The random ramblings of a mad man: Bok Transformation

The random ramblings of a mad man:

Most surprised by the increasing chat in the "peanut gallery" about the transformation of the Boks. The transformation debate in South Africa will rage on for a long time. There will be many academics who will better postulate on the matter, but in the mean time, we laymen will offer our opinions as we always do.

The Boks are not in my opinion in the position they're in owing to transformation or to put it bluntly the increased number of darker hued individuals in the team. The Springboks have got to this place because of the refusal of the previous coaching regime to evolve the Bok rugby playing style. The insistence of Heyneke Meyer et al to continue with the so-called strength to be physically aggressive and "front up" did absolutely nothing to take Springbok rugby forward. You need not have been a scholar of the game to see that the game had evolved and as such those not evolving would be left
behind.
If everybody's moved to email but you're still using a fax machine then you can't be surprised that you're unable to communicate.

Too many rugby writers supported the Meyer administration in spite of the indifferent results and more importantly, uninspiring playing style. In recent times whenever fans bemoan how poor Springbok rugby has become in amongst the shocking results comes the loss to Japan in the world cup. That loss came in the Heyneke era...

I am worried that there are folks out there who genuinely believe an individual with a darker hue can not know rugby as well as that with a lighter hue. Particularly in the South African context. There are so many black people in the republic. SO MANY! Loads of them are scholars of the game and have actually played the game from 2 and 3years old. They think the game, and love it with the same passion those who played "kaal voet" do. Encourage more of them to play rugby I promise it'll be for the betterment of rugby in the country. Volumes man. The more people play, the bigger the pool of potential stars. There should already be hundreds of thousands of kids who play the sport but no one's taken the transformation agenda seriously so we are where we are...

The Boks are definitely not great right now. Last year was one of the worst in Bok history. But this year has gone pretty well. Certainly better than last year. As I write this the Boks have still only lost one game. Sure that game was an annihilation, but the Boks bounced back and played a lot better against the Wallabies in Bloemfontein. I agree the Boks should be beating Australia, especially at home, but such is life.
As an aside, did anybody else notice how post the successful French series so much was written about the Boks brilliant coaching staff? How having Brendan Venter and Franco Smith in the ranks was undoubtedly a factor in how the Boks had fared? Any of that narrative still around in the current discourse?

It may be that I'm hyper sensitive as a black Bok fan, but it's difficult to look passed those little things when you know there is an anti-transformation mission alive and kicking.
In closing let me be candid. The Boks are going to lose in Cape Town on the weekend. The All Blacks are too good and the Boks are still too early in the development of their new game and era. However, that loss should not put paid to the idea of transformation, and development of more fluid rugby...

Random ramblings of a mad man...

The random ramblings of a mad man:

When I wake up on Saturday, I'll be 33 years of age. I've got the grey hairs to prove it! I'll feel like I haven't achieved anywhere near enough in my life and I'll be right. I'll feel like after my parents and many others did so much to afford me the best opportunities money can buy I have let them down.
Those will be fleeting feelings, because not too long after that I'll recall the number of amazing relationships I've cultivated along the way. I'll think of the many experiences I have grown and learned from in this game of life, and I'll laugh out loud at many of them.

I know I'll think back to my favourite birthday memories. All of which hold a very special place in my heart. I won't be able to recall them all in great detail because of old age and a failing memory bank, but there'll be sufficient splendour in the memories. I'll think of the one birthday where my mates came over and we played football on the park outside the apartment in Birnam. Would've been around 12 and footy was everything. Scoring goals... The best! The mind will wonder a bit and I'll get to thinking about turning 17 and having lunch with my old man and four mates at the Inanda club. Great times! Great people! It'll then strike me that my 18th was also there and I'll chuckle to myself as I remember the crazy shenanigans from that wild night, not least of which will be the blow up doll named Tyra Pontsho who met an untimely end owing to an unfortunate plastic fork incident!

I won't be able to help myself but to think of all my ex lovers. I wish them all will, but I'll do a little scenario in my head of where we'd be with each one had we not fizzled out. Some of those thoughts will make me laugh, some will make me cringe, while others will leave me cold in the Maseru heat.
While I'm at it, I'll think of a couple of girls and wonder what might have been... There are two who will occupy my mind longer than the others and it'll irk me that neither thought we could have a successful relationship.

I'll probably scratch my nuts and remember Paddy Moore's immortal words throughout standard six Phys Ed, about how lucky I am to be a man.

After all that I'll think again about all the missed opportunities I've had, and I'll really rue them. It is at that point that I'll remind myself of my plan to live my life without regret. And I'll get passed the near misses. Because in truth it's been a pretty awesome 33 years. The ups have outweighed the downs, and while I've cherished the ups, the downs have helped me appreciate life that much more.

Here's to 33 I say... What a random age!

Random ramblings of a mad Bok fan...

The random ramblings of a mad Bok fan:

The Springboks got an absolute hiding from the best rugby playing team in the world this past weekend. The until then unbeaten Springboks had seemed resurgent this year. Unbeaten in six tests till Saturday, there was hope for those amongst us who are optimists. Even some of the naysayers were warming up to the idea of a resurgent Bok team. In Dr Brendan Venter we were told, there was a top class defensive strategist. There was equally high praise heaped on Franco Smith who's backline was supposed to be functioning efficiently.
All of this happened before the Boks faced the sternest test there is in world rugby. Playing New Zealand in New Zealand.

Those amongst us with a knack for the outrageous wondered out loud whether Malcolm Marx was the best hooker in the world. There was even chat of either sides lock pairings cancelling each other out, so good was the Mostert/Etzebeth axis.
Siya Kolisi has been the Springboks stand out performer in my humble opinion. Consistently explosive, hard working and reliable. His ball carries have been nothing short of barnstorming and his link up play, second to none. His combination with Jaco Kriel and Uzair Cassim has been sublime at times.

Then Saturday happened. All resistance crumbled as a hapless Springbok team missed 19 tackles! How can a team miss 19 tackles?! That's unheard of! The chief culprit was a youngster who was having a pretty good time of it till Saturday, Raymond Rhule. The All Blacks clearly targeted him, and got the reward they sought. Quite difficult to watch as a Bok fan. However, tackling wasn't our only area of weakness. I can't remember exactly how many lineouts we missed but it was too many. Way too many! That was something new, because until Saturday the Bok lineout was working like a well oiled machine. Mostert/Etzebethe/du Toit have been clinical in setting up first phase possession for their team, but on Saturday Marx couldn't locate a needle in a hay stick if you asked him to.

You would not be at fault for thinking that this was the death knell for Springbok rugby. The scribes have offered their opinions most of which require the scalps of Rhule and Coetzee. There's also sentiments that will consistently rear their ugly heads that seek to end transformation. Quite frankly I find these arguments laughable. I can't see a single player who hasn't made that side on merit. But quite apart from that, transformation as an agenda isn't going to suddenly be halted because the Boks lost one game this year. Even if they lose to the All Blacks at Newlands, transformation a) won't be the reason for it and b) won't end.

Going forward I suspect Rhule will indeed find himself becoming the sacrificial lamb. Ruan Combrinck would be a useful replacement. More than that the Boks need to be more clinical against the All Blacks. They have to make first time tackles. That's a given against any side, but it's so much more necessary against the All Blacks because of how efficient they are on attack. The Boks need to find that same efficiency as the All Blacks. In the series against France they seemed to be finding that rhythm and efficacy. It needs to show its self true in the Mother City.

Can the Boks beat the Wallabies in Bloemfontein? They absolutely can, and they should! Will they beat the All Blacks at Newlands? Not likely. But a much improved performance and tighter score line will be good enough for some of us. If my predictions are right, that'll mean the Boks have only lost twice this year. But watch the furore from certain members of the press when that happens. The knives will well and truly be out and Allister will be crucified.

If the old adage reigns true that you're only as good as your last game, then the Boks aren't that good. But also, the All Blacks are incredible! I have no doubt the Boks will be chomping at the bit to get on the park next Saturday and prove the naysayers wrong. Good luck to them. And for Gods sakes MAKE THOSE TACKLES!

The random ramblings of a mad man...Happy Place!

The random ramblings of a mad man...
For the longest time I believed "my happy place" was a geographical location. In my early twenties, I understood it to be Rhodes' House. Which incidentally remains my favourite night club. Pity it no longer exists! As time went along I found a new happy place. My parents house in Maseru became something of a haven for me. I loved being there.

Then one day it struck me. My happy place need not be a physical structure. It is actually quite self explanatory. One's happy place is where one feels happiest. My happy place was never actually about the structure. It was about the people I was with. People I love spending time with. People who's space I enjoy inhibiting. My happy place is with my favourite people. I was always at Rhodes House with good friends. Always! Then my parents house. It seems a no brainer. Literally surrounded by my kin folk. The people I love most. Happiness is...

So there's that. But then as time moved further along it hit me. There is no place I love more than inside my own head. Writing has actually always been a favourite past time. Even before Jill Worth encouraged me to keep writing I knew I loved it. I always had so many thoughts. Lots of them silly, more of them ridiculous, but every so often there would be a nugget of wisdom. Incidentally those nuggets have let me better understand myself.
I suppose writing is like an exercise in catharsis. I always feel that little bit lighter, freer more relaxed after getting some thoughts on to paper.

This happy place is awesome! It's always freely available and doesn't seem to get old.

