Saying Goodbye to Madiba

I remember clearly the day that the world watched as one of the most influencial leaders in the world took his first steps as a free man in 27 years. It was 1990 and I was 8. My parents called us in from our garden to watch on the small, grainy TV with "bunny ears" that we had on the farm. They said that this was a moment in history that we shouldn't forget. Watching Nelson and Winne Mandela walk hand in hand with fists raised high on national TV was something so unique and different to me that I remember feeling slightly nervous of what would happen next and I now, as an adult, know that I wasn't alone. What ensued was beyond what anyone could have imagined. The unparalleled forgiveness, kindness and courage that he displayed is a shining example for us all and is what has made this country what it is today. Or at least, what we strive to be.

6 Years later I was lucky enough to see Madiba in the flesh. Our school concert band accompained a thousand strong choir made up of learners from all the schools in our area. I will never forget the resounding sound of the beautiful voices and words that raised the roof that day like a victory march. Idonga se Jericho was the one song that even made the floorboards shake! Reading up on the song now, it seems that it was a reference to the fall of Apartheid - no wonder the floorboards got a good stomping ;-)

On Friday we as South African's woke up to the news that our fearless leader, Tata, had left us. Many had once again feared this day. Naysayers predicted that this day would be the undoing of all the good that has taken place since '94. The father of our nation may have left us in spirit but I can't but help believe that we are stronger than the doomsdayers predict because the memory of him will live on in our hearts and minds for decades to come.

Goodbye and God Bless Madiba - thank you for all that you did for us.

Keep Calm and Fake a British Accent

Two Australian Radio DJ's might have taken this a little too literally last week when calling the hospital Kate Middleton was in last week, pranking two nurses and resulting in one of their suicides. I'm not here to rehash all the details (my favourite online newspaper Daily Mail can do that for you) but it did get me thinking of the obsession I, and many others evidently, have with the royals.

One of my earliest scrapbooking memories was as a young child paging through all my mom's old magazines hunting for pictures of Princess Diana. My room was plastered with posters, photos, newspaper clippings of my hero. Now if I, as a young South African girl, growing up on a farm in the middle of no where, was this obsessed, I can only imagine how others within her reach must have been.

Fast forward a good few years and hundreds of us (both male and female) crammed into our office canteen to watch as her son tied the knot to Kate Middleton. I don't think that anyone, especially my male colleagues, could quite put their fingers on what exactly our fascination with the wedding was but we all knew that we wouldn't leave until it was done. Prehaps it's the real life fairy tale element that keeps us intrigued or the fact that an ordinary girl can be given extraordinary opportunities.

Regardless of the reason, I hope that the tragedies of the past will not again be repeated. That we as "royal-watchers" can respect the gravity of the consequences when some take it too far.

Keep Calm and Grow a Mustache

Today marks the middle of November - or the middle of Movember for the many ladies counting down the days until their man will once again be 'tache free. I count myself extremely lucky not to be amongst the hundred of girlfriends being forcibly exposed to the prickle (although, by the looks of things last night, my man might just be threatening a late entry into the Movember club?! Heaven hopes not!) I can barely keep a straight face when trying to have serious work related conversations with men struggling to even get one shade darker on their upper lip, but those who are over achieving in the mo department are even more challenging to take seriously.

Where did it all start you might ask? I did my research and suppose I shouldn't have been suprised to see that it all started with the Aussies, because the first time I heard about Movemeber was through one of many expat friends who left our shores for greener pastures (this topic deserves a blog all to itself! #comingsoon) Back in 1999 a group from Adelaide started this annual month long event in order to raise awareness of prostate and other male cancer related initiatives and it's grown from there into an world wide awareness campaign. To find out more visit Mo and Sons.

Keep Calm and Go Coastal

One of the greatest gifts that my late-grandfather left our family was a 'cottage at the sea.' A little short of 60 years ago he decided to build a beach house, on what I believe to be one of the most beautiful stretches of beach that the Eastern Cape coastline has to offer, Kleinemonde (affectionately known as Kleinies.) Ever since that our family, like many other farming families in the lower Albany, has religiously moved to Kleinies for every Christmas break and most Easter holidays. The cottage itself is nothing fancy, but that's the beauty of it. It's been the setting to some of my cousins' and my fondest memories - and is probably the reason that we are as close as we still are.

