Beat Your Kids, Beat Your Legacy.

Domestic violence is ubiquitous around the black community, and it took me a particularly cynical Tuesday afternoon to ponder the reasoning behind it. Most black people are raised by black parents, and most black parents use violence as a form of disciplining their children. No, I’m not talking about sending a child to his room for ‘quiet time’, or being bent over a knee to get spanked, I am talking full blown violence.

I don’t know how many times in my childhood I considered calling Childline to have my parents arrested for inflicting grievous bodily harm on me. I often disguised these feelings as anger as I was afraid of looking like a spoilt, DSTV having, decent school attending, roof over head having little bitch. I also consoled myself with the belief that there were a lot of other, less fortunate black children who had it a lot tougher than I did. This did not, however, remove the scars that I still have today, physically and mentally.

I soon accepted this as a form of punishment and took responsibility for all my actions, understanding the repercussions that would follow. Consequences often involved fetching the tool that I would soon be beaten up with, sometimes involving being tied up during the beating itself, and on the rare occasion, an all expenses trip to the emergency room after the beating. All is well that ends well, and I have grown up to be a bright young man with facial hair. So it can’t be all that bad, right?

After leaving your parents and involving yourself in a relationship with someone, your partner tends to take on a guardian type role. It is of no fault of theirs; how else would you know when to turn the geyser on, wash the dishes, record the game, not go on boys’ night out, or drink alcohol? Your parents are no longer there to tell you to perform these tasks. In so doing, you are more likely to discipline your partner in the same way your parents disciplined you. If your parents used violence as a form of discipline to raise you, I believe that you are more likely to use violence to discipline your partner. The dynamics of when you were beaten as a child has changed over the years, yet the previously abused will see no difference.  Men will physically abuse their wives partly because they know of no other method to get them to do what they want. “Talking about it” is not an option because his parents never wanted to “talk about it”.

If twitter is anything to go by, a lot of the black South African youth are still in favour of using violence to discipline their future children. Obviously these are people who were beaten by their parents and feel like they came out alright. Maybe they want to exact some kind of misguided revenge on their parents. A little bit of “the sins of the father so on and so forth” springs to mind. I just think there is more to raising your kids than using intimidatory techniques like grotesque violence and humiliation. In fact, using reasonable punishment methods (whatever those may be) could raise a more considerate and caring child. A listener, but also someone that can make sense in words as to why things are the way they are. Our children are the best way for any of us to leave a legacy, they are an extension of ourselves, and all we want is the best for them. Give them a chance to grow up in an openly loving home instead of a house they are afraid to stay in.

Red October: Must Be Nice.

On Thursday the 10^th of October I woke up to a world filled with renewed hope and vigour. Not only was it because of the imminent weekend, but also the weekly Thirsty Thursday where I can unashamedly indulge in liquor in the middle of the week and feel like I was a part of something instead of feeling guilty. However, my boisterous mood was short lived as I arrived to work and learned about Red October.

At first I thought it was some ominous reference for Libras across the world, being a Virgo I wasn’t worried. The real horror that I later scoped was that Red October was in fact a gathering of white South Africans protesting against the notion of “white genocide”. These  people believe that white people are oppressed and marginalised in their “own” country, the worst part is that they believe that white people are being singled out and that they are the only race in South Africa which experiences the horrors of crime, poor education, and not enough tomato sauce sachets from take-away restaurants. It came with very little shock that the march was led by none other than the infamous celebrity, Afrikaans singer Steve Hofmeyr. Reports say that the march later harmonised itself into a right-wing choir, yelling chants of “Hofmeyr for president!”, but surely that was just the brandy talking.

