Acoustic Strings

Acoustic Strings regrets to announce that blogging on this platform has been suspended until further notice.

2012-02-04T20:07:00.000+02:00

Fake book reviews

2012-02-03T22:11:00.000+02:00

Most authors have probably now read the article related to fake book reviews on Amazon. If not, the link is: http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-1333885/Amazons-amateur-book-reviewing-vicious-free-readers-victims.html

As written you would assume this is something new, but those in the book industry have seen this going on for years. And it isn't the only problem facing authors and readers.

There's also fake promotion. I see this on forums as well where restrictions apply to self-promotion. Authors gang up to "you promote me, I'll promote you". I don't truly have a problem with that if the author doing the promotion has actually read the book and really likes it, but a trade off on promotion where the book hasn't been read looks bad on both authors. Especially if readers of your work buy that book based on your promotion and hate it, find it full of typos, formatting errors and basically a book just not yet ready for publication. What does that make the readers think of you?

I, as an author, and as a reader despise fake book reviews and fake promotion. Amazon's policy on reviews actually prohibits authors from reviewing each other's work, and I can live with that. If I've read a really good book and I want to review it then I do that on my blog site. I also try to provide an author interview at the same time, giving my readers a glimpse of the author as well as their work. And I never review or plug a book I haven't read myself, nor do I do 1 or 2 star reviews. Truthfully, if a book deserves 1 star or even 2 stars--I'm can assure you I didn't finish reading it. And if I didn't finish reading it, then I have no right to offer a review.

Fake tags are another problem occurring in the book industry. Readers searching for a Stephen King book may pull up several others also tagged as Stephen King. Believing the book is similar to Mr. King's work they may even buy the book, only to be extremely disappointed. Authors and readers add tags to books to help readers find a particular type of book. My tags for my book were simple: Mystery, murder mystery, kindle, kindle author, psychological suspense, thriller, 99 cents - etcetera. Other tags were added by other people that have absolutely NOTHING to do with my book. Are they bad tags, no, they're not bad tags, they just don't apply to my book and I HAVE NO WAY TO REMOVE THEM. Which is something readers really need to know--Authors on Amazon cannot remove reviews or tags placed on their books by anyone visiting their book site. We can email customer service and ask that it be removed, but we have no control over whether Amazon will remove it.

Tags, book reviews and promotional sites were put in place to help authors and readers find the types of books they would enjoy reading. The abuse and misuse of these areas creates a black mark on the industry, especially when publishers and/or authors become part of the abuse...

This article continues here (Source: Books.gather.com)

When reviews written under pseudonym go wrong

2012-02-03T21:54:00.000+02:00

An extraordinary literary "whodunnit" over the identity of a mystery reviewer who savaged works by some of Britain's leading academics on the Amazon website has culminated in a top historian admitting that the culprit was, in fact, his wife.

Prof Orlando Figes, 50, an expert on Russia and professor of history at Birkbeck College, London, made the startling revelation in a statement through lawyers following a week of intrigue, suspicion, legal threats and angry email exchanges over postings on the website's UK book review pages.

The spat began last week when the Cambridge-based academic, Dr Rachel Polonsky, noticed among the many favourable reviews of her book on Russian culture, Molotov's Magic Lantern, one condemning her efforts as "dense", "pretentious" and "the sort of book that makes you wonder why it was ever published".

It ended on late on Friday evening with the surprise unveiling of Figes's wife, Dr Stephanie Palmer, a senior law lecturer at Cambridge University, barrister, and member of the top human rights specialists, Blackstone Chambers, as the reviewer calling herself "Historian", and responsible for several anonymous online attacks on the works of her husband's rivals.

Indeed, "Historian", who it transpired also generated a profile on the Amazon website under the username "Orlando-Birkbeck", had not only rubbished Polonsky's book, but also other works going back years and including books by Oxford University's Robert Service, biographer of Lenin, Trotsky and Stalin. The book on Trotsky was a "dull read", that on Stalin "disappointing" and his history of communism derided as "rubbish" and "an awful book".

By contrast, Figes's 2008 work, The Whisperer, was, according to Historian, a "beautiful and necessary" account of the Soviet system, penned by a man possessed of "superb story-telling skills" with this eulogy ending with the fervent wish: "I hope he writes for ever."

This article continues here (Source: The Guardian 2010)

Howard G. Zaharoff on the dangers of using pseudonyms

2012-02-03T20:59:00.000+02:00

“Some writers wrongly believe that if they lambaste their enemies under a pseudonym, they can avoid being sued for libel or slander. Though using a pen name may make it harder for plaintiffs to find you, or prove that you (pen person) are you (real person), if they're persistent they'll get you.”

Source: MBBP

Buitenkant Street, Cape Town - 28 January 2012

2012-02-03T20:57:00.000+02:00

Mmusetsi Lebofa on A Series of Undesirable Events

2012-01-31T22:20:00.002+02:00

Thabong, Welkom - Dec 2011

2012-01-31T22:18:00.000+02:00

Odendaalsrus, Free State - 29 Dec 2011 (1)

2012-01-31T22:12:00.000+02:00

Thabong, Welkom - Dec 2011

2012-01-31T22:04:00.000+02:00

O.R Tambo Street, Klerksdorp (Fire crackers sale) - 31 Dec 2011

2012-01-31T21:50:00.000+02:00

Tupac Shakur – Only God Can Judge me

2012-01-31T21:38:00.000+02:00

Video source: Youtube

Joe Slovo Park, Cape Town - January 2012

2012-01-31T21:36:00.000+02:00

Welkom, Free State - Dec 2011

2012-01-31T21:28:00.000+02:00

The Rondebosch Common Blues

2012-01-31T21:22:00.000+02:00

Etheridge Knight - The Idea of Ancestry

2012-01-31T21:19:00.000+02:00

Video source: YouTube

Proverb 10:15

2012-01-31T21:07:00.001+02:00

Wealth protects the rich,
poverty destroys the poor

Countee Cullen - Heritage

2012-01-31T20:56:00.000+02:00

Video source: YouTube

Monde Mdodana on artists

2012-01-31T20:48:00.002+02:00

“... There is arguably no era in the development of human culture(s) when art in its varied forms has not played an essential role in reflecting society to itself. Art has always played the role of a mirror, with the artist as the sensitive individual who expresses that which is latent or unconscious in the minds of his fellow men. The paradox of the artist is that although he has to be one of differentiated individuality, he is nonetheless indispensable as a social function; a society without artists would be a society unconscious of itself...”

~ Monde Mdodana

Excerpted from a review published here.

Golden Arrow Bus Terminus, Cape Town - 19 Jan 2012

2012-01-31T20:22:00.000+02:00

Welkom, Free State - Dec 2011

2012-01-29T09:40:00.000+02:00

Conversations on a Sunday Afternoon

2012-01-29T09:37:00.000+02:00

Shot over the course of three weeks in the vibrant inner city of Johannesburg, Conversations on a Sunday Afternoon is the first feature film from award winning documentary filmmaker Khalo Matabane. The film was produced for R150 000, the bulk of which came from the pockets of individual donors with cast and crew deferring their payments in favour of participation in what they felt was an exciting, innovative and groundbreaking project. Through the use of an improvised script and innovative narrative techniques that blur the distinctions between documentary and fiction film, Conversations on a Sunday Afternoon explores the effects and implications of war, displacement and exile on the shaping of identities in present day South Africa.
The film stars Tony Kgoroge, one of the country's most talented actors who has critically acclaimed performances in Oliver Schmidt's Hijack Stories and Terry George's Hotel Rwanda under his belt. He plays Keneiloe, a tormented young poet who is desperately trying to make sense of the world. He spends his Sundays in a park in Hillbrow, Johannesburg where he reads, thinks and tries to come to terms with himself and his environment. One Sunday, he meets Fatima, a Somali refugee who tells him the heartbreaking circumstances of her arrival in South Africa. Disturbed, Keneiloe decides to use Fatima's experience as the basis for a book he wants to write about the plight of refugees and the effects of war and displacement. When he returns to the park to speak to her again, he finds that she has disappeared. Determined to find her, Keneiloe sets off on a journey through the heart of the city that brings him into contact with a wide diversity of characters who have all experienced displacement as a result of war or ideological differences and whose stories profoundly affect him...

This article continue here. (Source: The Writing Studio)

Gylan Kain - Look Out For The Blue Guerrilla

2012-01-29T09:28:00.000+02:00

Thabong, Welkom - Dec 2011

2012-01-29T09:25:00.000+02:00

Hemmi & Matsumura play in Stellenbosch

2012-01-29T09:18:00.002+02:00

Date: Tuesday, 7 February 2012

Time: 13:10 till 14:00

Venue: Fismer Hall, University of Stellenbosch, Corner of Victoria and Neethling Street, Stellenbosch

Artists: Yasutaka Hemmi (violin) and Takayo Matsumura (harp)

Programme:

Kreisler - Liebesfeud

Camille Saint-Saëns - Fantaisie for violin and harp Op 124

Toshio Hosokawa - Two Pieces

Yasutaka Hemmi - Miminashi Hoichi Fantasy

Michael Blake - Leaf Carrying Song arr. for violin & harp

Vittorio Monti - Csárdás

Entrance: Free

‘English tongue has colonised our minds’

2012-01-26T07:56:00.003+02:00

English is widely used in SA – particularly in government circles – because it has “colonised our minds”. This, according to Thandile Sunduza (ANC), chairwoman of the National Assembly’s arts and culture committee, is why English continues to be the de facto language of government communication and services. This is despite the fact that only 8.2 percent of citizens claimed during the 2001 Census that English was the language they spoke most often at home.