Everytime we have a chance, we reminisce about the time when: our uncles rather under the weather friend fell off the balcony; the boys hid cane and cream soda in the bushes and after it baked in the sun all day, they consumed it with hillarious concequences; we brought our first boyfriends / girlfriends to stay and the cousins weren't always too welcoming of the outsider; Grandpa would shout "batman" to the boys because he couldn't remember who-was-who and desperately wanted his whiskey; we would sneak to bonfires, before Kleinies had a bar; we'd run around in circles following seagull prints thinking it was the Easter Bunny; the parents insisted we lie down on our beds for at least an hour after lunch, in silence, before we could hit the beach again; we had to go door-to-door to collect money of the annual sports day; we had a Mexican New Years and tequilla with the adults - enough said; we annually attend Christmas Church 'under the trees' and how no one there says Happy Christmas but rather "Happy Happ" or "Happ Happ." These are just a few of the amazing times we've shared there and hopefully there will be many many more.

And so when much of St Francis Bay went up in flames on Sunday and everyone's first response was "well at least they are only holiday homes" I agreed until I had a chance to think about how I would feel if that was our cottage going up in smoke and taking with it the reminders of my happiest times. While it would have been in no way better had the houses been permanent residences, I don't think we can dismiss the sadness caused because they weren't.

Many in today's environment can no longer afford the luxury of a beach house and so now, even more than ever before, I count my blessings and thank Grandpa for his gift, a gift that will continue to bond us as a family and help to build even more amazing memories.

St Francis Bay Fires - 11 November 2012

Keep Calm and Read This (Take out Tuesday)

Open letter to the surviving Rivonia Trialists
Kay Sexwale (Daughter of Toyko Sexwale)



Dear Ahmed Kathrada, Andre w Mlangeni, Dennis Goldberg and Nelson Mandela, I greet you all in the name of the continuing economic freedom struggle of our people.

Your courage in fighting for the emancipation of our country is greatly appreciated.

I was fed ANC propaganda with my Purity baby food, but I believe the time has come to consciously choose South Africa over the ANC.

The governing party, for many, is like a religion, followed by many without question or doubt.

Surely comrades, your sacrifices were not for a one-party, one-trade union state?

The time for a younger, patriotic and selfless leadership, like yours in 1964, is here.

The thinking public laments our bumpy transition from liberation movement to political party, with some pointing out that a liberation movement has to be centralised and secretive while a modern party in government must be influenced by its members and society, and so be more transparent.

The loss of public trust through daily media exposure of the plague of government corruption, which appears to be condoned by the ANC, is deeply seated.

The public perception is that the Mangaung leadership debate will boil down to who will continue to allow rampant looting of state resources, the dangerous slippery slope of tribalism, or who might make a difference.

Truth be told, the names being bandied about as top contenders are all synonymous with the rot that plagues the movement.

The masses so loved by political party leaders at election time have taken to the streets to voice their dissatisfaction.

Earlier this year, even middle-class a­rmchair critics put on their designer sneakers and marched against ­e-tolling, also reportedly shrouded in corruption and an added burden on our ridiculously taxed wallets.

In March, Police Minister Nathi Mthethwa informed Parliament that between 2007 and 2010, the most common reason for police crowd management of gatherings was labour-related demands for increases in wages, and that unrest requiring police intervention was related to service delivery issues.

Later in June, City Press reported that 372 protests related to service delivery had been recorded between January and the end of May this year alone.

In 18 years of democracy, we can still blame apartheid for many social ills, but we must also blame our leaders.

The disgraceful and shocking non-delivery of textbooks in Limpopo left me cold.

But the worst thing that broke the soul of South Africa during this fateful year of the ANC’s centenary was the shameful Marikana massacre, reminiscent of the Sharpeville slaughter.

It highlighted aspects of every ill plaguing black society under an ANC-led government: police brutality, wage strikes, corporate greed, failure of natural mineral resource redistribution, flawed implementation of black economic empowerment, violent crime, service-delivery failure, including inhumane slum settlements, unemployment concerns and much more.

