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.

Random rambling of a mad man: What would you do?

Yet more random ramblings of a mad man: I was reading one of those motivational posts on social media the other day. The question, was a fairly straight forward one. What would you do, if you weren't scared? A host of things sprung immediately to mind. Being afraid of heights, top most was bungee jumping. Then immediately after that was shark cage diving. I always imagine I'll be the one guy who somehow finds that the cage is unlocked and the shark gets chocolate brother for snack. I'm aware the shark doesn't actually eat human, but that doesn't make me feel any better.

But when I got to really thinking about what I'd do, I knew my real answer. The real answer is that I would make an impassioned plea to my crush to give the big guy a chance.

The thing with crushes in my experience is that you the crusher can always see how great a relationship with your crushee would be. Meanwhile the poor crushee's got her own things going on. Her own pressures, perhaps her own crush. You as the crusher are never party to them. What that means is that you work yourself in to some sort of frenzy specific to how compatible you are. A particularly subjective compatibility test!

Every little interaction you enjoy with your crushee is followed by complete review and dissection. I know all the ladies are surprised to hear even guys go through this. And all the fellas are reading this going "ha! I don't do that, only girls do that" but in my experience, everybody does it. Anyhow, you end up building up this unreal picture in your head of who this poor lady is.
Now if you have the bad luck of being like me and thinking every girl you like is too good for you, then you render yourself unable to put your best foot forward.

And so upon proper analysis of what I'd do if I were brave enough, I decided that I'd do nothing!

Random rambling of a mad man: Randomly rambling

Random ramblings of a mad man: One of my worst character traits is my hatred of losing. I detest it with all of my being. I sometimes worry, that I hate losing more than I love winning. When I was younger I was even worse. Any loss was followed by a mopey dejected night. It didn't matter whether it was at school sport, or my favourite team competing. The reaction to a loss was always the same!

When I got older a philosophical coach said after a rather crushing loss and I quote "you guys did your best. But sometimes your best isn't good enough". It was one of very few things I've ever internalised post defeat. It gave me a great sense of perspective, not to mention relief. It was like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders!

Later on, a commentator would assure that "the sun would come up" for one or other group of humiliated fans. That too struck a chord with me. It was like an extension of the first quote. So, you won't always win, but the world won't end because of it. That kind of perspective has come in handy as I have tried and failed at various things in my life.
But in truth those words have meant the most to me when relationships have failed. It is often at the point where you realise that a relationship you'd really hoped would work doesn't work, that you require perspective. Quickly! Before everything spirals out of control.

Throw a sporting cliche at your break up and see if that doesn't make you feel, even just a little bit better.

Random rambling of a mad man: Valedictory service

Random ramblings of a mad man: It was a very warm Jozi summer morning. The air was filled with mixed emotion. There was a youthful joy-in spite of the mighty hang over-as well as something of a mellow melancholy. It was the morning of matric valedictory service and it just felt as though life would never be the same again.

The previous night I had stood arm-in-arm exuberantly singing the lyrics to Bonnie Tyler's "total eclipse of the heart". Particularly poignant was the line "forever's gonna start tonight". I remember turning to my right and seeing the multiple faces gathered at the pre-valedictory party and wondering whether we'd ever get the opportunity to gather in this manner again. Would the realness of life dampen our spirits going forward? Would we be weighed down by adulthood in the future?

Walking in to the chapel my mind raced back to the very first time I had entered that sanctuary. A shy, skinny thirteen year old boy completely unsure of himself. At that point I was pretty sure I had made the wrong choice going to "Saints". I longed to make the move to the midlands and start afresh there. In that instance as I sat at the front of the chapel, I remembered the other bright eyed faces, most of them familiar from grade eight camp. I remembered the feeling after that first chapel service. The sense of belonging fulfilled by the assurances of the seniors that we were now "really Saints boys".

I'll never forget singing along to "Long December" in that final chapel service. Tears, streaming down my face, head pounding as a result of the previous nights over exuberance, and that empty feeling which reminded me that the best five years of my life till then were a thing of the past. Never again would I sit at the stands with my mates at first break. Never again would the weekends revolve around rugby games or the camaraderie of war cries.

As I sat next to one of my best mates (who later confirmed that I smelled like a brewery) I remember us both pulling each other closer as if to say "we'll be fine lad". As the service continued we both seemed to acquiesce. Realising that it was okay to be an emotional wreck for that hour or so.
But, of course the memory that stands out most in my mind is Mac Fakudze's mom going to get his bible and old boys tie. A good friend we'd lost to a car accident in our standard seven year. I'll never forget Dudu's forlorn look as she accepted his tie and a hug from the rector. I may have added this in to the memory bank, but I remember a collective hush, followed by a sigh as all the boys in the chapel took that moment in.

Walking out of the chapel for the final time, bible and tie in hand, emotions in tatters, hang over unabated I wondered what the future had to offer, and whether it'd be anywhere near as awesome as the past.

