You know am back in Cape Town...

When every single date I went to in a space of two weeks, were simply for food consumption more than a romantic encounter.  I love Zinga Wings which is what I had right through the holidays,  I honestly would trade in a family member for them.  Yet the moment I got to Cape Town I started craving for fish, so I have been having that for the past two weeks.  I am beginning to think my cravings work by area codes.  Here is the evidence... 

Date 1:  Babalwa, Olwethu and I walked from campus to Long Street to a place called Food Inn for a gatsby that I personally think is the best in all of Cape Town.  When we got there we were told they open at 11.  Oh don't judge, yes we had a gatsy before 12#TeamBlockedArteries

Date 2:  Heard about a place called Nobantu and went to eat samp and tripe with Sethi and Olwethu...I died and went to heaven*white people really don't know what good food is.*

Date 3:  Nothing beats burgers at JCs after a draining class, so Roxy, Savvy-Sav and I had to go get some of that.

Date 4: Was talked into going to Cafe Sofia in Rhondies for a vegetarian burger*rolling my eyes*.

Date 5:  I had to return to Nobantu's this time with Zuzi for pap with mutton.

Date 6:  What would life be without dessert, so Tumi and I ventured  to Obz Cafe to have brownies with custard.

I still have to go to the Eastern Bazaar with Sivani.  After writing this post, am left thinking, should I be worried???  Am I being Lil Miss Piggy or does great company always include food?  Thank goodness its winter, I can still hide the lumps and bumps!!!

I am...

This is for the people who do not know me, but get to visit my blog and read the gibberish I blog about weekly.  If you had to sit with me for more than an hour, you would get to see or hear how much I love clothes, what a book fanatic I am*today I bought Hani: A life too short, with my last 50 rands and ignored the fact that I don't have food* and most importantly how much I love this country.  I was saying to Roxanne just the other day, I wish I could work for Brand South Africa, just to be able to boost people's morale about this beautiful country we live in.  Then 3 minutes ago, I read an email sent by a friend, and its written by Mrs Paton and its titled, Crying for the Beloved Country.  Here she writes about how she is leaving the country and moving to England.  This is a woman who's husband wrote Cry the Beloved Country and fought for black people's rights during the apartheid regime.  I am sad to say, even I as patriotic as I am, I felt so despondent after reading it.  I truly understood why she is leaving...with that being said, I still believe I have to share this poem that I love so deeply...its just an abstract...

I am an African.

I owe my being to the hills and the valleys, the mountains and the glades, the rivers, the deserts, the trees, the flowers, the seas and the ever-changing seasons that define the face of our native land.

My body has frozen in our frosts and in our latter day snows. It has thawed in the warmth of our sunshine and melted in the heat of the midday sun. The crack and the rumble of the summer thunders, lashed by startling lightening, have been a cause both of trembling and of hope.

The fragrances of nature have been as pleasant to us as the sight of the wild blooms of the citizens of the veld.

The dramatic shapes of the Drakensberg, the soil-coloured waters of the Lekoa, iGqili noThukela, and the sands of the Kgalagadi, have all been panels of the set on the natural stage on which we act out the foolish deeds of the theatre of our day.

At times, and in fear, I have wondered whether I should concede equal citizenship of our country to the leopard and the lion, the elephant and the springbok, the hyena, the black mamba and the pestilential mosquito.

A human presence among all these, a feature on the face of our native land thus defined, I know that none dare challenge me when I say - I am an African!

Andy Warhol said, "In the future everybody will be world famous for fifteen minutes."  You cant choose the 15 minutes but why would you be world famous?

Am one of those superstitious people, I am scared if I say it, I will jinx it. Come to think of it, its not fame am yearning for, but a certain recognition.  Sophia a friend of mine even thought me to say TOUCH WOOD*bangs on own table*, whenever I felt I would jinx something I want.

When I finished Matric, I really thought the world was my oyster, with education I could conquer anything.  Alas nothing went according to plan.  This does not mean am not grateful for the path am on now.  However from then on I decided to keep my dreams in, I whisper them in God's ears and keep them in darkest place only I know of.  Sometimes, I write them in my diary, so that they can get a little bit of light.

I do however hope my fame wont be for 15 minutes, that by the end of a certain journey am still going to embark on, my fame will be worth a lifetime.

Emotional Intelligence

Yesterday in class, Business Management, Rudolf was talking about emotional intelligence.  This is basically*now I sound like a Kwaito star, using words like basically* how you choose your battles, I hope this is right, I was half listening.  Anyways, let me try to break it down.  I love getting my own way, this is something I get from my mother and my sisters.  At home people don't solve problems, they would rather sulk than admit they are wrong.  Its a terrible habit and in our defence we are a house full of women.  This terrible habit we practise on each other or our partners, not on friends funnily enough.

