tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-79342868405611731532024-03-14T00:22:26.017-07:00The Rural GirlMasutane Modjadjihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09059320797931146285noreply@blogger.comBlogger39125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7934286840561173153.post-81002977912501119502017-11-09T22:02:00.001-08:002017-11-09T22:02:21.310-08:00A case for self care when it feels like you are breaking<div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">
<span style="font-size: 12.8px;">Lynette Ndabambi writes that w</span><span style="font-size: 12.8px;">hile emotions can overwhelm us when we encounter hardships be it a loss of a job, ending of a relationship, death of a loved one, it is still important to practice self-care as actions will carry us through the tough times. Hardships by their very nature do tend to erode our self-confidence and make us question our worth, while emotions can be fickle, take action to counter these and build yourself. Actions counter negative emotions. You may not feel like doing the work of self-care but do it anyway, your brain will catch up. This is what Lynette suggest we do to help us through though rough patches.</span></div>
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1. Daily exercise </div>
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Move your body every day, fill your body with endorphins - feel good hormones. </div>
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2. Clean your house daily </div>
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It is good for you to have a clean environment. While it easy to live in a mess when you feel a mess, it only makes it worse. </div>
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3. Eat healthy food </div>
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You maybe feeling like crap, but you don't want to ruin your body in the process. Your pain is temporary, take care of your health. </div>
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4. Good company </div>
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Surround yourself with people who love and support you. Your life at this moment is not perfect, it will never be perfect and that is what makes you, you. The people you love are also not perfect, you love their personality, how you vibe with them and frankly my dear, your lack of imperfection is a non-issue. God ahead, be with people who celebrate you. </div>
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5. Sleep </div>
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Good quality sleep is important, rest your mind. </div>
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6. Positive Self affirmations </div>
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While you are hurting, your mind tends to exaggerate all that is wrong with you and forget all that is good about you. Remind yourself of all the good things that you do right. Life is a process, we are here to learn - in order to learn, there will be failings at times. There is everything good about you. </div>
Masutane Modjadjihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09059320797931146285noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7934286840561173153.post-83779551092203425752017-03-24T02:43:00.001-07:002017-03-24T02:43:14.651-07:00Tough week to be a black woman in South Africa<div class="m_-8003723121632442729p1" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">
<span class="m_-8003723121632442729s1">It's been a rough week to be a black woman in South Africa. </span></div>
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<span class="m_-8003723121632442729s1">The country woke up on Human Rights Day to a viral clip of a white male threatening and shouting at a young black mother in front of a group of children and Spur restaurant staff and customers. This incident occurring in a public space proved that even public places do not necessarily mean safety for a woman, especially if she is black. </span></div>
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<span class="m_-8003723121632442729s1">What stroke me about the footage was the number of people who stood by and watched while this bully of a man used his physical strength to threaten a safety of a woman and young children. </span></div>
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<span class="m_-8003723121632442729s1">While we were still reeling from the shock of those who broke their necks to justify the man's actions, a story broke about a quantum taxi that has been doing rounds in the Soweto township and areas surrounding the Johannesburg CBD prowling on women who rely on public transport. I could easily be one of these women. Gathering from the stories how some of the women had been picked up and the manner which they came across this taxi with three men and one woman it's shocking to imagine just how close many black women are close to this violence. </span></div>
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<span class="m_-8003723121632442729s1">It might as well just been me on a normal day flagging down a taxi in Soweto or around the Johannesburg CBC. As the horrific stories from the women go, the taxi would stop when a female would be passenger mentions unaware that the other supposedly passengers are rapists and one woman in on the act. The female in the taxi would then suddenly get off at a nearby stop.<span class="m_-8003723121632442729Apple-converted-space"> </span>This is where the nightmare would being for unsuspecting victims. They would be raped and robbed by the men. </span></div>
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<span class="m_-8003723121632442729s1">One mother endured a 4 hour ordeal in front of her son. I realise I am blocking a lot of information from the descriptions I've heard over the radio during the course of Thursday. Incidents of rape and violence over black female bodies in South Africa leave me feeling helpless and numb. I realise with the latest incidents of rape on wheels that most of us exist around sexual violence and indeed very close to these types of dangers. The likelihood of being either one of these victims in both instances is striking. As someone who spends a lot of time between taxi ranks and walking in the CBD, like most working class women, it had always scared me how black men feel so entitled to a black woman's body. I will say it again, black men feel like they are entitled to black female's bodies. It has long passed epidemic proportions in South Africa. Being grabbed without your permission and the occasional groping is all too common in public place. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.8px;">One day was I was in a taxi from </span><span style="font-size: 12.8px;">Midrand to Pretoria, I sat next to a man who was touching me. I spent half of the journey swatting him away until a guy sitting the other side asked me if I would like to change seats with him. </span>It is<span style="font-size: 12.8px;"> rare to find a man willing to stand up for a woman he doesn't know. Usually </span>its<span style="font-size: 12.8px;"> just a black woman on her own.</span><span style="font-size: 12.8px;"> Black men do not speak out against themselves. Even our own government has still not made a fight against rape a priority. This doesn't surprise me much because we have men in government who themselves are culprits and feel like they have rights to abuse women. </span></div>
Masutane Modjadjihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09059320797931146285noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7934286840561173153.post-49196234500580053952016-09-26T00:30:00.000-07:002016-09-26T00:36:19.038-07:00Fees Must Fall students are not spoiled brats<div style="background-color: white; color: #454545; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px;">
A wise person recently posted on their wall that you can tell a lot about someone based on what they make noise on and what they choose to keep quite about.</div>
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I have been learning a lot about South Africans based on what we condemn as unacceptable behaviour, what we shout moderately about and what we downright push under the carpet and ignore. As voices of displeasure keep getting louder against the FeesMustFall movement, a study I read earlier about salary disparities in South Africa keeps surging to my conscious. The findings of that particular research summarized by <a href="http://businesstech.co.za/news/business/129980/shocking-difference-in-pay-between-black-and-white-professionals-in-sa/">Business Tech</a> become vivid every time I become aware of an analysis that supposedly sums up why the students who are calling for free education just don't get it. What bothers me the most is that those who "get it" appear to fit into the brackets of high and better-salaried citizens, giving further credence to the belief that poor people's cries are worthless. This is a principle that must be rejected.</div>
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Its been over 2 months since an earnings analysts at Analytico exposed the shocking differences in median pay between white and black professionals on the same rank. As I write this piece another study equally disheartening is pending and this time by <a href="http://www.finmark.org.za/is-education-and-data-burning-a-deeper-hole-in-the-pockets-of-south-africans/">Finscope South Africa</a> which aims to show that spendings on education by South Africans. Already the company has indicated that on average black South Africans spend more on education that any other race in the country. Students are not so clueless as to be unaware of how these workplace wage politics affect their lives, threaten their education and change their paths in life. Those who are not on bursary schemes rely on the already stretched financial resources of their family members to fund and maintain their tertiary education. Your tertiary institution hopes and dreams be damned if you are one of those who came from households where not a single member is employed. </div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Once accepted at university most students not eligible for bursaries will tell you the task maintaining </span>your place at a university is more difficult until you complete your studies is a fight of a life. This is a personal testimony too. One that is still not yet complete with a 6-year gap between undergraduate and postgraduate.</div>
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Despite various verbal commitments given to general transformation by most institutions, most of them still struggle to shed off their elite cultures that always find students from poor and working class at a disadvantage. </div>
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Observers who are far attached from the students to hear for themselves what their issues are have been quick to label the anti-fees protesters as entitled brats who don't know what they are fighting for. Others have gone as far as to suggest that if fees are dropped the condition has to be a mandatory 75% pass mark. My condition would be to make sure students coming it our institutions all got the same quality education and access to educational tools.</div>
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All the anti-FeesMustFall noise left me conclude that as much as we are quick to acknowledge that South Africa is a very unequal country, we are not willing to make sacrifices that would try to even the playgrounds in the workplace and at tertiary institutions. Hard as it is,there is potential for this kind of work to start at universities. And Blade Nzimande's offer is not it because apart from it being 22 years too later, the government has not taken students in their confidence and laying out the plans of how we are going to work our way towards free education. If there is a lesson to be learned from the FeesMustFall is that things will not get better with next generations of students if fees continue to increase while nothing changes. Corporate SA must not ignore the Finscope South Africa's study when it is released in early November.</div>
