What my eyes wish to see always brings me sorrow.
But I always long to see.
D.S Skade
31 August, 2010
The effect of light on the toilet door, in a mall.
The centre of what at first seems like a tilted cross (above), is in fact a merging point of two beams of lights that fell on the cubicle door to create such an effect.
If nature can be credited for spontaneous complexities like 'life'; who then do we credit for the effect of light as shown above?
It certainly cannot be man, because those who installed those lights in the 'rest rooms', did not envision the effect that these lights would have on the depicted door?
Perhaps there's an alternative force that has never been discovered.
D.S Skade
30 August, 2010
Basking in the world of writing
Text and pictures by: Raphael Mokoena
I am very proud that I am one of the “new wave” black writers from the Free State. The tendency is for Free State black writing to be undermined by the uninformed, but some research – including surfing the internet – will reveal that Free State Black writing is one of the most vibrant not only in South Africa but in the continent as a whole.
Dozens of impressive black writers have emerged from the grassroots in the Province (Free State), most of who have gone on to publish books with varying degrees of success over the last ten years. Indeed Free State libraries stock thousands of copies of books published by such writers, ranging from the established ones like Flaxman Qoopane, Lebohang Thaisi and Pule Lechesa ; to the latest discoveries like Hector Kunene and Maxwell Kanemanyanga.
The extraordinary growth of Free State Black Writing (which has produced the likes of yours truly) can largely be attributed to two gentlemen: Omoseye Bolaji, and Flaxman Qoopane. Bolaji, the first black man to be conferred with the Chancellor’s Medal by the University of the Free State, is a veritable literary catalyst. Firstly he has published many gripping, very readable fictional works of his own, especially the “Tebogo Mystery series” which many readers find themselves reading over and over again. Also, Bolaji goes out of his way to discover, encourage, nurture and even publish promising writers. He introduces literature to the “masses” in a very appealing manner – guiding them (us) in what to read and appreciate, adding local colour with his usual zest.
As for Flaxman Qoopane this Free State based writer is probably most famous for his LITERARY GALLERY which continues to attract countless people, including international tourists and students. Qoopane’s private literary gallery in Bloemfontein must surely be one of the best of its kind in Africa. It contains hundreds of articles, interviews, critiques, general write-ups (Published in papers, magazines and journals over the years) of South African and African writers. Those of us who have been inspired by his literary gallery can attest to how awe-inspiring the same is, for budding and established writers.
Hence the very ambience of the Free State is very much “friendly” to writers in the Province, including myself. We are hardly frustrated, and young new writers are generally encouraged from inception to “do their thing” in whatever genre of writing they prefer. Most of course prefer poetry. Some find their niche in writing fiction (eg young Teboho Masakala) A few of us – like myself and Pule Lechesa – have found out that our forte is “literary criticism”! I have contributed many articles over the years, eg, to the Free State based journal, The growth of FS Black Writing, which is published annually.
To summarize, from my writing experience (such as it is so far) the budding writer anywhere in the world will find out sooner or later that they love expressing their thoughts on paper; many will be frustrated along the way; some will be more fortunate…but every writer will benefit from feeding their minds regularly, via reading and reading. Our fluency, diction, approach, themes, erudition etc get better and better in the process!
- Raphael Mokoena
Flaxman Qoopane and Omoseye Bolaji
I am very proud that I am one of the “new wave” black writers from the Free State. The tendency is for Free State black writing to be undermined by the uninformed, but some research – including surfing the internet – will reveal that Free State Black writing is one of the most vibrant not only in South Africa but in the continent as a whole.
Dozens of impressive black writers have emerged from the grassroots in the Province (Free State), most of who have gone on to publish books with varying degrees of success over the last ten years. Indeed Free State libraries stock thousands of copies of books published by such writers, ranging from the established ones like Flaxman Qoopane, Lebohang Thaisi and Pule Lechesa ; to the latest discoveries like Hector Kunene and Maxwell Kanemanyanga.
The extraordinary growth of Free State Black Writing (which has produced the likes of yours truly) can largely be attributed to two gentlemen: Omoseye Bolaji, and Flaxman Qoopane. Bolaji, the first black man to be conferred with the Chancellor’s Medal by the University of the Free State, is a veritable literary catalyst. Firstly he has published many gripping, very readable fictional works of his own, especially the “Tebogo Mystery series” which many readers find themselves reading over and over again. Also, Bolaji goes out of his way to discover, encourage, nurture and even publish promising writers. He introduces literature to the “masses” in a very appealing manner – guiding them (us) in what to read and appreciate, adding local colour with his usual zest.
As for Flaxman Qoopane this Free State based writer is probably most famous for his LITERARY GALLERY which continues to attract countless people, including international tourists and students. Qoopane’s private literary gallery in Bloemfontein must surely be one of the best of its kind in Africa. It contains hundreds of articles, interviews, critiques, general write-ups (Published in papers, magazines and journals over the years) of South African and African writers. Those of us who have been inspired by his literary gallery can attest to how awe-inspiring the same is, for budding and established writers.
Hence the very ambience of the Free State is very much “friendly” to writers in the Province, including myself. We are hardly frustrated, and young new writers are generally encouraged from inception to “do their thing” in whatever genre of writing they prefer. Most of course prefer poetry. Some find their niche in writing fiction (eg young Teboho Masakala) A few of us – like myself and Pule Lechesa – have found out that our forte is “literary criticism”! I have contributed many articles over the years, eg, to the Free State based journal, The growth of FS Black Writing, which is published annually.
To summarize, from my writing experience (such as it is so far) the budding writer anywhere in the world will find out sooner or later that they love expressing their thoughts on paper; many will be frustrated along the way; some will be more fortunate…but every writer will benefit from feeding their minds regularly, via reading and reading. Our fluency, diction, approach, themes, erudition etc get better and better in the process!
- Raphael Mokoena
Uselessly: A novel whose story never ends
I'm tempted to declare Uselessly, a novel by Aryan Kaganof as the best fictional work there is, but realise the perils lurking behind such proclamations. First of all, I have not read all the novels there is in the world to make such a bold statement. (Not that anyone would or has done so in the past.) Secondly, if one refers to the work of art as being the 'best', may somewhat suggest the artist to be at pinnacle on their creative journey, and that beyond that state perceived to be the ultimate peak, nothing more creative and phenomenal may arise. In essence, this limits the scope on which to evaluate the artist's merit even for himself or herself - he/she would have reached the ultimate point after all by virtue of proclamations like ‘best work’.