When I was younger and a lot less jaded I hoped to teach english. I loved writing poetry, and though I wasn't that good, I really gave it a bash whenever I could. I wrote a poem for my old man on the occasion of his 60th birthday. I wrote one for my brother and sister-in-law when they got married. Just about every important moment in my life includes a poem of some sort. That said, I hated poetry in matric! I no longer had any desire to survive on a teachers salary by then any way. Just as well! I'd have made a terrible teacher!

With all of that said, I've decided I want to publish a book. One hundred of my favourite blogs in hard copy. As a birthday present to myself. Honestly, nothing will give me a greater sense of achievement than being a published like such as luminaries as Kim Kardashian, or I don't know "Black like you" Khanyi Mbau... That's a touch facetious and cheeky of me, but you get my drift.
Words are such an interesting dichotomy. On the right day they can be carriers of love and hope. On the worst days, they are weapons of mass destruction. There's no truer saying in my mind than the pen being mightier than the sword.

Thus, I hope my blogs are a series of words that take the readers to a happy place. I know having a published book would certainly make my happy place that little bit happier!

Random ramblings of a mad man affiliated to WAWA...

I have had the misfortune of having a crush on the same girl for the last little while. I only say misfortune as the crush was unrequited. She’s an awesome girl and I cannot sing her praises high enough. Recently though, I have found myself gravitating toward a new crush. This period has allowed me to do something of an internal audit particularly where relationships are concerned.

I was chatting to a young lady-with whom I had engaged in what the young people would call a "situationship"-and I was opining about my longest relationship to date spanning some twenty odd years now. That relationship being with the former Newton Heath, now Manchester United football club. I was explaining that for the most part it’s been a fruitful engagement. We’ve laughed together, cried together, threatened to end it all but ultimately like any good strong relationship ended up happily ever after.

The crush with United has never been unrequited. These other ones, well… you learn to develop a thick skin. But the major mistake I have made and unfortunately I have made it a habit is to get ahead of myself. As soon as I like a girl and I can picture myself with her I go way too far with my scenario planning. At this point the poor human doesn’t even know I have any interest in her whatsoever. The moment I then express said interest I’m already planning dates three and four, when the poor girl hasn’t even accepted the invitation to date one yet. Who is to say even if she does accept the first date we’ll get to dates three and four?! Often after the first date I’ll know whether I like the girl or not. I talk a lot and send messages frequently postdate and will often be able to tell within the next few interactions whether this is a fleeting crush, or the real thing.

Funny, the things that will attract you to someone. She’s really pretty, she’s a United fan, and she enjoys the great things in life like premium craft ginger beer. But, what if after that your personalities clash completely? What if they don’t? What if she finds you completely unattractive? What if she doesn’t? The kinds of conversations one has with himself when these scenarios arise are outrageous and unending. I suppose it is like when you launch a new political party and wonder whether you will end up a runaway fire in the way the EFF seems to be going, or a dying braai fire like COPE…
There will not be anything more difficult than expressing an interest in somebody you’ve built up in your head. She’s unattainable from the get-go, but only because you’ve made her so. Where I go for inspiration in matters of this nature is twitter. On that medium it was recently suggested that no crush is unattainable. This reminded me of a Chris Rock gag wherein he laments finding out Jermain Dupree was dating Janet Jackson. “God damnit” he exclaims, “we all had a chance”. My own history includes a few girls I had no right to hook up with, but did… Your crush has been achieved by way less deserving humans than you, but that’s not to suggest that you will.

Sometimes things just click as in the example of myself and United, or craft ginger beer and craft gin. They just make sense. The question is whether this new crush clicks or whether one can just sit by the wayside, enjoying her tweets and Insta posts while enjoying your chairmanship of WAWA. For those amongst us not familiar, that is the formation known as Women Appreciation Without Approach.

Random ramblings of a mad man...Ball is life

Seem to be rambling a lot these days... But here again with a random ramble of a mad man:
An open letter to the basketball community in RSA:

Dear ballers,
Basketball is such a great sport. I remember watching Inside Stuff in the early 90s and being awe struck. I recall watching the AISJ basketball first V play an intense game against Phuting Nest and being absolutely in love with the game. Offense turning to Defense and just as quickly turning back again! What a thing I thought to myself! I was a fanatic!

I didn't watch much basketball at high school or thereafter. I had no clue there was a basketball community in the country. I had even less clue that it was quite so passionate and knowledgeable. The band of brothers that is MBB reawakened my passion for the sport. Watching competitive games at Wanderers, UJ and Wits in their various guises really re ignited my love for the game. ICSL, IPT, Ludwig, Ashraaf you name it, I watched it!

Then somebody said "we're getting a professional league". Oh boy was I excited! I figured, it followed that the players would take their level of play up to the next level. Firstly they'd all get in to shape and be pro athlete fit. I figured there'd be some international flavor brought in that would also act as a catalyst to taking the game a notch up. I was very excited! I did my little bit for the game by organizing interviews on radio. I couldn't wait!
 That first season was interesting. Yeah, I'm going to go with interesting as an adjective.
I
'm gonna cut a long story short and skip to the now versus then. Nothing seems to have changed. The fan base hasn't really grown (can you count the rent a crowd?) There aren't any sponsors for the league. It hasn't become what I had imagined it becoming. Call me crazy but I had envisaged a micro PSL type situation. A growing fan base, an improving product and a really "cool" brand. Instead the BNL seems to be more of a metaphor for antagonism for some. It seems like just another gathering for the existing basketball community. Only difference being the tv cameras, and MXO doing his thang on commentary.

Here's my question then. Is this as good as it's going to get? Or will there be some thing that happens which catapults basketball to it's rightful position in this country?

Random ramblings of a United fan

Random ramblings of a United fan

You see how Chelsea even managed to win a game they need not have? A game which for all intents and purposes could have been a run around for squad players? They won because Watford can't defend apparently, but also because they have a championship winning mentality. They feel they can beat anyone.
 Juxtapose that against Mourinho's Man United who's sole focus is on a game in Stockholm in a weeks time. I am a regular reader of Juan Mata's blog. In his latest offering he talks of using the game against Southampton to ensure they're in the right form for next Wednesday's final, as though the back to back losses in London won't have any affect on them whatsoever.

The single minded focus on winning the Europa league is new for some of us United fans. Even in the days when we were accustomed to winning league titles, the Champions league and FA cup were always sought after with the same vigour. Alright, in his latter years Sir Alex's desire to win the FA cup waned, but he never seemed satisfied with just one trophy per season.

In the early 2000s Man United boasted an inferior crop of players to the ones at Carrington today. I always remember Liam Miller touted as the next Roy Keane, Eric Djemba-Djemba who was supposed to be the greatest box to box midfielder in Europe and of course David Bellion who was lightening fast, but who's pedigree as a footballer was questionable. That rebuilding era which was coupled with the Glazer debt was a tough period for United but we always managed a top 3 finish. I will concede the argument that the league was different then, with other teams not being quite as strong as they are now. Man City, Spurs, and Liverpool and to a lesser extent Everton now make up a core of seven or eight really  tough top opponents. Any one of City, Spurs, or Liverpool have a real chance at winning the title next season. Quite apart from the defending champions, who will still be in next seasons title reckoning. However, my point still stands that in those trying times, Sir Alex stayed true to the ethos of the club. Playing ambitious, flowing football and delighting the Old Trafford faithful wherever possible.

I have seen James Rodriguez, Antoine Griezzman, and just about anyone that might be called an elite level forward linked to United in the summer. Willian, Gareth Bale as well as Cesc Fabregas have also emerged on the radar. None of these players will have any impact on the Man United team if the manager insists on "not losing" as a default position. Jose needs to be infinitely more imaginative when he sets up his side next year. More ambitious.
The summer dealings I'd like to see? I think we can let Young, Rooney, Jones, Lingard, Fellaini, Darmian, and Mata go. We won't be able to let Lingard go as Mourinho has inexplicably put him on a 100k+ weekly wage. So I guess I should forget about that. Everyone else above really should be surplus to requirements. I'm still a massive Wayne Rooney fan, and believe he could offer a bit as an influential squad player, but his weekly wages are much too steep for that. Jones has failed to live up to his promise but could on to be a good player elsewhere. Perhaps Mourinho could look at a swap deal with Burnely for Michael Keane? Bailly and Keane could be quite a decent central defensive pairing.  Who then would I like to see come in? Griezzman, Bale, Keane, and Seamus Coleman.

I'm hopeful that Axel Tuanzebe, Tim Fosu-Mensah, Cameron Borthwick-Jackson and Andreas Pareirra will all kick on and become first team players too. Then, the elephant in the room. David de Gea. I've read some reports that insist there will be no move for him this summer, while conflicting reports claim Madrid will be back again and this time will not allow a dodgy facsimile exchange to keep them from their prize. This is seemingly how the James link has been made. If de Gea does go, then I suppose either Jan Oblak or Michael Heaton will need to come in.

Imagine this then in an attacking formation: de Gea, Valencia, Bailly, Keane, Shaw, Herrera, Pogba, Bale, Mkhitariyan, Rashford, Griezzman. In a 4-4-2, Bale and Rashford providing width, Griezman, and Mikhi banging them in... Pace, power, guile and invention. A Man United team!

Random ramblings of a mad failure

Random ramblings of a failure:

In my 32 almost 33 years of existence (Gosh I got old!) I've learned a couple of things the hard way. One of the most important things I've learned is that I will fail. I will probably fail often. But what I didn't realise until recently is that losing is a part of winning.

