this care and emotional reaction does not extend to male strippers and rent boys etc. Why do feminists only care about the objectification of women, and not men? Generally, men, particularly white ones, aren't exploited as a group, but it would be folly to think that exceptions aren't there. Why are the feminists only bleating about the exploited women working in these crappy bars in possibly the most degrading job, in the most uncontrolled legal industry, of all time?

It makes me wonder - is it because there is solid reason that men who take their clothes off and shag people for a living aren't exploited, and do this all of their own free will? Or is it a case of protecting only those one can relate to, instead of human rights as a whole?

One might think of the ANC as very pro-black rights, and on paper, that's true. But let me tell you - as a homosexual, they protect my rights too. As hard as it may be to believe, they protect the language rights of Afrikaners as well - otherwise we wouldn't have it in any educational institutions. Martin Luther King championed a HUMAN rights movement, not a black rights one. Many civil rights organisations have a focus, but bang on about HUMAN and CIVIL rights, and mean it.

Compare that to an organisation like Afriforum, as S'Thembiso Msomi does in this excellent column. In it, he says "Afriforum has led a spirited campaign against ANC Youth League president Julius Malema's ill-considered decision to continue singing a struggle song that features the phrase "shoot the Boer".

"Its campaign, however, is severely undermined by the fact that the organisation hardly uttered a word of protest when it was revealed that a security company manager had played a racist song at a Sun City event late last year. In that song, former president Nelson Mandela is called the "k-word"."

There was also no word from Afriforum when a group on facebook was calling black folks "houtkop" and "k-----" on facebook, which hit the news a year or two ago. It is an example of a movement labelled "civil rights" but meaning "Afrikaner rights".

Why is it then, that human rights groups say that women are degraded when they dance around in skimpy or no clothing, but say nothing when men are doing the exact same thing? I can't see why an audience appreciating naked men rather than naked women would be any less leering or dirty or exploitive.

Or are we falling back onto the thought that men should protect themsevles while women need help? If that's what people think, then aren't feminists correctly going bollock them for picturing women as reccessive and needy and unable to help themselves?

Or is it a single focus womens' rights movement, under the guise of human rights?

Perhaps the male stripping industry isn't huge in South Africa, but there is certainly a huge market for it internationally. So it is not a case of it happening so rarely that it's negligible.

And human rights are not negligible for any one person, even on one occasion. That's the entire point of them.

Don't think I am pissing on feminists or the movement they have carried out. I am certainly not. But I think it is worth fighting the full human rights battle, not just one. Focus on women, absolutely. But don't forget that what happens to women often happens to men too. Maybe not as a group, but certainly as individuals. And attack the source of the problem which fuels both exploited peoples.

Disclaimer: I am a feminist at heart, I know feminists and I don't think they do bad work or anything. Look at what they have achieved throughout history in terms of equality for women. I applaud them. I am NOT sitting here hating on feminists.

Perspectives

On Friday my car got broken into. They smashed my passenger window in and hakked my iPod (which was hidden away) inside. I got into a bit of a strop about it and had a good whinge and was just pretty fucked off.

Saturday night come, while I was whinging in someone's ear about my car being broken into and the loss of one mere possession...

While this was going on my sister was on her way back to town from the burbs. She was going about 60kph and she swerved to miss a dog that ran across the road. The island between the roads is at about 60 degrees, and in no time at all she lost control ads her car went up it. She smashed into a lamp post, scraped the complete shit out of the underneath of the car, and then drove into a tree which finally stopped her - she thinks her foot got jammed onto the accelerator during this whole shebang. Every air bag in the car went off, the bumper came off, mirrors broken off. She hit the tree so hard that her rear-view mirror fell off the windscreen. Cops at the scene said it is virtually impossible to have her accident and not roll a car there.

Somehow, she's fine.

All she has is a busted knee and a mark where the seatbelt caught her.

But it just goes to show you that a broken window ain't really that big of a deal, innit?

Misinterpretation

There is a game I played a few times in the UK - I think it is called Scattegories but I could be wrong. It is pretty much like 30 Seconds except you only have to get the people on your team to say one word. However, the hard bit is that written on the card are 5 words you may not use. For example, if the clue was elephant, you might not be able to say animal, trunk, dumbo, mammal or pachyderm while trying to explain the clue.

One day we were playing it and one of the chaps was trying to explain "Newcastle", as in the city in the UK. He pointed to Neil, one of our group who was from Newcastle, and said "Neil Neil Neil" excitedly. Pretty simple, you'd think. But no.

Niel is gay.