With such a perspective on creative merit in mind, at least from one standpoint, I would go further and freely say that Uselessly, is by far one of the best fictional pieces I have read so far. I will concede that this assertion is a daring move knowing how subjective it may appear as with any personal take on matters of art. But I'm extremely comfortable saying this based of my reading tastes and habits.
I had to wait a few weeks before I could attempt to write this piece about the book, as there was profusion of talking points that could not just be dismissed as fiction, even though the work itself is fiction. By this I’m asserting that Uselessly's biggest achievement is its phenomenally candid portrayal of the events and characters in the story, chief of which is the protagonist himself J.J. Uselessly and his estranged father Harry. The sincerity which carries the book in its abundantly layered narrative, dialogue and fine detail in just about every aspect of it is the blueprint on the success of this work.
What kept me turning the pages as I read on is fundamentally the honesty that the protagonist relates the events inside and around his ‘non-conventional’ life. Never before has a book become an enduring part of my never-ceasing conversations with my twin brother on the arts as enthusiastic followers, as with Uselessly. We giggle, laugh and talk at length about the many aspects of this great book, which only generate more talking points.
It could be an odd coincidence that my view that fiction mocks or reflects reality is consistent with Uselessy's contents. This thread or relationship in this instance was raised by my brother as we first spoke about the book, after I asked him to read it. He had said that it’s very amazing how it challenges mainstream ways of life.
James Joyce Uselessly, may be seen by others as a 'low-life', a non-aspirant soul, at least in the grand scheme of things as understood to be the way of life. But I admire him dearly and fell in love with the freedom he seems to have to be nothing else but himself, thus as a young boy he boldly declares as follows:
"… I knew right then, at that tender age, that it was my mission to SLOW THINGS DOWN! Not by preaching, mind you, and certainly not in the sense of garish activities like politics, activism etc. No, my mission was a personal one..." J.J. Uselessly monologue as a young man.
His aspirations, which may be dismissed as rebellious or suicidal in that they don't carry ingredients of modern life's ones, are as real and very much attainable as those widely spread in the gospel of modern living, which dictates which direction dreams should flow, and determine the value each dream carries.
J.J. Uselessly is a non-conformist in every sense of the word. This trait emerges early in his life through his engagements with others, and in his early years in school. As expected, the perceptions of him by others as early as at that tender age reflect the dogmas planted within the young to conform to a predefined life. Fair enough, the young need guidance in real life, which should not stifle them into forced career choices and such things. But J.J. is not affected by all of that, at least to a point of altering his makeup as a unique being. He endures that until he's old enough to be his own man with an even more resolute undertaking to be nothing else but himself. He expresses this resolves clearly and convincingly through monologues and experiences related in an inspiringly different manner. They are random incidents, which may pose an enormous challenge to the writer, which in this case Kaganof handles impressively well as everything falls perfectly into place.
In its frank and non-conformist storytelling approach presented as a series of letters sent to God, Uselessly achieves much more than one book of 191 pages may possibly accomplish. The wonder around God's omniscient power is explored through witty and somewhat dual sympathetic nature, in that J.J. pities and sympathises with himself and other fellow beings for having to be part of a living structure that dictates that one needs to hold a job, for example. He also questions why humankind has to go through so many misfortunes. His other expression of sympathy is for God for being always awake and having to deal with so many people's problems all at once. In one letter he goes as far as asking God if He's ever been drunk, a token in some ways of his own perceived contribution to his relationship with God Himself. It is a casual relationship with strong ties of confidence and all as depicted below:
"Dear God, Thank you for your reply. It's great that you have a sense of humour. Have you ever been drunk? So badly drunk that you had to vomit? Maybe that's how the universe came into being…," J.J. Uselessly to God.
J.J. is an intellectual of intense depth. His roots are entrenched deep into the vast soil of the land, thus he's in touch with the world and reflects his understanding of it all in the subjects he engages in through his intra-personal communication. He tackles the issue of race, social interactions and relationships with absolute wit and insight. His suspicion that his father Harry may have been involved in the activities of Vlakplaas is presented in the funniest manner (a light-hearted take on this chilling part of history).
“...What if a guy returns to South Africa after sixteen years of exile to discover that his apparently sweet and respectable father had worked for the regime as a torturer at Vlakplaas?” J.J. Uselessly thinking about his father’s past life.
There's an impressive reference to films that is woven into the storyline impeccably. Some people may think that as going off at a tangent, but the very reference becomes an important tool in exploring Uselessly’s complex-yet-so-simple life.
“Thank you God for your reply. I’ve been meaning to tell you for some time about the last shot of that movie Laurel Canyon, It’s a close-up of the face of the protagonist, who is completely unable to deal with the world, which is cold and confusing, so he sinks into the swimming pool in which he is standing and the camera sinks with him and we see his face suddenly illuminated with the inner certainty that this warm watery amnion is where he belongs, not out there in the hectically confused melodrama of existence…,” J.J. Uselessly to God.
Forgiveness goes down for me as the most poignant and inspirational element of this book. It is reflected through several scenes but nowhere is it as tear-jerking as in J.J.'s relationship with Harry, who once requested that J.J. be exterminated through abortion.
"...we start running. My seventy-year-old Non-Hodgkin's survivor is running along the beach with me, and I'm half his age and I can't keep up. We fall to the sand, both of us breathless, he puts up his right arm and we set to. The wind is on his side, but I've got the canny leverage of the sea behind me. It's an epic battle and I'm quite sure that the Mountain shifts a bit in order to get a better view of it all. I'm concentrating hard on The Devil's right arm, which is the biogenetical progenitor of mine. Eventually I get him down. There are tears in his eyes, but I'm willing to put money on the beach that they're tears of affection. We hug...," J.J Uselessly on one of his interactions with his father, Harry.
Apart from almost having been aborted, J.J. grows up without a father figure in his life. In spite that void, he yearns to meet him and this comes true one day when he’s older, and this changes his life forever. His experiences with Harry become the highlights of his life. These experiences are related with passion, wit, cynicism, heroism and nonchalance.
At first one expects that their relationship would be one of hate or argument-driven nature by virtue of the long absence in each other’s lives, but that never happens. Instead, love and happiness flourish to present the books most inspirational reflection of love between a father and son.
I fear conservative religion-based believers may not be pleased with the informal relationship J.J. has with God. With salutations like 'Yrs’, ‘Your friend’, ‘Your pal’, and ‘Inebriatedly’, among others, apart from the contents of his letters to God. I suppose his point is to reveal a different type of a relationship to what is generally known between the Source and man.
Uselessly, as declared in the opening paragraph of this note, is by far one of the best books I have read so far; this goes for the non-fiction genre too. Its story never ends when in finishes on page 191. It continues in one's mind through pondering and reflection. Never has any book done that to me. And it is only fitting to share this experience.
