Life: Beyond Breathing...

Affected by Table Mountain

2012-01-20T00:44:00.001+02:00

It is probably not such a good idea to write so late at night for I fear my subconscious mind at this hour is louder than my conscious mind. The subconscious is the part that slips the truth out when one is most relaxed. This is the time where you hear the secrets the heart will never share with the mind. If you have ever chatted with a friend until late at night, this is the time you begin to really hear the things that are in the seat of their heart. What she or he really longs for, what she felt when this happened and that didn't happen.

I will tell you about the secret of the mountain. The mountain has always been an imposing beauty, a proud strong horse whose back is for the fearless to ride. As a child I might even have believed that it held history and mystery no human could ever fully articulate. I wanted it to tell me how it came to be, what happened all those years ago because it had been the only constant witness between time and humans in all the generations past. It knows better than we do about its history.

But we all know that mountains do not speak. They just stand there watching.

I have moved to the Eastern Cape to the region where there are no mountains but hills and plenty of sea. I never thought that I would ever miss Cape Town. Well, I knew that I would most certainly miss my friends but not Table Mountain. I had spent enough years seeing it after all, I most certainly can do without it now.

In my fourth week in the Eastern Cape I began to long to be in my familiar surrounding. It seemed as though I had believed that I was on holiday until I realised that I missed my friends. Like one who awakes in the early hours of the morning realising that the temperature has dropped dramatically and stretches their hand for the blanket for cover and warmth. I turned and reached for my usual blanket and to my shock it was not there. My blanket was Table Mountain. I did not know it until now.

"For the mountains may depart.... but My kindness wil not depart from you niether will my covenant of completeness be removed from you" - Isaiah 54: 10

I had so many moments in Cape Town where I needed my security. My life was not easy there I needed safety. It turned out that Table Mountain was my faithful bodyguard watching my back. It stood there immovable in its beauty in rain or sunshine. It held its head high held by its solid back. I turned behind me and who had my back but that majestic beast of a mountain? I felt vulnerable without Table Mountain. I felt alone. Perhaps because I had lived all around that mountain I was never too far from it and now I had left my blanket behind and when I felt the cold I couldn't pull it over me. I missed it. I knew I had lost my security blanket and my bodyguard or a reminder of an Immovable God.

I however knew that here in these hills God's presence is more tangible. There the mountain was a reminder of God's eternal presence however in these hills I do not need to see a mountain. He is my rock. He is with me everyday. Mountains have departed but He remains.

"Though the mountain may depart, and the hills be removed...My steadfast love will never be shaken"

He is Emmanuel, God with'n us, He is ever present eternal God.

Siki's hairdo

2012-01-03T23:53:00.001+02:00

I love that I can do so many different styles with my hair. This time I was trying to prove a point to my mom and sister that I can do much more with my hair since they were grieving the fact that my hair was now straightened and lost its elasticity one has when they have the revered afro.

I hope my image is visible as I am yet to succeed with posting images on my blog. I seem to be the only blogger in the entire universe who struggles with posting images. My point has been proved and their mouths have been forced to throw a somewhat complimentary statement.

I could write books about my hair alone. I might have to write hair stories to make up for an invisible image if it truly is not visible. The only wonderful thing about this hairstyle is mainly because it is the work of my own hands.

2012 New Year's poem - The Moon

2011-12-31T17:28:00.001+02:00

Does the moon count
How many more sleeps?
Or does it simply slip
Through another year?
Does its light dim
With each passing year
Or does it scotch?
Groaning for the promised
Unending new day
Of its former way.

Where is its favourite abode?
Where would it rather live?
Is it a wondering light
Lost in time?
Since it never lives
In any one place,
Does it simply kill time?
Till eternity cries;
Your light has come!
Your Light has come!
Then it shall forever be freed
From wondering.
It shall die.
It shall die.
A happy death.
Letting go
Of time's loneliness
For the true Light
Has finally come.
The moon is no longer
Space and time's prisoner.

The Greatest Gifts

2011-12-23T11:26:00.002+02:00

The richest men and women in all the ages put together would never be able to put enough riches to purchase it.
All the saints in all the ages put together who have done mighty good deeds would never be able to equal this gift.
Nor would they be able to fix all the ills of the world or the world would be perfect by now.
This breathe I breath, not a rich person can purchase it.
This life that courses through my veins no amount of another's goodness can purchase.
Even the bad guy in the street can run and speak words freely.
He too has been given a brain and talents freely without discrimination.
All have been freely given the best gifts already.
These are the most expensive things that can’t be bought.

God is extremely generous, it is God’s benovelence. He has given it all for free what a paradox!
The greatest gift is the most expensive gift. It is all for free even though it is not cheap.
Opportunity is another subject though all together.

Grace is embodied in Christ Jesus and becomes real for anyone who believes in Him.

He is the greatest gift to mankind.
Anyone can have the freedom He gives, even the prisoner and the saint.