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The FeesMustFall movement is showing us that the pressure that used to be carried by parents solely is now spilling onto students causing great frustrations of any prospects of breaking out of the cycle of financial struggles. Parents and specifically black women carry the most burden as the study by Analytico has proven that they earn the lowest. Education should not have to be a privilege reserved for those who can afford it. Right now it is. And this is not working for students.</div>
Masutane Modjadjihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09059320797931146285noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7934286840561173153.post-21772253676152887192016-08-12T03:34:00.002-07:002016-08-12T04:13:19.889-07:00Tell me, does he love me?He was visiting at my village and we fell in-love immediately, <br /><br />He loves me<br /><br />Three days later he told me had to go back to the city where he belongs,<br /><br />He loves me not<br /><br />After a month I received a note asking me to move to the city closer to him, <br /><br />He loves me<br /><br />At the bus stop there is no one waiting for me, <br /><br />He loves me not<br /><br />A driver in a black car asks if I am the girl from Limpopo,<br /><br />He loves me<br /><br />I am hungry and there is no food to eat,<br /><br />He loves me not<br /><br />He tells me he made reservations at a place down the road and hope i am hungry, <br /><br />He loves me<br /><br />My family start to worry about me, he loves me not<br /><br />He asks his uncles to meet with my family back in the village,<br /><br />He loves me<br /><br />He says he has to work all the time, <br /><br />He loves me not<br /><br />He sent flowers to my work and my colleagues are gushing praises over our love,<br /><br />He loves me<br /><br />I have been wrapping his dinner and leaving it in the food warmer, <br /><br />He loves me not<br /><br />He comes in late and kisses me in my sleep,<br /><br />He loves me<br /><br />I have been noticing the absent stares for a while,<br /><br />He loves me not<br /><br />Then he always remembers our anniversaries, <br /><br />He loves me<br /><br />He didn't come home last night, he loves me not<br /><br />He ushers me to a surprise vacation says he's been planning it for weeks, <br /><br />He loves me<br /><br />He leaves the room to take his calls,<br /><br />He loves me not<br /><br />He takes my hand to dance when our favorite song randomly comes on the radio, <br /><br />He loves me<br /><br />He leaves mid conversations when we disagree, <br /><br />He loves me not<br /><br />He texts I love you on my phone when we are apart, <br /><br />He loves me<br /><br />He gives mono syllables responses lately,<br /><br />He loves me not<br /><br />I ran out petals before he could tell me what they mean. <br /><br />Empty as the stall in my hand, he loves me not.Masutane Modjadjihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09059320797931146285noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7934286840561173153.post-81205752678615456942016-08-12T03:22:00.003-07:002016-08-12T03:22:47.656-07:00Discovering the unknown that always existed.Discovery is one of man's greatest gifts in finding out history swept off by time. Natural wonders are not phenomenon that magically on surfaces after many years in hiding. One the African continent however it would appear that wonders never ceases to end. What, with the ‘newer’ discoveries being made so often. Armed with good resources and the latest technologies explorers can remotely uncover mysteries tucked away in the most remote corners of the continent from the comfort of their labs. While I understand the need to label such on the mark intuition calls as discoveries, I prefer to think of them as First World hobbies.<br /><br /> Undoubtful of its potential, Mount Mabu is one of the recent treasures that an explorer using latest google technology stumbled upon in 2005. The biodiversity gem has since been documented in history by scientists from the Royal Botanic Gardens, Kew (RBG Kew). Standing at a height of 1,700 metres the mountain was discovered by a scientist in search of biological riches and made incredibly good use of Google Earth imagery to find the pristine rainforest on top of little-known Mabu in northern Mozambique. A by-the-way fact mentioned in other sources admit that Mount Mabu was already known by locals, perhaps without cognisance of its full potential.<br /><br /> Upon its discovery it is said a big ‘X’ on their map and journeyed out to Africa in 2008, where they were happily rewarded with the discovery of three new species of butterflies, a previously undiscovered species of snakes, seven threatened bird species and a rare orchid. How about previously unknown species. It could be that such discoveries by scientists is ancient knowledge that always existed among locals near Mount Mabu.<br />
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<em>This piece was contributed by a 'new' writer who is still searching for a perfect pseudo to conceal their genius.</em><br />
Masutane Modjadjihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09059320797931146285noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7934286840561173153.post-7949405348678405792016-07-05T04:45:00.001-07:002016-09-16T03:57:31.768-07:00Service Delivery Protests in South AfricaResearchers from Africa Check recently went on a search for facts on service delivery protests in South Africa following requests from their followers . There has been wide spread reports that the country experiences no less than 30 protests per day. In their search for facts and accurate information, Africa Check found that there is a limit to the country's service delivery protests information gathering. Most reports that claimed 30 such protests daily relied on the police database of "crowd-related incidents". As the organisation found the police's method cannot be used as a credible way of recording service delivery protests. In their research it was found that at the most there is one service delivery protest every second day.<br />
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The organisation spoke to experts on agreed that there is gaps in information gathering of service delivery protests.<br />
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Gaps information?<br />
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Despite what experts say there seem to have been an increased coverage of civil unrest. According to information from Municipal IQ protests actions have increased in the first four months of 2016 as the country prepares for the 03 Augusts local elections.</div>
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Here is a look at some of the service delivery protests as they were covered between January 2015 to June 2016:</div>
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<iframe frameborder="0" height="650" src="https://cdn.knightlab.com/libs/timeline3/latest/embed/index.html?source=1c14SvPTgTt3OIW-rUatGKCHR7cGhwa5SYV6zsVNUQAU&font=Default&lang=en&initial_zoom=2&height=650" width="100%"></iframe><br />
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Municipal IQ researcher Karen Heese told Africa Check that last year the organisation recorded a total of 164 protests. When NGO released figures its latest figures this year, already 70 incidents of such protests have been recorded.<br />
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According to the data from Gauteng, Eastern Cape and KwaZulu Natal provinces had proved to have a high prevalence of civil unrest. Limpopo Province which has seen widespread protests especially in the Malamulele Municipality is among the provinces that have recorded lower rates of service delivery protests.<br />
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Protests according to provinces:<br />
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<iframe frameborder="0" height="800" src="https://uploads.knightlab.com/storymapjs/fbd9b5274788a58aa5c1a6429444b5e2/service-delivery-hotspots/index.html" width="100%"></iframe>Masutane Modjadjihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09059320797931146285noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7934286840561173153.post-18032319069639879982016-02-29T03:05:00.000-08:002016-02-29T03:05:28.144-08:00My Father by Thando Khoza<div style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17.94px; white-space: pre-wrap;">
If my father was a house, it would be a house with broken windows, cracked floors and leaking ceiling </div>
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If my father was a car, it would be a vintage Mercedes with rusty door handles and
engine that refuses to warm up</div>
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If my father was a tree, he would be a hollow oak, diseased with heart rot. Decaying from the inside</div>
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If my father was a cup of a coffee, it would be cold and bitter </div>
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<span style="line-height: 17.94px;">If my father was a country, he would have two dozens and a half neglected provinces that have turned rebellious</span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 17.94px;">if my father was a continent, it would be Africa, countries ravaged by war and famine, broken down by disease and clinging to a fading bright spots</span></div>
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If my father was a human being, he would be a selfish old man.</div>
Masutane Modjadjihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09059320797931146285noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7934286840561173153.post-49190336552547954522014-11-04T23:37:00.000-08:002014-11-04T23:42:44.991-08:00Reckless feminist and her friend take on Durban<div class="quote mediumText " style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; border-bottom-color: rgb(215, 215, 215); border-bottom-style: solid; border-bottom-width: 1px; color: #181818; font-family: Georgia, Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; overflow: hidden; padding: 10px 0px; width: 625px;">
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<span style="color: white;">A wiseman once declared that not all those who wonder are lost. I was reminded of this recently when I told friends and family that I was thinking of going to Durban for a visit.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #f3f3f3;">Shirley dreaming of what lies ahead</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #eeeeee;">Hello Moses Mabidha Stadium</span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #eeeeee;">One lazy Sunday I picked up a travel brochure on special offers to destinations across South Africa. When my eyes fell on KwaZulu Natal a strong desire to feel the fresh Indian Ocean breeze brush against my skin swelled within me. I had to wander off and experience the promise of fresh oceanic air and feel the sand between my toes. I expressed my desires to a friend in Durban who immediately undertook to helping me experience my heaven on earth.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_YCQ0o2dENw/VFnQA8rq2FI/AAAAAAAAA0o/adaQKTq1OqQ/s1600/shirley%2Bbeach.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="color: #eeeeee;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_YCQ0o2dENw/VFnQA8rq2FI/AAAAAAAAA0o/adaQKTq1OqQ/s1600/shirley%2Bbeach.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></span></a></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-4jWtzChUMPs/VFnPHxDKkDI/AAAAAAAAAyY/mok9L41QLLM/s1600/sand%2Bbetween%2Btoes.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="color: #eeeeee;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-4jWtzChUMPs/VFnPHxDKkDI/AAAAAAAAAyY/mok9L41QLLM/s1600/sand%2Bbetween%2Btoes.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #eeeeee;">Feeling the sand between my toes</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-x6QHjBIlaVI/VFnQP9HxcsI/AAAAAAAAA1I/51j6-6ev2hk/s1600/distant%2Blookingh.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="color: #eeeeee;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-x6QHjBIlaVI/VFnQP9HxcsI/AAAAAAAAA1I/51j6-6ev2hk/s1600/distant%2Blookingh.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #eeeeee;">The fresh oceanic breeze brush against my skin</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-PoSpIyAei_U/VFnPzWtphYI/AAAAAAAAAz0/Bt9Ejag2oRk/s1600/sunrise.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="color: #eeeeee;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-PoSpIyAei_U/VFnPzWtphYI/AAAAAAAAAz0/Bt9Ejag2oRk/s1600/sunrise.jpg" height="320" width="239" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #eeeeee;">Sun rise in Durban on our first morning</span><br />