I hope not to get into trouble with other equally brilliant writers. I had to tell of my experience of this book.
© Deon Simphiwe Skade
29 August, 2010
The might of love over resentment
The only thing that makes resentful people flourish is resentment itself; give them love instead - D.S. Skade
The side of the World Cup we still need to address
Never has there been a sardonic reflection on the fervent ambience of the national passion for soccer, as with the football match between Bidvest Wits and Supersport United. The game, which was played at BidVest stadium on 28 August 2010, and broadcast live on SABC TV for national reach to those who don't have pay TV channel SuperSport, showed a spirit that majorly contrasted that of the FIFA World Cup.
The much needed euphoria that the world soccer showpiece brought to South Africa shows just how powerful and misleading the Mass Media together with the trends that we create may be at times. Fair enough, as acknowledged in the preceding sentence, the country needed a galvanising force that ushered in the exuberance and confidence in the national pride, which in essence is what we can use to address many of our ills and shape a new direction for our future successes. The perception that the Mass Media, together with the biggest sporting showpiece in the world, the FIFA World Cup brought, suggested that soccer is loved and supported universally with the same degree of commitment and passion. The stadia, which most people know just how expensive they were to build in preparation for the biggest showpiece, were impressively 'full' during the matches considering that the games were not featuring Kaizer Chief and Pirates, as the traditional crowd-pullers in the local soccer game. Not even Bafana Bafana (I better be careful with this name; it’s owned by someone after all) could pull full crowds in their matches until as recently as the final games before the commencement of the soccer spectacle, which seems to have yielded polarized views on a number of issues within South Africa, whether related to soccer or not.
BidVest stadium, which hosted the match of the new soccer season, had almost all the seats on the opposite side of the broadcasting camera gaping with embarrassing emptiness, with an occasional spot here and there suggesting that there may be people watching from that side of the field. This is not a pleasing display for South Africa, which only last month prided herself to be among the most passionate countries supporting soccer. With such visuals in mind and knowing that Wits and Supersport United play impressive football respectively, brings back the pre-tournament debate that the new stadia may end up becoming 'white elephants' after the event had long past.
Before I get accused of pessimism, even though I know that I can never be one in a million years, let me rather express nostalgia for the spirit that prevailed in the land during June and July. Never has South Africa reflected that sense of patriotism and exuberance before. Even though many thought the whole thing as a facade, the bottom line is that it afforded the reluctance of this land's psyche the much-needed impetus to socially reach a place where we could all unite as a strong force to engage on issues facing our land. This space if nurtured, could give adequate and equal platform for all to speak freely without malice in making their frustrations known. It could be a platform that encourages empathy, tolerance and understanding. It may bring a climate which could be conducive for ‘weirdoes’, ‘smarty pants’, ‘cynics’, and all these other characters we name and ridicule, including ourselves, to be free to express ourselves in a constructive environment. Maybe then, we can start to tackle serious challenges that face us as a diverse nation that bears a malignant cancer in our history, our present state and the future – we may carry this tumour into the future untreated, which could be catastrophic for our children. Maybe after the debates and engagements around all that afflict us, we may know ourselves differently. Maybe then the shocking disparities existent on all levels of the society would also end.
Social commentary by its very perilous nature invites all sorts of views from those who receive these messages. These diverse sentiments which should never be taken for granted or dismissed as trivial are expressed at all levels of societies for different reasons. For instance, some people boycotted World Cup games, arguing that it was improper to have spent so much money on hosting the event, whereas this essential resource could have been channelled into education and other things of ‘national importance’. Conceivably, this type of argument is one that would be strongly opposed by those who work within investments and economic matters. It is often expressed that the benefit for hosting this event will only be seen years later in improved trade relations and booming travel and tourism activities
It would also be unfair to suddenly think that those who never liked soccer before the World Cup would just commit their loyalty to the game as easily. Many people don’t like soccer and that needs to be respected just as other sporting codes are not enjoying the universal support perceived the existent. Similarly, not everybody can afford to attend a soccer match every week, if the idea is to fill the stadiums.
Many people would not afford the recently increased R40 per match soccer ticket as they are living in frightening poverty. There also those who enjoy watching the game on TV, away from all the multitude of bodies in high spirits. The simple point I’m trying to highlight here, is that local soccer does not have the universal appeal it is ‘insinuated’ to have in South Africa. It should therefore not be used as an all-important galvanising force to allow the nation to reach improved socioeconomic relations, just as other sporting codes should not be seen as the ultimate ingredient in spurring the debates around national transformation.
There’s still a pool of people who prefer the soccer action offered by foreign leagues like the English Premiership, which should also not be undermined either. Freedom is to be able to choose after all.
All this talk brings me to these questions: Why was it deemed necessary to have an international event ignite the spirit of the nation to the degrees that we reached in June/July? Is that how it should work; that we should wait for an outside stimulus to begin to work on our health as a society?
I’m certain that there are many people who wish to see change on many levels of our society, and are doing their bit to attain such results. These self-driven initiatives have survived for many years and have seen incredible results unfold to alter the course of the future. If it’s poverty we want to fight, let us do so. If it’s for our safety, health, prosperity, democracy and justice that we wish to also fight for in a constructive sense in order to live in a country that oozes a more genuine spirit than the one generated by the World Cup, let us do that sincerely and passionately. We’re after all one community that should prosper as a unit in spite our individualities.
With SuperSport Channel owning the majority of the broadcasting rights for the local Premier Soccer League matches, after the national broadcaster failed to secure them three years ago, one wonders what type of impact this would have on the local soccer game, particularly for those who are comfortable watching the action at home. One voice should never be passed on as a representation for the multitudes. A platform for diverse voices should be created instead, this way everybody is represented with their concerns and frustrations. And all that would need to be addressed in order to precipitate a true united front devoid of fear, hate, and suffering.
My disappointment that BidVest stadium could be as 'empty' as depicted on TV in the Wits and SuperSport match stays nonetheless, because it suggests that South Africa cannot create the spirit of the World Cup on its own and sustain it further on. Perhaps the Public Relations community may also market the game differently from now on, if the idea is to reflect the extent of the united interest in local soccer.