Cape Town, The Mother City

2011-12-22T20:55:00.001+02:00

She holds on to the edge of my skirt and refuses to let go. She cries for me like a child. But I thought she was the Mother and I was the child who had come to suckle on her breast for nourishment and like any mother when I reach late teenagehood she must let me go. She must trust that I am ready for the world. I went to the airport as agreed and yet when I was there ready to take off to the Eastern Cape she denied me exit. She would not let me go. This Mother City refused me exit.

She told me that I was 7 minutes too late for my flight and if I wanted to leave, I would have to pay much more. She tried to fine me or else I will pay a lesser amount if I leave a week later.

So I remain in the Mother City. At first I sulked. She kept telling me how grateful I should be. "Do you know how many people out there wished they had me as a mother?" She kept nagging, telling me of her beauty. Beauty I had and still appreciate but I am maybe after a while I am simply tired of being mothered. Where is the father? Maybe the city is full of people with father issues because she refuses to let us in the secret. Who is the father?

I have been telling her that I am giving her space. Space to take more people but she does not believe me. Men come to her and wish to be women too. I do not know how to explain that, but I know about her fire, I know about her tenacity. I know that she is the corner within which the nation is built and if she is not conquered and if her fire will not touch all her children in every province then we have no country to speak of.

She must release that love and begin to look outward and ask why are the nations drawn to her beauty? She is meant to heal the nations without discrimination if she will quit being vain. She will cleans the nations with her fire. Her beauty will awaken the the king's strength. He will roar her name. He will free the captives. From lion's head to the pyramids of Egypt that roar of the mother lion will free everyone of her cubs in every country. If she will see it.

And I must go. She must get that.

SAY I DO THIS CHRISTMAS!

2011-12-21T20:07:00.001+02:00

Every year people ask about the true meaning of Christmas.

Christmas is about love. It is bigger than the Christmas tree in your lounge. Christmas is a love story that is far bigger than all the weddings ever had. Christmas is about an insane, intense love that pushed God to become His own creation so that they would finally believe that His love is real. It is the biggest love gesture ever done. It is bigger than every engagement ring ever given.

Whether you will be surrounded by loving or not-so-loving family members; whether you will be seemingly alone; seemingly because you are never alone, ever, part of the Christmas gift is that He is Emmanuel, God with us, Counsellor and Friend. In all of that no matter where you find yourself or with who or without, remember that you are loved intensely, crazily, from eternity and back, you are loved.

You are loved and Christmas was made for you to know that love and if you would believe in the gift of God you would be saved. If you will receive that crazy love that will go to the edge of hell, immerse itself in death and sickness and darkness so that you will be forever free from it all. Shout "Yes I do"!

Christmas is a love story. It is an insane crazy love bigger than any gift you could wish for. Receive it! I receive it and shout out for all eternity to hear that I said; "Yes, I do! I do!"

Yes to this neverending forever Love and Yes to the Eternal Lover who made this great proposal and gesture. "Yes I DO".

Hear God shout from eternity "YOU ARE LOVED"! Hear the soft whisper from deep, deep within your soul shouting softly if you will hear...."YOU ARE LOVED!"

How can you say anything else this Christmas but say for all time and space to know, say "I do! I receive the greatest love of all." Say "I will not go without."

This is the true meaning of Christmas.

My Thoughts on Fashion

2011-12-09T15:13:00.001+02:00

Today, there is nothing fashionable about fashion. It has become a universal uniform in different colours and prescribed shapes at various seasons. Quite frankly it is boring. It has lost its art. Globalisation is also sadly doing nothing for inspiration. It lacks boldness. If you don't believe me go to Cape Town's famous "creative" long street, shop after shop displays the same same thing.

At times I think it is infuriating and even insulting to creativity at other times.

Finding the man

2011-11-08T20:04:00.002+02:00

There are two Christian women who do not know each other whom I both respect who have both fallen in love with unlikely gentlemen. They carry God's presence and God's love like few can boast. I love being around them. They are both getting married to lovely men. Both stories are unconventional. One of these women said to me "sometimes you must love these men into Christ". These words would of course been seen as a complete heresy. Quite frankly I myself have been radically impacted by this woman's tangible love for Christ that it changed me. So I know without a doubt when she told me those words that she is not someone who is simply following her lust; nor is she driven by an unmet need or someone who will take scrapes of any left over pieces of love from any man who will offer. These are women who are overflowing with love, who find their satisfaction in God and this is precisely why their stories inspired me. In fact I think they may have inspired me into desiring a relationship that is that different or rather they have inspired me to see the folly of my own ways in having little interest in matters of love.

Unlike others who may see single hood as some kind of disease that God dishes out to those less favoured, I have been fairly proud of being single. I might have appeared humble about it, if I could have engraved it on my grave stone one day I would have written it there for all the world to see how single I was, and how great I was at it. I saw it as some kind of crown for the strong. It was my pride quite frankly and perhaps the last residue of a dying Christian feminist who does not even believe in feminism but thinks like one but would never ever admit to it. Having heard of these relationships has even brought that lie to light. It has inspired me to lay down even my most prestigious and rare "never-been-kissed-and-proud-of-it" crown. It took love like that to enable me to see myself clearly in the mirror and see the truth no one will tell me. Perhaps I was so good at disguising it that not only was it hidden from me but it was way too hidden for others to see it.