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<span style="color: #eeeeee;">Everyone was worried on my behalf. Did I know what I was doing? Who will I be traveling with? And did I know anyone in Durban? What if I got stranded? All of these things didn't bother me. I had been down this road many times in my life. I have since come to accept that a mother will always worry each time one of their child bid the goodbye.</span><br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-oY2HSiiMK4E/VFnP_TGvdgI/AAAAAAAAA0g/K04r072q20k/s1600/shirley%2Bstaring%2Bback.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="color: #eeeeee;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-oY2HSiiMK4E/VFnP_TGvdgI/AAAAAAAAA0g/K04r072q20k/s1600/shirley%2Bstaring%2Bback.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="color: #eeeeee;"> I am a wanderer who is not lost, just like JRR Tolkein said in the Fellowship of the Ring.I reach my destination and I find my way back home after every travel.</span><br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-YHc51qNcGr4/VFnQFIg09QI/AAAAAAAAA04/ty8fJscRUp0/s1600/sexy%2Bbeach%2Bpose.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="color: #eeeeee;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-YHc51qNcGr4/VFnQFIg09QI/AAAAAAAAA04/ty8fJscRUp0/s1600/sexy%2Bbeach%2Bpose.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></span></a></div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-I3qj_RE-JOM/VFnP6F-xsNI/AAAAAAAAA0M/a43flC42VtY/s1600/shirley%2Bwith%2Bme.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="color: #eeeeee;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-I3qj_RE-JOM/VFnP6F-xsNI/AAAAAAAAA0M/a43flC42VtY/s1600/shirley%2Bwith%2Bme.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></span></a></div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-upvn9qq8Gdc/VFnPt4gDUuI/AAAAAAAAAzg/dyVTQ6FJ0gc/s1600/umhlanga.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="color: #eeeeee;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-upvn9qq8Gdc/VFnPt4gDUuI/AAAAAAAAAzg/dyVTQ6FJ0gc/s1600/umhlanga.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="color: #eeeeee;">To make the trip to Ethekwini even more memorable I convinced Shirley my less travelled fun loving colleague to come with me. They say two is company. Together we decided to make this a fun outing with maximum impact. At one point a male colleague worried by the thought of two fully grown up women traveling together bestowed the titled of an impulsive reckless feminist upon me, in what mark the first time I took an insult as a compliment.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mR_s35xs0aw/VFnPxNP7elI/AAAAAAAAAzw/V-pFAhpOgNg/s1600/two%2Bpouts.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="color: #eeeeee;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mR_s35xs0aw/VFnPxNP7elI/AAAAAAAAAzw/V-pFAhpOgNg/s1600/two%2Bpouts.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #eeeeee;">Girls just want to have fun</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-UVhyzG-wupU/VFnQDIL9QdI/AAAAAAAAA0w/NdnywEHaAxc/s1600/shirley%2Band%2Bphone.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="color: #eeeeee;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-UVhyzG-wupU/VFnQDIL9QdI/AAAAAAAAA0w/NdnywEHaAxc/s1600/shirley%2Band%2Bphone.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #eeeeee;">Letting friends know how she is doing</span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #eeeeee;">When we arrived in Durban, the genuine delight in my friend's eyes when she saw the ocean live for the first time warmed my heart. Here we relaxed and busking under the sun by the coastal town of Umhlanga to rid ourselves of the tensions we packed all year long at work. I appreciated my travel companion's fresh excitement over the little things that most well traveled people usually take for granted.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-0PHGbP24OiI/VFnSWv1PdrI/AAAAAAAAA1Y/M7AKU-hRS00/s1600/fish%2Bkisser.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="color: #eeeeee;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-0PHGbP24OiI/VFnSWv1PdrI/AAAAAAAAA1Y/M7AKU-hRS00/s1600/fish%2Bkisser.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #eeeeee;">I kissed a fish and I liked it!</span></td></tr>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-g2TiOzGWJEM/VFnPvT81DtI/AAAAAAAAAzo/wPxVcGertYE/s1600/umhlanga%2Bridge.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="color: #eeeeee;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-g2TiOzGWJEM/VFnPvT81DtI/AAAAAAAAAzo/wPxVcGertYE/s1600/umhlanga%2Bridge.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></span></a></div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-OQTsoDHIfSo/VFnP8quiJjI/AAAAAAAAA0Y/pAq9XH-BJig/s1600/shirley%2Btwo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="color: #eeeeee;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-OQTsoDHIfSo/VFnP8quiJjI/AAAAAAAAA0Y/pAq9XH-BJig/s1600/shirley%2Btwo.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></span></a></div>
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Masutane Modjadjihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09059320797931146285noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7934286840561173153.post-28742567312388536672014-06-14T03:12:00.000-07:002014-06-14T03:12:13.058-07:00Letter To MyselfSometimes the kind of encouragement one needs lies within oneself.<br />
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The following came from me while I was looking for something else inside of me.<br />
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Keep doing, Keep going<br />
Chances won't come looking for you<br />
Your words are falling on deaf ears<br />
The world isn't looking for you because you are invisible<br />
This hasn't discouraged you<br />
It didn't stop you from achieving what no one else thought you could<br />
One this road often traveled you discovered new paths<br />
People have wondered how you did it<br />
How you continue to do it<br />
How you arrived this far without a helping hand<br />
Its a secret only the gods can know<br />
You only know this<br />
Life is for the living<br />
Not once did you become something you don't know<br />
You are you<br />
You are all you know how to be<br />
Keep going the way you started<br />
Keep doing until it is done<br />
You see eyes sometimes turning to you<br />
Sometimes they ask you what is next<br />
You only know what you are looking at<br />
The journey ahead of you<br />
Now their words fall on deaf ears<br />
You are not directed by what sounds good<br />
Keep going your way<br />
Your mind is the compass that gives your direction<br />
In your heart you have already seen your destination<br />
Keep doing what everyone deems impossible<br />
Doors open that you never dreamed of<br />
You've overcome battles you never saw yourself winning<br />
You tried, you dared and you triumphed<br />
Yes you have fallen, you have failed and you have lost<br />
Yet you rose to win and reign victorious<br />
You have walked your hell to reach your heaven<br />
Keep going<br />
You are almost at the end of your journey<br />
But nights are darkest just before dawn<br />
Keep going<br />
Push yourself a little further each day<br />
Keep doing even when you think you cannot take anymore<br />
You made it this far<br />
Never mind the stage build around you<br />
Be blind to eyes the seek you out with wonder<br />
Your life is not a performance<br />
Keep going, keep doing<br />
Your destiny awaits youMasutane Modjadjihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09059320797931146285noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7934286840561173153.post-22005016870632214472014-04-10T01:32:00.000-07:002014-04-10T01:32:11.242-07:00Supernatural woman complete with claws<div class="MsoNormal">
I finally concede that the actual eighth natural wonder of
the world is not a certain small town as I once declared on this blog. A woman’s
body has defeated that one and perhaps has always been the supreme natural wonder.
You’re probably thinking feminists, its okay I have since learned to stop
protesting.</div>
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Apart from all the wonders a woman’s body is able to do,
there is myriad of all we are able to endure. I am not lodging a complained
against Mother Nature. I have just undergone another experience that has
reawakened my senses of the feminine prowess. </div>
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Without anyone ever accusing me of being back work I have
always thought of myself of having the practicality of a grandmother and a
woman of action. Beauty treats like nails have never been on my list of to do
things. I have always admired a neat set of pedicure on a woman and sometimes
find myself wondering how I would look with long eyelashes. I have the utmost respect for women who can
function unhindered by all these ‘extra’ we add on.</div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_5zQatCiX1E/U0ZV5zFd7zI/AAAAAAAAAqw/vEb--IjUjL8/s1600/nails1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_5zQatCiX1E/U0ZV5zFd7zI/AAAAAAAAAqw/vEb--IjUjL8/s1600/nails1.jpg" height="239" width="320" /></a></div>
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Yesterday I had my nails done by the wonderful girls of
Ingwe Park’s Beauty academy in Phalaborwa. The academy’s founder Antonet’s charming
personality made the experience feel so natural and exhilarating it was. Before
that I had never gone for two weeks without feeling the need to chip my nails.</div>
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After this session I promise not to frown or pass judgment
on another pampered woman again. </div>
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There was the usual female chatter, commentary on current
trends and a few on the Oscar Pistorious murder trial and then there was coffee!
At the risk of sounding myopic, I found everything that would make you wonder
why psychologists are even necessary when we have beauty salons.</div>
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After a couple of hours (I admit I was not paying attention
to time) I got up from a seat with an artistic and colourful set extended to my
nails. I watched this assemble being put together right before my eyes. Beauty
therapists are artists, another concession I am making.</div>
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Suffer for beauty they say. I find it to be an adjustment.
My new nails are medium short but I feel like I have overgrown claws. The practical
granny now feels incapacitated and invalid. Everyone asks me what the fuss is
about, the nails are beautiful and the colour is just-WOW simply because words
fail me. Of course I would have chosen a smaller size, but where is the fun in
the same old style.</div>
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This morning I woke up contemplating shortening them a bit but
after a lecture from my younger sister and brother, I decided to keep them as
they are, hence I lose face. No one wears pain better than a woman! I am
forever amazed, mesmerized and fascinated by the woman anatomy. </div>
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It took nails to discover my supernatural woman instinct.