“(English) has colonised our minds. That’s why we speak it. Even sign language is used more than English,” she told committee members on Wednesday during an Arts and Culture Department briefing on the controversial SA Languages Bill…

This article continues here, where it was sourced (IOL)

Another Skunk piece - Thabong, Welkom - Dec 2011

2012-01-26T06:58:00.000+02:00

Winston Mankunku Ngozi - Yakhal' Inkomo

2012-01-26T06:55:00.000+02:00

"I once saw Mankunku Ngozi blowing his saxophone. Yakhal' inkomo. His face was inflated like a balloon, it was wet with sweat, his eyes huge and red. He grew tall, shrank, coiled into himself, uncoiled and the cry came out of his horn. "That is the meaning of Yakhal' inkomo." - Mongane Wally Serote: from the introduction to his collection of poetry entitled Yakhal' inKomo, published by Renoster Books in 1972...

This review continues here.

Welkom, Free State - Dec 2011

2012-01-26T06:51:00.002+02:00

A little advice on writing

2012-01-25T21:18:00.000+02:00

Never share any of your writing with anyone, if you don’t wish to have your ego bruised. But be sure not to get caught up in a parochial and narrow-minded world illuminated solely by your thoughts or views.

If for some reason, you wish to see kaleidoscopes of your writing, then it’s worth it to share your texts with others. It’s given that you may occasionally see colours you don’t like. But this won’t be to your disadvantage.

Nevertheless, I should insist that you don’t betray your voice, irrespective of the feedback you get from others for your writing.

Deon-Simphiwe Skade

Welkom, Free State - Dec 2011

2012-01-25T06:58:00.000+02:00

Matthew le Cordeur reviews “Comrade Babble”, a new play by Allan Kolski Horwitz

2012-01-25T06:55:00.000+02:00

Director: Allan Kolski Horwitz

Performers: David James and Lebohang Motaung

Comrade Babble’s assassin deserved every tomato thrown at him; and more. In Allan Kolski Horwitz’s satirical political drama, a dead Brett “Comrade Babble” Kebble (David James) returns from his grave to engage emphatically with the audience to hear his side of the story. However, he is interrupted sporadically by unwanted ghosts from his past (played by James and his co-star Lebohang Motaung), who challenged his identity, history and motives.

For an assassin to plead for understanding is, I suppose, as laughable as the mining mogul pleading for understanding; which is why a lone tomato went flying into Kebble after the official pelting had subsided.

The interactive piece used satire effectively to highlight a period of our history so laughable in its absurdity and so terrifying in its occurrence. James and Motaung effectively adapted into their various roles, enabling them to give the audience a reflection of all the players in the tragic comedy.

Kebble saved his friends, our country’s “brightest stars”, bucket loads of humiliation by organizing his “assisted suicide”. But if he could come back to explain why he did it, to see the reaction of his “friends”, and to see what unfolded since his demise, what would it be like? COMRADE BABBLE gives us quite an entertaining scenario and looks at where all the players are currently residing: Selebi the convict, hiding in hospital; Glen Agliotti the gangster, off scot free; Pikoli the stubborn prosecutor, unable to move on with his life; Clint Nassif the assassin, as stupid as he will always be, and the ANC Youth League leadership, hiding from their shame of the Kebble era of indulgence.

If the audience had more tomatoes and more guts to practice their Malinga forearm, a bloody mess would have been made. This can be testament to an awfully brilliant satire piece, which managed to evoke all the anger and disgust with which ordinary South Africans view the whole episode.

This review was first published on MushoFestival. Click here to read more reviews of other plays.

Shortmarket Street, Cape Town - 11 Jan 2012

2012-01-25T06:52:00.001+02:00

The spiritual journeys of The Last Poet

2012-01-22T13:26:00.005+02:00

Guerilla Blues and Holy Ghosts. So says the title of Aryan Kaganof’s film. An attractive name for an artistic piece. One that hints the work could be a spiritual affair, at least before one sits down to view it. I watch the film eventually, encounter the spirit and more; including religious allusions and the relationship human beings have with the super natural world. There’s also a reflection on how the psychological and spiritual manifestation take form through the arts. This film documents the battles, frustrations and ultimate joys experienced by those who set out to find their self worth and establish a more meaningful relationship with The Higher Being. The consequence of such a journey is one that may change the cause of one’s entire life journey for the better.

Spiritual reflections happen on many levels and at different times. Some of these experiences are deeper than others. But they all matter because they become cathartic resolves, epiphanies that may give living souls new identities and fresh ways of looking at and doing things. This thought takes one back to one’s recent experience of the Karoo inside the comfort of the train that was heading back to Cape Town. The bareness of the wilderness was absolutely captivating; as if one had never seen it before. The strange beauty of the landscapes; the seemingly eternal lifelessness of space and all that out to be part of it, engineered a process into which one fell. This process was aided by one’s absorption of the meagre vegetation of the Karoo, unkempt shrubs that seemed as dead as the pebbled soil of those plains. This led one into a brief spiritual realm. Once there, serious resolves about what has been and what lay ahead were done. These resolves related to one’s conduct and one’s artistic expressions – on how one could better them.

These kinds of reflections are almost and always inclusive of that being that lives in spirit; that which we speculate and hypothesise around with so much conviction. Some call Him God and others Allah, among various names. These speculations only amplify the great wonder that burdens this earth and its people – the initial absence of insight; the need to know and understand! We seek the light, an understanding that would elevate us to a privileged position of knowing and acting according to that knowledge. Many people seek answers, some mere understanding. Others don’t even bother with all the enigmas and intricacies of the world and its spiritual forms. But some people, those who find their peace in the midst of these bewilderments, like poet Gylan Kain, simplify these experiences through various accounts, conversations and poetry.

Kaganof’s film is anchored on sturdy columns of poetry and music. Call the music jazz – live. The backdrop is the church. There’s a recurring image of a travelling man seated in a car, a possible motif of the film. The traveller’s journey, Kain’s, like many persons’, highlights the relationships people have with the church. People walk in and out of church. Some walk out never to come back to that which is the source of good morality and serves as a rendezvous with the Higher Being. Others stray away from the church only to rediscover the essence of their connection to the Higher Power on their own.

Kain takes the viewer through his vivid personal journeys as a poet, as an artist and as a man with a keen sense of spiritual belief. It is revealed that the poet has had three significant births: natural, spiritual and psychological or artistic. His experience with the Holy Ghost is also documented, including the formation and disbandment of The Last Poets, the group he co-founded with Abiodun Oyewole, David Nelson and Felipe Luciano, with the assistance of Elijah, the drummer. The film also reveals how Umar Bin Hassan and Jalal Nurridin subsequently became members of the group. Through use of poetry, Kain examines issues of spiritual manifestations. He laments the early deaths of Jesus Christ, Malcom X and Martin Luther King Jnr. He also bemoans the ills of our world, from politics to pimps – he celebrates greats such as John Coltrane, Miles Davis, Nina Simone and Toni Morrison to name but a few.

Kain’s first experience of the Holy Ghost happens at a tender age of ten in the church. In the experience he sees God appearing above him winking. He carries this experience with him for his whole life due to its profoundness. The poet’s experience of the Holy Ghost confirms the importance of the church as a fundamental source of good morality. At the same time, this development also suggests that extensive religious literature may not necessarily be the sole means through which one may be encounter a Godly experience. The poet was only ten and had a limited understanding of worldly things, including spiritual manifestations. This point also suggests that a spiritual encounter is a highly personal experience, which would be felt and understood differently by each person.

The second birth happens when the poet is twenty three years old. This is around the time he is trying to distance himself from the notion of God. As a result, he changes his name to Kain, a name derived from a biblical figure known as Cain; the man known to be the first murderer through slaying his brother, Abel.

Kain’s third birth, the psychological and artistic one happens much later in his life; at thirty to be precise. The consequence of this particular birth leads to the penning of two of his profound pieces, Turner and Ask me How I feel and I’ll Tell you the Stupid Truth, which are both very honest and brave pieces. These developments, together with other aspects of Kain’s life as a black man in America, show that he's a “travelling man” in search of truths. These travels encompass all aspects of the poet’s life and relationships, but more so Kain’s spiritual, psychological and artistic life. The results of how far he has travelled are reflected in the poet's perspectives and insights, his eloquence and the perfection he’s reached with his art.

Spiritual manifestations. A life of Holy Ghosts. A journey through which these complexities may be explained for the incredulous souls. Art, performance art used as an intervention; the carrier of messages and experiences that could be best articulated through poetic expressions as in this case. The piece, Turner, carries this essence. Here Kain’s revelations through a performance blur the lines between performance and spontaneous developments.