This has made dating particularly hard for me, because its my way or the high way.  So you can just imagine the fights I get in with the poor sods that find themselves under my spell.  In most cases, when they meet me, they find this exciting, a challenge, a woman who has her own thoughts until it bites them in the ass.

To even admit this shows a little maturity on my side, because for a long time I would not.  Take today for instance I wanted to make a certain person bleed, yes bleed for not giving me the attention I feel I deserve.  Instead of being aggressive about it, I politely asked him what I needed to ask, he gave me his answer and I proposed a solution, he agreed and said thank you.  If that is not emotional intelligence on my part I don't know what is.  Baby steps, am not going to be healed immediately, but am willing to try.  His worth it...

A skill called leadership.

I think I have the worst leadership skills, well am a Robert Mugabe type of leader, I mean well, but my intentions are always seen as me being a bully.  If we look at the Robert Mugabe saga, he meant well at the beginning.  Most of Zimbabwe's land was owned by a minority group, and that was not exactly fair.  He could have found a better solution than the land grabbing yes, but decided otherwise.

I am a great orator, a passionate person, loyal, I analyse things to the point I exhaust every possible angle.  I do not make well thought of moves, you will have to make me smoke a bag of weed before I do anything I consider stupid, that is how hard it is to convert me from anything I believe in.  I am one of the biggest partypooper, I live on the borderline of boring.  I hate being told what to do. 


Not everyone has got leadership skills, they should always be followers, the salt of the land really.

My favourite leader of all time, is Thabo Mbeki.  They say leaders must be charismatic, dynamic, tall and he was none of these.  However he was a man with a plan, a great negotiator, filling Nelson Mandela's shoes must have been daunting.  We must remember Mandela promised, Mbeki had to deliver.  I don't think Mbeki was a born leader, but he was groomed or thought the skill...education makes a lot of things possible.  With that being said, I think our country was not ready for him, he came too soon.

1 NIGHT EXTRAVAGANZA

Last week Saturday, the day before I fly back to Cape Town, I sleepover in Bloem in order to make my 09:30 flight.  I left Aliwal North *Eastern Cape* at 11:00 and got to Bloem at 14:30, with 3 boys who used to be my juniors in High School.  The ride was pleasant till the car died right when we got to Bloem, and the poor lads still had to go Joburg.  We called a friend to come to help, by 18:30 and 3 mechanics later, they decided to leave the car behind and hitch-hike to Joburg.  I on the other hand stayed in Bloem, obviously.

My wingman first took me to supper, we did our normal catch up session, laughed and he called it a night.

I on the other hand hit the town with my gay boys, and we painted Bloem BRIGHT PINK!!!  Xanzi was in town...for one night only.  To be in a club full of people you know*sigh*, the feeling is indescribable.  Jamie Foxx is the best person who can describe the epic night we had, with his song 1 NIGHT EXTRAVAGANZA.  So we partied like it was the 31 December 1999, and by 06:30 we went home, I slept for 30 minutes.  Woke up and caught a flight to Cape Town. 

Sure I cant go back to Bloem permanently, but nights like that one make me remember that Xanzibar is still alive, she has just been temporarily put away.

"Rock journalism is people who can't write interviewing people who can't talk for people who can't read" (Frank Zappa)

This comment made me immediately wana say:  ROCK ON!!!!!!!!!! And I don't even like nor listen to Rock music.  I have however seen Bono looking hella of cool though.

OH but does Frank Zappa not sound like those snobby people who  walk like they have carrots up their toosh and when they don't like a certain music genre, they must diss it.  I can see him sitting in his lounge in his silk nightgown with a cup of tea listening to opera music, puffing on a cigar. 

I have seen posters that say Zappa in clubs or these grunge artsy places I like going to.  I always thought he was a Rock star himself,or a person who does portraits of Rock stars.  With that being said, I am a supporter of any reading, I don't even judge people who read the Daily Sun as long as they don't use those stories as reference to real life.  Knowledge is power, words are weapons.  Come to think of it, I once read a copy of the Rolling Stone before we got our own South African version, I had no cooking clue what they were talking about.  That did not make me think Rock journalists are not good writers, but I merely thought maybe its because am not familiar with the rock scene.  I still want to go to a Rock Fest, scream Rock on, scream my lungs out, act stupid, jumping up and down like we see in those European festivals they normally show on TV*yes, am a lost case, but am always game for anything new*. 

*note to self:  ask Zaan about Frank Zappa, am too lazy to ask google my smart friend*.