The much needed euphoria that the world soccer showpiece brought to South Africa shows just how powerful and misleading the Mass Media together with the trends that we create may be at times. Fair enough, as acknowledged in the preceding sentence, the country needed a galvanising force that ushered in the exuberance and confidence in the national pride, which in essence is what we can use to address many of our ills and shape a new direction for our future successes. The perception that the Mass Media, together with the biggest sporting showpiece in the world, the FIFA World Cup brought, suggested that soccer is loved and supported universally with the same degree of commitment and passion. The stadia, which most people know just how expensive they were to build in preparation for the biggest showpiece, were impressively 'full' during the matches considering that the games were not featuring Kaizer Chief and Pirates, as the traditional crowd-pullers in the local soccer game. Not even Bafana Bafana (I better be careful with this name; it’s owned by someone after all) could pull full crowds in their matches until as recently as the final games before the commencement of the soccer spectacle, which seems to have yielded polarized views on a number of issues within South Africa, whether related to soccer or not.
BidVest stadium, which hosted the match of the new soccer season, had almost all the seats on the opposite side of the broadcasting camera gaping with embarrassing emptiness, with an occasional spot here and there suggesting that there may be people watching from that side of the field. This is not a pleasing display for South Africa, which only last month prided herself to be among the most passionate countries supporting soccer. With such visuals in mind and knowing that Wits and Supersport United play impressive football respectively, brings back the pre-tournament debate that the new stadia may end up becoming 'white elephants' after the event had long past.
Before I get accused of pessimism, even though I know that I can never be one in a million years, let me rather express nostalgia for the spirit that prevailed in the land during June and July. Never has South Africa reflected that sense of patriotism and exuberance before. Even though many thought the whole thing as a facade, the bottom line is that it afforded the reluctance of this land's psyche the much-needed impetus to socially reach a place where we could all unite as a strong force to engage on issues facing our land. This space if nurtured, could give adequate and equal platform for all to speak freely without malice in making their frustrations known. It could be a platform that encourages empathy, tolerance and understanding. It may bring a climate which could be conducive for ‘weirdoes’, ‘smarty pants’, ‘cynics’, and all these other characters we name and ridicule, including ourselves, to be free to express ourselves in a constructive environment. Maybe then, we can start to tackle serious challenges that face us as a diverse nation that bears a malignant cancer in our history, our present state and the future – we may carry this tumour into the future untreated, which could be catastrophic for our children. Maybe after the debates and engagements around all that afflict us, we may know ourselves differently. Maybe then the shocking disparities existent on all levels of the society would also end.
Social commentary by its very perilous nature invites all sorts of views from those who receive these messages. These diverse sentiments which should never be taken for granted or dismissed as trivial are expressed at all levels of societies for different reasons. For instance, some people boycotted World Cup games, arguing that it was improper to have spent so much money on hosting the event, whereas this essential resource could have been channelled into education and other things of ‘national importance’. Conceivably, this type of argument is one that would be strongly opposed by those who work within investments and economic matters. It is often expressed that the benefit for hosting this event will only be seen years later in improved trade relations and booming travel and tourism activities
It would also be unfair to suddenly think that those who never liked soccer before the World Cup would just commit their loyalty to the game as easily. Many people don’t like soccer and that needs to be respected just as other sporting codes are not enjoying the universal support perceived the existent. Similarly, not everybody can afford to attend a soccer match every week, if the idea is to fill the stadiums.
Many people would not afford the recently increased R40 per match soccer ticket as they are living in frightening poverty. There also those who enjoy watching the game on TV, away from all the multitude of bodies in high spirits. The simple point I’m trying to highlight here, is that local soccer does not have the universal appeal it is ‘insinuated’ to have in South Africa. It should therefore not be used as an all-important galvanising force to allow the nation to reach improved socioeconomic relations, just as other sporting codes should not be seen as the ultimate ingredient in spurring the debates around national transformation.
There’s still a pool of people who prefer the soccer action offered by foreign leagues like the English Premiership, which should also not be undermined either. Freedom is to be able to choose after all.
All this talk brings me to these questions: Why was it deemed necessary to have an international event ignite the spirit of the nation to the degrees that we reached in June/July? Is that how it should work; that we should wait for an outside stimulus to begin to work on our health as a society?
I’m certain that there are many people who wish to see change on many levels of our society, and are doing their bit to attain such results. These self-driven initiatives have survived for many years and have seen incredible results unfold to alter the course of the future. If it’s poverty we want to fight, let us do so. If it’s for our safety, health, prosperity, democracy and justice that we wish to also fight for in a constructive sense in order to live in a country that oozes a more genuine spirit than the one generated by the World Cup, let us do that sincerely and passionately. We’re after all one community that should prosper as a unit in spite our individualities.
With SuperSport Channel owning the majority of the broadcasting rights for the local Premier Soccer League matches, after the national broadcaster failed to secure them three years ago, one wonders what type of impact this would have on the local soccer game, particularly for those who are comfortable watching the action at home. One voice should never be passed on as a representation for the multitudes. A platform for diverse voices should be created instead, this way everybody is represented with their concerns and frustrations. And all that would need to be addressed in order to precipitate a true united front devoid of fear, hate, and suffering.
My disappointment that BidVest stadium could be as 'empty' as depicted on TV in the Wits and SuperSport match stays nonetheless, because it suggests that South Africa cannot create the spirit of the World Cup on its own and sustain it further on. Perhaps the Public Relations community may also market the game differently from now on, if the idea is to reflect the extent of the united interest in local soccer.
A Dave Mckean-inspired interpretation for a friend
Finished work, painted between June and August 2010
On the way to the finishing line:
(Could have left it painted as is, but it was essential for me to credit the original creator, Dave Mckean)
(Could have left it painted as is, but it was essential for me to credit the original creator, Dave Mckean)
28 August, 2010
Quentin Tarantino's Pulp Fiction - A classic of modern film
Image source: Google (Credit to the originator)
27 August, 2010
Michael Blake's Complete Works for Solo Piano 1994-2004
South Africa's worldwide acclaimed composer, Dr Michael Blake, is an industrious man and has been since the 1970's. He is one of the country’s cultural assets that need to be afforded a befitting role in the local music scene as a whole, and this should not be confined to Classical or Contemporary music.
The need for such wide recognition is stimulated by the apparent rigid demarcations set by music lovers, promoters and broadcasters within the South African society. This state needs to change as Dr Blake has demonstrated as early as the 1970's, by infusing arrangements of African music to his compositions. Truth be told, Classical music remains a genre for small and exclusive societies that are brought together by a common interest, as in the other types of music which are protective of their identity and appeal.
Notwithstanding his extensive study of music to hold a Doctoral Degree, Dr Blake's extensive work in composing, producing and performing music is an evidence of his colossal contribution to the world; with his music having been performed around the globe.