He’s lying on the floor while rendering the piece, sweat pouring from his face. He jerks and shouts; he’s possessed! Or so it seems. The words come out clear and candid from his mouth. They are sharp and confessional, it seems. His expressions carry distinct authority, commands absolute attention from the viewer. Perhaps this is due to him having assimilated his past experiences so well that they come out this powerful. But like a balm soothing the starkness of Kain’s words, the music becomes a saturated consolation, a carrier of hope. Thus the poet wins my empathy. Turner seals the whole thing.

The disbandment of The Last Poets does not help Kain’s journey very much in the beginning. Hence he loses interest in many things after this episode.

“In that situation, someone threatening to kill my family, you know, as well as myself... it was a very deep centred disillusionment, you know, at that point for me, you know, in terms of what was operating... it started that process by which I finally ended up moving away from the nationalist movement, going to a personal place with myself, ending up with baby Kain,” reveals the poet in an interview incorporated into the film.

One wishes that Oyewole and Bin Hassan, both whom are interviewed about the disbandment of The Last Poets, could give their account on what Kain says of the assault he suffered at the hands of some members of the group. But the film doesn't have that part.

After all the challenges life threw at Kain, he rises again and continues his journey. The film further touches on how the name, The Last Poets, came about. Through this revelation, the notion that the group’s name came from Keorapetse “Willie” Kgositsile’s poem is declared to be apocryphal. However, Kain acknowledges Kgositsile’s inspiration to the group. In fact it is this very inspiration that led Nelson to read a piece he wrote to the group, which incidentally had the words, the last poets.

Stylistically, the visuals are grainy – sepia and monochrome being preferred colours of presentation. Not a bad choice, especially with the subject matter under the spotlight being so heavy. The sound, especially the poetic pieces in the background as visuals tell a story, is adequately distanced. The sound becomes immediate and direct in the many live performance pieces the poet renders with a band.

Kain’s poetic experiences qualify the saying that life re-invents itself. There are moments when we feel our lives have reached a plateau. Often, this is when it feels like nothing more profound or revealing may arise from us. It is when there’s a lull that inevitably leads to a place of personal confrontation, a soul reflecting on its spiritual journey. At this point the soul usually reinvents itself, at least if one surrenders to that which we describe in various ways; that which its truth is unmistakable. Inevitably, thoughts around the Supreme Being emerge and take over one’s worldliness and enamour him or her with a spirit much greater than any physical force. And this is when we reach a higher plain of consciousness of our talents and abilities to create. Perhaps it’s at this point that some may claim victory.

What becomes of the self after this may never be the same as before. Equally so, if one fails to comprehend the demands of that experience, the soul may stray further away from that spirit that may usher in enormous changes to one’s soul. The language of that experience may be unintelligible and daunting at times. But with time and effort in trying to understand it, becomes as clear as the daylight – like Kain’s journeys and works, it manifests.

As the film nears the end, the poet says the following:

“We’re crying for our self worth all our whole lives. Any moment we don’t have it we’re crying for it because it’s the only place we’re already alive.”

Indeed! A self worth is discovered in our journeys, our wonderings that grow in many ways.

Deon-Simphiwe Skade

Koeberg Road, Milnerton - 16 Dec 2011

2012-01-22T13:23:00.000+02:00

The government's failure on education: An e-mail extract sent to a dear friend

2012-01-21T16:09:00.003+02:00

"Hey Man, I'm sorry for the troubles at varsity. It's ironic right; that South Africa laments lack of education from her people, but turns around and mistreats those who go out of their way to get educated despite harsh circumstances. It's a great shame brother I tell you.

Our education system needs a serious overhaul, on all levels. But more so in tertiary level where the country's direction and future may be mapped out. I still feel that the government is not doing nearly enough to advance our people. We have a terrible history that had put us in a gloomy state for years to come. One would think the priority in this regard would be to address that aspect and arm our people with the most powerful tool yet, education. Varsity fees are extremely expensive for the majority of our people and government should intervene. There are so many ways this may be done, through education funds or trust for example, which would ultimately be partially funded by the graduates who would have benefitted from the fund. These contributions would come in a form of monthly tax levies dedicated to educating more students. Philanthropic organisations may also be approached for this course, so are businesses that usually spend millions of rands in sponsorships in a bid to reduce their tax contributions. So much can be done beyond the hackney phrase: "get education". How do people go about doing this when they are living in abject poverty?

Our leaders are failing us man and I'm disillusioned with the idea of freedom, especially when we're told that a lot has been achieved. Freedom should translate into economic upliftment so that people may be equipped to deal with bigger challenges of our world. Otherwise how else can people contribute meaningfully towards building a better South Africa when they are not taken care of? South African history shows the importance of giving people economic freedom, even though this was catastrophically disadvantageous for the multitudes of black people. The evidence of this benefit that had been given to a selected few many decades ago, still shows repulsively today, perhaps due to the deep disparities we see everywhere, everyday. The benefactors of the old order have contributed meaningfully to the legacy of South Africa. Others went on to create incredible things for themselves and the country. As capital intensive as this idea of the government funding tertiary education sounds, it's actually possible. Besides a government is capable of taking care of its people; it's expected to do so. This intervention will not only be an investment in the country's future, but massive way of levelling the playing field and certainly a huge step towards true freedom... "

Deon-Simphiwe Skade

Park Station, Johannesburg - 17 Dec 2011

2012-01-21T15:06:00.000+02:00

Shepard Fairey assaulted

2012-01-21T15:04:00.001+02:00

Photo: Tommi Ronnqvist

When graffiti artist Shepard Fairey turned his talents to US politics, his reward was international acclaim and a letter of thanks from Barack Obama. When he employed a similar tactic in Denmark, however, the response proved altogether less edifying.

Last weekend, Fairey – creator of the famous "Hope" poster that came to encapsulate Obama's 2008 presidential campaign – was beaten up after the opening of his exhibition at a Copenhagen gallery.

Earlier this month he was involved with a controversial mural that has enraged leftwing anarchists throughout the city.

"I have a black eye and a bruised rib," Fairey told the Guardian.

According to reports, 41-year-old Fairey and his colleague Romeo Trinidad were punched and kicked by at least two men outside the Kodboderne 18 nightclub in the early hours of last Saturday morning. Fairey claims the men called him "Obama illuminati" and ordered him to "go back to America".

The LA-based artist believes the attack was sparked by a misunderstanding over his mural commemorating the demolition of the legendary "Ungdomshuset" (youth house) at Jagtvej 69. The building, a long-term base for Copenhagen's leftwing community, was controversially demolished in 2007. In the intervening years it has become a potent symbol of the standoff between the establishment in Copenhagen and its radical fringe...

This article continues here. (Article source: The Guardian)

Another Skunk - Thabong, Welkom - Dec 2011

2012-01-21T14:38:00.000+02:00

Castle Street, Cape Town - December 2011

2012-01-21T14:34:00.000+02:00

Tebogo and the Bacchae: A new book by Omoseye Bolaji

2012-01-21T14:22:00.000+02:00

The pertinent newspaper report displayed almost brazenly at the Guest House in Khayachow town apparently says it all:

“HORROR IN KHAYACHOW TOWNSHIP

…three brutally killed

By Rebaone Ntokozo

The community of Khayachow is still reeling after the horrific deaths of three people in the township, including a minor. The killings took place last weekend.

It was a night in which mob-justice held sway in the township. In the cold light of the day, the next morning, three people were dead: Mpho (Gift) Funani, 31, George Lebeko, 29, and Sidwell Takang, 19.

Khayachow News learnt that that the death of Sidwell Takang was the catalyst for the brutal murders of Mpho and George. Many residents, speaking on condition of anonymity, explained what happened that fateful night.

Apparently, Sidwell Takang was kidnapped in the darkness, sodomised, beaten up and left for dead in a ‘dung pit’, full of excrement. Somehow Sidwell crawled to the outskirts of the township, in pain, but soon gave up the ghost.

However, before breathing his last, Sidwell allegedly told a group of people – which soon became a mob – that his attackers had been Mpho (Gift) Funani, and George Lebeko. The mob went crazy, after the boy (Sidwell) died so agonisingly...

The full review continues on the Kagablog. Click here to read on.

* Another review of this book is published on Free State Books. You may read it here.

Shoprite Centre, Welkom - Dec 2011

2012-01-18T07:47:00.000+02:00

Welkom, Free State - Dec 2011

2012-01-18T07:45:00.000+02:00

Thabo Mbeki on the Mass Media

2012-01-18T07:44:00.000+02:00

Mbeki said the media remained very influential in South Africa.

"It becomes a very important vehicle for the conveyance of that knowledge," he said.

"Particularly [where] readers seem to have sufficient confidence in the media, so they think if it comes from newspaper it is true.

"Thabo Mbeki stole half a dozen eggs from supermarket. Therefore it is true because it comes from the newspaper."

The above excerpt is part of an article that was first published on The Times. You may read the full article here.

