Fela Anikulapo Kuti sings Teacher Don't Teach me Nonsense

Video source: YouTube

The boy that looked like Sam

I saw this one boy in the Eastern Cape; he looked just like Samuel L. Jackson. He even exuded a similar charisma to Sam's, except he's not an actor nor does he speak English.
He may have been six or seven years old, but spoke an impeccable isiXhosa. And boy! That look reminded me of Sam's, especially in his Pulp Fiction and Jungle Fever days.
Can you imagine Sam Jackson at six?

Deon-Simphiwe Skade
 

A bassist at Seventies 80s

The Eastern Cape Story

Wherever one looks, the landscape of the former Transkei part of the Eastern Cape gives an idea or two about the people who live there. The colourful houses, scattered around in no particular order, may reveal certain aspirations about its inhabitants. Many have thatched roofs. They are called ‘Oronta’ largely due to their conical shape. There are also houses with tiled roofs and attractive face bricks. They are very few of these but easily recognisable. They tell their own stories too. Even the way the people walk here, says one thing or another about this glorious place, its pulse and the type of lifestyle prevalent here.

The landscape races, gallops and falls over hills and cliffs, only to rise again. It stretches as far as the eye can see, where the land and the heavens meet at different points determined by the contours of the earth. Life seems relaxed and lived strictly on the locals' terms. There isn’t that rush that towns and cities have, except for a few cars that purr at different speeds on the long stretch of the road that cuts across this magnificent landscape. The significant number of these vehicles are vans and lorries, a few are dilapidated but functional. Some vehicles litter a few yards; this too may reveals one thing or another about those who live in these yards.
The grassy green colour that covers planes and slopes as they rise and fall like a wave of soil, coats almost entirely, every possible space there is to cover. A variation of green shades adorns the many creations emerging from the soil. It’s a type of diversification that accentuates the true beauty of nature as we behold it. The dotted browns on this large green wave of the land are cattle. The greys and the whites are of goats and sheep. There are of course the yellows, the pinks and more green of the painted houses – they too put an interesting effect on this spectacle.

I see pockets of children here and there. My heart aches when I talk about these children. They appear like a content bunch less preyed upon by more complicated things of this world that trouble the city-bred. But again, many of these kids that litter the footpaths and streets of this area without school uniform on a school day, like the ones I saw in Cofimvaba earlier in my journey, suggest that there are other threats to these innocent lives. But again, the stories of children walking long distances to and from school may be the very reason why some don’t bother with the ‘luxury’ of getting educated in the first place – too much trouble, too long a distance to walk.

I had been told harrowing stories about the plight of the children in these settings. Many of them are said to be travelling many kilometres to and from school each day, just to invest in their future which may bring better life. This improved life may come at a price, a heavy one for that matter when all the suffering would have been felt. I commend these children who go to school whether it’s raining or not; whether the river is too full to cross; whether there’s food for breakfast; whether there’s immediate motivation in one form or another – something to hold on to not to despair. This may be their long walk to freedom, their only hope to a better life.
The state of the streets and the general infrastructure calls for serious attention too. It’s clear that the people’s lives have not been advanced according to the mandate given to the elected officials – everything seems to deteriorate. The roads, where there’s tar, are terrible with detrimental red and muddy potholes. Those who stay here say they had been in such conditions for a long time now.
“How long must we suffer?” I imagine these people posing this question with great lament.
I’d join them in their cry: How long will it take for the less-privileged people to enjoy the fruits of the ‘New South Africa’?

Television and the general mass media have helped those of us not living in such conditions to catch a glimpse of the inequalities and sheer state of neglect some of our people are subjected to, particularly in the Eastern Cape. One would expect these conditions to have improved, especially with revelations of such injustices put on various platforms. But these things carry on unabated. There’s still no running tap water in many of these areas. Some households only managed to have electricity installed in their homes in recent times.
With these kinds of disparities in mind, I cannot help but ask yet another of the many questions I have: When would the people, no matter how small they are, be able to raise their voices in such a way that their concerns are heard and addressed accordingly?
Other people resort to violence, perhaps driven by despair which is unnecessary but seem to yield some form of response. There are service-delivery protests around South Africa, fundamentally, due to failures of the elected councillors and their respective teams to deliver on the promises made to people.
People continue to suffer, children too. Oh! Poor children, what have you done to be subjected to the injustices of this beautiful land?