It is worth noting that I write this piece as a novice follower to this particular genre, by way of listening to Fine Music Radio (among others means) that continues to play variations of Classical music in abundance. Hence I will not attempt to get involved in the technical aspects of the music itself, but instead relate my personal engagements with Dr Blake's offering, Complete Works for Solo Piano 1994-2004, and share a short focus on his illustrious journey in music.
Listening to the album, which was released in 2008, is a great treat in aural pleasures. With the piano being one of the gentlest instruments ever made through the sound it produces, its language in this offering is gentle and dauntingly complex.
Perhaps this also has something to do with the pianist in its control, an illustrious Jill Richard. She’s an acclaimed composer/pianist, and performs Dr Blake's repertoire in this album with sheer impressiveness.
Having featured on a number of Contemporary music platforms as a solo performer and collaborator, it is not surprising that the honour to perform Dr Blake’s compositions fell on her. She's a consummate piano player whose musical experiences were enriched by her times at the University of Cape Town, the Royal College of Music and her visits to the USA.
Her delicacy on the keys is a mesmerizing treat of tenderness and sophistication. She’s quite versatile as she guides the melody through a complex form of sound in the twelve-track album that offers so much aural satisfaction. At first, the tempo seems to have a temperance of its own, which may suggest a possible rebellious mood. But it's submission to the perfection of Richard’s fingers on the keys, reveal the absolute control she has over the type of sound the large instrument emits. Her impressive playing demonstrates once more that the piano produces a sophisticated sound which needs a specialized skill to bring about such elegance. The performance is also reflective of the true demeanour of this musical instrument, that of mutual respect.
This journey of this elegance starts from the first track, 'French Suite', which plays until the second one takes over in an enticing sequence which carries on until the last piece called 'Their Souls In Waltzing On' ends off the journey. Variations of sound emerge from each composition putting one’s soul in a space of absolute tranquility.
As much as the credit goes to Richards for such a great performance, the bigger form of this reward certainly goes to Dr Blake, who invented the music that carries so much depth.
Dr Blake's extensive work over the years has reflected unambiguously that he's a man of great talent. The extent of this talent is vividly reflected in his rich history of 'activism', pioneering, collaboration and innovation. After attaining a Bachelors Degree in music (BMus) at Witwatersrand in 1970, he went to stay in London for while where he furthered his knowledge of music to a point of being conferred with a Masters Degree (Mmus). He created ensembles, composed music and performed extensively during his stay in London. And after twenty years abroad, he returned to his homeland where he continued to paint and ongoing art piece on his large canvas.
It is mentioned on his website that Dr Blake was not happy with the lack of opportunities afforded to young black composers upon his return to South Africa. This subsequently led to an establishment of a project that would give opportunities to previously disadvantaged composers. It entailed workshops run by Dr Blake with the assistance of his acclaimed composer friends from around the world; in a project he simply called 'Growing composers'. One of the successes of this initiative saw composers like Sibusiso Njeza reaching renowned platforms.
As mentioned before, Dr Blake has been fascinated by the African music techniques to a point of incorporating them into his own compositions. One form of the results was a collection that he termed 'African Notebook', a series of African-influenced compositions. This was an interesting form of activism for the continued marginalized African music. An endeavour like this one proves essential in bridging the gaps that exist within the music circles. And with such efforts, including the idea of introducing an unfamiliar genre of music to new audiences, will only encourage a sense of growth within the domestic scene, and a definite change in cultural differences.
The whole idea of Classical music is still a tender enjoyment to me (be it contemporary or that of other variations). As a member of the South African society that never had the opportunity to be exposed to it from a younger age, I still need to explore much of it further. Dr Blake's compositions with Richards on the piano only make this experience more fruitful and enjoyable. And just as I had been exploring variations of indigenous African music, this journey is still long and exhilarating.
© Deon Simphiwe Skade 2010
24 August, 2010
Simphiwe Dana's Kulture Noir
Simphiwe Dana's latest offering is stunningly rich and innovative. She constantly ascends to higher creative planes, thus redefining music.
Image source: Google (Copyright held by the originator)
Mind and the physical
They greatest toil is not that of the physical, but the mental activities which bring about the physical - D.S. Skade
Lemi Ghariokwu, the visual voice of Afrobeat
One of Ghariokwu's many sleeve designs for Fela Anikulapo Kuti.
Lemi Ghariokwu is an immensely talented and self-taught artist, who worked extensively with the Afrobeat originator Fela Anikulapo Kuti. When Fela's lyrics condemned, ridiculed and even protested against the injustices experienced by the people of Nigeria and the world at large, Gharioukwu did the same with his designs on the album covers.
His collaboration with Fela, as the world had come to know the Afrobeat king, remains one of the most prominent and successful artistic collaborative efforts of the 20th Century.
'His own input was basically the music. My relationship really developed positively with Fela, I was in a privilege position to do those sleeves the way I did. He treated me like a son, like one of his closest friends, though the youngest I was like a confidant and also a comrade in arms because I had in fact my own Pan African ideological thinking before I met Fela, so meeting him helped to ignite it in me. So he actually gave me total freedom (to do the sleeves) and I think these days it would be really hard to find someone to give one that kind of freedom and leeway.' Lemi Gharioukwu on his relationship with Fela and their art. (The whole interview, conducted by Ollie Sanders appears on Shook.)
Images source: Google (Copyright held by the originator)
23 August, 2010
Court Case no.06
They summoned the next witness to the box, an arresting officer by the name of Inspector Solomons. His evidence, the very one that ought to solve the case, exposed his lack of attention to detail instead. The prosecutor who the lead evidence on behalf of the state, revealed through cross examination that Mr Solomons had been negligent in his job. As a police officer, he should have known better than to overlook the importance of securing the crime scene properly. He committed a number of mistakes in his quest to make an arrest on the night of the alleged incident. First of all, he did not sound the siren, until at least he stopped the suspect's car. He also overlooked to flash the blue lights, as a communication of his intentions. This only set in motion a barrage of questions based on the integrity of the exhibits that Mr Solomons and fellow officers recovered from the scene.
'Mr Solomons, it is written in your statement that you discovered the gun at the crime scene; is that correct?' the state counsel began the procedural questions.
'That's correct,' said Mr Solomons, clearing his throat in the process.
'Am I correct then to put it to you that the gun found on the scene was in actual fact in the suspect's vehicle?'
'Yes, it was in the vehicle.'
'Was it on the front or the back passenger seat?'
'It was on the back seat.'
'And you're hundred percent sure that you had the crime scene secured at all times?'
'That's correct.'
'Who then put the gun into the evidence bag?'
'I'm not sure; there were two other officers with me at the scene, Sir.'
'Will it be correct then, if I say it's possible that the gun in question may have been planted in the suspect's car?'