Centre Point, Milnerton - 12 Jan 2012

2012-01-18T07:42:00.000+02:00

Bansky was in Cape Town

2012-01-18T07:40:00.000+02:00

Click here to read the article detailing Bansky's recent trip in Cape Town. (Photo source: http://www.ilovewoodstock.co.za/2011/11/yes-banksy-is-in-the-hood/)

Koeberg Road, Milnerton - 16 Dec 2011

2012-01-13T07:56:00.000+02:00

Thabang Nale's piece - Thabong, Welkom - Dec 2011

2012-01-13T07:53:00.000+02:00

Lauri Kubuitsile reviews Whiplash by Tracey Farren

2012-01-13T07:42:00.001+02:00

According to Gary Cummiskey’s blog, Whiplash was turned down by the established publishers for being too violent. They may be kicking themselves in the ass because I have a feeling this book, published by the new kid on the block, Modjaji Books, may take off in a big way.

Whiplash is the story of a Cape Town prostitute, Tess. It is violent in places because it is the reality of Tess’ life, a life of throw-away women whose use is only defined by the physical needs of the men they come in contact with. The book is much more than the story of the “bad” men hurting the marginalised women, the book is about digging through the surface crap to find that each of us, no matter how the outside world might define us, is special, unique and holy and that shouldn’t be set aside or forgotten.

The book is written in Tess’ voice. Farren didn’t allow the authenticity of her character’s voice to be tampered with by the confines of good grammar and polite narrative. This I love most. It let’s the reader get closer to Tess than they would have had Farren followed the laid down rules. (Don’t you just love those rule breakers! )
The beginning of the book is relentless in its battering of the reader. Tess’ addiction to prescription pain killers pushes her out to find ‘jumps’. The way Farren allows us into Tess’ brain to feel the way that the addiction takes up all parts of her life is fascinating.

The story is a letter to Tess’ mother to explain the three ‘miracles’ that finally set her free. Again Farren teaches us that turning points aren’t always pretty, but still they can teach us a lesson that points us in the right direction.
In an interview with Ron Irwin, Farren explained what she feels is at the core of her novel. ‘The essential identity of all people is pure and innocent. I have a big, big problem with the doctrine of original sin. Tess’s’ life’, Farrren said,’ plays out this truth. Tess finds a tiny spark within her that leads her to remember her true, sacred identity.’
This is the first novel for Modjaji Books after putting out two successful books of poetry earlier this year. If this is the standard that they can maintain, the established South African publishers better up their game.

This review was first published on Lauri's blog, Thoughts from Botswana. You may read more of her posts here.

Jo'burg beckoning - 18 Dec 2011

2012-01-13T07:38:00.000+02:00

Bree Street, Cape Town - December 2011

2012-01-13T07:36:00.000+02:00

Thabo’s take on Lorraine and the effects of the lights on Cape Town by the night: An extract from A Series of Undesirable Events

2012-01-11T07:41:00.002+02:00

“... A dating situation with a suicidal woman is a fulltime job. Honestly, I’m not sure I'd be of any help to Lorraine if she tried to commit suicide. I may be there now. There as the latest phenomenon in her life that she sees me as, the inspiration and motivation I have suddenly become to her life. But I'm not sure I should be there to hold her hand throughout her life. It's a choice one has to make on one’s own whether to kill oneself. She said so herself, life is all about choices.

I'm aware of my growing interest in her, but I'm sure I can get off the ride she’s invited me on when I’m ready. But, I'm not ready to deal with a suicidal situation. She has already been there twice, and getting back there is easy. So it makes me wonder if I shouldn’t disembark from this train before it gets to a point where she relies on me heavily.

She called me earlier this afternoon to ask me to pick her up from her flat. Today, being Sunday, of all days she wants me to pick her up. Sunday is my Jazz day. My time to recharge. She sounded desperate though. Like something unpleasant had happened. I’m not entirely happy with her frequent visits to my place. I prefer to be the one inviting her over, but I like her a lot, in spite of her baggage, her fragility and her world. It's a fascinating world when she lets you in. You get to see things from her purview. But today is not a good day to visit. No it is not.

This driving business also fatigues me. This N1 freeway! On my return I should use an alternative route. The evening traffic along this stretch of the road is usually full. I’m certain that the motorists are always oblivious to the beautiful glimmer of the lights that appear after the darkness has fallen over the sprawling Cape Town. If there are motorists who notice the beauty of the lights as they drive here, I sincerely doubt that their rush permits them to take it all in. There’s always a sense of urgency. Look at the city lights as they flicker – mostly amber, but with traces of blue here and red and green there. All these glorious lights mark the city’s contours, the land that rises and falls as it sprawls across the peninsula. What’s very enchanting about these lights is that they have a sense of uniformity about them. In fact, these lights dissolve the ugly disparities that Cape Town shows during the day. They conceal all that is repulsive about the Mother City; all that the tourism side of things hides away from those seeking a complete South African experience. The tourism campaigns instead show Twelve Apostles and the magnificent beaches that lay bare below their guard; the magnificent Cape Point; Newlands Forest; Table Mountain; Chapman’s Peak, the wine estates and many other attractions.

Even though these lights have a degree of varying colours, their variety only heightens Cape Town’s beauty at night. They appear like crushed pieces of multi-coloured glasses with each piece reflecting their interpretation of the light that glows below them, a light which is from the same source with equal reach to all the pieces of glass. If only people of Cape Town were like that too. If only their houses reflected the same spirit too, then this part of the land would truly be beautiful. The existing disparities do not help much in creating this beautiful spirit about the city.

From this point of view, under this glorious night with all these flickering lights, it becomes difficult to distinguish between Khayelitsha and Milnerton, Mannenberg and Rondebosch – the whole place is awash with colour. Even Robben Island twinkles with the same exuberance despite the sour history she bears. I can only assume the dark patch that cuts between her glinting lights and the uniformity of the glittering lights that run as far as where I think Khayelitsha is, to be the sea. After all her isolation cannot be helped. The ocean appears to be dead; the darkness that rest over it suggests so. But one knows that the ocean never dies. It always heaves even when it appears restful on a hot summer day.

The calm of the lights overwhelms the heart with nostalgia. Andile Yenana’s music is a perfect complement. Oh city lights! I’m with them now and they are with me too, at least as I drive here on the freeway heading for Lorraine’s place. But my togetherness with the lights seems to be always determined by me. I switch them on or off at home when I need to; even in this car. I suppose our relationship should change. That is why I should make time to watch them from this point until the night allows the moon to rise above the earth and blends with the flickers, just like the stars winks from the dark sky – that would be something to behold! I should check the lunar calendar for when the moon will be full again. But for now, I have to pick Lorraine up...”

The above text has been extracted from Deon-Simphiwe’s book, A Series of Undesirable Events (ISBN 978-0-0620-49145-7)

You may get a copy here

Hola 7 - Sometime in 99

2012-01-11T07:38:00.001+02:00

Koeberg Road, Milnerton - 03-01-2012

2012-01-11T07:36:00.000+02:00

An artist called Skunk - Thabong, Welkom - Dec 2011

2012-01-11T07:33:00.000+02:00

Nat Nakasa’s sentiments two days before his death

2011-12-08T13:36:00.000+02:00

“I can't laugh anymore and when I can't laugh I can't write,”

~ Nathaniel Ndazana Nakasa

Sound of Poetry

2011-12-06T20:14:00.000+02:00

Andrew Missingham on how Barungwa recorded their album

2011-11-30T07:56:00.001+02:00

I'd met all three South African players on B&W's Making Music In South Africa tour in October 1994. Max Mntambo, originally from Kwa-zulu, has quickly established himself as one of Jo'burg's finest singers. He has a range, power and edge which make him unique. Moses Molelekwa's deft, educated ear for melody is a trademark of South African jazz.
Since making the album, I must have listened to his Rhodes solo in Biko's Dream more than any other moment. Moses' playing sparkles with intelligence and maturity.
Capetonian singer/guitarist, Mxolise Mayekama, is a man who I had to play with again. His voice has a delicacy and purity which seemed the perfect foil for Max's upfront passion. Mxolise's guitar is his second voice -- check out his rhythm playing on Abangcono and the solo on Tutu.

The first time all six of up met was at the first day of recording. We got set up and got to work. The joy and celebration of Siyahamba was the first result. We played non-stop for a week, arranging the songs on the fly until we had the foundations for about 12 tracks. By then
it was time for reinforcements: Durban's percussion elder, Mabe Thobejane, was called. He hits his drums hard, with sticks. With his outlandish homemade rack (it looks like a cross between a garden fence and a scaffolder's yard) Mabe added the weight of years to grooves.
Simpiwe Matole, probably the best marimba player in Cape Town, also came up to help the vibe. The foundation of Bana Ba Afrika was his. He set up one evening and we just left him to it - three interlocking lines of sweet, subtle complexity... the rest was built on top.

Once Mabe and Simpiwe were through, we filled the second week recording brass and lead and backing vocals. Writing and recording the whole project took just fifteen days; it was intense but it was great fun. I can't say there weren't difficulties, even tensions, but we
came out knowing that this was just the start of a project which can only grow. Put six songwriters in a room, with different characters, different backgrounds, and listen to the friction of fusion ignite...