Amazing how I have to work zips among all the things I have to do with great and
gentle consciousness.</div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-wppEAQKkfMY/U0ZWlZeu5lI/AAAAAAAAArA/CiJU8A-8lo4/s1600/Las.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-wppEAQKkfMY/U0ZWlZeu5lI/AAAAAAAAArA/CiJU8A-8lo4/s1600/Las.jpg" height="239" width="320" /></a></div>
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Masutane Modjadjihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09059320797931146285noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7934286840561173153.post-47341301053103263952014-03-24T01:13:00.000-07:002014-03-24T01:17:36.500-07:00Untitled for dejected adonis by Lynette Ndabambi <span style="color: #262626; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="line-height: 16px;">A few words of honesty from my dear friend Lynette Ndabambi that made my heart pause. It just sums up a complicated man and makes him human. I asked her what title would she give it and her response was " shoooo! I never thought that far". Lyn and I are guilty of over thinking situations and being too analytical sometimes, but I realised that the best decisions we've made so are ones where we never had to spend sleepless night wrecking our brains. </span></span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #262626; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="line-height: 16px;"><b><u>This poem Lynette wrote is Untitled, inspired by the dejected adonis.</u></b></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #262626; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 16px;"> He is the light, rays and sunshine</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #262626; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 16px;"> He planted his lips firmly on my cheeks, on my face and the other cheek</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #262626; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 16px;"> Hands hardened, fingers broken by pulling too many heartstrings and never waiting to hear the sad sound they make</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #262626; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 16px;"> The twinkle in his eyes, slowly fading ,slowly disappearing</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #262626; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 16px;"> They say he spread himself too thin, too far to quench his need to belong</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #262626; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 16px;"> He went where lust guised as love led him</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #262626; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 16px;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #262626; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 16px;">He was left by the side of the road, unfulfilled and empty. The sun had set.</span>Masutane Modjadjihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09059320797931146285noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7934286840561173153.post-54669605757311440282014-03-12T02:58:00.000-07:002014-03-12T02:58:15.291-07:00Rediscovering, restoring and rebuilding<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial; font-size: x-small;">Never hold onto a single dream as if it is the only thing that will bring you happiness. This line of thought came to me towards the end on 2013 and stayed with me to the first few days of 2014. I feel like if someone could have given me this advise, I would be thanking them and crediting them for giving me a fresh perspective of dreams and life. In life some lessons you learn all on your own, ideas come and go, dreams change etc. It all sounds like a long lesson in philosophy until you find yourself going through certain changes you didn't plan for.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-gSeN8gcRG90/UyAtW5vBDHI/AAAAAAAAAoE/5qeh7SljORA/s1600/unnamed+(5)2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-gSeN8gcRG90/UyAtW5vBDHI/AAAAAAAAAoE/5qeh7SljORA/s1600/unnamed+(5)2.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pen or mic?</td></tr>
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March the 10th I celebrated a one month anniversary in the town of Phalaborwa, in Namakgale township. In so many ways this is unlike me and Phalaborwa was never on the list of the places I thought I would be. I dug deep to find my sense of wonder and adventure, armed with this Phalaborwa has been like a second home.</div>
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My story in Phalaborwa is the incarnation of the rebirth of the Eagle's legend. It wasn't easy but it was very much necessary. </div>
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In this mining town that I have rediscovered my love for radio, my passion for working on human interest stories, being involved in community projects and getting inspired by the simplicity of the life of everyday people. My initial vain worry of how I would cope in the tropical heat was totally eclipsed by my sense of wonder and fulfillment that comes with working with a young team of producers, presenters and journalists.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-OJQo_ufdIS0/UyAtfh10D6I/AAAAAAAAAoM/lkYZXDr_oRw/s1600/Nthabi.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-OJQo_ufdIS0/UyAtfh10D6I/AAAAAAAAAoM/lkYZXDr_oRw/s1600/Nthabi.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Coach from Nthabiseng Special Needs School with the marula products produced by students.</td></tr>
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Apart from the rediscovery of how liberating rainbows and microphones can be, I got a first hand experience of the Ba-Phalaborwa pride. This was evident when during the Marula Festival which was in its 9th year this year. All things local and authentic we exhibited to the delight of tourists and first time visitors such as myself.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-NThWNtlquMA/UyAtpZR8KzI/AAAAAAAAAoU/ohQ4x8YHlPs/s1600/unnamed+(5)1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-NThWNtlquMA/UyAtpZR8KzI/AAAAAAAAAoU/ohQ4x8YHlPs/s1600/unnamed+(5)1.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We made it in the local paper!</td></tr>
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They say it seldom rains in these parts. This years its been raining a lot and for locals a first in as many years. I would like to believe that it has something to do with me because I know from experience that each an every big change for me is preceded by some form of a dramatic twist. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-VDjPDpnP75E/UyAt807oR1I/AAAAAAAAAok/gKr4q2MhLeg/s1600/unnamed+(5)23.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-VDjPDpnP75E/UyAt807oR1I/AAAAAAAAAok/gKr4q2MhLeg/s1600/unnamed+(5)23.jpg" height="180" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">In studio with Director of Palabora Foundation, Mr Malesela Letsoalo </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-NE9yTbqUIIc/UyAtyqjcwaI/AAAAAAAAAoc/N5tnOIn4-4c/s1600/unnamed+(3)2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-NE9yTbqUIIc/UyAtyqjcwaI/AAAAAAAAAoc/N5tnOIn4-4c/s1600/unnamed+(3)2.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">With Tsakani Shilubani host of the Business Hour</td></tr>
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Masutane Modjadjihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09059320797931146285noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7934286840561173153.post-57475063192920690102013-12-06T20:36:00.000-08:002024-01-24T10:04:59.757-08:00Tata Madiba had an established friendship with Balobedu people, we loved him tooI am one person who will never get tired or irritated by the tributes pouring out for Tata Nelson Mandela on the internet sites and all over our media. In fact, the more tributes I see about him the better my heart feels. <br />
<br />
I was saddened by some social network postings who have been moaning that enough already. My advice to those who complain that they've had it has been to kindly stay away from social media especially for the next week or forever hold their peace. This man meant so much to many people and was widely loved. We want to share our memories and pay homage to him without being patronized by selfish people.<br />
<br />Three times I was lucky to be in our first democratic and black South African president Tata Madiba. Although you didn't need to be in his presence to truly comprehend why Tata was a fitting permanent prefix for his name.<br />He had this amazing ability to reach out to different groups within South Africa and make everyone feel special. <br />
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I will never forget his first visit to Modjadji Head Kraal in 1994, I was a girl of 8 and to this day I remember how we stood in the rain to catch a glimpse of him. Rain was indeed a fitting welcome to a monarchy associated with mystical rain-making powers. <br />
<br />On his later visits among other gifts, he honoured the Queen Modjadji with he also promised to build a school. Today Mandela Barloworld built to model Robben Island is standing as our pride and joy. <br />
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I was a kid when he visited our village but I still remember the laughter as he attempted to speak our dialect, he said " Balobedu khekhukhuni khe bonwa nkhe bataladi". How can anyone not want to share in this giant's life and love for it? Through his friendship with the Rain Queen Mandela managed to win the whole community in confidence. Finally at peace and joining his friends in heaven like Queen Modjadji who passed away in 2004 Madiba will forever live in our hearts. Tata the Balobedu nation loved you.<br />
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Robala ka khutsoMasutane Modjadjihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09059320797931146285noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7934286840561173153.post-47203246155891415002013-08-28T07:55:00.000-07:002013-08-28T07:55:12.080-07:00Not waiting for the world to change- I am changing me!They say from a distance a world is one giant ball floating in the air.
Somehow no matter how much this big circle rotates it has never
displaced or mixed its contents thanks to this phenomena called
gravity.<br />
I have forever harboured chameleon like tendencies, always looking for
situations to blend it. I find myself thrown into such situations based
on circumstances I cannot control. It looks like a perfect fit until
reality sets in. I am an individual and maybe I am supposed to stick
out. Even where I'm trying to be part of the collective, th me part is
always hard to keep to myself for too long. My realities pull me out and
single me out of the rest. My colour too rich, my length too tall to
keep hidden, my eyes too bright and my smile too real not to tell I'm
not part of here.<br />
<br />
I remember when I started creche. I was a lone girl travelling with five
boys. My cousin Tumedi tried to make me fit in with the boys. He made
sure to look out for me because we were connected by blood. One day a
boy too clever for his age, alerted the rest to my biological error and
the immorality of allowing girls mix so comfortably in a male domain. It
was decided that in the mornings, I would stand alone while we waited
for school transportation and if I was lucky I would get an invitation
to join the male club until then, I couldn't just stand in a boys group.
Blood is thicker than water. My cousin decided that family was much
more important than allegiance to any club based solely of gender. He
rejected this discrimination and prejudice by deciding to sit with me
rather than stick with me instead. In my childhood was a precursor of
future realities and the disadvantages of my gender. It was four in five
boys displaying early symptoms of being intolerant to gender equality.
Lesson to me, I was a girl therefore different.<br />
<br />
Then there was primary, I was a skinny girl with a funny name. Always
the subject of one comical crack or another. I was an easy target
because I stood out not by my own design. I have already dealt with the
subject of my <a href="http://masutanemodjadji.blogspot.com/2011/03/story-is-in-name.html" target="_blank">name</a>. In
primary school I quickly developed firmer bones to stand my ground and
defend myself against any bullying with a sharp tongue. While this
mostly just landed me in trouble, it reduced the period I spent in tears
to a very insignificant percentage and added to my happiest moments.
Even with a thickened skin, some random jabs about being skinny and
strange name still penetrate through, making the whole primary school
experiences unforgettable. In my pre-teens, that's how I learned I was
not what is exactly considered normal. Why else would my presence alone
create so much tension and bring out monsters in my playmates.<br />
<br />
Then there was high school. The things that most teenagers considered
fun failed to evoke any emotions in me. When a handsome boy greeted me, I
will greet back indifferent to his perceived charms. I made friends
easily, I allowed a few closer to me and others I held distant. I wasn't
a loner but I cherished moments of solitary much more than I valued
time spent in noisy groups. Always the thinker, I was forever in a
scribbling mode or reading something. I didn't hate boys but I was never
too fond of them either. Didn't particularly even try to understand
them. Towards my late high schooling, I didn't have many girlfriends
because they we all pre-occupied with their boyfriends. I would hear
rumours about me that didn't bother me at all. Twice I was attacked by
two boys on separate occasions because they accused me of playing hard
to get. I never could understand why anyone would think they know me
better than I know myself. I acted with resistance to anyone forcing
their way into my life. I wanted to choose who I let in. Then the last
quarter of my high school, I found that choice in a very unlikely boy.