'I wouldn't know that, Sir.'
'Did you not say you were the first person at the scene Mr Solomons?'
'Yes, I was.'
'And you had the full control of the scene until the two officers arrived, with this control extending further to a point where you all left the scene with the arrested suspect?'
'That's correct.'
'Can you please confirm to the court again, that you are in fact the one who discovered the gun in the suspect's car?’
'That's correct; I'm the one who discovered the gun.'
'And at which point did you register this discovery?'
'It was after the two officers joined me.'
'Did you search the car before they arrived, the two officers that is?'
'Yes I did, but it was a quick eye scan.'
'I submit to you then Mr Solomons, that at no point during your quick eye scan you saw the gun. It was in fact when the two officers joined you that you discovered exhibit A; is that correct?' the counsel said pointing to the alleged gun.
'That's correct, Sir.'
The prosecutor was relentless in his questions. He was thorough and meant to establish consistency and irregularities. I thought he was mean to the poor officer, who began to show signs of impatience. He rubbed his hands on the sides of the wooden border of the witness box nervously.
As they cross questioned Mr Solomons like that, repeating one question over and over, but cleverly posing it differently, I looked at the large space above them hoping to see justice fall over to guide the proceeding. It's not that the unfolding case was compromised or anything like that, it's just that justice is a subjective phenomenon that decides people's fate on mere technicalities. And often, this could mean wrong conviction or acquittal.
I looked around, over the contoured roof that bore elaborate lights that dangled audaciously over the court. It was as if they presided over the proceedings as judges. Through their luminescence, someone was under the spotlight. In this case, Mr Solomons.
The bottom part of the room, covered around in old wood, kept its silence too, when I was earnestly anticipating justice to fall over and guide these men through the journey of proving the matter under discussion to be one thing or another - no in-betweens! But justice never fell, at least at that point.
I decided to leave the court gallery not having established on who's favour the officer's evidence worked - his or the suspect's. The one thing about it was that it was severely compromised. I just hoped it did not land him into trouble outside the court, after all had been said and done. The red tape existent in institutions like the Police doesn't favour negligence and that sort of thing, I presume. This strictness extends far beyond Mr Solomons’ employers, and spills and rules over many other institutions. I hope nothing bad happens to him outside these walls. If freaks of time like bad luck descend over him, he may have to also sit as an accused in a setup like the one of this court where he gave evidence, except he will not be one, but a defendant instead. It will be less stringent then, but very volatile with the possibility that he may lose his bread and butter - what would he eat after that? I can only wish him well as I stand up to leave.
© Deon Simphiwe Skade 2010
'Mr Solomons, it is written in your statement that you discovered the gun at the crime scene; is that correct?' the state counsel began the procedural questions.
'That's correct,' said Mr Solomons, clearing his throat in the process.
'Am I correct then to put it to you that the gun found on the scene was in actual fact in the suspect's vehicle?'
'Yes, it was in the vehicle.'
'Was it on the front or the back passenger seat?'
'It was on the back seat.'
'And you're hundred percent sure that you had the crime scene secured at all times?'
'That's correct.'
'Who then put the gun into the evidence bag?'
'I'm not sure; there were two other officers with me at the scene, Sir.'
'Will it be correct then, if I say it's possible that the gun in question may have been planted in the suspect's car?'
'I wouldn't know that, Sir.'
'Did you not say you were the first person at the scene Mr Solomons?'
'Yes, I was.'
'And you had the full control of the scene until the two officers arrived, with this control extending further to a point where you all left the scene with the arrested suspect?'
'That's correct.'
'Can you please confirm to the court again, that you are in fact the one who discovered the gun in the suspect's car?’
'That's correct; I'm the one who discovered the gun.'
'And at which point did you register this discovery?'
'It was after the two officers joined me.'
'Did you search the car before they arrived, the two officers that is?'
'Yes I did, but it was a quick eye scan.'
'I submit to you then Mr Solomons, that at no point during your quick eye scan you saw the gun. It was in fact when the two officers joined you that you discovered exhibit A; is that correct?' the counsel said pointing to the alleged gun.
'That's correct, Sir.'
The prosecutor was relentless in his questions. He was thorough and meant to establish consistency and irregularities. I thought he was mean to the poor officer, who began to show signs of impatience. He rubbed his hands on the sides of the wooden border of the witness box nervously.
As they cross questioned Mr Solomons like that, repeating one question over and over, but cleverly posing it differently, I looked at the large space above them hoping to see justice fall over to guide the proceeding. It's not that the unfolding case was compromised or anything like that, it's just that justice is a subjective phenomenon that decides people's fate on mere technicalities. And often, this could mean wrong conviction or acquittal.
I looked around, over the contoured roof that bore elaborate lights that dangled audaciously over the court. It was as if they presided over the proceedings as judges. Through their luminescence, someone was under the spotlight. In this case, Mr Solomons.
The bottom part of the room, covered around in old wood, kept its silence too, when I was earnestly anticipating justice to fall over and guide these men through the journey of proving the matter under discussion to be one thing or another - no in-betweens! But justice never fell, at least at that point.
I decided to leave the court gallery not having established on who's favour the officer's evidence worked - his or the suspect's. The one thing about it was that it was severely compromised. I just hoped it did not land him into trouble outside the court, after all had been said and done. The red tape existent in institutions like the Police doesn't favour negligence and that sort of thing, I presume. This strictness extends far beyond Mr Solomons’ employers, and spills and rules over many other institutions. I hope nothing bad happens to him outside these walls. If freaks of time like bad luck descend over him, he may have to also sit as an accused in a setup like the one of this court where he gave evidence, except he will not be one, but a defendant instead. It will be less stringent then, but very volatile with the possibility that he may lose his bread and butter - what would he eat after that? I can only wish him well as I stand up to leave.
© Deon Simphiwe Skade 2010
The world's strain
the world may come to an end soon
i can feel it tremble under
the weight of our sins
it may crack and give in soon
it cannot take our loathing anymore,
our ugliness -
gees! this world?
© Deon Simphiwe Skade
i can feel it tremble under
the weight of our sins
it may crack and give in soon
it cannot take our loathing anymore,
our ugliness -
gees! this world?
© Deon Simphiwe Skade
21 August, 2010
'The Two Old Ladies' of Athlone, 2008
The two towers will be demolished on 22 August 2010, due to their respective compromised structures which 'may' pose safety hazards.
Judgement and righteousness
The righteous plane is filled with treachery.
Thus judgement from such platforms is perilous.
Let’s tread carefully, lest we slip and fall – D.S. Skade
Thus judgement from such platforms is perilous.