Deon-Simphiwe Skade

Waiting for the Miracle

Video source: YouTube

A state of destruction, Tsolo, 20/02/2011

Barbershop sign in Mthatha, 19/02/2011

Omar Lye Fook's classic, "There's Nothing Like This"

Video source: You Tube

The children that never mattered

On the morning of 19 February 2011, I saw a group of pupils on the long stretch of the road that runs from Engcobo to Mthatha in the Eastern Cape – my destination, Tsolo. They were standing in the rain, perhaps waiting for some transport to take them to school. I imagined their school to be very far; otherwise they would have walked.
The rain on the other hand was relentless and unkind to these young fellows who were keen on acquiring the much needed education. They braved the rain’s aggression. They waited and waited, perhaps hopeful that some benevolent driver would stop by and give them a lift to school.

Even if the lift came, I imagined that their whole day at school would be miserable due to their wet clothes. I shivered at this thought and pulled up the comfortable reclining seat of the bus we were travelling in to a right angle. If only I could ask the bus driver to give them a lift, my conscience would be clear. But they seemed to be headed towards the opposite direction to the one we were travelling to; hence they were on the side of the opposite lane.
There were cars going that way too, and their drivers seemed to be in complete ignorance of these kids’ position. But these youngsters were not going to be deterred by any of these predicaments. They stood firm. Waiting. Hoping. They believed they would make it eventually. And their determination nearly brought me tears – how could they be allowed to suffer like that?

Deon-Simphiwe Skade

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The future of Egypt

Ironhide.Omerta

Photo use courtesy of Ironhide.Omerta

Click here to sample the collective's innovative sound.

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Simphiwe Dana on 'our current state of affairs'

"We've got to a point where we are told how to think, what to eat, what to do, where to go. We need to make our own minds up,"
 

 ~ Simphiwe Dana speaking to Miles Keylock. Click here for the full interview.

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Peter Tosh's Johnny be Goode

Video source: You Tube

Beyond pilgrimage

One of the many magnificent hills of the Eastern Cape

If I had said that my trip to the Eastern Cape was a pilgrimage, this would have been grossly misleading for a number of reasons. For one, my taking this journey was for a specifically sad reason that’s not related to any ‘spiritual' or 'moral’ introspection. Instead this journey, which has altered my life one way or another, served me a greater good for the sound health of my psyche.

Some of the lessons that emerged from this trip are resolves which I took as necessary means of being in complete understanding of the concept of life. Other lessons are simply organic, with a distinct sense of identity. However, I had to submit myself more to ‘life’ in order for other changes to take effect. I also had to let go of some toxins threatening to prey on me, be it through my subconscious or conscious existence. My being had to be a necessary and appropriate tool in accepting these universal lessons.

Life, city life with its many aspirations alters people in many ways. It sets the directions in which dreams should flow, all of our dreams in their diversity. And because I’m of this city life, I had to re-evaluate my dreams again in order to bring the disparities that our world has yielded into some understanding.
Despite my constant need to be myself in all that I do, I had to experience life in the Eastern Cape in order to fully understand how far I have gone in becoming myself with all my ambivalences. The beautiful people and the striking vegetation I saw all necessitated this deeper inward look.

I hope what I’m saying here makes some sense. If it doesn’t, then what I experienced there is far bigger than I initially thought. As for these words; I had to record something about this experience even though I may not have done justice to its profoundness.

Deon-Simphiwe Skade

Rebaone Motsalane reviews Omoseye Bolaji's "Impossible Love"

“A great love story based in the Free State which ends in an unbelievable, mind-boggling manner,” says Dan Xangaza after reading this book.