I saw one of those infamous sporting quotes on social media a while ago. It read "I've never lost. I either won, or I learned". It was attributed to Kobe Bryant, but I can't say for sure where it emanated. It got stuck in my head though. I thought it was really quite worthwhile to remember. There are other motivational quotes in the same vain such as "a setback is a set up for a comeback" which I also quite enjoy, and try to remember as frequently as possible.

The game of life is fraught with many different challenges. Academia, business, relationships all sorts. I'm pretty comfortable that I'll fail in each and every one! I have failed on countless occasions to woe a potential lover. I have failed more tests than I care to remember and I have more failed attempts at business than any one will ever know. But I have to keep going! I have to learn from each failure, and I have to grow. The more it happens, the easier it seems to get.

When I was in matric, myself, Erin Bothwell, and Dean Hewitt had an (imaginary) band called successful failure. The name stemmed from a quote we'd seen which asked the most pertinent question I've ever come across. It was as follows "if I write a book on failure, and it doesn't sell, is it a success?". I'm yet to find an answer to this question, but it still makes me chuckle.

There are so many cliches about life that all fit succinctly in to this piece but my favourite, and the one it makes most sense to close this off on is this. "It all be fine in the end, if it isn't fine, it isn't the end". Keep failing, keep learning. Keep coming back like the milk man!

Random ramblings of a mad man...

Spending more and more time in Maseru, I'm becoming more accustomed to my surroundings being filled with black faces.


Beautiful black faces! Nubian queens, and ethnic kings! On the odd occasion I might come across a European Union delegate of sorts, or perhaps a PVC operative (is that the right wording?) but in the main, it is people of the same hue as mine.


With this in mind, I suspect my mind has made the default setting  same color couples. Everywhere I go in Maseru I'm confronted by beautiful black couples. Those twitter trends regarding black love must go to Maseru to see it in its infinite splendour.


This past December I was back in Joburg for an extended period. It wasn't odd being back, nor was there any strangeness in seeing more caucasianery. I'll tell you what was odd enough for me to even comment on. Walking through Sandton every second or third couple seemed to be a mixed race couple. Fucking delightful! It was across ages too. Black girl, white boy. Indian lady white gentleman. Asian woman, colored man. I was almost awe struck! Beautiful I thought to myself.
It then struck me that more and more tv advertisements are showing interracial couples doing ordinary mundane things,thus making the phenomenon "normal" I suppose.
I was wondering to myself why this was important to me the other day. And the truth is I'm not sure. Perhaps there's a bit of inferiority complex that suggests that it was nice to see the black bretheren getting recognition from their Caucasian counterparts? Perhaps. Or perhaps there was a bit of me that felt like the walls of apartheid are genuinely falling. People are starting to look beyond colour and the obvious differences and getting to know one another as people. South Africa's finally starting to reach its potential I thought to myself.


I was at Churchill's recently and found that Sandton scenario alive and well there too. Party people of all hues making merry. Is this the South Africa Mandela envisaged I wondered to myself?
My brother says it's not necessarily that interracial relationships are the norm yet. It's his hypothesis that what I saw is a small sample size of society and while it may be becoming more prevalent in that sample size, it really isn't a raging wild fire sweeping across the Republic. He's probably right, he normally is. But even with that I mind I'm still excited to note that more and more people are opening their minds...


Then I remember the shitstorm Siya and Rachel Kolisi faced when they posted their beautiful wedding pics on social media. As i start to get discontented I think to myself " but why should I get bogged down by the negative when there's so much positive going on". So. Carry on dating across the color line urban massive, carry on teaching, inspiring and learning from one another. This country will reach its full potential when you open your hearts and minds to all that's around you!

Random ramblings of a mad man: What's in a name?

The random ramblings of a mad man:

What's in a name?

This piece is inspired by a post I came across and dearly enjoyed on facebook. This post has managed to conjure the requisite amount of nostalgia in me to put some thoughts down. Thank you ntate Kolobe!

I have said before that my favourite thing about South African football is the character thereof. Even when the football is mediocre there are elements that can make the game interesting. I remember watching a dull game between my team (Iwisa-for you nt. Kolobe) Kaizer Chiefs and Jomo Cosmos. I don't remember the result, nor do I remember anything magical in the game save for this brilliant piece of commentary by the legendary Zebulon Zama Masondo. Rudolf "Gardener" Seale was marking Lawrence "Maria Maria" Siyangaphi. The master on the mic told us "wathi Siyangaphi, athi Seale" it was brilliant! ZZ's moment of brilliance means that game is forever etched in my memory.

Then there are the awesome nicknames associated or given to South African players. In my experience the best players are given the best nicknames. The better the nickname, the more likely it is to stick well beyond the players playing days too. I am a loyal Kaizer Chiefs fan for my sins so will easily remember some of my favourites. I was a young boy when I discovered such luminaries as Trevor "Triple K: Kae Kapa Kae" Mthimkhulu. He played alongside "Umunt' angalahlwi" Manyathi in the same team as "DD/Ace" Khuse. Also in that team was my favourite local footballer ever "16V/16Vula Vala" Khumalo and dribbling wizard "Shakes" Khungwane. I have the most vivid memory of screaming "AAAAACE" or " SHAAAAKES" every time either one of them got the ball. Ah, and how could I forget "RHOO" Radebe who went on to become "The Chief" at Elland Road in Yorkshire. Before them there were greats such as "Stuff rider" Mofokeng or "Computer" Lamola. How about 16V's father who was simply called "Pro" Khumalo. The greatest footballer I never got to see is "Ace" Ntsolengoe who's full nickname included the description "mabhekaphansi njengazambane". He played in a team that had another legend in "Teenage" Dladla. I'm told as a combination they were unplayable.

There are some other legends who may not have played for the big two teams. "Jingles" Mosimane who's gone on to become the top local coach in the country and a champions league winner. "Jazzy Queen" Legodi too.

At arch rivals Pirates there were some equally masterful nicknames like "Potsotso" Makhanya, "Sense of knowledge/Sense" Lekwane, "Legs of thunder" Skosana, "Ma Gents" Motale,"Hola Mpinchi" Ntsunda and "Stability Unit" Lane. "Tebza ngoana" inherited his nickname "Chippa" from his old man Percy Moloi. While the "Black Prince" uMatsilela Jomo Sono also merits a mention.

There are some people who's nicknames go on to become their names in daily life. The Free State's first citizen is commonly known as "Ace" Magashule. In fact, hearing somebody refer to an Elias Magashule might elicit such a reaction as "who?!" While in circles not far removed is a legendary big brother of mine known as "Mathaithai" for his ball juggling wizardry in his hey day. I can tell you he's not lost any of his skill, pace or power. He shouldn't be playing Sunday league! Mosiua Lekota is also commonly known as "Terror". His footballing exploits followed him through Robben island and beyond. Even as an MP he remains a Terror!

In rugby Pieter du Randt remains lovingly known as "Os". In fact many will not even know that his name is Pieter. Just as one Wessel Johannes Cronje, our late former cricket captain was Hansie to all and sundry.

These nicknames are so much a part of our history as fans and supporters. They are part of the reason we are sports mad. Let's hope the next generation of "House on fires" and "Go man Gos" will live up to their names.

Random ramblings of a rugby mad man...

Random ramblings of a rugby mad man:

Another extraordinarily long Super rugby season tapers off. I am really not a fan of this competition in this format. Too many weeks of rugby. Some of it really unspectacular. Pretty much any "Aussie derby" is going to be akin to watching paint dry. With the exception of the Western Force of course. They're really quite easy on the eye, and I'm not just saying that because their coached by a former schoolmate of mine. Though his influence on the team is obvious. They're well organised in defense and worry free on attack. Quite a sight to behold. Apart from them, I'm really not charmed by the Aussie teams. They're a big part of the reason why the competition has become tedious for me.

The New Zealand teams, as ever, are a cut above the rest in terms of the spectacle they provide. A little anecdote. When I was a school boy of 16/ 17 we had a very competitive touch rugby game we played on a grass patch in front of our schools parking lot. We called it Mears Park and the only stadium better than it was the glorious Ellis Park. It was a bunch of borders and myself (the honorary boarder) who participated, and I tell you, the rugby on show there was of the highest quality! Anyhow, during these Mears Park games, the weaker team would always be referred to as the Waikato Chiefs. The weaker team being which ever one was losing on the day. The point of my anecdote is to show how far the Chiefs have come along since those heady days of Mears Park! They play some quality rugby and have become a force to be reckoned with. Meanwhile the Crusaders have always been the best team in the competition. From the Reuben Thorne days through to McCaw and now in the Kieran Read era. They play they best rugby and are generally the best bet at the beginning of  a season for that years finalists. But a special word to the Chiefs and the brothers Barrett. In the early 2000s Australian cricket had Michael Hussey who was nicknamed "Mr Cricket". I am of the view that Beauden Barrett should be called "Mr rugby". He is everything that guy! The best pivot in the game bar none in my opinion. The New Zealand team will be virtually unstoppable with him at "first five".