The above text was first published in the CD inlay of the recording, Barungwa The Messengers, released in 1995.

Freedom Way, Phoenix Village, Milnerton - 28-11-2011

2011-11-30T07:52:00.000+02:00

Aryan Kaganof interviews Johnny Mbizo Dyani

2011-11-30T07:47:00.002+02:00

I was 19 years old in 1983 when I left South Africa to avoid being conscripted into the apartheid army.

My great passion was music and I had for a number of years been the head reviewer of the New Albums page of Scope magazine.

It was only once outside of South Africa however, that I encountered for the first time the music of the jazz exiles, most notably of which, The Blue Notes.

Blue Notes For Mongezi remains, for me, the most excoriating musical document ever produced by South African musicians.

I fell in love with the singing tones of the bass on that album and started to hunt down every recording that I could find by that bass player whose name was Johnny Mbizo Dyani.

By the end of 1985 I had a collection of about 40 albums which featured Johnny as a side man, as well as all of his albums as a leader. It was then that I happened to meet Lefifi Tladi, a South African in exile who had left the country after the student uprisings of 1976. Lefifi shared my passion for Johnny’s soulful music and gave me Mbizo’s phone number. “Call him”, Lefifi said, “he’d appreciate that.”

Johnny was living in Malmo, Sweden, at the time, and his subtly melodic, occasionally rasping voice reminded me of his bass playing. We talked for hours on the phone and he ended by saying “Do something man, don’t just tell me you like my music, do something!”

I was a very serious, literal-minded young man and so I organised a tour through Holland for Johnny and the Harlem-born percussionist Emmanuel Abdul Rahim, who was then living in Copenhagen. It was called the Radio Freedom Christmas tour and the money raised was used to buy studio equipment for the ANC’s Radio Freedom broadcast stations in Tanzania and Zambia.

Johnny was accompanied on the tour by a Ghanaian hi-life band, kumbi saleh, the Dutch reggae outfit Revelation Time, and British dub poet Benjamin Zephaniah. The tour was huge success, all the concerts well sold out and a lot of money was raised. Johnny and I decided to put together a group consisting of South African exiles as well as the cream of players still in the country. From the offices of the Dutch Anti-Apartheid Movement (where I was working at the time) we phoned Barney Rachabane and Winston Mankunku Ngozi. They were both excited by the prospect of coming out to Europe to tour with Johnny’s exile band. Tete Mbambisa would be the piano player. Then Johnny suddenly died onstage in 1987. His liver gave way.

I was devastated.

For 24 years I carried four cassettes around with me which contained an interview that I did with Mbizo on 23 December 1985 in the offices of the Dutch Anti-Apartheid Movement on the Lauriergracht in Amsterdam. My only question to Johnny was “tell me what you think is important.” This is the transcription of that interview. the transcript was edited by ntone edjabe of chimurenga magazine.

JOHNNY DYANI INTERVIEW 22-23 DECEMBER 1985

Johnny Dyani: This police officer asked, ‘So, are these your boys?’ Chris [McGregor] went pale. I mean when this guy asked everybody jumped and Chris’ eyes widened. And it went quiet, man. And Chris was left breathing, huh huhm huh huhm. So the guy asked again, ‘Are these your boys?’ Chris wanted to get out of the car, you know, to answer this outside. So Nick [Moyake] said, ‘Tell him! Tell him Chris!’ and Nick was laughing: ‘Go ahead Chris, tell him! Tell him who we are. Tell him!’ And Chris was pale. ‘Are these your boys?’ We were just looking at Chris and Nick was enjoying it now. Nick said, ‘Come on Chris tell him. Let’s hear gents, what he’s gonna say, come on my brother…’ And this cop is like, what’s going on here? ‘Yeah come on Chris, tell him who we are.’ And Chris nodded silently, without saying any words. So Nick said, ‘Are you saying we are your boys?’ And Nick’s at the back, ’cos this guy is standing at the front door, at the window. So Nick pushes his head out the rear window, ‘It’s not true! I’m not nobody’s boy!
This guy turns around and says, ‘What you say?’ This police officer. And so as he walks around the kombi to open the door and Chris says, ‘Oh my God Nick, why do you?!’ So Nick is arguing with Chris and we’re all saying to Nick, ‘No man, why you say that for? Why do you say that?’ Then Dudu [Pukwana] asks, ‘What side are you on Chris? Whose side are you on?’ Then Maxine [McGregor] was waking up, she says, ‘You guys, you must realise we going to go to Europe and your passports will be taken and this and this…’ We are saying, ‘Who cares!?’ They have this thing that your passport… like little boys, you know, your candy will be taken off; you won’t go and play again, some shit like this you know? And we knew this as we were going to France, everything was becoming impossible. They were watching us like hell, man. They were watching us, ’cos we were touring at that time. So this officer, what did he say? This guy said ‘Kaffir’. So Nick said, ‘Don’t ever call me that, Sir.’ And we had this thing of… Dennis [Mphale] came up with this thing… again Dennis was the influence, ’cos he called a white guy ‘Sir Baas Mister’ you know? Just by hearing it it’s like clowning, silly, naughty. So Nick says, ‘Sir Baas Mister’. The cop was amazed man, he couldn’t believe it. He says, ‘You go at once before I do anything.’ Nick came out of the kombi and said, ‘So what can you do? I’m famous than you. I’m going to France.’ That guy was wild, he took his hat (screams), you know, he was all like this, on his gun. You know it was so…dramatic! Because Nick was so cool he kept on saying, ‘You cannot do me nothing, I’m famous than you, I’m going to France. Me.’ So Dudu told him, ‘Let’s go man, leave this guy. Don’t waste your time, leave this guy man.’ So Nick gets back in the car and phew! We drive.

Now we knew when we doing a tour, the money from the group and everything, we supposed to be the band. Now the other thing, every time we are travelling with this bus, with this kombi, we’ll give somebody a lift. Now who is this somebody, we were giving all kinds of lifts to the black guys, right, I mean we knew, but Chris didn’t know, Maxine didn’t know. That the guys were into (laughs), well, the guys who were in the underground would say, ‘I want to go to PE, can you arrange a lift?’ So if you travelled with the Blue Notes everybody is safe ’cos the Blue Notes is famous right? So you can get a lift with the Blue Notes. This car was going from East London, Cape Town, we touring! These guys would say, ‘Oh yeah this is a friend of mine, Johnny, he’s playing with the Blue Notes.’ Some guy would say to me, ‘Listen my boy you gonna give someone a lift, meeting so and so a time, going to PE. Talk to Chris.’ No we don’t have to talk to Chris. It’s our band. So we just say, ‘Chris, we have to pick up so and so at so and so place.’ Maxine would say, ‘No the car is full, the car is this…’ kind of. We say, ‘No there’s a lot of space!’ We knew that some of the guys were either into that or that or that… and now we were very aware of being watched. Because when we came to East London it was strange, really strange because there, in Fifth Street, this Donald Card cop…It was about eleven o’clock at night, so everybody lived at my home, there a boarding house right? The musicians stayed there and when we arrived Chris go sleep in town, a hotel some kind of. So at night a police car comes, a detective, black policeman, at my house. Two o’clock at night, we sitting there talking, my brothers and my sisters, other guys are sleeping. So they say, ‘We came to collect your son’, they said to my mother. So my mother’s panicking. So my brother said, ‘Nah Johnny, what is it?’ So this black policeman say, ‘Tula wena!’ you know, so my brother says, ‘Hey guys shuddup man’ to this guy wearing big boots, ‘just shuddup!’ So this private, a white guy, says, ‘No, he’ll be back, we just want to talk to him in Fifth Street.’ So my mother said, ‘I’m going with him.’ ‘No, he’ll be back.’ So my brother said, ‘Then I’m going with him.’ So they said no, my mother will go. So he said no, he’ll go. Two o’clock at night. So I get in the car with my mother and as we go out this policeman says to my brother, ‘You cheeky you!’ Then I thought, ‘Oh shit!’ So anyway, we went to Fifth Street. Donald Card was there, he was in pyjamas you know. So we came in his office, he’s sitting there, ‘Yes?’ So my mother said, ‘What is this?’ Now my mother had a very good thing to humiliate them, she would say, ‘What is it my son?’ The guy just shouts, ‘I’m not your son! Don’t ever say that!’ My mother shook her head and said, ‘You know I’ve never seen such a thing. You grown up now, I know your father than you. Your father was well-behaved, and you are not behaved. If your father knew…’ And this guy just went, you know, he just went, phew! He told the officer, ‘It’s all right.’ These tactics of getting to these guys man, you know. Boers at home. This is why people like Winnie Mandela, all these people, they are not scared of the Boers. ’Cos you have to just …find a way, without pulling a fight, you just… give them these shocks because they are shocked man. If you say, ‘Look man, don’t touch me like this…’ They will accept it, but they will say, ‘Go, go…’

Aryan Kaganof: The question for me, in terms of South African so-called jazz, instrumental music, this awareness, this knowledge, this ability to survive within racism, to be culturally hip, to get the better of the oppressor, it seems to me that that is the spirit that infuses the instrumental music of South Africa?