I could imagine how cute it was; Out in the sun, acquiring skin cancer in their Kaki shorts, long brown socks and black shirts. Protesters were releasing bio-degradable red balloons into the air as a sign of their involvement in Red October. I just could not believe what was going on. Have white people run out of Rhinos to shoot in their backyards? Do they honestly believe that they are getting the brunt of the bad treatment? I thought to myself that it must be so nice to be white and purposefully oppress other races for centuries than experience 19 years of democracy and then complain that you are now the ones being oppressed. I wanted to experience this oppression that white people claim to have. I mean, considering that only 1.8% of all murders in South Africa are of white people and that less than 7% of the white population is unemployed, it couldn’t be so bad. But I guess they thought I had to feel blessed with my own people killing each other over spilled drinks in taverns and our unemployment rate of over 30%. I had to be cool with that.

“What is the point?” was the next question on my mind. What did white people have to gain from all of this? That we would all miraculously excuse them from crime and hangovers? In my humble opinion, white people should be thanking their lucky stars that someone as kind as Nelson Mandela was our first democratic president. Had it been Robert Sobukhwe or someone in the mould of Robert Mugabe, white people would have been marginalised out of the country, probably with first class tickets to Australia. You would have had to have gone completely out of your way as a white person to not have gained considerably from apartheid. I presume they just want more of that easy lifestyle. Maybe they miss the “good ol’ days” when black people couldn’t just go wherever they pleased. They suddenly can’t believe that they have been walking among these savages for the past two decades.

Could it be just a way to nip oppression in the bud before it gets authentic? Granted, Black Economic Empowerment has lowered whites in the vocational pecking order, only if every other candidate is equal in compatibility for the job. It must be so sad that your mortgage was paid in full by the nineteenth century.

I’m not saying that our country is perfect, but Lord help us if our previous oppressors are feeling uneasy while everybody else does their level best to make democracy work. It really is spit on every other citizen’s face when white people march to parliament to complain that they alone suffer in this country. You might as well have protested against equality.  I fully understand that this whole campaign was initiated by a handful of white people. Most white people in South Africa seemed just as enraged as everybody else, if  not, even more so for giving their race a bad name. Although, on the Red October website, there is a petition that has been signed by over 23 000 people. 23 000 people feel that white people are oppressed and that there is a “white genocide”.

I wasn’t aware that there were this many people who felt this way. We cannot be too surprised. White people took everything away from us, now they also want oppression. 

Rise Of The Geeks

Like it or not, social media has given the unassuming kid a second chance. Those that were once coerced to be introverted have now found a new platform with which express themselves, and it’s one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen. The beauty is that it’s inside, in the mind. People are now publicising their thoughts for the world to see and everybody has the time to give a damn. Back in school, the quirky kid with the shirt tucked in a little too tightly never got a chance to put his message across freely, until recently, and in such a vociferous manner.

So here we are, the geeks are finally getting the freaks in the most unprecedented manner. But what’s the difference between the popular kids offline and the popular one’s online? The mind. Sure, we have profile pictures, display pictures and avatars, but what really gets the people going is your particular brand of perspective on... everything really. A lot of popularity in the real world is attributed to aesthetic appeal. You can’t even fault it, as Drake the philosopher says “If you ain’t got it, you ain’t got, the theory is brilliant”. This is why you can’t even be surprised that the most influential people offline are not heavily invested online, because it dilutes their presence if their smarts don’t match their appearance. In some cases, you get to see the inner workings of a troubled mind, and it belongs to who you thought was always cool, calm and collected. Sometimes you have the rare occurrence where the cool guy with street cred is also proficient with the QWERTY keyboard. However, more often than not on social media, people are attracted to a person’s intrinsic beauty rather than their outward appearance.

A lot of talk, and sometimes stigma, circles around starting relationships with people you meet online. I’m not entirely sure when meeting people became so complicated that it became judged, but you can’t help but feel connections with people that are on your wavelength. If you want to meet those people, go for it. I think it beats befriending people purely on the basis of being your friend’s friend. Online, people are a lot more open, direct and free. They no longer have to worry about anyone invading their personal space unless they invite them. People become so comfortable with each other that they overshare or become emotionally invested in the most trivial matters.