I am a sucker for romance. When I saw the title, immediately my rose-tinted eyes saw wedding bells and a knight in shining armour rescuing a damsel in distress!

Upon finishing the book I felt like a pervert and almost puked. How did I not see that this “love” story would end so badly? What started as an innocent romantic story ended up in disaster and spoiled my Valentine expectations.

Right from page one I was hooked on this love story which started with lovers about to break up. I had already taken sides and concluded that this man needs a hiding for breaking the heart of a young maiden.

I supported this couple from the onset and respected them for the good choices that they made. They promised each other not to be intimately involved up until the marriage. Good rare choice, I thought

Everything seemed too perfect, true and honourable. This is indeed supposed to be a good love story - only the end saddened my heart.

The ending is so unexpected and this is Omoseye Bolaji’s habit. I hate a sad ending. Next time, could you please write an unexpected happy ending…like most stories would end? “And they lived happily ever after…”

Now I am still in shock and refuse to read any other romantic story ever again!
      
This review was first published in Mangaung Issue, on 16th February 2011

Tracey Saunders reviews "Migrations"

This review was first published in The Cape Times, on 28 December 2010.

Andreas Vollenweider's "Behind the Gardens - Behind the Wall - Under the Tree"

Video source: You Tube

Huey P. Newton's "To Die for the People"

Was Huey Newton a gifted leader of his people or a dangerous outlaw? Were the Black Panthers heroes or terrorists? Whether Newton and the Panthers are remembered in a positive or a negative light, no one questions Newton's status as one of America's most important revolutionaries. Long an iconic figure for radicals, Huey Newton is now being discovered by those interested in the history of America's social movements. This new release of a classic collection of his writings and speeches traces the development of Newton's personal and political thinking, as well as the radical changes that took place in the formative years of the Black Panther Party.

With a rare and persuasive honesty, To Die for the People records the Party's internal struggles, rivalries and contradictions, and the result is a fascinating look back at a young revolutionary group determined to find ways to deal with the injustice it saw in American society. And, as a new foreword by Elaine Brown makes eminently clear, Newton's prescience and foresight make these documents strikingly pertinent today.

What they said about the book:

"Huey P. Newton's To Die for the People represents one of the most important analyses of the politics of race, black radicalism, and democracy written during the civil rights-Black Power era. It remains a crucial and indispensible text in our contemporary efforts to understand the continuous legacy of social movements of the 1960s and 1970s."
—Peniel Joseph, author of Waiting Til the Midnight Hour: A Narrative History of Black Power in America

"Huey P. Newton's name, and more importantly, his history of resistance and struggle, is little more than a mystery for many younger people. The name of a third-rate rapper is more familiar to the average Black youth, and that's hardly surprising, for the public school system is invested in ignorance, and Huey P. Newton was a rebel — and more, a Black Revolutionary . . . who gave his best to the Black Freedom movement; who inspired millions of others to stand."
—Mumia Abu Jamal, political prisoner and author of Jailhouse Lawyers

"Newton's ability to see theoretically, beyond most individuals of his time, is part of his genius. The opportunity to recognize that genius and see its applicability to our own times is what is most significant about this new edition."
—Robert Stanley Oden, former Panther, Professor of Government, California State University, Sacramento

More about the book click here

The evil man versus the righteous man

image source: art110.wikispaces.com

“There's this passage I got memorized. Ezekiel 25:17. ‘The path of the righteous man is beset on all sides by the iniquities of the selfish and the tyranny of evil men. Blessed is he who, in the name of charity and good will, shepherds the weak through the valley of darkness, for he is truly his brother's keeper and the finder of lost children. And I will strike down upon thee with great vengeance and furious anger those who attempt to poison and destroy my brothers. And you will know my name is The Lord when I lay my vengeance upon you.’ I’ve been saying that shit for years. And if you heard it, that meant your ass. I never gave much thought to what it meant. I just thought it was some cold-blooded shit to say to a motherfucker before I popped a cap in his ass. But I saw some shit this mornin' made me think twice. See, now I'm thinking, maybe it means you're the evil man, and I'm the righteous man, and Mr. 9 millimeter here, he's the shepherd protecting my righteous ass in the valley of darkness. Or, it could mean you're the righteous man and I'm the shepherd and it's the world that's evil and selfish. I'd like that. But that shit ain't the truth. The truth is, you're the weak, and I'm the tyranny of evil men. But I'm tryin', Ringo. I'm trying real hard to be the shepherd,” ~ Jules Winnfield.