Let’s tread carefully, lest we slip and fall – D.S. Skade
Their vote
they voted, only to be marginalised
within a sophisticated dispensation
that gives power to words like 'democracy',
'mandate' and 'freedom'
nothing of the given 'mandate' reflects
their voice in 'freedom' and 'democracy'
they continue to live in shacks
and are still plagued by the same
troubles which have become meaner
as 'freedom' continues to elude them
their future is getting bleaker
while their hopes are rotting into
protests and despair
the irony of it all is best reflected by
the words of the collective that once said:
‘the people shall share in the country's wealth!
as I see it, their only share is that of poverty and gloom
© Deon Simphiwe Skade 2010
within a sophisticated dispensation
that gives power to words like 'democracy',
'mandate' and 'freedom'
nothing of the given 'mandate' reflects
their voice in 'freedom' and 'democracy'
they continue to live in shacks
and are still plagued by the same
troubles which have become meaner
as 'freedom' continues to elude them
their future is getting bleaker
while their hopes are rotting into
protests and despair
the irony of it all is best reflected by
the words of the collective that once said:
‘the people shall share in the country's wealth!
as I see it, their only share is that of poverty and gloom
© Deon Simphiwe Skade 2010
A stance
Taking a stance doesn't necessarily mean obnoxious confrontation.
It may simply mean taking a position whose degree would be determined by circumstances - D.S. Skade
It may simply mean taking a position whose degree would be determined by circumstances - D.S. Skade
20 August, 2010
Conscience
Let their conscience guide them through. If they don't listen, perhaps they don't want to change - D.S. Skade.
Government; an intergrated system
Government does not solely mean a 'system', as things would suggest of its workings.
It's most crucial component is the people.
In essence, it will be grossly unfair to blame lack of service delivery
on the ‘system’, as if its a machinery that malfunctions.
People in the government 'system' need to account for the failures experienced by they 'system' (I know; it's a system of things).
And those found guilty of dis-reputing the 'system' must be expelled from the ‘system’ of things;
government is the people, for the people - forget all the technicalities of bureaucracy.
Deon Simphiwe Skade
It's most crucial component is the people.
In essence, it will be grossly unfair to blame lack of service delivery
on the ‘system’, as if its a machinery that malfunctions.
People in the government 'system' need to account for the failures experienced by they 'system' (I know; it's a system of things).
And those found guilty of dis-reputing the 'system' must be expelled from the ‘system’ of things;
government is the people, for the people - forget all the technicalities of bureaucracy.
Deon Simphiwe Skade
Dylan Valley's Afrikaaps
Click on the image to enlarge
This article first appeared in the Cape Towner
This article first appeared in the Cape Towner
06 August, 2010
05 August, 2010
Long Street, Cape Town, 31 July 2010
Before the rush of the night, Long Street has a rather tranquil ambiance about it.
Madala Kunene; A legend of our time
The tragedy that becomes of our true stars doesn’t occur when they breathe their last, but rather when they still enjoy the same air as we do. This may happen in their prime when their ingenuity reaches prolific highs, thus push their creative journeys to plains still virgin. It also happens when we refuse to honour and respect them, thus deliberately shun their brilliance. It is also due to the terrible and unfortunate sense of oblivion that we somehow show towards the value they add to our heritage.
Listening to Madala Kunene this past Saturday, before a Migraine bout from hell attacked me and subdued me for a number of days (I had to say this; that headache almost silenced me forever), I found myself reminded of this plight our local artists have had for a long period of time now. One remembers names of fallen legends like Simon Nkabinde, Busi Mhlongo, Baba Mokoena Seraokeng and so on.
It can easily be summed up as a state of neglect on my part that I hadn’t listened to Madala Kunene’s music in a long time. But the truth of the matter is that the whole thing was not at all deliberate; let’s just say my mind had been preoccupied by many things which equally needed my attention. My listening experience brought a mixed bag of emotions, perhaps due to Busi Mhlongo’s recent passing which did not get the attention it so deserved. Her demise is a fathomless loss to music lovers, especially those who appreciate traditional music. She had worked extensively with Madala Kunene over the years, leaving traces of rich African music all over the world.
I was overcome by a deep sense of sadness, frustration and gratitude while I listened on, pondering over the state of disregard our artists seem to be experiencing.
The sadness was over the fact that in spite his immense talent and distinctive sound, Madala Kunene is not acknowledged as such within the musical spheres. The frustration part of my experience was ushered in by the presence of ‘gatekeepers’ which exist within institutions that ought to celebrate the existence and brilliance of local artists and not only in the music industry, but in other fields as well. The consequence to this condition of neglect is a situation where international artists are given a much bigger platform of display, while the local ones are given scant exposure or worst, shunned altogether. It’s even more vexatious when rare talent like Bafo's, as Madala Kunene is affectionately known, is constantly marginalised like he has been. He’s not the only one like I hinted earlier; the list may be long as the N1. The bottom line is that the broadcasters’ space is devoid of enough South African artists to celebrate and afford the befitting position in the hierarchy of things. Those who are there are mostly in the popular culture where longevity is not paramount and the messages may not be as rich and educational as with the ‘undermined’ artists. Fair enough, there are those in this privileged position of popularity that disseminate rich and beneficial messages, apart from the good music they churn out.
Now, the last experience of emotions I had when I listened to Bafo’s music is that of sheer appreciation. I’d rather delve into this aspect hoping to pay my small homage to the greatness of this incredible artist; the bickering and cynicism won’t serve any good. Like the late Busi Mhlongo, Mabi Thobejane, Pops Mohamed, Hilton Schilder, Suthukazi Arosi, Tlokwe Sehume, and many other unsung musicians of South Africa, Madala Kunene has demonstrated that he’s a dedicated soul to music and cultural consciousness. He is in the fore-front of this constant movement of communicating values and heritage. Robert Trunz of Melt200, did a phenomenal job too in giving artists like Madala a platform to showcase their immense talent.
Bafo calls his music Madala-line, a complex type that requires at least six different tunings. It also requires a gentle plucking style and the result is a fused genre that has variations of Blues, Soul and Maskandi that is distinctively his kind.
With over five albums to his name as a solo act, apart from the many collaborations that he has engaged in with a variety of artists that include Baba Mokoena Seraokeng (RIP), Max Lasser, Sibusiso Bernard Mdaweni, Airto Moreira, Busi Mhlongo (RIP) and many others, one anticipates more great music from this legend.