The reason I watch sport is because I love adrenaline. While they say that adrenaline is bad for you because it is like caffeine, it takes you up and then drops you. The experience of adrenaline charged moments are wonderful and memorable. In fact you can feed off them whenever you think of that moment again. I love watching people who are passionate about what they do, people who would give anything to win. While some people are stable and their relationships are stable and solid, that is good and necessary. One hopes for that, however, one hopes for passion too. As in the film "Shakespeare in Love" my favourite line of the film among many is "I want a love that overthrows life". When Jesus walked the earth it was not just another ordinary year on the year He was crucified. His words did overthrow life and the response towards Him was either extreme love and worship or extreme hatred that they nailed Him to the cross. This is why I love stories that are out of the ordinary. Unfortunately on the one hand I have been a great fan of love. I would cheer on anyone who embarks on this road and say "go ahead and do it for us too". I would give all the advice and scream on the sidelines like a fanatical sport fan and then when someone gets married I will walk away happy and I will say "yes, we won". I distinctly remember two moments of elation where I was most probably even on a higher cloud of euphoria than the people who actually got married. I remember the night Mthi and Lite got married, I was ecstatic and the night Nats and Craig got married I was too happy for someone who is not married. I was crazy happy. Like a fanatical sports fan who goes out to drink beers to celebrate a game they only watched but did not play. No one told me what I was doing all these years! This has all been brought about by these stories of these women I respect who dared to allow themselves to be led by love. I did not even go to these weddings I merely heard their stories and my world was rocked by just the shadows of their stories.

I will no longer brag about my singleness. I will do all I can to lay it down so that I can meet that strong gentleman. My pride has kept me from seeing him. My arrogance has wanted me to not even give him the possibility of a chance. My love for my own time and my own space has caused me not to create space for my dreams to yield for someone else's too. I have worshiped my unfulfilled dreams and this too must die, which must happen before I meet anyone. I want to tell myself to go and get a life! My self-sufficiency has caused me not to let another human being that close. My fears have caused me not to desire to be that vulnerable in case he is not there or he leaves me and that will bruise me as though I were the first human being in the planet that would have ever experienced that. But I do hope for someone who will love me both supernaturally and naturally, who will kiss my hand as though it were an extension of himself, but the part he loves the most about himself.

These stories also show us how deeply impactful each of our lives are. Your decisions are not your own, they have a ripple effect, sometimes it depends on how influential you are. These are the kind of women I aspire to be like in the impact of their lives in their love of God, in their wisdom and pursuit of God. This is not a story about rewriting verses so that you can date non-believers because these are believers. This is about love with a double impact, both natural and spiritual love. It is dynamic love that forces you to see with more than your natural eye but with eyes opened into the spirit in order to see what God is doing. For whatever is not of faith is sin, faith is being mindful of what God is doing or saying and then doing that or else it is not faith but dead religion. Religion is prescriptive without a brain but faith is active it responds to a living God in a particular moment. It is not about doing something wrong and hoping that God will bless your mess. Faith is pure at all times. It is truthful, it knows the voice of the One it follows.

My reflections on honour

2011-11-02T17:05:00.000+02:00

True honour is the ability to show honour even to someone who disses honour.
(i.e.dishonour).

A story is told of a gentleman who once offered a seat to a lady. The lady refused the seat upset at the gentleman for giving her a seat she shouted: "I am not a lady!". To which he responded: "well I am a gentleman".

Perhaps there is no finer example of my thoughts on this matter.

Take your freedom and smoke it

2011-10-30T13:12:00.002+02:00

This poem has been waiting to be written but it was specifically pushed by the conversation I had on facebook when I congratulated Lindiwe Mazibuko on her becoming DA party leader in Parliament. Other fellow young blacks (mid 20's and early 30's) like myself also congratulated her however a brave black lady a bit older than us decided that we had lost the plot. Do we not remember what the whites did to blacks in the past, so how can we endorse a white party? I truly honour sis Thami for her open challenge. I myself know very little about the DA I could never speak extensively to defend the DA, having lived in Cape Town I have always been on the cautious side unsure if I could trust the DA or if the DA cared for me a black person in Cape Town. However when I saw Lindiwe rise perhaps because she is a young black woman I naturally wanted to support her and naturally thought let us watch and see. We need some change after all while others may argue that there is no change since Joe Seremane once occupied that very same post before. I must say that I was never convinced about Mr Seremane. I am certain that he is the additional reason why I never believed in the DA because I felt as though they were using him as a black face. Which is quite insulting if you ask me. I was also mad at him for allowing that to be done to him. Perhaps my view was incorrect however I was not convinced at all, the whole thing to me seemed wrong. I am however convinced that Lindiwe knows what she wants and she is there to get it. Whether it will bring transformation or whatever else but what she certainly has done so far is stir the old black-white debate to the surface again, not that it is ever at rest. Her appointment is forcing questions of identity and transformation to be addressed in the nation's heart, iether blattant resistance to the possibility of a happy co-existance of whites and blacks in this nation or a belief that perhaps we can live together and that party politics can cross racial lines. Once again I want to thank sis'Thami from facebook who thinks the ANC is the only party for black people in South Africa even at its worst. I thank her for her honesty because it is a necessary debate which many have spoken of time and time again. I myself have sold my soul to no party and I pray that it may remain so, because the day I sell my soul is the day I will lose all objectivity and for me that will be losing my very freedom. I am loyal to God and may that be so forever, thus far I have never voted for the DA. I don't know if I ever will or whether Lindiwe can inspire that or not. Like many have posted on facebook "now we will watch and see". All I know is that I am absolutely free individual, no one owns me but God and even Him I have freely given myself to Him because He has first freely given Himself to me. No party can ever achieve that.