The man who shoved his way to the front, taking the reins of leadership in this sorry mess, was Julius Malema, a spat-out child of the movement. In the space of a few days, he single-handedly nullified what little trust I had left in the aging ANC leadership.

I was raised by courageous men and women, people like you, the Rivonia Trialists, who now need me to tell them it’s time to let go.

The ANC has never been as self-destructive as it is today.

Cosatu, the ANC-aligned trade union federation, has driven the economy into free fall as the failure of their collective bargaining strategy, designed to perpetuate the racist status quo, is blowing up in our faces with one strike after another.

I’m waiting for them to stop blaming third-force right wing elements and take some responsibility.

And let me not get started on the recent madness of more than R200 million-worth of Nkandla renovations, SAA’s R5 billion bailout and the relentless e-toll attitude of government.

In 2009, I took longer than usual to vote in the booth, agonising over putting an X next to the face of a man I instinctively knew was bad news.

My love for the ANC won over my reservations.

In last year’s local government elections, I rebelled, voting for the ANC in my neighbourhood and for another party in the city.

I am sure Joburg Mayor Parks Tau is capable, but my rebellion against a President Jacob Zuma-led ANC began with that ballot paper.

To not vote at all in 2014, as many are threatening, will be to dishonour the memory of my uncle, Lesetja Sexwale, and his many fallen comrades who died in combat for my right to vote.

It will be to disrespect the struggle for which men and woman such as him, men like yourselves, sacrificed their youth.

Personally, it will be a betrayal of little Kay who was badly injured in a cross-border raid in Lesotho in 1982 when the apartheid forces were hunting down Umkhonto we Sizwe combatants like my father and Chris Hani.

I don’t know who I will vote for. All I know is that Zuma will never again hold office with my consent.

I know uncle Lesetja and uncle Chris would not view my choice as a betrayal of their sacrifices. I trust that you won’t either.

I choose South Africa .

Sexwale is a media and communication strategist with an interest in current affairs and post-apartheid experiences

Keep Calm, America, and Vote!

While I can't profess to have anything other than a limited knowledge and understanding of the American political scene, what I do know to be truths when it comes to election time are that:

• not voting is not an option - Voter Apathy among the youth is expected to be higher in this US election that it was in 2008 and will obviously have a great impact on the result
• if you chose not to vote, then you should not be allowed to complain about the leader you said you never would have supported
• this is election is not just about America nor unfortunately just about how their future internal policies will be affected. We don't have a say, and yet the impact of your decision will be felt across the rest of the world. All I can say is "The 80's called, they want their foreign policy back!" (Obama to Romney in the Foreign Policy debate)

Ready, Steady, VOTE!

Keep Calm and LOVE South Africa

With the 2011 Census results being released yesterday, social media was abuzz with statistics, comparisons and shock statements. It was easy to get caught up in the commentary and even become despondent at the slow rate at which our beloved country is transforming. However slow though, change can be seen and it's encouraging.

Some of the positive, or even more so, the random-but-fun stats it produced were:

• While the Eastern Cape has the 3rd largest population by province, it's also the fastest shrinking one (#refugees)
• There are more females than males in the country (#singleladies)
• We are living longer (#wiser)
• More of our children are attending private schools (#educated)
• We are more techno-savy, or at least more techno-literate, with TVs, cellphone and computer usaged increasing in the past 10 year (#apple)

With our, for lack of a better non-HR related term, "development areas" being:

• The average white household still earns 6 times more than the average black household and will only catch up in 2061 (#mlungu)
• The number of orphans in the country has close to double (#heartbreak)
• The majority of our work force earn between R800 - R1600pm (#grateful)
• Almost 30% of our labour force is unemployed (#hire)

What is without doubt is that there is still much work to be done in our post-apartheid home. What is also certain, is that the with passion and the perserverance that only South African's have, we will be able to overcome these obstacles.

So...stay put (#refugees), don't become despondent (#singleladies), plan your finances better (#wiser), school appropriately (#educate), adopt (#heartbreak), stop complaining (#grateful) and create opportunities (#hire.)

And above all - Keep Calm and LOVE South Africa.