So while the oke was going "Neil Neil Neil" as his Newcastle clue, we were roaring back "gay", "homo", "poof", "fudge packer", "pillow-biter", "Elton John", "the Queen", "queer"...

Poor Neil. He sat there like someone had slapped him while we pissed ourselves laughing when we heard what the actual answer was.

Sadly, our 30 seconds ran out. And we didn't get the point for it.

We suck at talking to each other

Last night I was sitting with two Yanks and two Brits chatting about South Africa. One of the things that came up was the process of getting married in Zulu culture, specifically, the practice of lobola. One of the Yanks (Called Yank 1 fro now on) worked with/knew a Zulu woman who was about to get married and had told her that cattle were being passed around (apoplogies, I don't know the ins and outs of the process) for the purpose of her being married to some oke who she had been in a relationship with for a long time.


Yank 1 - who is very pleasant and NOT AT ALL the type of typical Sarah Palin charicature you may fall back on - then said that when she had spoken to the wife-to-be, and while doing so, asked the prospective marryer how much she herself (Yank1) would be worth, and whether it would be more than a chicken. Cue laughter from the other people at the table. Yank 1 then mentioned that the Zulu woman hadn't taken what she said in jest.


My reply was that I could see the Zulu woman's point of view. Someone foreign, white American nogal, was taking the piss out of a very important ritual for Zulu people. Yank 1 certainly did NOT mean anything malicious by it, nor was she trying to make a point. It was just something she had said as a joke. The Zulu woman evidently didn't see it as such, and it showed.


Yank 1 couldn't quite understand this. In fairness, I don't think many people who aren't Zulu (or have similar rituals) would.


I also think that Yank 1 doesn't know what it is like to have been on the receiving end of prejudice. I think it is key. Being prejudiced against makes one defensive.


What may have been meant in jest, was received as some kind of light form of imperialism.
What was intended as a joke was taken as a patronising observation.
What was probably intended as something jovial, was taken as a slight.


Being gay gives me a tiny insight into what it is like being on the receiving end of preconceived ideas, and I have become incredibly defensive before when I percieve a comment to be a slight on me or my peoples - anything that could be interpreted as your way is good and mine is bad or stupid or lame or evil or whatever.


And this reaction is not confined to Zulus and gays. Try Christians, Muslims, farmers, Afrikaners, handicapped folks, people with AIDS, traditional leaders, coloured folks, Durbanites, Jews, French people, New Zealanders, anyone who has ever supported the Lions, Scottish and Welsh people... the list goes on.


(Pretty much everyone except white athiests. They're a weird exception.)


So do I think Yank1 was wrong? No. I am saying that as a white American, she may not know how she is being perceived when jokingly comparing the ancient (black - it is a notable point) process of lobola against being bought for a chicken. And perhaps if the Zulu woman had explained why she felt like she did about it, things would be clearer.


In fact, if everyone spent more time thinking AND explaining, we'd be in a healthier place.


It reinforces the notion I have that we suck at talking to each other. People are never going to understand unless you tell them things. If you just expect them to know things, you're living in La La Land.

#PromCricket Match Report

And so they gathered under the hot African sun with the expectation of great cricket as the #promcricket Test series commenced. The team sheet looked like this:
Arcanius
Lesterkk
Simonwillo
RoxyAlexDallas (known as Roxy from now on)
TOMolefe (aka DarkNativeBoy and Ozzibuko)
Niels Himself and family
Heather
Franczeska
Carl
Paul

Due to short numbers, MvelaseP was promoted from drinks guarder to player
(Just so you know, the above crowd is a good reflection of South African society, and represents a multitude of races, genders, sexual orientations and ages. We did in one attempt what Cricket South Africa has been trying to do for years).

The start of the fixture was delayed initially because only three of us were there, and there was a security incident when two policemen, for safety reasons, ordered a change of venue (actually, we were playing on some sort of ball-game free section of the Promenade and they made us move, which was rather annoying).

Once the match began to progress, controversy struck as Arcanius was deemed to have used an illegal bat, which was one of the reasons he plonked us all over the park during his first innings where he saw off the pace threat of TOMolefe, the wily spinners of Lesterkk and the, erm, original bowling style of Roxy. Slowly but surely, the pressure began to toll until him and his giant bat were finally out after he had torn the bowling apart in the initial part of his innings. This whole episode followed TOMolefe’s ripping pacers terminating Simonwillo’s opening knock.

Lesterkk was next to show off his abilities as he began by attacking the spin threat of Simonwillo and deposited a few big blows over the leg side field. However, the innings was not to last as a beautifully timed cover drive ended up in the sea, and, due to his own rule, was declared out by the umpires (everyone else who was there). As he didn’t fetch the ball, like the laws of the game state, and wimped out from reterving it from the icy jaws of the Atlantic, he will get bedonnered in the fines meeting, scheduled for sometime in the future.