JD: You see I’ll tell you what, where I’m coming from. The reason I say that before we left we had all this police, we had all this… even Dorkay House was bugged… So this guy in the car said, ‘I hear you’re going to Europe?’ And he tried to smooth me in, he said, ‘Oh yeah I remember you from doing my rounds, you are a good boy, the police haven’t had any trouble from you.’ He’s saying that to my mother. ‘We haven’t any problems with you, so good luck.’ And we’ve only been there half an hour man, so my mother listened to this, what he saying right, so he said, ‘Good luck, I just wanted to see you and say that.’ So my mother said, ‘You mean you calling my son and me to come here at two in the morning to talk that?’ So I’m looking at this guy and he says, ‘Yeah that’s it, that’s all I wanted to say.’ So my mother stood there, you know, she shook her head and she said, ‘You still didn’t hear what I said about your father…’ and then, because these old people, they knew man, they knew these Boers’ mentalities...

This interview continues here, where it was sourced. To read more about Johnny Mbizo Dyani and other artists visit the Kagablog

Greenpoint - 18-11-2011

2011-11-30T07:36:00.000+02:00

Letta Mbulu on the name, South Africa

2011-11-28T07:56:00.000+02:00

I think that should have been the first thing that we did because there is no country in the world that is called by a cardinal point. We should have changed that name a long time ago but I remember we talked about that before we came here while we were in Zambia with people from the ANC. We discussed the changing of the name but they had a problem because the name that was picked came from PAC so okay, if it is PAC they cannot use it. They have not changed it. It has to be changed but also more importantly, another name that needs to be changed is ‘Koloni’.

The view above was shared in response to a question posed by the interviewer, Marcia Nonkululeko Tladi, to Letta Mbulu. The full interview was published on Proudly Afrikan. You may read it here.

Freedom Way, Phoenix Village, Milnerton - 06-11-2011

2011-11-28T07:53:00.000+02:00

Burning Spear - Dont sell out

2011-11-28T07:51:00.000+02:00

Video source: YouTube

Letta Mbulu on the concept of the middle class and BEE

2011-11-28T07:49:00.002+02:00

Material things. First of all, I question the middle. I have a problem with that. I want to know, I am middle to what? I run this country. It is supposed to be my country. I should not be second-class to anybody, I should not be middle. If I am middle, who is high? Those are fundamental questions we need to answer. Exactly, who is at the bottom? I have the same problem that you have. But I think if the so-called middle class understand the role that they are supposed to play in society then it is okay with me because if you are going to be middle class you have got to run things! You have got to be in charge. You do not take the money and put it in the bank so it collects dust. You take that money, you spread it around. Find a way of doing it and I will I give you an example, when Black Empowerment came about few people were empowered through BEE by corporations. People do not realise that banks were ready to pay that money out because they were avoiding taxes. So that money went to you and to me. Okay, fine. What should have happened, as far as I am concerned and that is my opinion, that with the giving of the money we should have been given rules as well. For example if you are given the money, in five years time I want you to have trained so many people, maybe twenty people and that twenty people in five years time, have trained another twenty each” so that this pie is spread around. When you give somebody money, there has to be accountability especially if that money is supposed to be for the people. So I really think that something was lacking when that money was given. They should have been given orders that this is what you do with it.

The view above was shared in response to a question posed by the interviewer, Marcia Nonkululeko Tladi, to Letta Mbulu. The full interview was published on Proudly Afrikan. You may read it here.

Common - Jimi Was a Rock Star

2011-11-26T07:58:00.000+02:00

Verse 1:

Everyone hides thier face,
sets behind a mask they wear.
Jimi was a rock star
searching for that magic place
That
he could touch
in the sky
just to get his people high.

ohhhhhhhhh (jack!)
oh oh ohhhhhh
oh oh
oh oh
ohhhhhhhhh (jack!)(repeat)

Verse 2:

Life is so, colorful
reds, blues and dreams.
Jimi lives in a purple haze,
in a psychadelic maze.
Playing the streets like and instrument:
pulling strings wherever he went.
Angel sent
from the sky
just to get his people high.

ohhhhhhhhhh (jack!)
ohhhhhhh
oh oh
oh oh
ohhhhhhhh (jack!)(repeat)

Women all around (ehh da da daaa da)
Fast cars and sound (ehh da da daaa da)
And freedom he was bound (ehh da da daaa da)
Couldn't see the ground (ehh da da daaa da)

Jimi come out why dont you set me free?!
(set me free)

Sooooo high
born to fly
getting high off his own supply
?
Everybody follows the same lord
Using his light to guide the way
?
?...try things but few die so young
something among
Jimi was stung

Everyone
hides thier face
Sets behind a mask they wear
(back ground: Jimi come out why dont you set me free?)Till end

Video source: YouTube
Lyrics source: Sing365.com

Rick James - Ebony Eyes ft. Smokey Robinson

2011-11-25T07:40:00.002+02:00

Video source: YouTube

Dick Khoza - Chapita

2011-11-25T07:36:00.003+02:00

Video source: YouTube

One Day I Will Write About This Place - a Chimurenga Session with Binyavanga Wainaina

2011-11-25T07:34:00.000+02:00

The Black Advertising Manifesto by Sifiso Hlongwane

2011-11-25T07:31:00.000+02:00

INTRODUCTIONINYANA

The South African black copywriter is seeking his voice. Already he is multi-lingual and multi-cultural. On most occasions the black copywriter must infuse township and traditional culture with a European conditioning and up-bringing. One foot in Europe, the other in Africa. This condition leads to a speaking and writing disorder called YEBOYES. The accidental art of mixing English and Nguni languages. However, you will not know you have this condition until you have read this article. Once you are aware, you will also notice that the black copywriter is actually at war with himself. You can’t confirm him…

This manifesto continues here. It was first published on Proudly Afrikan.

Steve Biko on the idea of non racialism

2011-11-23T21:16:00.001+02:00

Video source: YouTube

Naturally Letta Mbulu

2011-11-23T21:04:00.000+02:00

One of the hippest albums ever cut by Letta Mbulu – a perfect mix of her Soweto roots and the funky styles of her adopted California home! The album's the only one that Mbulu ever recorded for Fantasy Records – and the style brings together those great sing-song vocal modes perfected on her 60s records, with some of the funky jazz elements that were bubbling in the Fantasy scene during the years of Cannonball Adderley and David Axelrod! No surprise, both Cannonball and Nat Adderley appear on the record, and the set's produced by their own company – with lots of great early arrangements from the great Wayne Henderson. Some of the best tracks have a spacious groove that leaves plenty of room for funky basslines – and titles include "Afro Texas", "Learn To Love", "Never Leave You", "Zimkile", "Setho", and "Saddest Day"

This short review first appeared on Dusty Groove America

Buitengracht - 15-11-2011

2011-11-23T20:35:00.000+02:00

Milnerton - 22-11-2011

2011-11-23T20:29:00.000+02:00

Some random thought on conformity

2011-11-23T20:23:00.002+02:00

Conformity
is
some
form
of
hypnosis,
a
ruse
to
cheat
people
out
of
their
present
reality.

Deon-Simphiwe Skade

“The world of the living is actually much more dead than the world of the dead, you know, which is much more alive.” ~ Tim Burton

2011-11-22T07:20:00.000+02:00

Video source: YouTube

Aryan Kaganof's Uselessly

2011-11-21T16:32:00.000+02:00

Bongo Maffin - Laduma Izulu

2011-11-21T11:47:00.000+02:00

Video source: YouTube

Aryan Kaganof on knowledge and time

2011-11-21T11:31:00.000+02:00

Everything you know is the past.

Everything you don’t know is the future.

Aryan Kaganof

The above text was first published on Kaganof’s blog, the Kagablog. Read more of his texts here.

Tim Burton's Corspe Bride

2011-11-21T11:21:00.000+02:00

Synopsis

Tim Burton's Corpse Bride carries on in the dark, romantic tradition of Tim Burton's classic films Edward Scissorhands and The Nightmare Before Christmas. Set in a 19th century European village, this stop-motion, animated feature follows the story of Victor (voiced by Johnny Depp), a young man who is whisked away to the underworld and wed to a mysterious Corpse Bride, while his real bride, Victoria, waits bereft in the land of the living. Though life in the Land of the Dead proves to be a lot more colourful than his strict Victorian upbringing, Victor learns that there is nothing in this world, or the next, that can keep him away from his one true love. It's a tale of optimism, romance and a very lively afterlife, told in classic Tim Burton style.

Milnerton, Cape Town - 14-10-2011

2011-11-21T11:18:00.000+02:00

Goodenough Mashego reviews A Series of Undesirable Events

2011-11-20T17:47:00.001+02:00

I am a strong advocate of non-conformity. I don’t believe in structure. I detest any template and reject any notion that anything is absolute. Even the truth is not because it is ‘the truth according to???’ whose perception of it might have been strongly influenced by the tide of the times. The events of any era produce their own truths and lies. And such truths become lies once the table turns. So, I protest that anything is gospel unless inspired by the Creator. And the Bible is not a book of literature but history.