Is making friendships or any kind of relationship online any less real than making them at a house party, mall or back seat of a taxi? I certainly don’t think so. Yes, we have catfish and people who pretend to be something they’re not, but all these facades are dispelled by the first meeting.  All the nerdy, awkward children are now adored by the masses. In the marathon of life, they just got a second wind. By association, it has filtered through to the real world. The cast of Big Bang Theory is more likely to get laid than the cast of Blue Mountain State, whether they are online or not. Smart is the new beautiful, yet still in the eye of the beholder. Maybe I didn’t see this in the past thanks to my naivety and being wet behind ears, or perhaps it was never mentioned out loud or posted all over the internet, but people are less shallow than I thought. The playing fields have been levelled in a way where jocks and mean girls are now required to incorporate some level of depth in their personalities... or not, they can continue to adorn the fashionable fabrics of misters Hardy, Abercrombie and Fitch.

One distinct disadvantage that has arisen since the advent of social media is the level of judgement that has

increased at an exponential rate, as was showcased after the ellipsis in the previous paragraph. Cyber bullies have contributed to the suicides of several people that they never even met. This is where a level of discretion needs to observed. If you take everything seriously, you will have a very bad time. However, if something is repeated often enough and convincingly enough, you will subconsciously take it to heart. Either way, I’ve always thought suicide was for the emotionally bankrupt and cowardice extremists. Just please, before you make any rash decisions, look at the bigger picture.

No longer are people subjected to conduct themselves to the whims of the genetically gifted few. Creativity within well articulated prose now has a relevant place in the world. Never has it been so cool to be strange. This is the rise of the planet of the geeks. 

Town Ships

Town: verb 1. To participate in sexual intercourse without the use of protection, usually that of a condom.

Other forms: towning, townable, towntalk, towner, townist.

Eons ago, when the indigenous people of South Africa were able to freely roam the vast and abundant pastures of its land, ignorance was the greatest bliss. Strandloopers would play with the Koi-San, Xhosas would play with sticks, and Zulus would play with their foreskin. All the land was our’s, as far as the eye could see (you still had it even if you were Ray Charles to the distribution of land). During these times, towning was not an unpopular choice. It was the only means of having, and/or enjoying sex.

Skip forward to 1652 and Jan van Riebeeck, the sailing Dutchman, arrives at what would soon be called The Cape Colony. He introduced us to Bibles and mirrors, and forced upon us what his society perceived as right and not-so-right.  Interestingly enough, it seems as though we indoctrinated the Bible and mirror religion whole-heartedly, and with it, lost our blissful ignorance. Who would have thought that grown men would be taking selfies (pictures of themselves) today?

We could no longer just town anyone we wanted in the hope of them not knowing how beautiful they were or without them bringing up the moral or ethical values of casual coitus. We lost a large amount of our land and were banished to the outskirts of major cities (commonly known as townships) and Lesotho, because let’s face it, Lesotho is just a shorter way of saying Drakensburg Mountains.

In steps father Democracy in his knight and shining armour in 1994, expected to fix the injustices perpetrated in South Africa’s troubled past. President Nelson Mandela, being a symbol of reason and forgiveness, does not exact revenge on all white women and children. Instead, he promises equality for all and happily ever afters. Land reform policies follow suit, without much success. But there’s also a new kid on the block that’s been brewing for a decade or so, AIDS. And boy, it’s a killer.

Gone are the days where our forefathers could just happily town and reproduce without fear of child support payments or death. We can no longer town without consequences. South Africa now has one of the largest proportion of infected populations in the world. On top of all this, WE STILL DON’T HAVE OUR LAND BACK. I think it’s time. It has been 19 years and father Democracy is taking his own sweet time. I’m not saying we revolt against every white-owned establishment across the land. There just isn’t enough good land left for all that, and I’m not about that war life. I propose we take to the sea.

Money acquired from corrupt government tenders would raise enough money to build massive yachts. Almost like cruise ships, like the ones that have golf courses and extra-marital affairs on them. They would set anchor at every major city across South Africa, even makeshift ones in Gauteng and Bloemfontein. These yachts will be free to board by any indigenous South African citizen and will be equipped with the latest in medical technological devices. Scanners at boarding gates will detect any STDs instantaneously, in which case you are not allowed on board. Ankle bracelets will be fastened on every passenger, rendering them infertile for as long as they have it on. Milk, peanuts and bananas will be on the house while everything else will be generously subsidised.  