Then, there is the South African teams. When you see the local franchises compete, you understand fully why the Springboks are languishing in seventh position in the world rugby log. The majority of South African teams are a sight for sore eyes. In fact, aside from the Lions, and at times the Stormers, the other teams may as well be playing in the Supersport league. The Bulls have been dreadful, while the Sharks came unstuck against what is an improving Kings team. I actually, think that the Kings have been the only other shining light in SA rugby this year. Bits and pieces of their play have been nothing short of stellar. Expansive, creative just lovely on the eye. I suppose the way the Cheetahs of old competed. That "we have nothing to lose" approach to the game.
The Lions. The mighty Lions of Gauteng have been a breath of fresh air! They have proven once and for all that South African players have extraordinary skills sets. Those of us who've watched any school boy rugby, be it schools first teams or Craven week will be aware of the ability of the players at that age. That doesn't merely disappear if coached properly as Varsity rugby has shown. So the Lions now have this strong side that in truth isn't based on any star player but rather a collective belief, and effort. When I was a young player learning the game my coach used to tell me, trust the next defender. If you make your tackle, he will too. That's the kind of belief the Lions have in the camp. Everybody trusts and believes in the next man. Not that they'll make their tackle for them, but rather that they'll all make the tackles they have to make.

If Siya Kolisi isn't made captain of the Springbok team, then Warren Whiteley must have a good shout. And if Allister Coetzee doesn't pick the bulk of the Lions team, including Courtnall Skosan, then our Boks are surely on a hiding to nothing this year.

Random rambling of a now long suffering United fan:
United under Jose Mourinho, are unfortunately a shadow of their former selves. It's an over coached, under performing lot of individuals. There's no identity to the team, and certainly no rhythm or fluency.
There's a school of thought that suggests our players aren't good enough, of course that's not entirely true. Today's starting eleven wasn't all that bad. Although, why Bailly, who's been our best defender was asked to play outside of his best position was beyond me. Anyhow, that eleven could actually have troubled Spurs. Mata, Martial and Rooney have the potential to trouble any side on their best days. (Some will argue Rooneys best days are behind him, perhaps true) Be that as it may, were that team set out to play a decent attacking brand of football we might actually have had a chance. Instead, we seemed to try soak up the pressure before going for it. That strategy was overtaken by events in that we conceded in the fifth minute, but that was the same idea Jose's team had against an average City team, and a not great Arsenal side. Jose clearly doesn't believe in the squad, and so the squad doesn't believe in its self.

There have been points in the season where the team have played well. More often than not Pogba, Herrera and Ibrahimovic have been playing when that's happened. Jose believes definitively in all three. Were I not a United fan, I'd find it comical how much he believes in that axis. It might be argued that he's overplayed them and that's ultimately led to (some) of their injuries and niggles at this late stage of the season. United will play 64 games this season. That's a lot of football.

Watching Moyes, Van Gaal and now Mourinho fail to live up to the high standards set by Sir Alex has been the biggest adjustment to the post Ferguson era. As football fans we live in hope. When Moyes takes over, we hope he'll be like Ferguson at Aberdeen, pioneering and maverick. He fails to live up to the expectation. Then when Van Gaal steps in, we hope that he'll be like Ferguson in the premier league area, a big personality able to manage big personalities and guide them to big wins, and fairly creative play. It never happens, and in fact his shortcomings are highlighted by his failure to hold on to Angel di Maria. Then salvation lands in the form of Jose Mourinho. Some among us cannot wait for a top 4 finish and a trophy, and indeed Mourinho promises as much with his words. The execution leaves a lot to be desired as tepid, timid home draw after home draw become the norm at Old Trafford. There is no imagination in the way United plays and to highlight that Jose consistently picks Felliani ahead of world cup winner Bastian Schweinsteiger. Mourinho's de facto position remains "let's not lose" rather than "let's go win". Eventually hope begins to diminish, replaced by a yearning for the jovial nostalgia of days gone by.

Pundits and scribes will opine about Jose's perceived inability to ascend to the heights he once claimed. There will be plenty said about him leaving Chelsea languishing in 13th position before being summarily dismissed by the Roman revolution. These factors will all gather momentum in the pending weeks. Uniteds whole season will be judged on one night in Stockholm. Should they win, there'll be brief reprieve for a Jose who will emerge bullish and unapologetic. Lose, and the aforementioned factors will be used through out the English summer to flog Mourinho, United and the entire post Fergie era.

If it's true that United will spend another huge sum of money this off season, and I'm sure it is then it begs the question "what will happen differently next season"?

Random ramblings of a mad man: Men are trash...

This men are trash movement or rhetoric has been on my timeline for the last two or three months. I've been monitoring it to some degree and trying to decide how it made me feel. Then it struck me that it doesn't matter how I feel. It's not about me. The words it seemed to me were an expression, women on my timeline were using to voice their strong opinions on the insane violence perpetrated against women.
I saw men belittle the words, and then I saw them belittle the people saying the words. Not too long thereafter, I saw men take an active stand against those who belittled the words and the women. I saw what I thought was empathy from men, and a genuine desire from some to hear what exactly is being said about the male of the species. I thought to myself, this looks like positive active citizenry.

I have been active on social media for a little bit now, and have seen it work quite nicely on occasion with regard to social issues. It has raised a decent sum of money for ALS with the ice bucket challenge, it has essentially begun the Arab spring, or at the very least highlighted it, and has also served very well in helping find missing people. Very often a "RT to help find this missing person" occurs on my timeline. To suggest that it has brought about wholesale social, or socioeconomic changes for the better would be ridiculous. But it hasn't been nothing. When coupled with an active citizenry prepared to carry out their tweets and hashtags in real life, it is a powerful tool. Incidentally, I also happen to believe just having an outlet where in one can voice concerns and perhaps drum up a critical mass of dialogue is a cool element of social media. But I do agree that it's most helpful when it translates to practical solutions. I don't believe the two are mutually exclusive.

The events of the last week have been tragic to say the least. The brutal murder of a young girl by her boyfriend, has shocked and saddened a whole host of us. It has cast a dark shadow over men in the republic in my opinion, and many of us have been reflective over the period. The "men are trash" slogan has emerged strongest out of all of the hurt and despair I assume women on social media are feeling. It has led me to believe wholly that it is indeed true. I have done some introspection and seen how regularly my misogyny and patriarchy rear their ugly heads. I have been reflective and admonished myself for the amount of times I have done nothing about them, instead, choosing to mansplain (as it were) to myself and perhaps those around me, why the situation was so.

The first time I came across this hashtag on twitter, perhaps February this year I tweeted "ya'll are going to end up raising men who are trash, because of this. A self fulfilling prophecy". It strikes me though that many of us are trash already, even if it isn't through our individual acts, but through the hegemony that we are part of, and continue to support.

I pledged in a conversation this morning to actively do my part to root out the scourge of patriarchy and misogyny. It may have seemed like just words, but I really meant them. I will do my level best to act as a change agent for the situation at hand. More reading, more learning, and better listening are all going to be the results of the men are trash hashtag for me. Let's hope it begins to permeate the society, and has a positive social impact on every little grouping and sub-grouping of humans in the republic and across the globe ultimately.

Random ramblings of a mad man...Basotho Heart, and dem...

#BasothoHeart #ShowDemHeart
I now well and truly believe that starting ones own business is half the battle. The other half which is fraught with all manner of minefields is keeping the business afloat and relevant!
Our little gingerbeer producing company is not only trudging along, it's moving! It's growth trajectory is proper. It really feels as though we're on the cusp of something great here. But I would say that wouldn't I?
Every single day, almost literally, we're running in to a new competitor. Every single day we're discovering some other company that has commodified chinchbiri. It's fascinating. Some are ahead of us in the journey, some are behind us. It's clearly going to be a very competitive space soon. Innovation is going to be key. If you aren't moving, you are dying. I have to say, that prospect is exhilarating! Trying to stay ahead of the game sounds so cliche'd but it's the name of the game right now.

We go through ups and downs as a business, but every day the sun comes out, and we give it another bash. As ever the ladies of Basotho Heart continue to do the absolute most in driving this business forward by any means possible. The sacrifices made are untold. Huge sacrifices that will bear fruit, no doubt! We've added two interns to our little business, and they seem to be learning and enjoying the experience. Lord knows we're leaning too, so it's great to be going on this journey with them.
On workers day I opined that I hope in the not too distant future our growth will lead to employment opportunities for young people. When this business fulfills its promise I have no doubt it will present opportunities for skilled and semi skilled labour. I can't wait for that!
Till then, be on the lookout for your favourite premium craft gingerbeer at Foghound Cafe in Midrand. Jacksons real food market in Bryanston. Craft beer library in Linden. Pata Pata lounge in the Maboneng district. Axcinia restaurant and Ouh la la in Maseru. Otherwise catch us online at www.basothoheart.com or basothoheart@gmail.com
"It's a taste of home" in your life...

Random ramblings of a mad man: On social media

There was a time, in the not so distant past when discretion was a generally accepted norm in society. One had close confidantes that you might share things with, but on the whole we valued our discretion.
Even us narcissists  were able to keep our affliction in check. We had limited time and opportunity to share our self laden stories, and that suited every body just fine.

A friend of mine who has various forms of social media is barely active on his facebook, and less so on his instagram. I asked him once what that was about. He said he found the whole social media malarky rather odd. His analogy was this: "it's like standing on the rooftop of Sandton City and asking everybody to listen to my views". I couldn't disagree with that.

While Faz's views were quite right I also had a rethink about that stance. Social media can be quite awesome at times. For instance, some of the funniest things you'll ever see appear randomly on twitter. More than that, there's so much to learn from the myriad of views and opinions that it can at times be a worthwhile twenty or thirty minutes spent there. Follow the right people and more often that not you'll learn something.
It can also be quite moving. Recently when baby Sibaphiwe had seemingly been kidnapped by irrational hateful people, the genuine concern and empathy on display spoke to who I think South Africans are generally. A caring sympathetic society.