Jules Winnfield is a fictional character in Quentin Tarantino’s innovative film, Pulp Fiction.
This extract appears here

AK47 Film Festival

A blinding light: When the pain urges the eyes towards darkness

“Thank you for accepting me into your family! Through absolute love and care, I will fulfill my mandate. This is my promise to you.
Rest in peace father!” ~ From a son you never met.

Audition: The Pump Room, a new play by Allan Kolski Horwitz

The Pump Room is a new play set in Cape Town. It is set for a run at the Theatre in the District from 19 to 30 April 2011.

Auditions for the cast of six will take place as follows:-

TIME: 14hH00

DATE: 19 February 2011

VENUE: Theatre in the District, 160 Chapel St, District Six

Enquiries: cell – 082-512-8188


DRAMATIS PERSONAE:

PIET A Coloured man in his forties

MUMSIE A Coloured woman in her forties

LEWIS A Coloured man in his twenties

ELSIE A Coloured woman in her twenties

LEWIS A White man in his thirties

LOMBARD A White man in his thirties

About the play:


“Force creates pressure and pressure creates counter- pressure. The result? A blowout.”

The Pump Room is a drama about the inter-section of the criminal and political worlds, the sexual and the ideological. It is a play about the South African reality of the late 1990’s, but one which applies to many other societies that have experienced epochs in their history when a great idealism was shared by millions of people (in South Africa’s case, the anti-Apartheid struggle) - only to see much of that positive energy subsequently corrupted and wasted. And yet, despite the cynicism engendered by such betrayal, it is a play about keeping faith and sustaining love.

The central event that drives the play is the murder of a ‘postman’ carrying drugs. Over several hours on a hot summer’s night, the consequences of this action cause a number of different characters to meet in the pump room of a public swimming pool in Cape Town. These disparate characters play out the tensions and contradictions of their pasts and presents, and a complex web of relationships emerges.

One of the key elements is the renewed confrontation between Piet, a pump room attendant but one time actor and political activist, with Mike and Lombard, former Apartheid agents who had previously detained and tortured him. This history dogs them, but the time of state terrorism and political activism is over – they are all now involved in an underworld of drug dealing (and taking) and are desperately, if paradoxically, trying to salvage some private life that is meaningful and satisfying.

Other characters are: Lewis, Piet’s pump room assistant who is both a dealer and an informer; Elsie, Lewis’s girlfriend, a domestic worker; and Mumsie, also a domestic worker and an occasional prostitute, who is connected to both Piet and Lombard, but in very different, conflicting ways. An off stage but integral character is Sandra (whose photograph in the form of a poster dominates the pump room), Piet’s ex-comrade and lover. Sandra was a white woman from a privileged Afrikaans background who joined Piet’s political group and was detained and tortured with him; her subsequent exile to Canada and success as an actress, is a source of both pride and pain for Piet who has never stopped loving her and never stopped condemning her for abandoning him.

In The Pump Room I have tried to merge ‘soap opera’ and the classic Greek dramas that relentlessly expose the consequences of both arrogance and weakness. In physical terms the set represents such strongly contrasted psychological states: the pump room itself is very sparse and dimly lit, a confined and smelly space (to parallel the prison cell in which Piet was once detained); the outside section, a moon-lit promenade with railings facing the ocean is, though even smaller than the pump room, a space that enables the characters to ‘open’ their hearts and minds despite their conflict-ridden relationships. Throughout the play, the audial elements (the sound of filters in the pump room, the ebb and flow of ocean waves) form counterpoints to the human noise of conversation and shouts.