He got wind of the fact of my affections and tried to capitalise on
them. Like him as I did, I never gave in. Call it a lesson on my woman's
worth, I couldn't let it be only on a man's terms. I came loaded with
my own wishes and fantasies. I was too much work, needed too much effort
and too complicated for a man just looking for a young thing to hang
with whenever he needed. Sooner than I could learn to say "hello to you
too" he moved on. I was a hard headed girl who stuck to her guns, men
won't take too kindly to that. So what, I still think to myself. I
wasn't groomed for a man. But to fulfil my destiny whatever that is.<br />
<br />
Armed with lessons from the past 18 years of my life, I defied the odds,
unapproving parents and wandered into the world never before explored
by any member of my immediate family and settled in Cape Town for my
tertiary education. My whole life looked set before me like a white
sheet. As my high school teacher Miss van Niekerk once advised, each
mark I make will show. Everyone here was different from what I could see
on the surface. They dressed differently, looked different, spoke
different, acted different. It seemed the spotlight wasn't solely fixed
on just one individual. Everyone here was a start in their own movie, so
many spotlights and no side judges to call out the difference in
people. I quickly unpacked and took out my unique. The first year went
fine, we were all different and came together to learn more about each
other. In my second year, I learn just how much more different my
different was. The more I met new people the more I got to learn about
the me, I was supposed to be. French, not South African, Model, dark,
tall. There was never the right side of town to walk. In the township I
was a foreign from outside Africa, in the suburb I was a black call
girl, in the city I was a model, I was everything but myself. Until I
opened my month in front of strangers, no one could give me a guess
close to what I really was. I opened my mouth a lot to fight
stereotypes. I was not seen, I was heard. Being seen along with comfort
are not things I want for myself in my 20s as a woman. In my early
adulthood I learned that places of complacency won't bring me joy. Gave the idea of relationships a go and it resulted in two long lasting relationships. Priorities changes, people change and maybe others stay consistant while its change you really looking for. I've
fallen inlove too with people I have no intention of ever telling. Sometimes its good to just love from a distance and keep it to yourself. In my early 20s I found my issues grew from being a girl and skinny with funny
names to being a woman, black, rural, and forever in
the disadvantaged bracket.<br />
<br />
I constantly wake up from a dream "education is the only way out of this
cycle". My dream is that clear. Recently I learned that education is
not only about how many classes one gets through in their life-time. Its
about discovering who you are. Being first in a class with yourself,
about yourself. Discovering what you like and dislike, what moves you
and what irks you. Also overcoming any prejudicial notions I might have.
For me this part speaks more about getting to know about other people,
learning about different cultures, visiting different countries and try
to speak in a different language. This phase of my
journey is in its early stages, I have a map and I would like to us it. Italy and Ethopian were a great start. I figured if I wait for the giant balloon that is out planet to miraculously catapult and land me at the perfect spot, I will walk
around feeling empty for a very long time.<br />
<br />
Masutane Modjadjihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09059320797931146285noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7934286840561173153.post-60285836805804375542013-08-02T05:01:00.003-07:002013-08-02T05:07:31.534-07:00Epic adventures in Italy - Part One<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">So many times I would
watch the sun go down in Cape Town and wonder about the possibilities that existed
in places beyond these shores. Places where this sun that had just set on our
side would rise again. I get accused of being a deep thinker quite often but I
always asked myself what else existed beyond this very tip of African. Would a
village girl like myself ever get to explore the opportunities that are the
beyond the Mother City or was this the proverbial “it” for me? The constant
yearning was for more than I was told it’s enough for one person, a woman.</span></div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Uk-t6QLnFTE/UfuceorJZfI/AAAAAAAAAe8/fMk9NTHuDS4/s1600/Cape+Town-20130731-01741.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Uk-t6QLnFTE/UfuceorJZfI/AAAAAAAAAe8/fMk9NTHuDS4/s320/Cape+Town-20130731-01741.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div>
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One day it happened as I got an opportunity to do a bird's view of the city of
Cape Town. Up there in the air I felt like I was not seeing the full picture. I
have literally been to very province in South Africa and lived in at least
three of them. </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: normal;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">I've been exposed to all
the South African cultures and more. I went back home to Limpopo to see if
there's something left undiscovered but I always ended up coming to Cape Town.
There is something about the oceans that gives a hungry mind hope and
resuscitate dreams. This marathon across South Africa has become my adult life.<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
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You have never fully live until you get out of your comfort zone and take a
look at your life from an aerial point of view. As human we are creatures of
habit, many of us find contentment in having secure job, long lasting relationships,
same circle of friends and an apartment in up-market suburb to complete the
picture. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This is the perfect life and
its definitive for most people, our families and friends wish these things for
us. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
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I was thought I was a complete project, until if found myself wandering around
in a Roman airport of Fiumicino. I had landed in Rome after a 5 hour delay in
Ethiopia and missed my connection flight to Bari. I was totally unprepared for
the 6 hour "adventure" that followed without even basic Italian to my
vocabulary. To make the experience more entertaining was the fact that I had no
Euros on me, my two phones’ batteries died hours earlier and it was my first
time outside South Africa. The office of the airline that delayed was closed
and the airline whose flight I had missed would not help me, not even with a
phone call or an alert email to my hosts who had been expecting me.</span></div>
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In any situation when ones sees the police they expect immediate assistance and
assurance. I can still relive my sense of relief when I saw a “policio” sign on
the door at the airport after wandering around aimlessly for over 3 hours. I
explained to a policeman that responded to my knock that I was stuck and asked
to use either a phone or an email. At this time I would have been happy to hear
him say, they have no choice but to deport me the officer seemed very uninterested
in my story. He tried to keep me quite but I keep on rumbling on until he told
me to wait right there at the door and he'll be back very soon. He closed the
door. Thirty minutes passed and I decided to make myself comfortable in front
of the police office entrance and took out a book I had brought with me to
read. I spread my jacket on the floor and used my bag as a pillow directly in
front of their CCTV camera. I needed to make sure that no one forgets that I
was waiting outside for help.<br />
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After a while a mean looking police in civilian clothes opened the door and
told me in Italian that I couldn't seat at their door forever. I tried to
slowly explain to him my situation and I was reluctantly let in and allowed to
charge my phone. My joy was short-lived, before my phone could charge enough to
switch back on, other officers came in to express their unhappiness and I was
asked to go find a plug somewhere else. On my way out I passed by the airport’s
Information desk for the 10<sup>th</sup> time that day to check if maybe this
time someone would should some mercy. As my luck would have it I found a woman
who allowed me to send one email but would not allow me to wait for the
response.<br />
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I went to the waiting area next to international departures looking for someone
with the most approachable face that I could share problems with. I saw a woman
sitting alone with her language and greeted her in English. When she responded
warmly with a clear accent, it felt like an angel had just dropped at the airport.
It turned out she and her husband were waiting for a connecting flight to
Australian and had been on their way from New York. The couple gave me coins to
use the prepaid internet booth. Within the next hour my ticket was ready for
the next and last flight to Bari which would depart in 45 minutes. I still had
to check in, print my ticket and go through all the other points international travelers
go through at airports. It was like someone had released the timer. I raced across
the airport looking for the departure gate that seemed as if it was
deliberately moved to the very back of the airport to see me perform. All the
straps of my luggage bag broke loose and my bag fell down as I was running but
I had no time to stop and cry. Tempting as the idea of falling down next to the
bag and crying appeared; I just scooped my bag up and continued to run. I
eventually made it to the gate boarding gate just in time to catch the last
shuttle bus to the plane.</span></div>
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Once safely in my seat, I buckled up and went to a deep sleep until my flight
landed an hour later. The landed was an end of day one of my Italian adventure.
One thing that was clear after this day was the silent message that said my
best song hasn’t been sung yet. The adventures and experiences in Italy were as
much epic as they were about personal and professional growth. I would do it
again. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Masutane Modjadjihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09059320797931146285noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7934286840561173153.post-64270669055190364002012-08-10T03:31:00.000-07:002012-08-10T03:31:48.602-07:00Experiencing the Islam religion in Ottery, Cape Town<br />
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So many of us take for granted the privilege of living in a
democratic country, where all citizens are guaranteed many freedoms other people
in other countries could only imagine. The freedom of religion is one of those
things that I never given much thought to until recently.</div>
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As a born Christian, I rarely gave any thoughts to other
religions that existed outside Christianity. My early encounter with Muslims
was during early primary school days at our local town. Back then the only
thing I could do was stare curiously at women dressed in clothing that covered
them from head to toe. In my late primary days I became friends with a Muslim
family and begun to learn more about Islam. Nothing they taught me sounded unnatural
to me. It was clear that we served one God- but different in our beliefs.
Despite all the radicalism and ignorance I had been exposed to in my adulthood
about the Islam religion. A recent education on the religion from a very none-judgemental
and simplistic way brought me back to my initial opinion. We all serve one God-
the only difference is our belief system.</div>
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During the marking of the 15th day of the Holy month of Ramadaan,
Aqeelah Hendricks invited me along to the mosque in Ottery. I was a bit apprehensive
about it and a little headache induced by fear of the unknown threatened to
stop me from attending. My will power was strong and the determination to
experience it for myself pulled me out of my little fear.</div>
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The imam took us through the core values of Islam religion
and the beliefs. He also took us through the meaning behind some of the common
signs and sayings that Muslims use often. We were invited to break the fast at
the mosque’s hall before we were invited to join in the evening prayer. The powerful
message and passion of which it was shared with us made me want to kick myself
for not having done it sooner. I wished that more and more mosques can have something
similar, where each person can invite a none Muslim friend for a day of
education on the religion. Perhaps we can have the same thing in all religions.