Take your freedom and smoke it

You can take your freedom and smoke it
If your freedom means that I can only vote for your party
Where is that offer of freedom of choice
You can take your freedom and smoke it
Because you are not offering me a choice at all

Sometimes I like what Zuma is like
Sometimes I understand what Zille says
Sometimes I agree with what Malema represents
Yet if I cheer for Lindiwe
Do not tell me I am supporting a white party
If she does not get black support
How is it ever going to become a multiracial party
So if I am free let me support Lindiwe Mazibuko
Or you can take your freedom and smoke it
Because if I can’t choose I am not free anyway

First of all you do not own my freedom
My own grandfather died fighting for my own freedom
He died in the hands of a white government
My other grandfather’s brother was jailed for no reason
So he decided to give them a reason
Though the regime said a man of his colour could not be free
He gave himself the freedom to fight for his own freedom
Totally disregarding the powers that be even though it was really costly
So don’t you dare try to remote control my own freedom

My other grandfather’s house was raided by the apartheid government
They wanted to take all weapons from black people in case they were part of upoqo
My grandfather’s brother beaten bitterly for not complying with the white system
Am I now forced to comply with a new system?
I thought this was not a black system
I thought this was a rainbow nation
Where it no longer matters if I am black or white

I know you are going to tell me about economic freedom
I know the colour of poverty has been black for too long now
I am not proposing Desmond Tutu’s white tax
But the new government has been in charge for seventeen years
Surely by now there is no excuse to address poverty
So that poverty will no longer have a colour

Even Mandela was free of bitterness against the white man
So do not try to imprison me in your cell of hatred
I am free to love the white man who killed my grandfather
For fighting for black freedom
If you want to know why I stopped hating
I quickly learnt that hating is for the powerless
It deceives you with feelings of false power
Yet in truth the other man holds the remote control
Pressing whenever he wants to make you angry
And you live in His cell forever
And yet you never live
You never live
Freedom is the absence of hatred
It is the belief that you can do anything
You can vote for anyone you chose
Even if you find yourself in a system of bondage
You are powerful beyond measure
Because your freedom is within you
So you can take your freedom and smoke it

You can take your freedom and smoke it
If you want to imprison me in your system
Steve Biko’s blood is still speaking
Reminding me of the importance of a conscience
If I stop thinking and reasoning independently
Then I let his death be only in vain

O.R. Tambo’s voice is still speaking
Sisulu’s wisdom is still calling
Men we respected till the day of their death
Maybe we will never know true freedom
Till the day we mourn Stompie’s death
Till the day we apologise to all the families
Whose sons and daughters were necklaced
All in the name of freedom
All the shame and blood that bought us this freedom
Was not all glorious and pretty
On the day we quit covering it all up
Quit making excuses for what we suffered
Taking responsibilities for the pain we caused
If we will not
We can take our freedom and smoke it
It is not real until there is forgiveness and healing
It is not real until there is true forgiveness and healing

Then we can lay all our gold on Table Mountain
We can sprinkle it over a thousand hills
We can crown our children with it
When their mother’s minds are empowered
And no longer imprisoned and impoverished

I know the truth and reconciliation commission
Did not even scratch the surface
For all the atrocities done to our people
Secrets hidden in every corner of this nation
Where people died without being acknowledged
But maybe it will take every family
Having their own truth and reconciliation
One step closer to healing
If we do not take time to confess our pain and let it go
We can take our freedom and smoke it
There is no such thing as reconciliation without true justice
That is the kind of freedom I believe in
That is the kind of freedom I want to be called upon

by Siki Dlanga
29 Oct 2011

Love again

2011-10-18T15:30:00.001+02:00

I tell you the more I think,

the more I feel that.....

there is nothing more truly artistic than to love people.
- Vincent van Gogh

One of my favourite, favourite quotes ever....

100 Thousand Poets

2011-10-17T15:05:00.001+02:00

100 Thousand poets all over the globe speaking in different cities declaring matters that have been in the heart of the world in listenable form. Their tongue sharp therefore hitting the mark unlike just another headline. They spoke giving meaning and feelings and faces to the world headlines. They gave it substance unnumbing the world, giving the real perspective speaking for the victims, speaking on behalf of the earth. They were heavily beaded in African beads and dressed in bright coloured outfits. They were heavily spiritual their faces painted like monuments. They were a story and a tale if you would but only look at them. They were a 100 thousand poets and these were at the tip of Africa, in Cape Town meeting where the world is most likely to gather in Africa, in the popular Long street. They said, they spoke and I was left without words for they had said all that was to be said in the world in one day.

