Our greatest strengths are our greatest weaknesses.

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We live in a hella*pun not intended* of a country.  This statement has me silent chuckling, I don't want to open my mouth today.  Story for another day....

Well am silently chuckling because I thought of Jacob Zuma's "strength" that has got the whole country talking, and now that Murray(sp) artist made it look like his "weakness".  Well its always been his weakness or culture as we like saying in this country.  Yesterday I had to explain again, how when you frown upon your culture/background you insult everything about yourself.  Jacob Zuma is a Zulu man, born and raised as such, and his also a polygamist which is legal in this country.  To have his "private parts" exposed like that, when he is a father not only of the nation, but to his own kids you often wonder what this country is about?

The lines are blurry in this Rainbow nation, OUR strength as a nation which is our diversity is always mocked and becomes a weakness.  I have no problem with polygamy, I hate cheaters, polygamy gives all the women the same advantages, no hidden mistresses.  I would like to think I am not someone who takes anything at face value, I question, I do not mock, I have an opinion but I do not disrespect what I do not deem as normal.

Kill them with kindness.

One of the very first things I picked up when I moved to Cape Town, was how angry people are here.  I even emailed Aunt Carol from my previous job and told her about it.  In the detailed email, I said "They live in the MOST beautiful city in the world but carry so much anger, how disappointing." 

Security guards, shop assistants and cashiers take the cake for me.  Bulelwa a friend said to me, I think in Cape Town in order to be a security guard, you need to be an angry, dread locked, Xhosa person.  She is adamant one of the requirements to be a security guard is:  MUST BE RUDE.  Cashiers mumble, shop assistants sing out loud with the radio, you hardly ever find someone to help you, and if you do there is always a bit of an attitude.

This drove me crazy the first week.  Now what I do is:

1.  I greet them with their names*then they give me that look, HOW DID YOU KNOW, duh name tag*.  Which always makes them so happy, because every single human being wants to be acknowledged.

2.  I make small talk, women hate this one.  They give me that, *what you trying to do look, please add a coloured accent to the *trying*, ha ha ha. 

3.  I make eye-contact.

4.  I thank them, and wish them a lovely day, even if the service was crappy.

Some people will say, but we pay for the service, I won't do such.  You do not lose anything out of being kind and considerate, being angry and rude is so exhausting.  Half of the time I make excuses for them, like would you not be angry if serving people is ALL you could do in the world?  Plus smile, we live in a city with one of the Wonders of the World. 

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Try a cliche...

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There is nothing I find more boring like explaining what the title of the post means.  What is the point?  I think blogging is more fun when you get creative or apply it to your life, instead of giving some long, boring dictionary or google explanation which we all have by the way.  Alas maybe its my turn to be boring...someone shoot me now please.  I hate how I always explain myself as well, I do that a lot, such a cliche, LOL.

Am a Taurus, cliche and routine is my transparent middle name.  I went back to an ex-boyfriend for more than five times because I knew his routine.  In his routine, I felt comfortable, needless to say I was unhappy that is why I kept leaving him, but I could not face another devil I did not know.  I kept convincing myself he would change, with just a little patience from my side. This was beyond a tired cliche but something similar to being kicked in the groin if I was a man.  Not very smart and very painful. 

A cliche is something that is repeated over and over...he WAS my cliche.


*DISCLAIMER, not everything written on this blog is necessarily true...

A friendly face in the crowd.

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My mother will be getting operated on for the first time tomorrow.  She is the one person I know who never gets sick, so you can just imagine how worried I am.  While I was busy listening to presentations in the Media class today, my older sister was getting her PhD in East London.  Distance has robbed me of a special moment in my sister's life, and am too far to go be with my Mother.  So its been a tricky few days.

There I was waiting for a shuttle to Res today, and I saw someone I have not seen in 16 years.  Oh what a friendly face it was.  There last time we saw each other was in primary school, he was in Standard 5, and I was in Standard 4, before they were called Grades. 

A quick catch up, a promise to go to supper when the craziness slows down, and I feel like I have been home for an hour.  Relocating is no easy task, but when you see a familiar face, it takes away the pain just for two minutes.

It was suprisingly good seeing him.

Feelings follow behaviour

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I had a filthy habit that I started in 2003.  Out of a sheer need to rebel, away from home for the first time, out of my Mother's constant monitoring eye and maybe to be cool I started a very costly habit.  My mother once said, I will never give you too much money, boredom can make children do strange things, and my money will not be spent on drugs.  My poor mother, she did not know that some drugs just cost a rand back then.  