Being a non-conformist, if I was to put together my twelve disciples there would be, among them Zukiswa Waanner (whose experimental style in Men of the South and her retake of Can Themba’s The Suit breaks conformity barriers), Kgebetli Moele (for his shrewd use of his poetic license in Book of the Dead), Tshwarelo Mogakane and until last week Deon-Simphiwe Skade.

Now I know you are familiar with some of the writers I have mentioned above and you wonder why would I want to put together a disciple unit of scribes some of you might call rebels? I deliberately omitted Siphiwo Mahala whose retake of The Suit (The Suit Revisited) is still one of those short stories I read to remind myself that Afrika is the cradle.

Now, Skade’s novella titled A Series of Undesirable Events is a peep-show into what this writer, who I have never met has in store for our literary landscape. I often get tired of justifying why I appraise some books and deliver positive judgments while I stump other like a badly translated Holy Book. Comrades, I am a literary adjudicator in the English panel of the South African Literary Awards (SALA) where I serve with a Doctor and a Professor and my competence to put forward an argument on literary merit is unchallenged. Your book becomes literature when we say so because we have read hundreds if not thousands of titles and we know what a good book read like.

And I dare say, A Series of Undesirable Events is a blerry brilliant story – though more could have been said between these 90 pages. Skade could have thrashed out details about his characters and added more flesh on the novella weighing 165 in a city where novellas die. Impressive because this novella does not face its demise but survives to be appraised.

Skade’s flirting relationship with his characters and their intricate stories robs the reader of any opportunity to fall in love with them, embrace them and peel more layers to discover their aesthetic. He tells us what they all do for a living, which is good and often shines through the narrative. He delves deep into that – especially towards the end when it’s just Moshe, Tumi and Tshitso who are reminiscing about lost friends and acquaintances over green bottles.

The poems accompanying the prose add a necessary colour to the canvas, and leaves the reader wondering why can’t they stand alone – without being adulterated by the prose.

I love Skade’s narrative because of what I call non-conformity. Throughout the 90 pages he manages to be all the characters in the novella and see the world through their eyes. He even manages to become someone as miscellaneous as Lorraine. He juggles being a man and a woman with a passion Waanner would be proud of. Waanner is three times all ‘men’ in Men of the South.

Skade’s book is so well-written I had to read it seven times before formulating this thesis. I don’t kiss ass (even when I get free books for my growing private library) and I am brave to say that Skade is a useful addition to our literature family. His story is set in a city very few people have tackled without touching on its pre’76 geo-political make-up (not make-over). Cape Town never changes – and Skade’s narrative is a testament of activism about this magnet with a table – the magnet that should be declared the 8th Wonder of the World for its eternal captivity in a time warp. The last European outpost in the South.

If this book pitched for any award I adjudicate it would have stood a chance to walk away with an accolade for creativity – depending on with whom will it be swimming. A worthy read I am comfortable to call – the first in a line of many. Even though it’s not mine.

Skade is extremely talented, his style seductive and the simplicity with which he tells the Undesirable Events addictive. Go buy it and read.

This review first appeared on Goodenough Mashego’s blog, Kasiekulture. Click here to read more of his works.

Anton Ego on criticism

2011-11-20T17:38:00.000+02:00

"In many ways, the work of a critic is easy. We risk very little yet enjoy a position over those who offer up their work and their selves to our judgment. We thrive on negative criticism, which is fun to write and to read. But the bitter truth we critics must face, is that in the grand scheme of things, the average piece of junk is probably more meaningful than our criticism designating it so. But there are times when a critic truly risks something, and that is in the discovery and defense of the new. The world is often unkind to new talent, new creations, the new needs friends. Last night, I experienced something new, an extraordinary meal from a singularly unexpected source. To say that both the meal and its maker have challenged my preconceptions about fine cooking is a gross understatement. They have rocked me to my core. In the past, I have made no secret of my disdain for Chef Gusteau's famous motto: Anyone can cook. But I realize, only now do I truly understand what he meant. Not everyone can become a great artist, but a great artist can come from anywhere. It is difficult to imagine more humble origins than those of the genius now cooking at Gusteau's, who is, in this critic's opinion, nothing less than the finest chef in France. I will be returning to Gusteau's soon, hungry for more."

Note: Anton Ego is a fictional character in the animated movie, Ratatouille. He was renowned for his scathing reviews on restaurants, until he met an unexpected chef who not only changed his views about criticism, but may have led him to change his job too.

Joe Slovo Park, Milnerton - 06-11-2011

2011-11-20T17:37:00.000+02:00

The latest campaign from United Colors of Benetton hits a nerve

2011-11-18T10:10:00.002+02:00

Image source: United Colors of Benetton blog

Vatican City - The Vatican said on Thursday that it was taking legal action to prevent the publication of a photo montage showing the pope kissing a leading imam as part of a Benetton advertising campaign.

The White House slammed the campaign, which also showed US President Barack Obama kissing Chinese President Hu Jintao and Venezuelan leader Hugo Chavez in edited pictures.

The statement from the Vatican secretary of state came despite an announcement by the Italian clothing company that it was pulling the montage in the wake of severe criticism from the Holy See.

The Vatican said its State Secretariat would ask its lawyers “to take action in Italy and abroad to prevent the circulation in the mass media and elsewhere of the photo montage produced as part of Benetton's publicity campaign”.

It said Benetton's portrayal of Pope Benedict XVI “is wounding not only to the dignity of the pope but also to the sensibilities of the faithful”.

Benetton's poster showed Benedict kissing (on the lips) Egypt's Ahmed el Tayyeb, grand imam of the Al-Azhar Mosque in Cairo and a leading voice in Sunni Islam.

Al-Azhar slammed the advert as “irresponsible and absurd” and said it was “still hesitating as to whether it should issue a response”, Mahmud Azab, advisor to the grand imam, told AFP.

Azab said he wondered if this type of campaign was “in fact dangerous for universal values and freedom of expression as understood in Europe”.

Benetton's campaign has touched a nerve in the Vatican at a tense time in relations between the world's two biggest religions, with the Roman Catholic Church protesting over the growing vulnerability of Christians in the Middle East…

This report continues here. Article source: IOL

Image source: United Colors of Benetton blog

Andile Mngxitama’s take on government leadership

2011-11-18T05:33:00.000+02:00

“Hugh Masekela told the Sunday Times recently that as far as leadership is concerned, he loved the Scandinavian model.
In those successful Nordic countries such as Sweden, Denmark and Norway, Masekela says: "You never read about the head of state in the newspapers. They go to work on the bus or even walk and the country functions well."

Masekela says the problem in South Africa is that our leaders confuse inauguration with coronation. They think they are kings.

This idea of thinking one is a king leads to our leaders to regard the state and government as being there to serve them and that the people are mere servants who are used for votes and other battles for the crown.

Today the crown is the tender, because he who can influence the tender is king…”

The above excerpt was sourced from Sowetan Live. The full text continues here.

Former Cape Town mayor, Gordon Oliver, on the New 7 Wonders of the World competition

2011-11-16T19:10:00.000+02:00

“What authority does this organisation have to determine a natural wonder as a finalist? It’s important that our authorities get the credentials of such organisations who set themselves up as the authority to decide the prominence of natural features. It seems to me that this competition is self-serving and possibly dishonest,”

~ Gordon Oliver

The above text was first published in the Cape Times article titled, Table Mountain vote a cash now. You may read the full piece here.

The Truth About that Dream: an excerpt from a short story written by Deon-Simphiwe

2011-11-14T14:22:00.001+02:00

"... The sullenness of the night has become the heat of the night. I remember things that are said to have happened in this very period and hope that we don’t deviate from that culture. That we don’t set a precedent that will never benefit anyone, or worst, destroy what had been consistent all these years.
The blue of the sky with its liquidity had disappeared, and million stars wink like small fluorescent flash lights below what has become the darkest of the nights I’ve ever seen – stars must have reconciled with the sinister and brooding sky. Traces of ghosts are nowhere to be seen either.

The heat is aggressive. I sweat in an instant while Cynthia maintains her powdered beauty. We stand against the wall and evaluate the vastness of the heavens.

“I promise you, this sky is a blanket from which the earth tore; look at its vastness,” Cynthia muses, her eyes directed at the sky.

“No, the sky flew away from the earth,” I counter.

“Maybe, but how vast is the sky then?”

“As vast as your thoughts and as deep as your heart Cynthia; the sky stretches further from the earth into deeper vastness.”

“What do you mean by that? My heart is not deep,” she says, disappointed.

“It is. I fear its depth while I stand here with you.”

“But you know I don’t bite, I only love. What does that make me then; earth?”

“Maybe. But I think the earth may be more treacherous though. I think you’re more like the space above refusing to take a definite form.”

“And that makes you an ocean I suppose, always determined to have your waves reach the shore?”

“Maybe, but these waves cannot reach you.”

“How so?”

“Because you don’t want me to kiss you,” I say trembling with desire, sweat flowing down my face – it’s the heat of the night!

“Mmmhhh! You want to kiss me? Why don’t you say so?” she says, pleasantly surprised, as if she’s discovering this for the first time as we stand there.