Cabins will have numbers. These numbers, instead of increasing in sequence, will state how many people can comfortably have sex in that cabin. Naturally there will be a lot of twos, but if patrons are feeling extra feisty they can opt for rooms numbered 3 to 8. The homosexuals will have their own wing, on top, or the bottom. Passengers will be able to disembark at any time they wish by just walking off the yacht, and handing in the ankle bracelet.

I would like to call these the new, and improved, Town Ships. No longer places of civil unrest and xenophobia, but vessels of unrestrained, yet consensual towning. Without consequences beyond that of a bit of chafing and classy walks of shame from exquisite yachts. Towning without consequences... it's beautiful, like drinking without hangovers.

Funemployment To A Degree

I graduated with a bachelor of commerce in 2011. It's called a BCom general majoring in finance. I tell you this, not because I want to gloat about my academic under-achievements, but to give you an idea of where I'm coming from.

A large majority of people are under the belief that education breeds success. This notion, though not far from the truth, does have its anomalies however. Some of the most successful people in the world never got a whiff of tertiary education. Granted, the people I speak of were too incredible, and passionate in their fields to be bogged down by the constraints of higher learning. Bill Gates and Richard Branson both dropped out of Harvard and high school, respectively. These are two highly successful and respected individuals, and various Forbes lists will re-iterate this.

Acquiring a degree shows cognitive ability and the ability to finish what you start. It shows a desire to gain technical or theoretical  knowledge in a field you are interested in, or not interested in. A degree also comes at a price; monetary and otherwise. Fresh out of high school, time is one of your greatest assets, as you have  so much of it left on this precious earth, God willing. Yet we are inclined to spend 3 to 7 in an educational institution. It almost sounds like a jail sentence. After which, you start at an entry level job in a company you only have the desire of owning. You might not even find a job in the field you studied in. During your studies, you might have changed your mind about what you want to do for the rest of your life. Before you know it, you're getting capped in front of your parents and it's all a very joyous occasion. The crippling reality is that you're not the only graduate in this world. Your matric friends that went straight to work after high school have a lot more of this valuable work experience that everyone wants. They might have even started their own companies. Maybe that degree, with your name on it, helps you sleep at night, but before NSFAS wakes you up demanding a loan repayment ask yourself this: Is this what I really want?

I completely understand if you studied what you loved, with a bursary even, and still enjoying it. You are one in a few and are very blessed. Most of us are not afforded that luxury. It's just that times change, and time is precious enough as it is. I feel as though we should be creating our own jobs instead of competing with others for the same ones. Even the satisfaction of creating your own title is greater than getting a promotion at Whatwhat & Sons. As far as I know, we are still under economic turmoil. This doesn't mean there are a lack of resources. You need to take charge of your situation and take advantage of the world's situation. Create something that was never there. Or you can just chill, it's up to you. Who knew twerk teams could be so lucrative? I have seriously considered starting a Home Wrecker's agency where I employ beautiful and charming people most likely to end marriages. Our clients will be those seeking easy divorce through adultery on their spouse's part. Payment will be a proportion of the consideration from the divorce settlement. Not sure it's legal though.

At the time of writing, I still want to pursue an honours degree in finance or travel overseas to teach foreign children English. I just don't know if I want another feather in my cap or an experience worth having.

Not Your Average Tweeter

There are many different types of people on twitter. Although their cyber presence may not be a true reflection of their lives, it doesn’t necessarily mean that I don’t find it entertaining. There are some tweets out there that make me sad, happy, excited, depressed and all in a matter of a late morning. Twitter is far more stressful than Facebook because it operates at breakneck speed. It’s a haven for those with ADD. Don’t get me wrong, there are some amazing and profound tweeters in the Twitterverse. I’m not criticising anyone or the way they tweet. I, myself, fall into a couple of the categories listed below.