I carried on with this habit, unbeknown to her, if she found out the disappointment in her eyes would kill me more than the knife she would stab me with.  When my teeth started looking like they had been stained with a  dash of gold, breath stank like a sewer and my chest was beginning to make oozing sounds, I knew COOL does not have to be this nasty.  Quitting was social suicide because I had to let go of the people that enjoyed this cheap drug with me.

Needless to say it was not easy, especially when things get out of control in your life, and you can't stop them from falling apart.  This usually  made me 'grab one' because that 'one' I can control. This was the scenario whenever I decided to quit. I bottle up a lot of feelings, anger, disappointment, rejection, fear of the unknown and so forth.  I have found a new drug now, makes me sweat all the feelings like a pig, I stink just like one afterwards, but with it comes killer toned thighs, iron butt and gorgeous legs and very happy lungs...running is my new drug.

Chronicle of an ageing queen

It was my birthday on Saturday, my Mother sang one line and said when you get older you don't want to hear the whole birthday song. 

My older sister Noncedo Khewu is turning...!!!!  Well lets not say the real age but play with words that will let you guess how old she is*don't want to be killed by her*.  If you are in your twenties its not the age that gives you sleepless nights because you still worried about turning 30, but if you are a women its the benchmark of your accomplishments, and words like menopause become a reality and not just a word you heard on Oprah anymore.

My sister was the first person to graduate in my immediate family.  My late grandfather's smiling face popped into my mind when I said this, he was so proud.  Certain memories not even time can erase.  When she was studying in Bloemfontein, Vista University, she used to say my Mum should let us*Ncedisa and I* come visit her and we would stay with her over the holidays instead of her coming home.  She would sacrifice her holidays for us to leave that "dorpie" called Aliwal North.  There was a boy who broke my heart a couple of years back.  My sister offered to go run him over with her car, dissed him for days, and said his ugly and his eyes looked like they were boiled anyways, so its his loss.  Needless to say I never a believed a word of that, but I felt better afterwards, I still think the "boiled eyes" were so sexy, LOL.  I was introduced to what I call 'REAL music" by her, her play list was fierce, singers such as Tracy Chapman, Bob Marley, Letta Mbulu and Lucky Dube were offering from her to me.  She read books that emancipated us, and made us realize there is a huge world out there.  When I told her I wanted to quit my job and move to Cape Town, she said and I quote: "fly lil bird, even the sky will not be your limit".  There are absolutely no words that could ever describe the woman she is.  She made me an Aunt at age 12*the best gift ever*, she is getting her PhD next week, she will probably be the only "doctor" at home, because I have no intentions of studying any further than this.  She was the first to go  overseas as well.  My mother once said, Noncedo is the only person she knows who does not have the word fear in her vocabulary.

That being said nobody wants to get old especially if you are a women.  Birthdays are life's cruel reminders that one is not getting any younger.  Of course am going to tease her the whole day today*that is my duty as the evil little sister*, about how she is going to SAG soon, because we all know 'BLACK DON'T CRACK'.  When I called her she was quite excited about the attention she is getting today.  I can only hope she knows what a good job she has done so far.  It cannot be easy being an older sister.  They say one lives under the shadow of their older sister, mine always let us share her sun.  So this is a toast to my sis, the ageing but REIGNING QUEEN.

It is better to practice a little than talk a lot.

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*sigh* Yet another unwritten rule of the world.  This rule only time and experience can teach you.  People will warn you, but up until you have experienced it, you will not understand it.  Now things like "Talk is cheap" and "Talk the talk, but back it up" are popping in my mind. 

The government talks a lot instead of delivering, this you will learn by voting.  I should mention there is no greater feeling than voting for the first time.  To know your vote, your voice is worth something.  I remember that day very well.  My dear Mother woke us up very early and made breakfast and we all went to vote as the family. 

Well now I have voted twice, and we are all well aware of the situations our country is in.  They fed us a lot of talk but practised very little.  This is not to say you may not vote, but simply what it is. 

Dead end...the blogging gods have forsaken me.

Am not going to exaggerate and say am going through what writers call a "writers block".  That would mean am saying am a writer, which am far from that.  I think my writing would leave a very sour taste in the mouths of real writers.  I highly doubt writers would consider bloggers as "writers" in the first place. 

How have I gotten to the conclusion that the "blogger gods" have forsaken me, well...

1.  I have so "many" topics I want to blog about but when it comes to the writing part I go blank.

2.  All of a sudden I worry what my 'READERS' will think *side eyes* Sethi Ncube.

3.  Going back to number 2, see now I think I have people who actually care about my writing.

4.  I have to really sit down and think where is my blog going?

5.  Maybe at some point I will have to stop hiding behind the humour and actually share my real feelings.

6.  Lastly, maybe I should just blog and stop thinking too much about it.

Gosh, are the such things as the blogging gods in the first place???  If there are, show mercy please...