Just when you get caught up in the warm and fuzzy feeling of who South African twitter users are, however, one musician will insult another and right then, the harmony will be ruined. The most outlandish, and outrageous views will suddenly emerge from nowhere. Those are the worst days on twitter! That kindergarten level discourse can make you rethink your use of data on that medium.

But then, facebook will offer you the solace of wedding, baby, and throwback picture albums. The comfort of those pictures and comments will pep your spirits right up. Whether it's pics of a now unrecognisable version of you (because you're 20kg's heavier than in the photo) or baby pics  of a splitting image of someone you know. Either way it'll be well worth the while.

After a while on social media some will start to disregard that discretion I mentioned earlier. Personal details about love lives, and intimate moments will be revealed. I am by no means a prude but I'm not sure how comfortable I am reading a quite explicit question relating to things only grown ups should engage in. I'll be honest and say I'm even less comfortable reading about the ladies who I follows cycles'. I grew up surrounded by many females, and never once was I confronted by details of their cycles. This phenomenon I find on social media. I'm always taken aback by it. But as the old adage goes "each to their own".

I suppose even my last example has been a relevant learning curve. Even if it is a curve I could do without... Big up to the education social media offers. And big up to ourselves for setting aside our discretion for the greater good. And narcissism...

Random ramblings of mad man: On marriage...

It's never been as simple as, find the one you like, get along like a house on fire and settle down. Were it that simple we'd all be living happily ever after. It's all too complex. Tiringly so! To those who have found "the one" you deserve a medal! What you have done is monumental! It is no wonder wedding celebrations are so big!

To those of us who are yet to reach those lofty heights here's a few things to ponder... Top most I suppose must be, how did I get here? How am in my thirty's and still yet to settle down? Where did I deviate from the path that my age mates are clearly following?! Those feelings of "ain't shitness" linger quietly in the underbelly of your subconscience. The self doubt creeps in. At that point, consider yourself paralysed. You can no longer perform any form of cerebral analysis on the situation. All that's happening is self blame coupled by self pity.

But, in reality it's actually not that bad. For one, by not getting married, you haven't got divorced! Scant consolation perhaps, but it's not nothing! Also, you have probably got to know yourself better than you thought possible. You will probably have learned to get comfortable in your skin before genuinely learning to love yourself. You now understand that in reality your life partner is not there to "complete you" or provide your happiness. Your life partner is there to compliment your happiness. She's there to enhance what would be the best moments. Perhaps even to provide them.

Either way, I find myself quite looking forward entering in to this contract should it ever work that I find someone willing to enter in to it with me. Quite apart from the awesome party that weddings are, I look forward to all the ups that come with having a life partner. I guess I even look forward to the downs, coz you know, they make the ups so much more worth it.

Random ramble of mad man: Funny anecdote re Lesotho politics

My old man has many anecdotes that he tells about his life and times. I've heard most of them more times than I care to admit. But there's one that I quite enjoy.
1993 saw Lesotho hold its first general election in some 20years. At that election the BCP won just about a landslide victory, and became the new government of Lesotho, taking over from the military regime.
 Many interesting things happened.

The anecdote goes something like this. My old man had been a lifelong BNP supporter and had worked under the BNP government. His final posting was actually under the military government where he was sent to RSA to interact with the inevitable ANC government. He did this until the change of government in Lesotho in '93. What was interesting, was that when the new government took over, instead of "recalling" my father and, thus, ending his tour but leaving him as a civil servant of the government of Lesotho. He was instead summarily dismissed from the civil service. It was only a few weeks later when the principles at foreign affairs saw this minor error and instead sent a letter "recalling" him from his tour. Unfortunately, or fortunately my old man was now in somebody else's employ. Apparently the higher ups were not at all impressed by that state of affairs, and were seething that he had not gone home to do a number of procedural things that should've happened in a
matter like that.

Some years later my old man was sitting at his "local" (An infamous petrol station where all too many senior government people are known to take a drink) when he was confronted by the superior who had written the letter releasing him from his dutys. The official and my old man shared a drink and laughed at the situation. The official bemoaning his principals' eagerness to dismiss the old man. He admitted that they didn't enjoy his dismissal as much as they'd hoped, as they had not got the chance they'd sought for my old man to have to suffer the ignominy of reapplying for a position in the civil service.

Lesotho politics is fraught with many similar examples to the one cited above. You don't even need to go too far back to note such examples. I hope that this kind of animosity, and malice will die the death it deserves. I really hope Basotho will rise above the petty partisan politics that have engulfed the country essentially since independence. I hope this coming election will act as a new dawn, and Basotho will embrace their unity and homogenity.
Khotso. Pula. Nala.

The random ramblings of a mad man: Political situation in KOL

The political situation in Lesotho has to be the most fascinating, and indeed bewildering in the world. Whoever thought up the old adage “never a dull moment” must have been speaking about the politics of the mountain kingdom. While the country has had a chequered past, it is the present that most beggars belief to many, myself included.

A homogenous group devoid of ethnic or racial cleavage has successfully managed to tear themselves into groups of “us and them”. With “us” ruling the roost for too long, before “them” taking over the reins and in turn exacting retribution.

Many scholars and laymen alike have in the last two or so weeks become experts on Lesotho’s constitution. Many have quoted directly from the constitution and interpreted or misinterpreted what the constitution sought to say to whatever end they liked. I have no interest in adding my two cents worth to that particular debate. I think only a court battle can really resolve that matter, although you can bet whichever side loses said battle will be screaming blue murder. Mine is a simplistic view of the situation. It will seem to some as though my view is coloured by the political sentiment my surname is supposed to hold. Perhaps it is even worthwhile to mention that the leader of the official opposition is an uncle of mine. With all of that said, I will offer my views and ask some questions on this current situation.

It all started with some discontent in what was then the biggest party in the ruling seven party (yes seven party) coalition in Lesotho’s parliament. A seven party coalition in a country the size of America might make sense, but in a place like Lesotho it smacks of desperation. Desperation, to ascend to the high seats of government. I am aware that what is now the opposition would have been making similar overtures to the same parties, and my view would have remained the same had they succeeded in coaxing the other parties in to a marriage of convenience. Anyhow, the discontent seems to emanate from a misunderstanding between the then deputy leader Mr Moleleki and party leader PM Mosisili. There seems to be a lot of nuance behind this split, and I don’t think I know enough about the situation to wade on in on it so I won’t. However, that discontent ultimately led to a rather acrimonious split in the Democratic Congress. This split led to Mr Moleleki convening a new political party of his own. He and 14 MP’s who originally belonged to the DC moved to the cross bench in parliament, thus signalling their intention not to vote with the ruling alliance. In an uncharacteristic move, parliament was then closed sine die (excuse my Latin). Well, uncharacteristic will be debatable but certainly the opposition parties were displeased about what they felt was a sudden and early closure of parliament.

Following those events, three leader of Lesotho’s opposition (ABC,BNP,RCL) who had taken exile in neighbouring Free State returned to Lesotho. The leaders had fled the Kingdom owing to alleged threats to their lives. Upon return, the leaders announced that they would be entering in to an alliance with Mr Moleleki’s newly formed AD. This meant that in terms of parliamentary numbers the opposition now had the largest voting bloc.

When parliament was opened following its recess, the opposition duly tabled a motion of no confidence. Said motion was passed through a vote. I happened to watch these events unfold and was surprised by a few things. The first being that when the budget speech-which had been tabled prior to the recess-was being filibustered by the opposition, it was the sole duty of the speaker of parliament to ensure the matter was heard. Not one MP from the government stood to make a point of order decrying the oppositions behaviour. To many including myself, it seemed the speaker was doing the bidding of the government. While I am aware that the speaker is a constituency leader of what was then the biggest party in the ruling alliance, I am also aware that in parliament she harbours no biases, and should remain impartial at all times. As soon as the vote was passed the Prime Minister is said to have gone to the king to advise him that parliament should be dissolved and the country should go to elections. A third election in one term. And here is where I would like to weigh in.

In other Westminister democracies, when PM’s have a vote of no confidence against them, it signals their ousting. Many will do the honourable thing and resign. It has happened recently in the Australian parliament, and then of course there is the case of David Cameron, who didn’t even face such a vote, but took as implied when he lost the so called Brexit vote. In Lesotho’s case we had an unusual situation where the Prime Minister vowed even prior to the vote to cling to power. He indeed met with the king to give him the advice he said he would. My question as a layman is this, who did he go to the king as? The national assembly who asked the king to appoint him as prime minister no longer wanted him in that position. So, when he was advising the king, in what capacity was he doing so? Many will cite the constitution in this regard. Like I have said, until the courts have pronounced on the matter (if they do) I am not so sure about the interpretation. Then my next question relates to the following sequence of events. With the opposition having seemingly done everything constitutionally accurately (in their interpretation) how did it come about that the king didn’t hear the advice of the council of state which it seemed certain would convene to discuss such a matter? If the king was satisfied that the election was the relevant course of action why not hear the council of state and completely satisfy himself that indeed his thought process and the advice of the prime minister was sound. Though again, I question a process that allows somebody who has essentially been impeached deciding on his own future in such a fashion.