‎100 Thousand Poets

100 thousand poets
Gathered
Scattered
...
In every corner of the globe
Speaking
Releasing
Power in their tongue
Melody in their words

100 thousand poets
Spattering rhymes
Whispering world cries
Wailing over human issues
Causing solutions

100 thousand pleas
100 thousand loves
100 thousand poets
speaking for all the world

In the end
Though only an audience
I had no words left to say
For they spoke all
That had to be said
In the world
In one day

© siki dlanga
26 Sept 2011

Living is Believing

2011-10-07T14:11:00.002+02:00

You need to believe in yourself very strongly incase you find yourself in a place where no one else does.

You need people who believe in you strongly incase you lose faith in yourself because sometimes you do.

You need to believe that you were made by a Genius and that Genius wants you to shine more than you would ever want to, because He does.

You need to shine because you were made to shine and glorify God.

The fullness of life that is yours and my inheritance demands faith from us or else we shall surely die.

We will be breathing but we will not be alive if we do not believe.

It is essential to check your faith levels because that is a test of whether you are dead or alive.

Living: Beyond Breathing

2011-10-04T13:17:00.002+02:00

I will not stop living because there are people dying.

I will not stop celebrating children because someone else is destroying them.

I will not stop loving because of betrayal.

I will not stop attempting great things because of failure.

I will love. I will live. I will believe as though it were my first day because that is my full inheritance.

No, I will not stop.

I will not stop being fully alive to life because of fear.

I will not be defined by disappointment.

This is my new day, every day.

Today

2011-09-27T10:26:00.001+02:00

Today is a gift. I will breathe as though anew. I will laugh like I have no troubles.

Today I will live, truly live. I will see beauty. I will touch and feel. I will be awake to the world.

I will be aware of God's new mercies. I will shake off the old. I will shake off the voice that says I can't.

Today I will believe. I will read the signs that are whispers of a greater reality. I will follow them.

I will give voice to the Holy Spirt and be listening to His every utterance and movement.

Today I will play. I will work hard. I will fight for others and I will fight for myself to live and love fully.

Today is my gift and I will live fully and nothing can take my freedom unless I hand it over.

The People Shall Govern

2011-09-23T11:09:00.003+02:00

I dream of a truly empowered black person who is not looking for liberation from rich white people or still seeing himself as an economic inequality captive waiting for redemption from the ANC government who are moving very slowly for as long as their pockets are full and they keep the poor black person as a beggar who is waiting for handouts (grants). That is not liberation.

I dream of minds of South Africans being truly liberated. That is enough for our minds to see and create opportunities that will inspire us to rise above everything rather than yoked to certain masters or falling at the altar of tenders. Like Mandisa Balingotsi noted that such liberation is only impossible when everyone in this country especially the poor have access to good education. So the struggle for emancipation continues. This time it is a mental and a spiritual emancipation. It demands something deeper from every individual. It is more empowering. However, I must say that I have seen more people in this country who are liberated but again, it is those who have received a stronger education. I believe that we need to form educational forums that do not depend on government. After all if we take “the people shall govern” seriously why do we still bang the walls of governments expecting them to deliver us from our sad state of affairs. This is our time to govern, so let us rise.

Love is not scarce so Fall Quietly Out-Of-Love

2011-09-21T16:07:00.001+02:00

There is no scarcity of love. We hoard expired expressions of love because we think that is all there is to love. People are vessels like messengers, like the postman with a letter. Why would you hold on for dear life to the postman? How will he bring you a letter tomorrow? Take the message, let him go but take the message. The message is Love from Love. Love is a river we are not meant to stagnate. Let it flow. Love is not scarce, there is always greater proportions than the best love you have known. The invitation is to delve deeper still. Never to stop pursuing love. The best way to pursue love is to give it freely. God is love, thus love is the lightest and purest thing there is. If it is dark and impure it was a form of love but not love.

Fall Quietly out of Love

Fall
Quietly
Out of love
Why keep a love
Beyond the time
It was given?

Put it all in your hands
Open them
Offer it back to the sky
Let it go from whence it came
Let it fly like the butterflies in your belly
Let them fall
And you
Must fall
Quietly out of love
And your love
Will forever be beautiful
As long as it is viewed
Within the time-frame
Of its possibility

Instead of a flower
That comes in season
You shall see a tree of love
An oak to ground you
Whichever way the windblows
This tree blows with you
It goes nowhere
It knows no season
It will stay
You can build on it
You can eat its fruit
Because this love
Is forever
It does not come and go
It is with you every season

Remember
Love never ends
It only continues
In different ways
Sometimes
Through different people
Flow in the river of love
Do not stop the flow
Or you will know
A lesser love

from your dear friend,
Love.