Niels, on his eighth or ninth smoke-free day was energetically throwing himself round the field as Simonwillo athletically guarded the stumps taking two excellent reflex one-hand-one-bounce catches. The pair of them also spoke a whole heap of shit while the game was in progress. Niels was particularly verbose when Roxy was diving around the field like a hybrid Jonty-Rhodes-sprinbok

Heather’s innings was brief but entertaining as she nearly hit the ball, and then the competition became fierce as Franczeska had to face up to none other than Carl, his boyfriend. In the battle of the couple, Carl had the first laugh as his slender textbook bowling action ended Franczeska’s adventurous innings, but the favour was returned in the next over as Carl, looking set for a long innings, did not actually have one due to the unpredictable deliveries from Franczeska.

Mvelasep, the travelling reserve surprised all as he smashed the ball around the park in an innings that took the other players by surprise, and included a great shot over mid on, past the diving Niels.

A scheduled drinks break signalled the end of the days play as the players were sitting in the sun and having a few beers, and it was just lovely.

In the end the players all shook hands and said goodbye because by then they needed a nap (Well I did).

So hopefully we see YOU at the second season of #promcricket when, once again, we will entertain ourselves with the JP Duminy cricket set, and each other.

#Promcricket update

Ok folks,

I may have recruited two cricket bats which is good news. At worst, we will use @arcanius' and just drop it before running. Niels might bring one too.

Also, @lesterkk brings up a good point. If you hit the ball over the boardwalk, you are 6 and out and you go and fucken swim and fetch it.

New additions, we have Heather from 24.com, some kiddies joining, @byronrode, @almackay, @magicmike1313. If you still want to come THEN DO! I haven't invited anyone specifically - everyone who reads this can come.

WE WILL MEET ACROSS THE ROAD FROM THE WINCHESTER MANSIONS.

I am not dishing out my phone number, I am afraid. You just have to find me from 12.30 on the Promenade across from the Winchester Mansions.

Bring your A-game and booze. I am not bringing anything.

PS, if it rains we can just go to the pub across the road and get trollied.

#PromCricket

Hello folks.

As I suck at organising things, I only found my list of RSVPs for #promcricket today.

This is who I have who has RSVPed:

Confirmed:
1) @franczeska
2) @RoxyAlexDallas
3) @lesterkk
4) Kimmefruit (Letterdash)
5) @TOMolefe
6) @Mohebo
7) Mos Native (Letterdash)
8) Antoinette (forgot twitter name -sorry)
9) Niels Himself (Leterdash)
10) @franczeska's +1
11) @lesterkk's +1
12) @lesterkk's +another 1

Maybes:
- @dyled
- @BobMabena (or @Bob_Mabena I can't remember)
- @brendan_l
- Bernard (Letterdash)
- @arcainius

And the booze will be looked after by @Mvelase_P

REMINDER:
Garden cricket rules apply.
First ball to be bowled abetween 12.30 and 1.

REQUESTS:
Does anyone have cricket bats and/or tennis/slaz balls?

A heroine of mine

I don't care much for famous people, to be completely honest. I have very few role models that I don't know in some sense. I have always based my personal growth and inspiration on those I can access and be interactive with. In a blogging sense, I gravitate toward those I can learn from - you know who you are - some of whom I get to appreciate in person too. In a real life sense I spend time with some amazing writers with whom I work, some well-versed political folks, some people who just know a lot of stuff, some who have overcome difficult circumstances.

For me, these are my role models.

Except for one person who I admire from afar. Today I was quite surprised at how sad I felt when I read that Martina Navratilova was diagnosed with breast cancer. This fucking disease has infected thousands upon thousands of people, but it really struck me today just how it can smack anyone.

Image from sportige.com

Martina Navratilova has always been a hero of mine. In my view, while everyone wanks over Roger Federer, I think she is the greatest tennis player of all time. The battles she fought were fairly difficult - she crossed the Iron Curtain to go and live in the US, where she was deeply unpopular due to her original country, as well as her open homosexuality. And she was booed and booed and booed, but she destroyed opponents before her. Her record is incomparable in professional tennis.

She beat every bloody thing that came her way, even winning a French Open mixed doubles title at the age of 52.

She fought and she won, and she fought and she won. And now she has to fight through 6 weeks of radiation therapy. She's got to fight and win again.

Jesus.

I am sure she will come through it. But I would be lying if I said I wasn't really sad about it.

It seems that Martina Navratilova is my Elvis.