After all we are serve one God. </div>
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<br /></div>Masutane Modjadjihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09059320797931146285noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7934286840561173153.post-47630845668239301482012-06-27T01:10:00.001-07:002012-06-27T01:10:24.481-07:00My wig story- but HEY I am not my hair!<br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Early on Monday when I was preparing for work, I caught a
snippet of what appeared to me a fierce debate over African women’s preference
of artificial hair. On my screen I caught a glimpse of a blonde Lebo Mashile
giving her thoughts about the topic. I must have misunderstood what she said
because for the next day I worked myself up for what eventually turned out to
be a provoking topic constructed in the most boring way imaginable.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Somewhere between the vox pops of celebrities giving their
take on their style choices and Debra Patta doing her darnest to stare things
up, I fell asleep. I had come in from work Tuesday evening, carefully hanged my
pony-tail on a hook, took a shower and made myself comfortable while I prepared
to tweet my thoughts about the show. But alas, that episode was such a
disappointment and lacked some of that hard-core journalistic insightfulness to
give it that lasting interest, I unwittingly dozed off. As usual Debra Patta
and her addiction for controversy got my attention, but they failed to keep me
interested.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">In my life I have heard of and seen better fake hair stories
to put 3<sup><span style="font-size: x-small;">rd</span></sup> Degree to shame. In fact I am one such myself. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">One beautiful sunny morning in the mother city, I had woken
up with a strong fancy to make myself the most beautiful woman of the day. Sure
enough beauty is a fully loaded term and cannot be explained in one sentence
and one person’s opinion is nothing but personal outlook of a dynamic word. I
carefully chose my outfit, matched it with the right heels and found a handbag to
go with it. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After three hours of
preparations and make up, off I went on my way to work, strutting my stuff
careless along the street with self-assurance while pretending not to notice
the glares, the whistles and the heads that turned my way. It somehow felt like
I had accomplished my mission- I wanted the world to stop and take notice of
me. With fake hair, I had manipulated the world into thinking I was a beauty
queen.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">A taxi stopped without me even lifting my hand to signal for
it. When the door opened it was like the heavens were reminding me that my hair
alone doesn’t make me. I hit my head against the taxi door while bending to climb
in. The pony tail wig I had on came down like a house of matches. No longer my
crowning glory, I indignantly picked it up from the floor and tried to put it
back on. Other passengers were sensible enough to know that a bruised ego is no
laughing matter. I humbly sat by the seat near the door, aware that the entire
taxi was staring ahead and inevitably at me!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The taxi stopped a few metres from where it had picked me up
for one of the passengers to disembark. I had to step out to make way for the
woman who was also on her way to work. Again when I bended to get back to my
sit, the roof moved my hairpiece to the floor. This time the taxi’s conductor
picked it up and handed it back to me, like it was an accessory or a hat! The
girl sitting next to me could no longer contain her laughter. I forgave her, I
too would have probable laughed. When she took out her phone, I knew I was
going straight to facebook or twitter! The atmosphere in the taxi had suddenly
built up to some pressure as I felt started feeling heated in my face. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">It’s usually a 10 minute drive to my where I get off. On
this day the traffic lights closed and took forever to reopen. The ride to my
work seemed to take half a day. I uttered to the conductor that I was getting off,
my voice got stuck in my throat. Lucky for me a woman behind me caught my words
and shouted at the drive who stopped for me. Thankfully my tears came in time
when I could exhale, safe from the taxi and its passengers. Today my wig misery
is my fake hair joke that I can relive to people like Debre Patta who I am sure
know very little about being a black woman with hair issues!<o:p></o:p></span></div>Masutane Modjadjihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09059320797931146285noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7934286840561173153.post-34735925283271656792012-06-19T04:53:00.000-07:002012-06-20T00:32:27.083-07:00Cape Town Book Fair brings stories for everyone<br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Every book worm will agree that The Cape Town Book Fair is
like a treat literacy addicts- and like Christmas it comes once a year!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Last year, the event was cancelled in
preparation for a much improved and better return this year.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When finally the doors were opened on 15 June,
the three day exhibition brought the in publishing and writing. Book lovers
were sure to discover something new at each turn- I know I did.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Internationally acclaimed writer and a much celebrate novelist
Professor Ngugi Wa Thiong’o was among the names that intrigued many among the
more matured crowed of readers. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">In between books launches, panel dicussions, book reading
and signings, there were those random extra ordinary stories not scripted on to
the book fair’s official programme. These are stories of ordinary people that
make extra ordinary tales. One such story that made an impact on me was of
writer and publisher Julia Mashele. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For
Julia Mashele writing became a calling after she found herself serving a seven
year jail term for a crime she didn’t commit. Only after surviving her ordeal that
started with her premature marriage to escape her poverty, did she see her as beyond
the normal and decided to share her experiences through her writing.</span></div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-j0-WjPMYINI/T-Blm2u0PpI/AAAAAAAAAG8/B80rahLrXis/s1600/Julia.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="253" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-j0-WjPMYINI/T-Blm2u0PpI/AAAAAAAAAG8/B80rahLrXis/s320/Julia.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Her first book “Justice Delayed is Justice Denied” was such
a hit when it came out that it had to me translated into other South African
languages. He other titles which chronicles her journey through life such as
the “Power of Forgiveness” and “When Marriage Becomes a Struggle” were on
display. Mashele whose own vernacular is Sepedi cherish the idea of writing in
languages all South African can understand. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The biggest problem that contributes to the
low reading figures in our country, she notes, is that people don’t find
stories that they can identify with in their own languages. The next chapter in
her live is turning her words into a script for her own movie.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">At the very far end of Julia’s stand, I discovered Yambeka who
specialises in publishing children’s book. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> Founder</span> <span style="color: black; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Helvi Itenge-Wheeler was motivated to start her own publishing company when she moved to America to complete her studies. Even in the West where most people are content with English as the medium of communication, Helvi was determined that her children get educated in her native Namibian language ,Oshiwambo. This mother then started creating kiddies books usings resources that were available around her to get around that challenge of not finding books in her original language. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: black; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">It was in July 2009 when Helvi and her family moved to Kenya that Yambeka Children took anther turn. Helvie says she decided to write a book in Swahili for children when she struggled to find one at book stores. Consultations with Swahili speakers resulted in<span style="font-family: Arial;">“Baby’s 1st Kiswahili Book” being written and published</span> .