© siki dlanga
20 Sept 2011

Reflections of joy

2011-09-19T18:42:00.001+02:00

I am smiling. I am peaceful. I am telling you even my lungs are happy.

This trip to His People East London has been better than medicine, and its effects better than a holiday.

I danced. I sang. I danced till my flabby tummy nearly flattened until my legs firmed.

I laughed until someone came to hug me for my laughter.

I am happy, I am free, I am easy with not a weight on my mind.

I have little to say. I am starring into midair, smiling at nothing like one in love.

This joy is to be shared and this peace to be spread.

It is for freedom that Christ has set us free, standfast then and do not return again to the yoke of slavery.

Of English and Education

2011-09-02T17:50:00.001+02:00

It is those usually non-blacks who think that they are giving you a complement when they tell you that you speak English well. I am going to use the word they. Yes, they annoy me. They, because it is a broad spectrum of South Africans. They think that they are complementing you when what they are doing is insulting your people and revealing their own sick values about what kind of black they esteem and what kind they think is less. Should I really feel complemented by being placed on a pedestal while the ones whose shoulders I stand are seen as less because they received a certain education? I will of course not forget a conversation with my former housemate. I had told her about an article I read by a missionary in Nigeria who spoke of a child he spoke to mentioning that he could tell that she had a good education because she spoke English. Annoyed my friend said: “So English is a sign of a ‘good education’”. It has been our joke since one who speaks English is one who has received a good education. My friend is not bitter she, according to this description also received a very superior education. She speaks all of our eleven languages fluently plus a few international languages and probably still counting.

Having said all of that about perceptions of English as a language, this kind of thinking also translates to how we view the English culture as well. It exposes what we admire and therefore aspire to. It is what we think is lofty and what we would look like if we reached that goal. It is the mirror we hold up to ourselves and the rest of our community of what it is not and should be. It is very telling of the very core of our beliefs.

I have to say that I do admire the English. They value their education, they are always studying further it is a noble thing however who said that English is the measuring stick of all education? A Chinese in China, a German or a Russian or even our very own beloved Afrikaans community whom I have begun to fall in love with madly would probably disagree with those who view the language as a sign of good Education.

That handful of British people who took over the world and established education centers nearly the world over left a permanent mark of their influence in every culture they ever encountered. They transformed cultures and even I and you who is reading this article is a product of the mighty English. Such a tiny Island such profound influence. They make the Roman Empire seem like Childs play. I do not hate the English language it assists me to make friends with people all over the world. Evil as it was, colonialisation has played an extra-ordinary role in laying foundations for globalization without it globalization would not have occurred so smoothly. It was a harsh cultural transition of which we succumbed even our minds and lifestyles to. These cultural transitions are the ones that assisted bridge gaps between other unlike cultures who had received like harsh treatment as our own in their own way. Now we have a meeting point from those forced painful changes we have failed to recover from.

It is not English nor the English I am critical of here. It is that when I see a black child who cannot speak her mother tongue or has no knowledge of her culture I realize how poor and underprivileged she is. If you have an inheritance of gold, of rich land and culture, and someone else came and offered you their tongue and culture in exchange of it which will you choose? We have chosen poorly. I saw a child who speaks Xhosa fluently and I envied her. I wondered if she knew how rich she was and how easily it can be taken away from her if she will not treasure her wealth.

Last year, singer Simphiwe Dana wrote about how we need an indigenous first language in South Africa that is not English. She infact nominated that English could be a third language while she nominated Zulu as a unifying first language. There is no black person I spoke to who was opposed to this idea. I naturally believed that my most trusted all time activists who are white and have always been pro all things African would be delighted by this brilliant idea. They caught me unaware as each one I spoke to was immediately anti this idea. I was completely unprepared for this reaction. I had imagined that they would naturally think this would be the most fantastic idea as did all the black people I spoke to. I had banked on them to think great thoughts about Miss Dana’s solution to recovering our lost identities through the erosion of who we were before colonialisation or apartheid and forging new university centres with African languages that will not only look back but pave a way for progressive African thinking. The fact that the white pro-Africans I spoke to could not embrace this thinking or even be willing to consider it as a possibility taught me that fundamentally this idea was a threat to their identity. It would take away all that they really are even though they now called themselves African. If you took away their English, it showed me that to them you would be taking away their identity and that was non-negotiable.

African Education none-the-less must reform and develop and progress to a new level. There is a kind of education that is not recognized or acknowledged as education. This is the kind I saw in the child who spoke Xhosa fluently. She embodied Xhosa etiquette that was absent to the children of the same colour-skin who only spoke English. It showed me that indeed if you adopt a language, you also adopt the culture. If that be one’s choice let it be a choice but it cannot be seen as a good education. I have sat beside red faced Xhosas and I have learnt what no school has taught me. In watching what they did and how they spoke, the manner in which they spoke I felt better educated. I sat besides Xhosa men waiting for a train and they spoke of matters of identity as perceived by the Xhosa culture and I found a new philosophy. I was educated and enriched. I have been exposed to many moments especially in the villages, in gatherings where every moment has been a moment of intentional cultural education. I saw people with an education as superior as any, as rich as any, they simply lacked technology and ways to combine the two. That is all that made them less effective and disadvantaged. They also believed that they were uneducated which further disadvantaged them because they too did not see their wealth, that they are the teachers we lack most. I can only speak as a Xhosa. I have passion to learn the Khoekhoe ways for it is they who named the Xhosas and where we found our cliques. There are many forms of education, Zulu, Basotho the list is endless there is no reason that we should be limited to seeing one lanuage and culture as superior beyond all others. Perhaps it is because it has gained lasting world dominion and increasing still. It is unchallenged and so remains crowned above all until others find a voice that says we are all equal and this is why.