Listening to each album is an engaging journey of wisdom and insight into traditional teachings. The one feature that makes me grow even more attached to Bafo’s music is the prominent humility he presents himself with, whether through music or dialogue as captured in the SABC programme, Jam Sandwich, where he collaborated with Afrikaans singer and composer, Valiant Swart in one episode. I have always observed that there’s something about the camera, especially the broadcast type that reflects a great deal of ‘make belief’ that is near impossible to see. But with a critical eye, attentiveness and focus, it is easy to see through that veil of insincerity that comes through from certain persons. Watching that episode of Jam Sandwich, I was amazed by the sense of humility that both Madala and Valiant showed.
This humility and fatherly role extends to the music too. It is expressed through the vocals and Madala’s awe-inspiring strumming on guitar. It is the same music that made Madala spend less time at school as a child, which would later be so complex yet so intriguingly enthralling to birth a genre never created before.
On my date with Bafo’s music, I meant to listen to three of his albums in my collection but ended up listening to only two due to repeating them over and over. I started off with the blues-inspired Madamax, a stimulating collaboration with the Swiss guitarist Max Lasser, who was once part of Andreas Vollenweider’s band, where I encountered as if for the first time, songs like Gongo, Marriage, Impukane and the ever graceful and moving Wowo. The music in this offering is sublimely acoustic, with the fitting additional sounds rendered from keys, drums and bass played by Christoph Stiefel, Walter Keiser and Philipp Kung respectively. David Lindley appears on Impukane, playing the lap steel guitar, while Lungiswa Plaatjies, of the Amampondo fame, completes the album’s elegance with her soulful vocal output accompanied by Madala’s own. Like with other projects, Madamax is infused with idiomatic messages vividly illustrated in songs like Impukane, which warns people against hurting each other. The message is derived from and analogy about a blind person who may hurt himself/herself, or even others unaware. The overall sentiment of the music is that of prosperity and love. Wowo, which became the first song I fell in love with from this album when I bought it a couple of years ago, is woeful lullaby which tells of a mother and a father who have both gone out to fend for the young by gathering firewood and getting the milk. It plays for a solid ten minutes, which according to the radio standards is very long. If it were a mere minute shorter it would have been a serious injustice because even when it ends, there’s still that expectation that it will play a few more minutes like Fela Kuti’s songs do (they actually play far longer). Wowo in many ways also reflects the incredible love parents have for their children to ensure their safety, health and love.
By the time the album Kon’ko Man played, I was swallowed by an even deeper sense of sadness and frustration on how great music like Madala’s is marginalised. As a matter of fact, I have yet to hear just one song from his catalogue being played on the radio. With the waning euphoria of the soccer world cup, I thought it would be time (ke nako) to finally hear Madala’s and other equally marginalised musicians getting some airplay on the wireless, but not even one was broadcasted, at least on the occasions I listened to the radio. (Radio 2000 is doing a great job though with its ‘free format’ programming. It actually plays songs one would never hear on the national stations, let alone on the commercial ones with a strict and mediated programming).
Kon’ko Man is an eclectic album by many standards. But at the same time, it is a very rich repertoire of percussion, voice and electric instruments. Released in 1996, I realised a few years ago when I first bought it that it was far ahead of its time. And now that many years have gone by, I feel it doesn’t even belong to the future I thought would reflect its aesthetics better. It’s far beyond that and is truly timeless. It’s an album which I cannot box and brand as this genre or that one because of its strong diversity. Perhaps it’s because of the long list of collaborators in this project, hence the highly sophisticated sound. The ensemble comprises of Mabi Thobejane, Chil Factor, Diana Purim Moreira, Arito Moreira, Garry Brown, Pops Mohamed, Jose Neto, Jovino Santos Neto, Busi Mhlongo, Jessica Lauren, Robby Geerken, Mario Luis Pino Rodriguez, Ike Leo , Shades choir, Buela Hashe, the late Phumzile Ntuli, Marylyn Nokwe and Tu Nokwe.
This album is rich with traditional idioms of consciousness and community success-driven-sentiments. From the first song Company, which promotes a sense of unity and love within people, to the rest, the one thing constant is the beauty of the music. Bafo said in one interview that some of these songs come to him in his sleep, like Abangoma, which narrates a story of a person whom the ancestors are calling upon to become a traditional healer. It’s a song filled with traditional healers’ chants and expressions, reminding us of that element of the African tradition. Khono Thwele is a mesmerizingly gentle instrumentation done with only an acoustic guitar and percussions. It’s calm pace and delectable sound changes later in the song to assume an up-tempo beat that encourages the feet to move in celebration of its trance-like change. There are songs like Gumbela, Sani bonani, Igwababa and Washa all which are phenomenal indeed.
The arrival of the soccer world cup saw some radio stations play only local music; a noble move but equally misleading due to its temporary arrangement. It was more like window dressing. At some point back, there was even a talk about quotas imposed on the amount of International music being played on local radio stations. To date, nothing significant has transpired from that end.
A while back there also used to be South African Music Week celebrations, but there seems to be none now.
To draw an example from a non-related field, I will touch on the textile industry in South Africa. The quotas that were imposed as a means of aiding this industry, seem not to have worked at all because many factory workers lost their jobs due to constant cheap imports particularly from the east. But again, this could be due to late implementation. Yet it is somehow hoped that quotas will be effective on radio and TV in spite the presence of ‘gatekeepers’. I believe there’s a need for alternative media like the pirate TV stations run in Italy and other parts of the world. Movements like that only indicate that people, no matter how small their number may be, wish to see change in the way things are done, and this transcends Mass Media and goes deep into the soul of politics which Bafo sings about in his music too, through songs like Uhulumende. Perhaps pirate radio may not be an ideal option, but the one thing that’s certain is that South Africa needs alternative Mass media to cater for anything local, be it Boere musiek, Afro Pop, Afro Jazz, Kwaito, Choral, etcetera.
Until those grand changes come, we need to continue honouring our artists like Madala Kunene; Bafo!
© Deon Simphiwe Skade 2010
Images sourced from Google
Cold-blooded murder
they called it cold-blooded murder
but his blood came out steaming
from his angry veins
revealing a dissent of
a man refusing to die
©Deon Simphiwe Skade 2010
but his blood came out steaming
from his angry veins
revealing a dissent of
a man refusing to die
©Deon Simphiwe Skade 2010
Quentin Tarantino's Reservoir Dogs
Whether 'Mr Pink' was the only ‘Professional’ among the lads in the botched robbery or not, is neither here nor there. The bottom line is that Reservoir Dogs is one of the greatest movies ever made, in spite the criticism it received for its violent nature.
Its complex plot and powerful dialogue, make for an incredible recipe of engagement that many movies that came after its release in 1992 cannot still reach even today.
Deon Simphiwe Skade
Images sourced from Google
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