There has been a sentiment that suggested, it is right and proper to go to elections as this new coalition of four may not be the will of the people. I don’t deny that, but I would respond that it is as much the will of the people as a seven party coalition. In fact had “the will of the people” been a factor in the Kingdom, a two party grand coalition between the biggest party’s ABC and DC would have made sense aft the 2015 election. The idea that the MP’s are acting willy nilly and without the ratification of their constituency may well be right, but those MP’s will be aware that there is recourse to that action, as their constituent members may vote them out.

My last question is this. In a scenario where said election is pushed through, which it seems it will. How will the election take place without money? In an unprecedented situation, the country has had not had a budget tabled nor accepted by parliament. As I understand it, this means whatever money had been allocated in the prior budget will return to the consolidated fund as of the 31^st of this month. That it was approved last year has no bearing on this financial year. So, how will Lesotho conduct an election without money?

 This whole situation is one big conundrum. I have no doubt the things happening in the background are worthy of a Harlan Coben novel. I have been intrigued, bewildered, amused and at times disturbed by the events in the Mountain Kingdom over the last two to three weeks. I wonder if this soap operatic course of events has any end in sight?

Random ramblings of a mad man: Opinions...

One of my favourite sayings is "opinion's are like an asshole. Everybody's got one". While rather crass, it really does encapsulate my feelings on the matter. The best thing about the world is that everybody's got an opinion. The worst thing about the world (sometimes) is that those opinions don't match yours!

In sport, a popular cliche goes that you learn more from a defeat than a victory. This is probably true in the realm of opinion too. The view that differs from yours, forces you to analyze it critically. It forces you to think about it. Well, for as long as it is not an extremist view espoused by uncouth characters who will say anything for a rise.

So, my favourite thing is writing my blog, and interacting with folks who disagree with me. Though they generally won't comment on the actual blog (I agree it's a hassle to have to logon and so on). Sometimes I'll be in a place of recreation. Enjoying some fine nectar the Gods have given us, and someone will say, you know you were talking rubbish in that one blog of yours. Nothing more exhilarating than that. Trying to make the person see my point of view, while they try earnestly to make me see the error of my ways. It really helps you learn.

The most heated debates I have are not politics, or religion. In fact the most heated remain related to sport! Teams, team selection still invoke the most passion out of the people I engage with. Those are often quite fun exchanges, but if I'm honest I learn nothing from those interactions, because I will not change my views on Man United, Kaizer Chiefs, the Lions or Saints first fifteen.

Long may the will to share opinions continue! Long may we continue to teach one other through conversation!

Random ramblings of a mad man: Nostalgia and the Vaal!

Once. Long ago, we went out to the Vaal for a spot of weekend fun. The towns name was Deneysville and it was as epic as the name suggests!

Our friend Si (now married to Lottie who was among the revellers that weekend) had invited us on this adventure, and as he and Wes had just acquired drivers licences we looked forward to our maiden road trip more than words could explain. In fact I remember my mother lovingly-if a touch suspiciously-asking me why I was looking forward to that weekend so much. I think I answered with some unconvincing spiel about water sports and needing a break before matric finals.

We undertook the hour long journey with the greatest gusto and indeed glee! I'd be lying if I said anything interesting happened on the actual trip, but I remember being in the back of Wes' red Citi golf, better known as Chippo thinking "woah, how good is life right now?!"

We arrived in Deneysville and the first order of business was finding a bottle store, I seem to recall it being a Sunday. I think everything was closed when we drove through the sleepy, one road town, save for two places. One, a biker type pub, and two, a video store with a pizza "ristorante" attached to it. Anyway, upon arriving at the biker pub, we all decided it looked likely to be housing both former and current members of the Vlakplaas military command unit. With that in mind all the males in the car chickened out of going, and instead sent Qwemba to go and do the "reccie". Very classy, not to mention gentlemanly of us. My memory is sketchy on just why we didn't choose that as our desired hang out. It may have to do with the afore mentioned crowd. Off we went to the pizza place. The only other place open. There we discovered a veritable smorgasbord of alcoholic delights to choose from. We took all the cider they had, and a couple of beers to boot.

We had a fantastic night of drinking games and smack talk. One moment nobody seems to forget is when Hardbody and I had a misunderstanding about the braai master situation. Hardbody as the name suggests is your ubiquitous uber male, beer and tongs ever near by. I happened to be playing with the braai tongs when somebody suggested I do less playing and more turning of the meat as it was burning. I made it clear that I was in no way involved in the braaing and was simply entertaining myself. I don't think Hard appreciated that.

Post braai, we retired in to the house owing to the dropping mercury and forged ahead with our drinking games. Quite out of the blue an almighty argument regarding the difference between a Meercat, and a Mongoose erupted. I say this with the greatest respect, but, what in the actual..?! Till this day I do not understand the significance of that particular argument. I think the dispute was settled by game ranger Duncan's insistence that he knew what he was talking about, while everybody else was merely taking a stab in the proverbial dark.

The following morning was characterized by heavy heads and raspy voices. The house was an absolute mess and it seemed we'd used every kitchen utensil ever created in the history of man. We got on with the business of making the house livable again, and all agreed that we would never partake in alcohol. It wasn't long after we'd finished cleaning the house-or uttering the words-that we began to renege on the promise to give up the bottle. I remember somebody exclaiming that their first beer was "going down with hooks chine, hooks!" While somebody else wondered out loud what business we had imbibing the nectar of the Gods when we'd all been so clear we'd never do it again.

Our afternoon chill out session ended up getting quite rowdy. It was in the early evening, stripped of all inhibitions where a game of "one-two-three block" was proposed. All the protagonists were in favour of such a such a movement and what ensued was probably the funnest hour or two of my life. An infamous anecdote from that game was the collision between Ebz and Charlie Mac. It goes, that right in the thick of the game, with everything to play for, Charlie emerged from one end of the house, with the sole intention of reaching the bench where he could block himself. The then six foot, seventy odd kilo frame of first team rower Charlie was in full flight when Ebz emerged from the opposite direction also moving at full tilt. Ebz stood at a slight five foot four inches (at most) and wouldn't have weighed much more than a feather. What followed might be described as a Lomu-Catt incident. There was dust kicked up, and general mayhem upon collision. There may have even been a squeal or two. I assume that emanated from Ebz, but you never know with these rowers. Anyhow, never being one to miss an opportunity, I remained calm, and duly  blocked myself. I'm told this was callous as poor Ebz could have been on her deathbed. She wasn't! However, she's never let me forget the incident, and often wonders aloud what kind of friend I am. The answer is simple. The kind who didn't want to be blocked...

The end of the night came when some amongst decided to check what would happen if we jumped off the second floor of the house. This thrill seeking behaviour though not uncommon was particularly stupid! It was not actually exhilarating and looking back at it, I still wonder why any one would deem that an acceptable course of action? Youth really is wasted on the young.

The final morning was not particularly fun. Again the house was in a state. This time though, there would be no post house work chill as we would instead have to undertake the onerous trip back to the city. Nobody was best pleased. All good things must come to an end as the English language tells us. I must say, as far as good things go, that remains one of the best.

Random ramblings of a mad man: Ke Dezemba Boss

And so, another fantastic festive season comes to a rather abrupt close. It is my favourite time of the year bar none. Ever since 2011 when my folks made the big trek back home to Maseru, I have looked forward to the Christmas break with glee! There are a couple of reasons for this. First and foremost is the familial bond. Having the whole family in one house for one week can only be described as epic! I am fortunate enough to come from a big family that (mostly) gets along. We’re a big boisterous family, with big characters and big voices! We laugh loud, and we laugh often; sometimes at one another’s expense, often, at something ridiculous. We eat a lot, and drink sufficiently enough for essentialle to be a trending topic. It’s the kind of vacation everybody deserves, and I am comfortable that this is the greatest blessing bestowed upon me and my family. One cannot take this kind of thing for granted, and so I am ever grateful to my folks for cultivating this culture, and to the higher power for allowing it to be.  

The second reason is that Maseru is the party capital of sub-Saharan Africa. You can quote me on that! I am yet to come across a nation, so dedicated to partying and having a good time! It’s like one big reunion town over the festive period. Seeing people you live with in Jozi, but never see in Jozi. Seeing people you grew up with in Maseru, but don’t see as often anymore. And finally, seeing people you hang with weekly in the big smoke, more frequently than usual. It really is an understatement to say that Maluti Premium Lager is the best beer I have ever imbibed. I often say in jest, that it is a mass produced craft beer. It’s so smooth, and so tasty! It is also so effective at doing, what it is meant to do. You will read in to that, whatever you like… it is not uncommon to come across people enjoying an ice cold Maluti at nine and ten in the morning. These are not irresponsible people, or people who are over doing it. These are merely people, who enjoy the great things in life.

Maseru has the most beautiful women in the world! There are more beautiful women per capita than anywhere in the world. This is not open to debate, and I will take no objections, or questions on the matter. These beautiful women are also very welcoming, and friendly. They will return your greeting, and assist you (where permissible) with whatever problem you may have. At the risk of revealing the chauvinist in me, I will also highlight that they are very well mannered, and mostly quietly spoken. This is true for the gentlemen too. In the main, the males of Lesotho are respectful, easy to speak to gentlemen. They take great pleasure in showing off their beautiful land, and exposing you to the local beer.