Black Woman You’re Not On Your Own

2011-08-26T12:23:00.003+02:00

I was in bed on Saturday morning when I read my brother’s blog titled “Black man you’re on your own”. He is a great writer on any day now just imagine the scene. Fair enough you are not a black man but you are still black. You are sick of something that has suddenly come upon you of which you have no explanation for and then you read those words. Black man you’re on your own is not the sort of thing you want to hear then especially when you do not even have fancy things like medical aid. I read it and it was a convincing argument and a continuation of an article he had written which addressed the inequalities between blacks and whites in South Africa.

I read his article, agreed and understood the argument he presented us with but completely disliked his conclusion which was his title. I thought if that is how we are all to live then that is not living at all. Much more I was in trouble if what I was facing was serious. I decided that was simply not the way to lead our lives. Black man you are on your own what in the world happened to Ubuntu? Was that not originally our philosophy which we never borrowed from anyone? Was that not the philosophy to win the nation with? Ubuntu rings true to us because it is us. I had already sent sms’ to my friends and before long it felt as though South Africa scrambled to assist me. I received help from Black, Coloured, English and Afrikaans people within an hour all doing whatever they can to figure out what was wrong. While this was happening I thought to myself; “now this is real life and black woman you are certainly not on your own”.

Let us say that I live in a complete bubble. A very happy bubble where everyone loves one another but you know what at some stage that bubble did not exist, not even remotely, the bubble was created. You, stop yourself while you are going on your usual negative flow of thought patterns about other people. You start the bubble in your own head. This means that the happy bubble can spread and it can become a national happy bubble where everyone scrambles to assist one another regardless of colour. We bleed the same blood and die the same death after all. We breathe the same air and live under the same sky even if one is driving in a fancy car and the other catches trains to work we are all living the same lives. We sleep the same sleep even if one sleeps in a leaking shack and the other in a mansion. It is not acceptable but no one can purchase you peace whether you live in a mansion or in a shack. This is what we should be pushing, our sameness and not our difference all the time. If we see our sameness the one who has will be compelled to share with their brother who does not have. Where will our selfishness and self-gratification take us? Does it make us any happier?

I want justice. I want true justice because what I see is that what is often pushing us is not a real sense of injustice but greed, discontentment, rage. We are always wanting, always demanding, never happy. True justice will wait until we are all on the same page and we are not putting guilt trips on one another to get what we want. I am not suggesting that we wait until the day white people decide to be nice to us, I mean truly nice and give and share their wealth because they are heart wrenched by the greed and evils of their ancestors towards us.

I do not want to wait for that day because what are the chances that day will come because you can see how tightly our white people clutch on to their toys. You saw it when the old Bishop said the dirty word of “white tax”. Like a father in the house says “share” and then a war breaks out and there is crying and fighting. Maturity in white people will show itself when they do not need to be told to share but do it freely because that is what mature people do. Believe me there are white people doing that right now. There may be 5 of them in the country but they are there doing it. Maturity in blacks will show itself in not demanding and accusing the whole time and learning to be grateful. Seriously, people were a lot more grateful and happy in apartheid days than now and there was a lot more to be unhappy about and ungrateful for. We must hold our ground not as victims but as victors in our minds. Victors are secure but we are insecure so whose fault is that really?

The government should be able to lead in such a way that it does not create victims out of its people. I want to shake the stench of the past off me already. It is not even the fact that I need to afford basics like medical aid but that I want our minds to be free from the past. All of us. If we do not recreate a new way of seeing one another in a different light as fellow human beings first then we have failed to reverse the effects of the past. We can talk about reclaiming our land and whatever else but if the land in our minds is still as though it were still governed by the British and apartheid government, then our democratic government has given us nothing of real value. The greatest gift we can ever have back is our sense of self.
I want Ubuntu back because that is richer than anything ever given or taken away from any people. I want back what is truly ours ten times better than when we lost it. I want it back not because it has been forced out of reluctant hands but because it leaves everyone empowered or else this freedom is only for the few who can get their hands on the pie. I want true justice.

As for black and white, as my brother wrote “Black man you are on your own, white man you are on your own”. I would like to say that Black man, White man; you are on your own because you refuse to be part of the rainbow. You look rather bland and boring outside of those beautiful colours anyway, it must be pretty cold there no wonder you are so full of hatred. When you are done proving your point and being selfish and unwilling to share, you have a spot reserved specially for you. While you think like that you are like a child that has been punished from playing with others because they would not share. You are not a child anymore, mature quickly.