Today Yambeka is an independent publishing house that brings work of other
writers of children’s books in English and other African languages, like Swahili.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Yambeka Children spoke well to the theme of this year’s
event which placed emphasis on encouraging reading among children.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Very encouraging throughout the exhibition
was the presence of miniature book clubs made up of children, some as young as
two. The Children’s Zone was specially designated for story reading and book
discussions by young people to their peers. Putting fund back into reading was
nine year old twins Yavudiya and Sonal Ranjith with launch of their book Double
Trouble.</span></span></div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-wcMNOmfPko4/T-BnKXxzCKI/AAAAAAAAAHM/yeEiEsvO2o4/s1600/Kiddies.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="206" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-wcMNOmfPko4/T-BnKXxzCKI/AAAAAAAAAHM/yeEiEsvO2o4/s320/Kiddies.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: black; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Mkuki Na Nyota Publishers provided African
consciousness reads through junior dedicated literary on African subjects like
the first President of </span><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">an independent Ghana <span class="st">Kwame
Nkrumah. Their stand boasted a collection of kiddies stories based on African
myths and tales. The two days that I attended the book fair was barely enough
to take it all in, but I gathered enough motivation to never sit with my
stories- especially if they can get even a single person to read.</span></span><o:p></o:p></span></div>Masutane Modjadjihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09059320797931146285noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7934286840561173153.post-84906643957225589342012-04-26T01:32:00.001-07:002012-04-26T01:32:54.535-07:00Beauty is in the eye of the beholder<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">There is no reward for starting the obvious, but I feel like if I don’t join a chorus of South Africans who have been singing about the rots that prevail in our society I will be failing in my duty as a proud South African who enjoys the freedoms guaranteed by our constitution. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Much of what is wrong with our communities goes beyond the abuse of individual’s rights that leads moral decay in our society. This open secret came to the fore again recently through very disturbing events that took place in our communities. Suddenly it felt like the obvious was no longer that obvious unless you are willing to get a little closer and inspect it without being aloof to the facts.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Unlike many people the thing that got me to stop in my tracks and pay attention is not the story of a young woman let down by her community and the police. Nor was it a week that begun with one of our country’s talents using a song title to speak down on black people in general.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I woke up to a week with a terrible realization that we are running out of heroes in this country. This hit me a few months ago a status on one of my Facebook friends was made about how ugly a certain celebrity was. Shortly after the post an influx of comments followed with not a single person contributing anything positive to the argument. It was all criticism of someone not one really knows based on external appearances. It maybe true that public figures and celebrities must grow a thick skin against all the criticism. But if we have start judging people by their looks then we deserve no better. If criticism is not constructive it is destructive.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Enter a famous Y-FM DJ into the fry of calling a talented young woman ugly, I knew we had reached a new low. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Overcome by a strong sense of sadness I wondered why another woman would cheer on and not even offer a single word of solidarity one of her own was being attacked on air for her looks. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When I read the newspaper reports of what was allegedly said on Mo Flava’s breakfast show on the popular youth radio station, I hoped that it wasn’t so. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For a famous radio and television personality, if Mo was part of this childish tirade on his show, he missed an opportunity to be a hero in my books. Young women who listen to these types of shows take the messages they carry with them as they go through life. Not everyone has a strong self-esteem to take this kind of negative notions about them as nothing but an opinion of narrow minded people with materialistic views on life.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The kind of harsh treatment meted out on actress Maggie Benedict who plays Akhona in Generations just display kind of mindset that still occupy many people who don’t know how to best use their give platforms to build rather than destroy. Benedict is a talented and bright woman who is the way she is through no choice of her own.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have taken the time after when she was first criticism and her talent spoke to me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That as well as her dedication to her trade and personality made her very beautiful to me.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">They say beauty is in the eyes of the beholder. If something doesn’t appeal to you don’t ruin it for other people who find beauty in what you think is ugly. There is not standardized definition of what beauty or ugly means.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As a youth I feel like it’s time we demand better of ourselves. </span></div>Masutane Modjadjihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09059320797931146285noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7934286840561173153.post-35649884039657547462012-04-12T08:34:00.000-07:002012-04-12T08:35:12.762-07:00Spreading my wings a little<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Feet, what do I need you for when I have wings to fly?” I fell in love with Spanish artist Frida Kahlo’s words the first time I heard them sometime in the 90s. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Today I grew wings- albeit not literally- and got to fly all over the scenic Cape Town atlantic sea board- for a whole 15 minutes! It’s true what they say about this town- you haven’t really seen anything until get a bird’s view of it. The experience was more than what was promised by Braam Botha at Reliable Helicopter Tours, much more than I bargained for before starting my day at work. On beautiful autumn <strong><span style="font-family: "Calibri", "sans-serif"; font-weight: normal; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">it’s all the inspiration any girl need to start a good day fuelled with adrenaline.</span></strong></span></div>
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<strong><span style="font-family: "Calibri", "sans-serif"; font-weight: normal; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Up close, the grounded four-seater chopper looked to me like a gigantic remote controlled toy- all the more fun the experience on board for an unobstructed and intimate view of the Robben Island, the Table Mountains and of the city. The first time I flew a commercial passenger airline my dad asked what it felt like being on air- I explained to him that for me it really felt like riding only it travels on air and gets to the destination faster. In those passenger airlines everyone has one thing in mind- getting to their destination safe and quickly.</span></strong></div>
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<strong><span style="font-family: "Calibri", "sans-serif"; font-weight: normal; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Not only did today leave me feeling like I have wings, the whole day flew by too as the only thing I could think about was the images of how wonderful everything appeared when your starring down from the air. For someone who started yesterday on the wrong foot- it certainly does helps to fly.</span></strong></div>
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<br /></div>Masutane Modjadjihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09059320797931146285noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7934286840561173153.post-37841712839411771402012-03-28T05:07:00.000-07:002012-03-28T05:21:46.096-07:00Modjadji Kingdom Tribute<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Ke batho ba Modjadji<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Mmalakhobela la khobela ke lala tsela,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Ke mohlolo se na moloti</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Ke lotwa ke mabu a tsela</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Ke motho yo a boyao tsielele mokhotheni<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>a manape dia lla</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Maolwe ke maloutjoni a dilepe</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Ke motho yo a boyao tlatja la mapulane wa ngwako</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Ke batho ba khedhupudi kha bokhalaka</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Khe khileo o bona mabele khare batho ke ba runi</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Kha fetsja kha kwa lekhwekhwe khee batho myayeni</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Sekhware a nthate morwa wa Mahowa ma lebana le metse ya ka Mahowa</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Kokoropo malepula mefakeng</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Sekhopo se khopamile masogana</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Balobedu a le na ntwa</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Lebjeni ke rammakiwa ke mahosi</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Modike bare ke la ka</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Le mothese ba re ke la ka</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Ka fihla maolwe tlatja, ke fiile</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">La <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>khekhoti a lekhana motsetselo</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Tlatja a o supiwe ke badimone</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Badimo ba Modjadji a mohale!</span></div>Masutane Modjadjihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09059320797931146285noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7934286840561173153.post-50426004522006305252012-03-15T05:15:00.002-07:002012-03-28T05:23:54.477-07:00The Traditional Courts Bill will only work against rural folksThe role of traditional leaders has changed a lot in the 17 years since South Africa ushered in a new era of democracy. This recent dispensation accompanied by the Constitution as the supreme law of land has left many traditional leadership roles in a state of confusion.<br />
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As a rural woman who grew up guided by African values and culture I would naturally welcome any positive intervention our government is making in order to restore dignity and preserve some cultural practices among South African tribes. I am one of those who would like to see tribal leaders given recognition and a role they could play in nation building. <br />
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If ever there was such a move by government, the Traditional Courts Bill which is currently tabled before the National Council of Provinces (NCOP) is just not it. Rather than bring any positive change, the Bill will drive back many rural communities that are only beginning to appreciate and understand the benefits of a democratic country back to the times when they were at the mercy of traditional leaders.<br />
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In many villages traditional courts are still relied on to bring about justice to disputes that cannot be resolved by individuals. Women, mostly, have been found themselves at a disadvantage at these particular courts. African culture dictates that a woman should know her place and not speak in the presence of men unless asked to do so. My impression of the traditional courts has always been how oppressive and biased towards women they can be. Even when asked to speak, there are certain things a woman cannot say in public. This is a taboo in African cultures and a customary law that is viewed as an offense that could result with fines being imposed. In traditional court without legal representation a woman’s case would be disadvantaged because traditionally they don’t hold the same power as men. One of the fundamental flaws in the TCB is that it does not allow provisions for legal representation.<br />
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The offenses brought to our court were usually domestic issues for example; a woman involved would have spoken back to her husband or refused to perform certain duties for her husband. The reasons for this behaviour by a woman were never evaluated just that the wife has failed to perform her matrimonial duties and therefore must be held accountable. It used to disturb me to observe how biased the courts would be towards women who were outspoken and headstrong when going against men because naturally it meant they were disrespectful and found in contempt of court for what I would basically say is putting a better case than a man.<br />
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The Bill also fails to address how rural communities can overcome the problem of patriarchy that sometimes leads to many abuses and oppression of women and children. The cultures it seeks to preserve are the ones we should be finding ways to move away from. Perhaps very disturbing is that when drafting the Bill ordinary rural folks and not all traditional leaders representing every small tribe in South Africa was consulted.<br />
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On encouraging the understanding of South African cultures among different tribes the TCB doesn’t cut this front either. What’s acceptable in one culture is unacceptable in another. For example if a Xhosa man who practices his culture, practices his culturally acceptable “Ukhuthwala” practice in Ga-Modjadji village he will be contravening the Modjadji culture and culturally will be held liable. This I think might contribute to hostility towards different cultural groups as they clash on whose cultural practices are right and whose are wrong. Particularly where I come from in Bolobedu which has been under the authority of Queen Modjadji since 1800, I grew up listening to stories of generational clashes among the Balodedu and the Tsonga tribes within the area. <br />
The TCB doesn’t outline how to it will help achieve cultural tolerance among different tribes. For a Tsonga person, who was born and bred in Bolodedu to be prosecuted under customary laws governing the Balobedu tribe for practices that are acceptable in his Tsonga culture would be an infringement of that individual’s constitution rights. No every conviction handed out by a traditional court under the TCB is subjected to an appeal.<br />
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The implications of the TCB in its current form can have far reaching effects that might negatively impact on local tourism. Effectively, if passed the Bill would mean everyone entering or passing through a certain area would be subjected to the customary laws governing that area, even if they don’t subscribe to practices observed within that tribe’s jurisdiction. Government would do well to heed opposing voices that demand for the TCB be reviewed in consultation of everyone whose life would be affected by it.<br />