South African ‘protest theatre’ has a rich history – but today’s issues are in many ways more complex than those of the Apartheid period and require a more adventurous, poetic, humorous and subtle artistic approach. I hope this play contributes to the evolution of a new style to deal with these changed circumstances.

~ Allan Kolski Horwitz

This notice first appeared here

"The Language of Nostalgia"

This thought-provoking excerpt continues on the Kagablog.
The original text was first published in Jacob Dlamini's book, Native Nostalgia, through Jacana Media.

Dominique Deruddere's "Everybody's Famous!"

Jean is a family man and factory worker who dreams of becoming a songwriter. Pinning his hopes on his teenage daughter, Marva, he takes her to singing contests in which the awkward and overweight girl struggles to belt out a tune. When Jean is suddenly fired because of cut backs, he is ashamed and even more desperate to have his daughter succeed. In a chance meeting Jean kidnaps the most famous pop star in the country and holds her hostage demanding to be heard by the music industry. Catching the attention of the media and the eyes of the nation, Jean and Marva realize that the show must go on until everyone is famous.

Synopsis written by Sujit R. Varma. it appears here

Humour In Lewis Nkosi’s Mating Birds: A review by Omoseye Bolaji

It was a big blow to the literary world when Lewis Nkosi, the exceedingly illustrious South African black writer and academic, died recently. Here was a brilliant wordsmith who held his own well amongst his contemporaries like Nigeria’s Wole Soyinka and Chinua Achebe.
Nkosi’s most celebrated work was Mating Birds, the success of which was quite staggering and the literary acclaim he garnered, and continues to garner, awesome. Yet for me it is the humour in the work that always sticks in my mind. Although I say “humour,” it is actually biting irony; as the perceptive reader, regardless of colour realises how inhumane and horrific the erstwhile apartheid system was in South Africa.

Mating Birds on the surface is a simplistic work, brilliantly narrated in the first person by a young black man who had committed a terrible “crime” during the apartheid era; he had “raped” a white woman! In those days, sexual relations between the different colours was strictly forbidden, hence the protagonist was facing the death sentence, which was eventually passed on him, death by hanging.

But the primary irony is that Sibiya, the protagonist of the work, had not actually raped the white woman; we can see clearly throughout the work that the lady liked him, and was even sexually attracted to him. She keeps on encouraging his interest in her, which includes his coming to watch her at the beach, following her around, she not minding him hanging around just outside her home; and ultimately the prelude to his “rape” was when she took all her clothes off, and despite seeing him just outside her home, she still does not close her door!

Nevertheless according to the laws of the time, the protagonist had committed a terrible crime, and had to die for it. The author, Lewis Nkosi, subtly and intelligently shows the world that neither the white woman, Veronica, nor Sibiya were really guilty, the white lady had to lie in court that she was raped by a black man anyway; how could she ever admit that she welcomed his attentions? The real culprit was the apartheid system that completely disallowed any sort of intercourse between people from different races, with romance and its ilk a taboo!

As I have said, it is the “humour” or ironical devices that give this novel its haunting, lambent, unforgettable impact. Here I shall reproduce a few examples in celebration of the literary genius of the author, Lewis Nkosi. Whilst in the university, a key white lecturer explains to students like Sibiya that “whether we like it or not, African history commences with the arrival on African soil of the first white man. The history of Africa is the history not of black Africans but of white men in a foreign environment...”
The court case of Sibiya for the rape of the white woman is a cause celebre with the young black man portrayed as a devil incarnate who had violated a hapless, white woman. After her testimony in court about her “rape,” the whites are outraged and incandescent with rage. Our narrator says: “(Hers) was a magnificent performance. A number of white men rose as if preparing to leap over the public galleries in order to get at my black carcass...others were crying ‘lynch the (baboon)!’”