I’m only going to concentrate on Twouth, I mean South Africa, black twitter in particular. I just find any other type of twitter too obsequious. These are the types of tweeters I have experienced.

Beginners:

Usually starts off their account without uploading an avatar and therefore being displayed as an egg, accompanied by a tweet along the lines of “This is my first tweet! I’m twittering! What’s #FF?” This encourages ridicule from anyone you try to engage with. You’re an egg, your existence has not yet been realised.

A few 100 tweets and a shady avatar later, you’re in everyone’s mentions, trying to get a rise out of them. And by a rise I mean, an RT of acknowledgement that you boosted their ego, or more eloquently known as ‘dickriding’. Or, you could go for the jugular and tweet some gassed up attention-seeking bile a few times and see if anyone bites. Be careful with this one because you have to back your, in this case bile, up until the very end otherwise you’ll fail to make an impact. This task is better accustomed to the “A Mention Seeker”, which is explained later in greater detail.

Failing all this, you can resort to tagging everyone in alphabetical order followed by a #PFB (please follow back). Don’t forget to add a smiley face to make it look more personal :) 

Avatarists:

Only for self-obsessed beautiful people (girls, preferably), or those with an incredible perception of camera angles. Your favourite filter is black & white with a generous display of leg and/or cleavage from a bird’s eye-view.

You begin your day with a “Good morning J” tweet and see if your latest revealing hipster avatar will source any thirst. You then carry on your day complaining about how your beauty makes people treat you differently and dropping more tweets of a tortured soul that usually end in #FML. Avatar changes that are followed by tweets announcing them are recommended.

You can add a few easy followers by aligning yourself to #TeamScreenMunchThatNigga. Their mission statement reads as follows: “Any thirsty DM, or even BBM, must be attended to with the swiftest bat (rejection) then carefully screenmunched for the world to see how unapproachable you are.”

McFollow Burger:

These are the people that retweet anything that contains the word ‘follow’ and are never afraid to celebrate an achievement of a milestone fellowship. Tell us how many followers you need to reach 700 and I’m sure everyone will be queuing at the ‘follow’ button trying to get you there.

You have evolved from #TeamFollowBack and have adopted an unhealthy sense of what is best to hashtag, everything. You can occasionally drop a pearl of wisdom, which will surprise most of your subscribers into RTing you. But wait, there’s more; you can RT every single time someone RTs you and inception everyone into thinking you’re not too bad.

The Police:

This is for the righteous and all-important. Twitter is a place designed for you to govern what others should tweet about, when they should go to sleep or when a certain topic is dead.

Clearly your life has given indication that you can’t control everyone so you decided to question people’s eating habits on twitter instead. How adorable. As wonderful as that sounds, you have your work cut out for you. Your selection of followers has to be impeccable so as to get to the breaking news as soon as possible. It’s sometimes best to call back up, so tag your twitter mates and let them know you’re at the scene of the crime. While discussing the offence, a lot of bystanders will get involved to give their statement and testimony and presto, you have a trending topic.

You specialised in relationship advice, and since you’re here to serve and protect, your unsolicited counsel is most welcome.

Dear Diary:

This is no different to using twitter as a diary and/or food log. Tweeting that you’re going to the gym doesn’t add value to anyone’s life except your own, so you have to tell us.

In actual fact, you’re most likely to decrease the value of life by tweeting about a fatal accident before calling the police (I am not referring to the category of people above). Ironically, you will be the first person to tweet “RIP” if anyone passes away, whether you knew the person or not. You’re great at seeming positive, so you’ll also be the first to wish a happy birthday and the first ‘Halala!’ at any personal achievement.

To add to your experience, you can take photographs of your filtered food and cautiously placed cutlery.

A Mention Seeker:

You will do anything to get a mention, or attention. This can be done in many different ways. You can be vulgar, immoral, anti-establishment, a troll and a general discomfort in the rear end.

The more insanely ludicrous your tweets are, the better. You can spend hours just trolling celebrities or you could make a statement by dehumanising rape, it’s up to you. Your tweets can have quite an impact if they get through the right channels, so keep trying.