Recently, there has been a spike in eateries one can enjoy. The food is very, very good at places such as Piri Piri, No7 restaurant, Lancers Inn, as well the Sky restaurant at Mpilo boutique hotel. Over and above that, there is the motoho and makoenya that can be enjoyed as a snack during all hours of the day. There are few things better in the world, than a snack of one lekoenya washed down with (Basotho Heart) khemere in the middle of the day! For me it’s such a uniquely Maseru experience, even though I am aware that you can get makoenya and Basotho Heart khemere in Jozi. Guess it’s just that feeling of being at home, doing at home things.

As I write this, I am recounting the awesome things I did this December in my memory. The awesome people I partied with at the Summer Shakedown (Maseru’s premier event over the festive period if you ask me) the amazing looking girls I greeted walking down Kingsway. The funny moments I had with the family. Not least the epic 30 seconds games that almost divided a united family!

I can wait till the next December. Only because so many awesome things are going to happen throughout this year that will contribute to an even better festive break 2017!

Random ramblings of a mad man: Singledom

Random ramblings of a mad man: I flippantly put out a tweet this afternoon. Said tweet reads "don't invite me to your couple heavy events till I have a goose". I suppose we can discuss the subtle patriarchy in my words later (I can hear all the women close to me collectively sighing at the "goose" bit), but what I want to unpack. Unpack? Deconstruct? Delve in to? All of the above! What I'd like to elaborate on, is the ignominy of being the lone single in your group of mates. You arrive at your friends engagement party. Still a little puffy eyed from the previous nights beer session. The beer session went on longer than anybody planned because between the four singles at the table, nobody's trying to rush home. So, here you are, at your friends engagement party. Aviators stuck to your face. You weave through the party, stopping to offer greetings. Big hugs for the guys and girls you know, awkward handshakes for the guys you still haven't quite got to know. You're trying to get to the bar/drinks table/salvation! Invariably once you get there and start to pour yourself a glass of champers, some belter will come stand beside you. You offer her your glass. She accepts with a warm smile. As you go in to the recesses of your mind (where the best lines are stored) you remember, she's probably with a plus one. Just at that minute, you notice the big shiny rock on her left hand. You mumble something witty and send her on her merry way. The next hour you spend moving between different groups of couples. Some are discussing their upcoming group holidays, some previewing their upcoming weddings, and some are reviewing their friends recent weddings. You finally think, you've found refuge in a group of guys standing alone. The singles club you think! In unity, there is strength. You introduce yourself, and immediately discover the group of four girls you met on the way in-and assumed were unencumbered-are in fact spoken for. No matter. Four guys standing together must be having a chat you can get in to. The reception is welcoming, if a little nonchalant. "So, I gave up a chunk of Glencore shares coz I figured the markets just not going..." I'm already drifting away at the prospect of finance talk. I know it's a conversation I should engage in. But for the life of me, I can't be bothered. When in doubt whip out the trusty blackberry and see if black twitter isn't playing silly buggers on a Saturday afternoon. Discover, much to your chagrin that everybody's playing nice. It is at this point that you really start to beat yourself up. Why can't you get a handle on this adulting business? Everybody else is doing it with such finesse. Mid-thought, your single girl friend joins you and says "are you drunk? I think I'm drunk" and right then you decide that getting day drunk is the answer to all your problems! Back to my opening gambit then. I didn't post that tweet with any malice. I'm not bitter at my situation, in fact, I followed that tweet up by declaring my gratitude for people remembering me when celebrating, but I also acknowledged, that we are at differing stages of adulting. And while I make my slow journey towards the coupling life, perhaps it's better I party with other singles, while you party with other couples?

Random rambling of a mad man: Patriarchal pivilege?

A not so light random ramble in spite of it being freaky Friday..

I have made something of a habit of wading in to treacherous territory of late. This topic I'm about to open up about is one I know for a fact I shouldn't broach. I've never known what's good for me, so I'll broach it anyway.

A hypothetical scenario to start. Oi, this is going to confirm some amongst us' suspicions that I'm an unchanged male chauvinist in spite of my claims otherwise. Anyhow, the scenario...
Boy sees girl, boy likes girl. Boy approaches girl and tells her his story. Girls enjoys the story, and takes to boys charms. One thing leads to another and boy and girl engage in big people things. Prior to engaging in big people things boy admits to girl that while he knows prophylactics are best practice, his preference is not to engage them. Girl agrees. Boy also admits that he's not ready to father any progeny so while he engages the old coitus interreptus form of birth control, he hopes she'll provide the safety net of some other form of control. Perhaps the pill? She allays his fear and tells him not to worry, she's sorted.
Boy and girl carry on in this fashion for a little while.

One day, quite out of the blue, girl tells boy. I've missed my monthly reminder that I'm not a mother... Boy is stunned naturally. As far as boy remembers, he had a safety net. This is never mentioned through out their conversation.

Boy is unequivocal about not wanting to be a father, just as he had been prior to the first time they engaged in grown folk activities. Girl assures boy, God will provide. Boy unsure of God's powers assures girl, he doesn't want to bother God and would really rather not be a father as per his original sentiment. Girl forges on the path that she feels fit, which is, to have the baby.

A few things that my lay bare by my blatant patriarchal privilege; 1) because girl has confirmed that their using two forms of birth control (one smart, the other not so much) boy is comforted 2) when boy makes the error of not engaging the birth control he can control he doesn't think to ask whether they need a morning after pill as, well, she's already assured him "we're fine". 3) when they have the discussion about whether to keep the baby or not, both make their point, but ultimately it's one persons decision. That persons decision impacts both of them. What is the answer to how to resolve this quandry? Specifically when the two parties are poles apart in terms of solution?

I've wondered about this for a long time. Because the general sentiment will be to admonish the male and brand him a deadbeat dad. But, the decision to make him a dad was not really his was it?
One wise friend me told me he'd only engaged in adult behavior with four people as his grandmother had warned him to pick his partners very carefully as one could end up the mother of his kids. I scoffed at that sage advice and suggested that his gran was truly old fashioned. Perhaps gran was right...

Random ramblings of a mad man: Before the Springbok season happened

The random ramblings of a mad man:

I have recently read an expert scribe's opinion on "Toetie" Coetzee's maiden Rugby championship squad. That I didn't slit my wrists after reading it is down largely to my generally sunny disposition! Said scribe painted a most bleak picture! It was as though the Lions have not just made South Africa proud by playing an exciting brand of rugby and making the final of Super rugby.
I have been a rugby fan for a long time now. And I have watched rugby in its various forms. I may not be an "erudite fan" but I am definitely a super fan! This is to say, I go to Ellis Park more than once a season. Even when the Lions are bargain basement. Watching the Lions transform from terrible in the early "noughties" to easily the best South African team now has been nothing short of exhilarating.

I am, therefore, excited about the Springboks and their new beginning in this seasons Rugby Championship. There are lots of Lions picked which is a great sign as they have been the form side of the super rugby competition. Hopefully they'll also dominate starting berths, as well as game time. I'm well pleased to see S'khumbuzo Notshe and Malcolm Marx getting the nod! Both are exciting, dynamic players that bring that much vaunted (and annoyingly cliched) x-factor to the team. That the team may be a little light on experience is of no real significance if you ask me. This is year one of a new era. The form players will gain the much needed experience required at the highest level. This could be a watershed era. I dearly hope the rugby public as well as certain scribes will go from pessimistic to optimistic. Particularly off the back of the Lions great showing!

It's impossible to look away from the fact that Allister Coetzee is a non white Bok coach. It's also impossible to look away from his transformation targets. With that in mind, a fan of my hue and I assume many others, are cautiously optimistic of what will take place in the next little while for Springbok rugby.

My Springbok 23 for the upcoming rugby championship would look something like this: 15. Combrinck 14. Hougaard 13. Mapoe 12. De Allende 11. Mvovo 10. Jantjies 9. De Klerk 8. Whiteley 7. Notshe 6. Kriel 5. Du Toit 4. Etzebeth 3. Redelinghuys 2. Strauss 1. Mtawarira

16. Marx
17. Kitshoff
18. Nyakane
19. Mostert
20. Vermeuelen
21. Paige
22. Habana
23. Goosen

I have particular concern with our wings. I don't think anyone bar Ruan Combrinck and perhaps Courtnall Skosan has set the scene alight. With Willie Le Roux seemingly being jettisoned (or going to Wasps, which came first?) I think it is best to play Combrinck at fullback. Mvovo looked ordinary under the high ball against the Irish and Hougaard has being playing overseas and Sevens. That said, there is sufficient back up off the bench should either really struggle. Other than that my only other slight concern is at the centre berth where the de Allende/Mapoe combination hasn't looked quite as fluid as you might imagine. That should come with time though. Everything else is aces! And I really can't wait to get going.

Random rambling of a mad man: Profiling

The random ramblings of a mad man:
Being a big burly black man, is one of the most interesting things you'll ever do. It's like, everybody fears or mistrusts you as a starting point.
The other day I was walking, quite briskly in the streets of Pretoria, and as I walked passed a caucasian lady she literally welped! I startled her just by walking pass... Then, on another occasion I was walking home after dark and these two black ladies saw me walking towards them, and literally crossed the road so as not to have to walk passed me.
I wasn't even upset. I understood,that was a measure of self preservation. But it just struck me on that occasion that even from time to time you get other males looking uneasy around you. As if you might whip out a switch blade and request the contents of their wallets and laptop bag. What with you looking like that. Like what you say? Like that! Like you fit the profile.

Random ramblings of a mad man: Lesotho thoughts

The random ramblings of a mad man... I had this discussion just last night, and then played it over and over in my head. What if Lesotho installed its monarch as head of government?
From where I sit, politics and political parties are not taking Lesotho forward. It seems like all too many people are advancing, theirs and their peoples agendas as opposed to that of Lesotho and Basotho.