We both lean towards each other. And like the force of gravity, we’re pulled together through our lips. They connect gracefully creating an impeccably blissful moment. I hear the whimpering laughter again, but ignore it. I’m taken by the night – there’s definitely not going to be any precedents here, we’re continuing the long tradition of delightful moments of physical encounters.
I hear the same whimper, louder this time. And my entire back starts heating up terribly.

“He’s arrived! The dark man has arrived!” I scream into Cynthia’s face, but she forms a disgusted expression. She thinks I’m losing it.

“He’s here! He’s here!” I scream again but she maintains her questioning expression.

The dark man stands next to us on the side where the house door is. It’s as if he’s ruling out any possible chances of escaping into the house, where I’m sure he would not dare venture into if only I were to sneak in. I pray that Cynthia’s uncle could emerge from the house so as to fight on my behalf. At the same time I wonder how could he not have known that the night out here had hid this hideous guy, when his roving eyes pierce through desires and motives? I’m sure Cynthia’s uncle knew about all these things. His motive may be to teach me a lesson. Otherwise he would have warned us against this itinerant danger..."

This excerpt is part of a short story published on Botsotso literary journal. You may read the full story here

Freedom Way, Phoenix Village, Milnerton - 06-11-2011

2011-11-14T13:31:00.000+02:00

Adderley Street, Cape Town - 22-08-2011

2011-11-14T13:28:00.000+02:00

The Dentist Conspiracy revisted: Read the fine print too

2011-11-09T21:04:00.002+02:00

The Dentist Conspiracy revisted
Book 2
Volume VIII
Chapter 347: Swagger this
edited by Prof. Yazi Hambard [updated edition with forward by the Esteemed Dr. Otlaenyela Swagger]

Quoted text: "... how to explain to the president of the country the economics of poverty, who is paranoid..."

Click here to read the rest of this fine printed text, which was first published on Un8speaks.blogspot.com.

Joe Slovo Park, Milnerton - 06-11-2011

2011-11-09T20:55:00.000+02:00

Nathi Xinwa explains the concept of lobola

2011-11-09T20:27:00.001+02:00

When I used to think that I knew everything, or at least a lot more than I really did, I wrote a handful of these. It is a time-honoured tradition. There is much more to it than the silly tabloids say. Let’s also try and clear this up for you.

1. Lobola is NOT Payment offered to the woman’s family as an I’m-taking-her-off-your-hands and I Own Her Now gesture. Lobola is a Thank You. It shows Appreciation to the family and the parents for raising (what we assume and hope) to be this Lady of my heart, Life partner and mother to nurture and help raise my heirs and beloved children.

2. Lobola is a Promise. It says: “I realise that you are losing an integral and priceless treasure to your family and I promise to Love, Honour, Protect, Care and treat Her like the Queen she is.” That simple.

3. There are two parties to be concerned about when Lobola is on the books. Not his family and her family. That will end badly. It’s Us and Them. Us being him and her. Them being the two families. No one else, the neighbour, friend and shoulder to cry on don’t have a leg to stand on in these negotiations. Us will have to make a life after Lobola. Them will have to be considerate.

4. Price. No matter how you break it down. Lobola is still a financial obligation (whether it’s cows, cars or cash), it’s not a burden. Only agree to a price that will neither be a future burden to the Us party or patronise or blatantly insult her family.

5. Save Up in Good Time. Don’t be a senseless idiot and come with a backdated checque that will bounce like a rubber playball the next day. That is insulting. You know what you can afford and what you can’t. Do you know how much the engagement and wedding rings cost, Mr Big Spender? Do research.

6. Discuss. Discuss. Discuss. Talk to her. Yes, that woman who will be your wife. If she thinks you are the Reserve Bank Governor although you are on your last reserves with the bank and living on overdraft, she will not understand if you pay any less than what she thinks she’s worth to you.

7. Do it right. If you do not know what the procedure is, Captain Westernised, find out fast. Don’t make your lawyer represent you. This is not a pre-nuptial negotiation. Man Up. Do It Right.

8. Know your options. Installments is one of those options. Three installments is understandable. A 60 month installment will not fly. You are saying thanks, not buying a car. Okay, Mr Wonderful?

Namaste

This piece was was sourced from The Nathi Xinwa Experience, where Nathi Xinwa publishes his writings. You may click here to read more of his work.

Long Street, Cape Town - 07-11-2011

2011-11-08T21:36:00.000+02:00

Fela Kuti - Teacher don't Teach me Nonsense

2011-11-08T21:23:00.000+02:00

Hout Street, Cape Town - 05-11-2011

2011-11-08T21:10:00.001+02:00

The state of poverty in the Eastern Cape

2011-11-08T21:06:00.000+02:00

The Eastern Cape is fast becoming entrenched as South Africa’s most poverty-stricken province, thanks to an increasing burden on women as the sole household breadwinners despite earning much less than men, a groundbreaking study has revealed.

Not only are growing gender imbalances leading to women in the province securing more menial jobs than men, or being paid less for doing the same work, but the province also leads the country in “out-migration” as skilled workers – mostly men – leave for greener pastures.

According to a study being released today (July 26) by the Human Sciences Research Council (HSRC), the “disproportionate economic burden on women and subtle forms of gender imbalances ... in the province remain issues of major concern”.

Commissioned by the Social Development Department and undertaken by Dr Monde Makiwane and Prof Dan Chimere- Dan, the study – “What is happening in the Eastern Cape: Population dynamics and policy” – is the most recent done of the dire state of affairs in the province.

Makiwane said the Eastern Cape and Limpopo led the nation as the poorest provinces. The problem was devastating rural and urban households in the Eastern Cape.

“More than a decade into our successful democracy, the Eastern Cape remains trapped in structural poverty that negatively affects the province’s health and socio-economic profile,” the report states.

Of the issue of out-migration, it states: “The resulting burden of heavy economic dependency contributes to the disorganisation of families and the breakdown of the social fabric of the provincial population.”

In Nelson Mandela Bay, stricken households spoke yesterday of having to plead with neighbours to help with food parcels and other handouts, while they often did not know where their next meal would come from.

This article continues on the PE Herald, where it was sourced. It continues here

Centre Point, Milnerton - 03-11-11

2011-11-08T21:05:00.000+02:00

Andile Mngxitama shares motivation for a march from Alex to Sandton

2011-11-08T20:58:00.000+02:00

Video source: YouTube

Joe Slovo Park, Milnerton - 06-11-2011

2011-11-08T20:33:00.000+02:00

The state of black life in South Africa

2011-11-06T09:47:00.001+02:00

The state of black life in South Africa is a sorry one. There's overwhelming evidence on the suffering of black people that one sees everyday; the suffering that should not be allowed in this day and age. This continued strife of the majority of black people begs for an answer to this simple question: “Has the concept of the so-called free

South Africa

achieved a fitting economic emancipation for its entire people?”

What is clear is that those who claim to have fought for freedom and liberated the people live comfortably, beyond high walled houses and armed with bodyguards and other security benefits. They live highly privileged lives while those they claim to have fought for continue to starve and rot in township and rural life. The fight for liberation was a joint operation by the way; so, no single organisation should claim sole victory – people of South Africa fought for a better life. One is not going to be ungrateful for what has been achieved in other spheres of South African; economic freedom happens to be a critical issue that may truly determine the emancipation of a people – and this boils down to a simple matter. No market analysis or any of those complex global economic systems that seem to benefit foreign counties more. No! It’s simple requirements that our government is quite capable of fulfilling in order to change the lives of its people.

I suppose the aspiration of

South Africa

in terms of its global position complicates matters further. The ruthless capitalist ideology exerts its weight on the fragile head of South Africa, thus her priorities get fumbled and leave many people deprived of an ability to eke out equal means of living. In as much as there was the Truth and Reconciliation Commission, an attempt to address the past, which sadly had its shortfalls; there has to be a system that will re-address the economic position of the poor people of

South Africa

It's sad to hear calls for economic freedom being rejected. Such interventions are needed in order to help map a hopeful tomorrow. And how these processes would be handled, may bring about better results for all. It’s cruel to allow people to live in horrendous and dehumanising conditions of shacks and other undignified forms of shelter. Some people don't have jobs. No food. The only thing they have is a continued pain called living, while others just sit and watch. It's criminal. It should not be allowed under any kind of government. Who's going to stop this madness, this dreadfulness? People need simple and basic things. That's all; there should be a piece of a pie for everyone. South Africa still has a wealth of resources to allow its people to live dignified lives.

Let’s be honest and candid about these issues. Let the government address these problems and bring about the much needed interventions to the people who are desperately poor and highly marginalised. Otherwise, how are the people expected to continue showing faith in the government when it ignores their economic plight which was ushered in by the previous oppressive regime and other factors of this world?

As one pointed out above, some achievements have been made, but a lot still needs to be done to change the living conditions of black people. What we're seeing at the moment is not ultimate freedom because it benefits a few, including the comrades that should be working at providing economic emancipation to the people, but whose hands are in a cookie jar for the exclusive few. It’s a terrible state of affairs; a state of black life that continues to ail as if forever.

Deon-Simphiwe Skade