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To read the Traditional Courts Bill: <a href="http://www.info.gov.za/view/DownloadFileAction?id=159447">http://www.info.gov.za/view/DownloadFileAction?id=159447</a>Masutane Modjadjihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09059320797931146285noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7934286840561173153.post-42560672310735098672012-02-17T03:31:00.000-08:002012-02-17T03:31:06.013-08:00The culture of respect must reign supreme<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I had an interesting morning debate with a friend. And it hit me why I don’t have real genuine regard for what many would like to refer today as “African culture”. Me, a black woman from a dusty village in one of African’s most known monarchies is not bounded by cultural might sounds extreme. Just hear me out first. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">This friend was reprimanding me for dating outside my culture and saying how shameful I have become. Another friend went as far as to say that I have a low self-esteem.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I didn’t argue for it shocked me that I was having such a debate with two men my age group in the year 2012. So I gently asked my friend who has a couple of kids out of wedlock and is not in a relationship with any of the mothers what is an “African thing” to do when a man makes a woman pregnant? <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The response was to shift to being defensive and say it’s not the same. I was expecting that kind of response, but in this case I was hoping to be wrong. Another thing cultural characteristic I find hard to get my head around is to say a man is right even if his faults can be fatal.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Most African cultural norms that are emphasized are those practices that protect men. In this argument between my friend and me, when my friend couldn’t rely on logic he moved to culturally blackmailing me as a woman, by reminding me that in African culture I shouldn’t be even talking back to him. I should just listen and agree that he will always be right and I should stay ignorant.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For men today culture is only good when it suits them. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They are the very same African men take to podiums and deliver good speeches about women economic empowerment when they are doing their best to drown women’s voices in their personal capacities. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There are so many South African single mothers raising children alone and not by choice, me being of them. The African culture that my friend was preaching to me about gives women little choices and sometimes none at all.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For instance in Sepedi culture when a woman gets pregnant out of wedlock she has to tell her parents and reveal the identity of the father. The girl’s family would then go with her to the father family to report the pregnancy to his family, if he has not taken the first step by telling his parents and making necessary arrangements to reach out to the girl’s family first. Usually this is when the man is willing to take responsibility and if agreed by both parties, marriage arrangement would most likely follow. This is an ideal situation and it rarely happens like that. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">On more than one occasion I have witnessed man denying that they have fathered children in front of their parents and the girl parents not even understanding the consequences of their denials. If it doesn’t suit him the man simply denies he’s the father or even knowing the girl. When this happens the man would slip back to his life of no responsibility and woman is left a single parent and an embarrassment to her whole family. Where such stories are rampant like in many rural communities, the women neither have the necessary means to prove paternity or they are left too helpless to do anything about it. What about embracing that aspect of culture where men take responsibility and take care of their children and protect women.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">My friend went on to insinuate that he knows for sure that my parents cannot be proud of the choices I make. Quite to the contrary, my own father had defied the rules that barred him from marrying my mother because she was from a different class. And when he made her pregnant, he married and enrolled her to school where she studied teaching.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">The only culture that reigned supreme in my house was that of respect. If you have respect, even as an African man you would know better than calling a grown man a boy because it is not his culture to go to the mountains for initiation. The best love I ever experienced was borne out of respect.</span></div>Masutane Modjadjihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09059320797931146285noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7934286840561173153.post-75467211957086887542011-11-21T06:47:00.000-08:002011-11-21T11:10:26.724-08:00My Black Monday<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I woke up on a blue Monday with an urge to wear black- in mourning of the rapid decline of the value system in our society today with little protestation from communities. There are people who write to be controversial in these forums, and there are people who don’t write out of fear of being controversial. You don’t have to be either of these to be concerned about a growing trend of leaders who seem to use their elected positions of power to hold women’s economic progress at ransom. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>These are the people who are supposed to be the moral beacons of hope, the highly placed individuals we have entrusted to lead us to a place we can all be proud of as South Africans.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Women’s voices are conspicuous in their absence on these issues. What is at stake here is much bigger than many of us realise. The message we are sending to girl children is that education is not enough to get you a job or secure advancement in the workplace unless you are willing to sleep with those who hold the power to decide how far you go. Yes, by ignoring it and shrugging off suggestions the big contracts and positions given as reward for sexual favours equals saying we approve of such practices.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">In 2007 at a SACP rally in COSATU General Secretary Zwelinzima Vavi accused some men in government of being legendary womanisers who want 50/50 representation so they can take advantage of the women they voted into power. It was controversial women rights organisations responded with some furry. In debates with my friends on the topic many of us agreed that he had a point to some extent. It took a man to point out what many cry about behind closed door but are afraid to be caught saying it out loud.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Does this mean that our women’s worth is only measured in how resourceful she can be in bed? Where does this leave women who are talented but not willing to go that extra mile in order to get that job in government or those promotions? For every principled woman that can say no to unwanted sexual advances there are many more women desperate for that quick climb up the corporate ladder or just for basic employment that will agree. The predators hiding behind big positions of influence know of the power they have over such women.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Try as we may to be positive about government’s gender equality agenda is work places, recent media reports about the conduct of public figures like Fikile Mbalu, Sicelo Siqeka, Malusi Gigaba are not really helping. These are the kind of reports that should make us question the progress we have made- in terms of addressing inequalities and encouraging women’s participation economic development. Such reports just contribute to the fear that leadership positions are used for narrow gains of the few and delegitimize the so-called 50/50 representation stance of government.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Promiscuity is nothing new but it shouldn’t be allowed to hamper service delivery and reward intellectual laziness. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How long before we put our foot down as women and girls and speak out against those who seek to get their way by exploiting feminine vulnerability. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">As a woman I find it difficult to be witnessing such moral decay and not be stirred to want to act against it. But this is where women unity should win the day. Many of our leaders today cannot proudly claim that they are representing the values passed down to them by leaders of Nelson Mandela,Walter Sisulu and Oliver Tambo’s caliber. Equally women today cannot be said to embody the kind of values that defined women like Ruth First, Lilian Ngoyi and Albetina Sisulu worked who looked patriarchy in the eye and wrestled it to the ground. I am afraid to even say it aloud- but we might have dropped the baton somewhere along the race.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Surely if this has been happening in ignorance, it’s shouldn’t be too late to stop the rot and build a society where the future generations wills won’t be broken on the basis of the sexuality.</span></div>Masutane Modjadjihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09059320797931146285noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7934286840561173153.post-42368803534878432082011-11-06T22:44:00.000-08:002011-11-08T05:58:08.833-08:00Femininity and Women: My Speech for Free Gender's Fundraising Event on 05 November 2011<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-vthJAlHP_xk/Trd9eNpsFJI/AAAAAAAAAE0/porruktWP0k/s1600/IMG-20111015-00323.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" ida="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-vthJAlHP_xk/Trd9eNpsFJI/AAAAAAAAAE0/porruktWP0k/s320/IMG-20111015-00323.jpg" width="238" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Arial Unicode MS";">When Siya asked me to come and speak about femininity I forgot to ask her what made her think I am a worthy female to speak about such a topic. Of course what I didn’t tell Siya is that I have always had problems with pronouncing this word, but none the less its meaning applies to me and all of us here today, by virtue of being female. Often when I hear the word femininity I think of society’s definition of what it means to be a woman.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Unfortunately the first and foremost identity of a person is their sexuality.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Arial Unicode MS";">Society has placed a very heavy burden on the female species. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>From the moment a girl is born into a family there are many expectations put on her, by everyone in her community. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As soon as a woman’s sexuality has been determined, your role gets defined. There are certain acceptable attributes that are associated with femininity in the African community, stuff that not everyone can fully satisfy because each of us was born differently. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Much of what our families expect us to be is not who we really are.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Arial Unicode MS";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As a young girl growing up in Limpopo my older brother was my first friend. I was the kid and he was made to do chores that I couldn’t handle because he was older. As years went by and the child grew into a girl, washing the dishes and sweeping chores were responsibilities shifted onto me. Suddenly I was made to stay behind and do chores while my brother went to the field to play soccer. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As time went by, I was told how a woman is not supposed to sit; I was taught that it’s not polite to hand over anything to a man while standing, I had to learn to reduce direct eye contact with males. Those mannerism acts are what is consider feminine in my culture. The biggest change came when pants were replaced by skirts and dresses. Subconsciously I was being promoted to into femininity.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Arial Unicode MS";">A major lesson given at the young age is that you stop playing with boys- so no soccer! That was an outrage and went against the standards of femininity. Girls had to stop doing what the really love doing; leave what feels natural for them to do because it doesn’t conform to societal norms of what is considered feminine. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How many of us here today have heard the phrase “that’s not how a woman is supposed to behave”? When we are genuinely being ourselves? <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I always urged anyone around me who cares to listen that the one supreme rule of your life should be about being yourself no matter what.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Arial Unicode MS";">Femininity is indeed an abstract word.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And I have on many occasions found it to be used as a tool to say what women can and cannot be. It’s up to us as women to shatter those myths and we can only achieve that by embracing who we are- and that’s the person that stares back at you when you look in the mirror.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Many times the word will be used to judge us based on how we are dress and not the kind person you are. People will say because you like wearing hats you are not feminine. They will say because you prefer pants over dresses you are not womanly, the type of hairstyle you choose will also be used to weigh your femininity. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Don’t allow that type of thinking to deny you a chance of embracing yourself. Now that feminine, the love you have for you. There is nothing I find more feminine that a woman who is comfortable with herself. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Let self-acceptance and comfort for with who you are lead you to the path of womanly worth. And I don’t mean acceptance into a social class, but me saying I am Masutane, I am going to wear that skirt because I like it and I love myself.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Arial Unicode MS";">The very generic meaning of femininity is stuff that we are normally confronted with of TV, the lifestyles and fashion dedicated shows that mean guide us on how to be- as if there is something wrong with what we are already are. There is nothing wrong with subscribing to a certain show for advice and wanting to improve your sense of style. You just have to want it for yourself not the pressure to please. Much of what is wrong with our communities today are the masks we as women have to wear and hide behind trying pleasing others at the expenses of ourselves.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Arial Unicode MS";">Our femininity comes through when we are not even trying at all- when we are being true to ourselves in all our sincerity and loving ourselves including people around us. We can all achieve that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am happy to see many people here at Free Gender standing proud in their own bodies- that’s the essence of femininity.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My wish for us women is not to allow society to place you in a labeled box and remain there. South Africa is one of the not so many countries in the world were women and men are declared equally under the constitution.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Simply put, we are all free to be who we want to be, how we want to live our lives, and how we dress. I am a firm believer that only when a woman is true to herself, can she claim the title of femininity.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> To steal a line from Publisher Cheryl Roberts, t</span>here is nothing more feminine that marching to the rhythm of your own beat as a sister, mother, and lover and just as a woman. Femininity is yours to claim by being the person you are meant to be, the person you want to be. Don’t let anyone take that away from you.</span></div>Masutane Modjadjihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09059320797931146285noreply@blogger.com0