Even the prosecuting lawyer has no time for Sibiya’s protests of defence that the white woman had encouraged him amorously; the prosecutor shouts at Sibiya in court: “You think a white madam can feel flattered by being gazed at by a baboon like you!” This from a learned lawyer!
Another white man in court bursts out: “Why not cut off his filthy black dingus, the rotten swine!”

That Sibiya is sexually drawn to Veronica, the white girl is never in doubt. The narrative reaches a crescendo as he finally realises his dream and takes her rather wildly inside her own room. She is clearly a willing participant in what is going on, but Sibiya realises only too well that he is throwing his whole life away by having sex with her. Death by hanging loomed! Yet the protagonist has reached a point of no-return; a situation reiterated by a brilliantly terse, grim, oxymoronic line which is also arguably a double entendre as he makes love with Veronica. “But come what may, I was determined to reach my climax.”
As he ultimately waits to be hanged in the gaol, Sibiya reflects on everything and “bonds” with an eminent criminologist in the process, Dr. Dufre, the doctor is preparing an exhaustive study on the “criminal” Sibiya. Near the end, we are blithely told by our protagonist: “Upon the publication of his study, Dr. Dufre will (receive) accolades for having conducted an illuminating study of the tormented mind of an African criminal (Sibiya). At least one person, I am glad to say, will benefit from (this tragedy).”
It is by the use of such profound, yet haunting irony, or as I dub it “humour,” that the author complements one of the greatest works churned out in African literature.
Indeed the irony in Nkosi’s Mating Birds is reminiscent of the biting satire of Achebe’s novel, A man of the People, which was published in 1966. Interestingly, when he was a young burgeoning writer some 50 years ago, Nkosi whilst interviewing key African writers for the BBC World Service, regularly interviewed the likes of Nigeria’s Cyprian Ekwensi, Chinua Achebe, and Wole Soyinka. But the late Nkosi will be remembered for his excellent works.

This article first appeared here
 

"Cleaning in progress"

Conversations on Silence: A Chimurenga Session

CONVERSATIONS ON SILENCE

A Chimurenga Session in collaboration with Glänta

@ The Chimurenga Factory (3rd Floor, Pan-African Market, 76 Long St.)

Wednesday February 16, 2011 from 6pm

Recently the Swedish literary magazine Glänta disguised themselves as Chimurenga and released a translation of Chimurenga 11: “Conversations with Poets Who Refuse to Speak”. This issue revolved around the attempt to conceptualize silence not only as an expression of repression but also as a form of active resistance; as a refusal to speak (Read Eurozine’s review of Glänta’s versioning here.

In an effort to deepen and transform the collaboration with Chimurenga, three visiting editors from Glänta will give a multi-layered talk investigating the poetics of silence.


Hedvig Härnsten will present “Failed Encounters: Reasonable Inquiries and Unreasonable Answers” - a look at history, testimony and the stuttering of language.

Göran Dahlberg explains why “There Is Never Going to Be a Revolution by Ghosts” – an exploration of mimics and beliefs, expulsion and returning, gaps, cover ups and the lack of peace.

And Linn Hansén will uncover why “It Is Hard to Count All the Events of History but It Is Easy to Begin” – an examination of the smell of the north, what is historical and what is not, the chain of events, the deeds of great men and the importance of the potato.

Cash bar available.

Admission is Free.


About the Participants:
Linn Hansén is a poet and curator of the Göteborg Poetry festival in Sweden.

Hedvig Härnsten studied comparative literature at the University of Stockholm and is currently working on a project on literary form and formlessness.

Göran Dahlberg is the founder of Glänta and the author of books, in Swedish, on ghosts and secret cities.

Chimurenga is a pan-African journal of writing, art and politics based in Cape Town.

Chimurenga - who no know go know

This information first appeared on Chimurenga

 

The End

The end is only the beginning.
Today ends.

 ~ Deon-Simphiwe
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The screening of The Uprising of Hangberg at Democracy Centre, Cape Town, 3 Feb 2011