What if we replaced those with narrow interests with the one person (at least meant to) have the interests of all basotho at heart?

Disband the army. Make a paramilitary police force, and then have the rest of the armed forces absorbed in to Tempe across the boarder.
Nationalise the mines, and create a Debswana type arrangement with the most qualified diamond miners.

Lastly, repeal proposition six and get a proper hold on LHDA once again.
Let's try something different. Something new. Give the majesty five years. If it glaringly isn't working, then go back to the divisive political malaise...
Am I being to outrageous here? To revisionist?

Random ramblings of a mad man: Race in RSA Vol i

The random ramblings of a mad man on woman crush Wednesday:

Another one. Another race discussion. Another race based blog post. It just doesn't end does it? No. It really doesn't. Primarily because in the every day reality of most black folk in this country, race is an issue.

I rambled a while back about SARU and Oreagan Hoskins attitudes toward transformation. The actual post is not important. What I want to talk about is a comment on that post. I can't remember the exact line, but there was something about what was tiring being the ANC's corruption and the general malaise they have caused in the republic. That was, I assume, in response to my affirmation that it was tiring seeing SARU over look some black players. What interested me, was that the person in question saw an attack on the ANC  as a necessary response to an opinion piece on transformation. I'll talk more on that later.

The other day I watched a black American man get shot a couple of times by white policemen. I read on social media that, that was the 558th person killed in that fashion, by that institution. An institution sanctioned to "protect and serve". I wondered what that was like. Being a black man of my dimensions in the US. Would I also be under constant scrutiny by law authorities? Would I also bring out the (seemingly) latent aggression in them? Then I remembered. I'm a black man in South Africa once arrested for fitting the profile. I did no further soul searching.

On the response from my facebook friend who saw it fit to drag the ruling party as though anybody who supports transformation supports the much maligned (in some areas) ruling party, I was both amused and bemused. Kind of like that notion that suggests only poor, or stupid, (or both) support the ruling party as well as BEE or AA or EE... Some among us have drawn an inextricable link between the "failing" of the state, and the leadership of the anc (blacks).

None of this is what I actually wanted to get to. It was all wayward preamble. What I really wonder is; why are black people and white people so far away from each other by way of racial harmony? Why does it feel like the divide is deepening? I see the black lives matter campaign, and immediately identify and support it. Many other black faces on social media do the same. What I don't see, is a ground swell of support. Even from my white friends who I know for a fact are not racist. Why is that? Why does a campaign in support of black people illicit such a muted response?

I have not seen a single tweet that suggests black peoples lives matter any more than any other group. Yet the "all lives matter" rally seems to want to ensure that we don't for one second advance that cause. Let me speak for myself and say I don't care to advance to it, however, I am quite keen for an acknowledgment from everybody that in spite of what it seems, black lives matter! At the very least as much as every body else's!

Random rambling of mad man: Patriarchy and me

An awkard random ramble of a mad man:

I had one of the most awkward and indeed difficult conversations I've had in a long while on Saturday.

My business partners who are strong, smart females (as well as my cousins) asked some difficult questions. The most pointed one "are girls just walking boobs to you?"

We were discussing chauvinism/patriarchy/misogyny and the seeming general lack of respect some men have for women. It's not my place to talk on behalf of anyone but myself, so I won't. I was trying to answer questions as honestly as I could while simultaneously trying to do a spot of introspection.
I suggested that I may be a chauvinist. It is the weirdest thing. I'm aware of my privilege as a male but I never seem to do anything about it. And I'm aware of my very real character flaws in some instances. What gives me the right to judge a woman based on her looks?
I suppose while I'm being completely candid I must wonder out loud how my some time chauvinist, some time misogynist view of the world affects the world my sisters/cousins and nieces will grow up in...

As condescending as this is going to sound, some of the smartest people I know are women. Why is that point even necessary to highlight?! Why am I surprised when a girl I'm talking to is not only pretty, but smart? How does one change the conditioning?
I have made a pact with myself to try and do better. I'm not sure I know how though. There are basic things I can do as a start I suppose. I can stop judging the female of the species based on their looks and/or bra size. I can listen closer to what my feminist friends are saying. I can quit the boyish quasi-cool misogynist conversations. I can be a work in progress.

Here goes nothing...

Random rambling of a mad man: Self actualisation...

A spot of narcissism bright and early in the morning, yet more random rambling of a mad man:
I have been having something of an existential crisis of late. Less to do with the meaning of my life, and my purpose on earth. More to do with the kind of human being I am. Specifically the kind of human being I am in inter-personal relationships. How do I relate? How do I add value? Is mine a generally substantive engagement, or am I more "puff"?

I suppose these are the questions you start asking yourself when you get to this "advanced" stage of life. As you get more self aware, so you start to more regularly auditing the self.
The person you are in your head, and your heart, may not be the person you are in reality... This-as usual-applies solely to me. There are many people I interact with, who are phenomenal humans, and are the best version of themselves that they could ask for.

I wrote once about how my love was/is waiting. In my head, that was a tacit agreement that I'm a romantic. I still think I'm a romantic, however, I'm convinced if you asked any of my last couple of girlfriends, they'll disagree-dare I say-strongly with this notion.

In my internal audit (which is incomplete) I have discovered that I'm a selfish partner. You see, I'm quite hard headed. I'm also quite eccentric (or is it crazy?) So things that come normally to some, may not come so normally to me. Also, things that some might view as standard, are less so to me.
I have been asking myself over the last couple of weeks whether I'm better suited to being single than anything else. I doubt that is the case. At least I hope not! I do know though that I require an immensely patient partner. I'm now convinced it isn't easy dating me, and any girl unfortunate enough to fall for my charms must be willing to be frustrated by my inadequacies at times. With all of that said, I think I can be an awesome boyfriend. I'm a decent conversationalist, I'm caring and sensitive, and I know that inner romantic is waiting to bust out!

I'm not the best me I can be yet, but perhaps I'll find someone willing to join me on our respective journeys to self discovery...

Random ramblings of a mad man: Rugby mad

Random ramblings of a mad man: I was one of the tallest guys in my standard five year, not to mention fairly heavier than most, but I insisted on playing scrumhalf. Primarily because Joost (J9) was my favorite player at the time. The coaches quickly helped me find a position I was better suited for at trials though. Loosehead prop. Inter-House rugby was touch rugby, and inside two minutes of my rugby debut, I was in love with the sport. The year was 1997 and my passion was only to grow from there.

My very first actual rugby game was against Randburg High for St Stithians' U14B's. I was stunned that a kid who had only learned the rules barely five months earlier was good enough to play for the B team. I loved every minute of my debut, in spite of getting annihilated in the scrums (we ended up going to uncontested scrums). However, I acquitted myself quite well in the tight loose. When my coach dropped me at the following practice he told me "you're NOT a prop, but you will do very well in the C's at number eight. Tell them you're a number eight".

In my first practice at number eight I found what I'd been looking for. A position where I could express myself. A position I could get the ball fairly frequently (you know being the glory boy that I was then), and a position where I could go rest at the rucks when I needed to!
I became a rugby nut just then. I watched every single kind of rugby game. My schools first team(including their training sessions), Vodacom cup, Super 12, and of course Tri-Nations.
I remember going to Ellis Park to watch the Golden Cats play. Trying to watch what the loose forwards did so that I could go and practice it at school on Tuesday. Rugby was now a part of me. My passion for the game was infectious and even my old man started to take to the game. He started accepting suite tickets for rugby games, where before he'd turn them down without even thinking about it. I would teach him the rules and make him aware of some of the nuances that I'd come across when playing the game.

My dad became the one eyed amongst the blind when having drinks with his friends. He'd tell them about how good Skinstad was, and how good a chance SA had at the '99 world cup. My mom hated the game, and didn't (and still doesn't) understand why it was "so violent."
I got to a point where My love for rugby equaled my love for football. I remember being faced with a difficult decision once where my beloved Kaizer Chiefs were playing at the same time as the Lions. I decided I would channel hop. I ended up watching the Lions as Chiefs went a goal down.
I would spend large chunks of time talking rugby with my equally rugby mad friends. We would draw up dummy world cup squads. We would draw up back line moves, some times even going as far as practising these moves after rugby practice.

I remember where I was when Jannie de Beer went about drop kicking himself into the annals of history during the '99 world cup. This was the first rugby world cup I had watched as a genuine fan. I watched every Bok and All Black game. I was genuinely stunned when Larkham knocked us out with his drop goal. I hadn't seen that coming at all! I was gutted! I had honestly believed it would be a repeat of the '95 final where we'd take on the All Blacks, and I felt the result would be the same. Alas, history reminds us that we took on the All Blacks in the most useless match of any tournament, and won handsomely!

With all of this said, it beggars belief that the former Bok coach Heyneke Meyer sought to ring fence the game of rugby. Seemingly suggesting that only a certain segment of the population were rugby mad. Heyneke's apologists will feign outrage at that thought process, but from my vantage point, it looked very much like it. I try not to be a malicious person (you hear that but coming) but I have never been so happy to hear that a coach won't be returning to his job as when Heyneke opted to withdraw his name from the list of candidates.
Rugby is such a great game. It really can do a lot for social cohesion in this country. I hope the next Bok coach will keep that in mind as he or she goes about building a team of world beaters.