However, you do run the risk of being roasted by a stronger, more powerful tweeter. This might force you to go in hiding and change your handle, or God forbid, deactivate your account just from the sheer embarrassment of it all.

The Over-Tweeter:

You tweet all day and all night at an average of over 100 tweets every 24 hours. You tweet so much your presence on people’s timelines becomes the background.

Your tweets become numbing to most but you are loved by many. You are the go to guy, the last patron at the bar still standing. You engage with everyone and are a joy, when sober. Give that man a Bell’s. And although you tweet about it a lot, I can’t imagine what your life is actually like since you tweet so much.

Everyone’s Favourite:

You fall into an elite group of people who can do no wrong. Your tweets are always stellar and consistently brilliant. You produce tweets with a wonderful combination of humour, profound awareness and humility.

People refrain from saying anything harmful towards you in fear of the masses suspending their account for you. You have a reputation to uphold, and as upstanding as you may be, it is difficult to save face when someone does come at you.

There are many other types of tweeters, like Sports Fanatics, Poets and Story Tellers, which speak for themselves. There are also those who merely use twitter as a platform to chat to their mates. You may fall into any one or more of these categories, or the ones listed before.

If you don’t, you’re probably the cold part in a poorly microwaved pie; you will be reheated. Terrible analogies aside, you have been heeded. 

 - @SeeYay

The Sex Exchange

If dick were a commodity at the Johannesburg Stock Exchange, it would be a share as desirable as a vagina after birth. Don’t get me wrong, shareholders continue increasing their influence in the industry.

Men have this uncanny ability to put up an intelligent façade and yet still do the darndest things. Dick is so freely available that it’s even given to the dead and infants, without consent obviously. Recently there was the tragic gang rape and murder of Anene Booysen and it brought the public to a state of realisation. The realisation that shit like that happens. What I’m interested in discussing is when did dick become so useless that it has to be given under duress, with multiple participants and then proceed to murder? It’s disgusting.

Every man knows how difficult it is to turn down pussy. Thankfully, and unfortunately at the same time, women are aware of this. The bank accounts of many a grown ass man have been depleted to negative figures because of the pursuit of vagina. Women need to understand that men cheat only because they are given the opportunity. You can’t cheat if no one else wants to fuck you. And we generous gentlemen just give the dick away like we’re Oprah Winfrey hosting a Christmas special. Grown ass men are publicising on social networks how they would do unforgivable things to merely toss the salad of any ample bootied woman that crosses the street. It’s all rather sad actually. I mean, I’d be crying if women were not so emotionally invested in the idea of having a man.

Ever since that Egyptian goddess Cleopatra, the pussy index has been known for trading at above market value and it has held firm. The screenmunch and thirst trap era, coupled with the inevitable “Ain’t nobody got time fo dat!” has secured their [missionary] position. As men (the competitive variety), we need to increase our stock price. This can only be achieved by ignoring the pussy altogether. Do not buy women drinks, pursue your non-sexual fantasies and leave before the club closes. Not unlike Facebook, I may be talking to a wall here. As humans, we are not designed, only taught, to not act on our desires. But in one’s quest for self-actualisation, all desires are recognised, according to Mazlow’s Heirachy of Needs. Please do not throw obvious bones at these women otherwise they will never let you forget. If you have to throw bones, make sure they are inception bones that cannot be used against you in the court of law. By the way, to 'throw bones' is to mack, spade or just basically letting someone know that you like them.

Don’t misconstrue what I’m saying as a plea for a young thug not to fall in love. Just don’t undermine yourself or give up on your values or principles. That is what women are attracted to; a sure man, an unforgiving man, a confident man. I may be wrong, but I think it was the recently retired Pope Benedict who once said, “You will lose money chasing women but you will never lose women chasing money”. Who knows? You might actually grow up and mature, thus also maturing what you look for in a woman. Sometimes it's not all about aesthetic appeal but emotional connection. You might even start to relate to Jimmy Soul's lyric, "If you want to be happy for the rest of your life, never make a pretty woman your wife".