In Nelson Mandela’s famous words; South Africa belong to all who live in it black or white, echoed by Thabo Mbeki in his famous I am an African. If we do not hold to these words then my article is invalid.

by Siki Dlanga

Flying through the rainbow

2011-08-19T12:58:00.001+02:00

I landed in Port Elizabeth with this magical welcome. It was then that I reviewed my thoughts about eBhayi and agreed that yes, it is a Friendly City for no city has ever welcomed me this warmly.

Life is the sum of conversations

2011-08-17T14:14:00.001+02:00

Life is a series of conversations. The direction of our lives and our well being is affected by what we have heard and how we have translated it for ourselves and how we project it to the world around us.

We exist as a result of God's conversation. We would be wise to keep our ears open towards heaven for the source of our lives and our roots are not downward but heavenward.

Self-image - God-image

2011-08-17T14:00:00.000+02:00

Thoughts about Him and thoughts about me are in-changeable. I can't believe He is wonderful and not think I am wonderful. They go hand in hand. - Corné Pretorius

These thoughts are inspired by the above mentioned quote from Pastor Corne's facebook status.

Psalm 139: 14 says I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well.

Here is the question how WELL do we know this about ourselves and about God? Do we marvell at His wonderful works when we look at ourselves or do we exalt our works above His. Over amplifying our good works or our bad works about His wonderful works. That is are we so conscious of what we do well or wrong that we are blinded from seeing His magnificence in and through our lives. Let us give Him the glory that is due to His Name.

Let us exalt Him by knowing and being fully conscious of His wonderful works. Some say that is true humility when we see ourselves as God sees us. It probably takes being a little bit objective and not just seeing yourself (wether way over the top or way below the truth). Either way seeing "ourselves" whether we worship ourselves or loath ourselves is some kind of false worship. It is Him we must see and us in Him in that same positive light. God absolutely adores us. I have learnt that. He loves His work. He is delighted by His work (you). Thus in loving ourselves correctly we are loving Him correctly. xxx siki dlanga

I will give you praise, for I am strangely and delicately formed; your works are great wonders, and of this my soul is fully conscious. BBE (not it's not the BEE Bible version, though that is a good thought :) Psalm 139:14

p.s. i love you :-)

I saw you...

2011-08-17T13:44:00.002+02:00

I saw you
Smiling.
Your face
Was a dance.

Your eyes,
A song of angels.

Your laugh
An applause of heaven.

I saw you
Dreaming,
Daring,
Being,
Living.

I was inspired.
I was thrilled
That,
I saw you.

© siki dlanga

Gender wars and loss of identity in the New South Africa

2011-08-14T19:46:00.003+02:00

There are women younger than myself who are still hardcore feminists. Isn't feminism a move that was brought about during desperate times where men's blindness had caused them to see women as nothing less than sex objects? Something free-women today sometimes freely choose in the name of exploring their sexuality. Then feminism was a necessity that was essential to the rights and freedom of women or to be seen as equals to men. Now of course men dress in pink to be like their female counterparts. A sure sign of the victory of feminism. Why then are there still some feminsts in this generation?

I have never seen the need to prove that I am equal to a man thanks to my grandfather whose requirements of girls and boys were all the same. Thus I walked with a mindset that yes we are different but equal. Diversity is a strength not a weakness. In the days when women were oppressed, women still embraced femininity. They did what they did best. While with the victory of feminism I am unsure if men know how to be men. I am afraid that to be a woman is far clearer and thus they follow after us even becoming like us in everyway but of course true femininity cannever be outdone. Are men ashamed of manhood or is it a simple loss of idea of what that even is? Having been failed by those before them whose idea of manhood failed their mothers and children. So what good picture has there been to look to in history. The other disoriented extreme destroys feminity. He is a violent rapist, an abuser who is destroying this nation tearing women apart. He is far worse than the one who has become a woman because he respects femininity though at the expense of rejecting himself.

What are we going to do now? Women in South Africa are in desperate need of true liberation. More so than in any other time in history. The amount of women raped daily is a number I don't even want to record because we are the most endagered women in the world. This is not women's problem because this is a struggle men have with their own gender. If men were at peace with their sex there would be no man trying to prove his power over a woman for it is himself he must master and has failed. What are we going to do? Are we going to simply wait for women's month and 16days against violence every year?

What are we going to do? We do not need more feminists as it has already served its purpose. We need a new response one that will bring healing and reconcilliation to both sexes. We will not gain anything by despising each other after all we need to make love, not just sex and procreate. Sex is a new weapon used against each other in this generation. It is a powergame. Whatever is not of love will ultimately bring destruction to the one who believes in their supposed power. There is no power in hatred. It is poison and it will destroy its possessor.

What I fear the most about the current prolonged state of the raping of women in this country is that; who can stand before the rage of women?

We need the new man to show leadership and bring an end to this senseless raping of women. Or else a much greater miracle is needed for us all.