Random ramblings of a mad man" Politically speaking

Wading in to treacherous territory. That's become something of a theme for me in the last little while. Randomly rambling here on my social networking page has been the most scary and fulfilling thing I've done in a long while. I opine on issues much smarter people offer much more in depth and credible analysis on. That notwithstanding, I try to offer thought out "analysis" but more than that, I simply offer my opinion on an issue. Any issue.

And so, today I offer an opinion on the political sphere in South Africa.
With the August 3rd election finally decreed by "weekend special" himself Minister Van Rooyen, the times have got interesting! Those among us who are interested in these kinds of things have debated the issues, the personalities and the "realities". It's so interesting for me to see how polarized the electorate still is in the circles I roam. Almost all my white friends will vote for Mmusi and his DA while all my black friends will vote for the man from Nkandla and his merry band of men, or the en vogue guys in red berets and overalls wreaking havoc wherever they go.
I was engaged in a conversation the other day where we were discussing issues that affect us. It may be important to note that the "us" in question was eight privately educated, medical aid carrying quasi bourgeoisie (if you believe the trade unionists). One person was bemoaning the state of the roads where they live, another insisting the power and water cuts were going to lead to the downfall of the ruling party. Me? I was championing the efforts of the so called anarchists in parliament. I spoke unequivocally on why the men in red overalls were the future. More on that later. Anyway, what amused me about that conversation, was that the person bemoaning the state of the roads in her suburb lived in a DA run ward... She'll be voting DA.

Another friend voting for the ruling party wondered whether his party wasn't on a hiding to nothing but insisted that by way of capacity, the ANC was still the only party that could handle the responsibility of governing. This obviously led to a conversation about Cape Town being the best run city. The easiest retort to that was "does the DA run Cape Town or does it run the Western Cape?". Anyhow, I've always wanted to see a study about the average life of residents in DA run townships vs ANC. I'm sure that study's out there somewhere. Suspect it'll make for interesting reading.

On my championing of the "anarchists" in red overalls. I really and truly feel like South Africa needs an alternative to the ruling party. My feeling is that the ruling party, while capable of doing good things is no longer willing. This is generically speaking of course. There are good people in the ANC who want to do good things, but on the whole, to me it feels like there are too many people trying to fill their proverbial boots. In my simpleton mind the ANC much like the DA are their own biggest enemies. Which leads me quite nicely to Mmusi and his "democrats". Ever noticed how he calls his members democrats like the party in America? It always makes me laugh. He's really bought in to that Barack Obama of Soweto moniker. The DA doesn't speak to me. I don't think it has ever tried to. I don't know what the DA's policy is on AA/EE. I don't know why Helen Zille's cabinet is made up mostly of caucasian males. I don't know who funds the DA and what influence they'll have on economic policy should the DA be elected in to power. Also, I don't know what happened to conservative party members, or their voters. You're smart enough to see that it's my theory that they back the DA...

This leaves me with the young, vibrant guys shaking things up. I don't remember them losing a court ruling. Hell, they've had the number one citizen declared a constitutional delinquent. How ever uncouth their strategy seems, it is effective. They are doing what I thought the ANC sought to do in the 90s. Them and their policies speak to me. Absolutely get the land back! Absolutely stimulate the economy using existing local "micro" businesses. Be pro poor ergo majoritarian!
I'm a romantic so I truly believe the EFF can achieve these goals. It is worth at least giving them a shot, because I know the status quo isn't working for me, and the blue alternative isn't my cup of tea

Random ramblings of a mad man: My beloved Lesotho

Random ramblings of a mad man:

Whenever somebody asks me where I come from, I answer with great pride "I'm from Lesotho originally". I love that little place. It's something of a happy place for me. I don't really know why. I just seem to have a really good time there! The people are great (for the most part) the women are BEAUTIFUL, and the conversations-at least in the circles I frequent-are encouraging. Some of the smartest most well read humans I know emanate from that little kingdom.

I only ever lived there for three years. But whenever I went on holiday in December in the 90s, I would say "I'm going home". That may have more to do with my folks referring to it as that, but it never seemed wrong or out of place. During and just after apartheid South Africa, I never referred to Bafana Bafana , or the Boks as "us", because that was reserved for Likuena. A team I still haven't to this day watched live. That must be rectified post haste!

Anyhow, when my folks moved back to the ol' country in 2011, I wondered how much they'd struggle to adapt to being back there. Their answer was emphatic within a month or two, and that was "why would we struggle? This is our home". I think they fell in love with the kingdom all over again. I know I did, when we went on holiday that December. I did more all night parties (lala vuka!) Than I had ever done before. Spirits were high-pun intended-and the mood was jovial! The times were good!
It's difficult then for me to juxtapose that awesome place with the political turmoil it faces, and perhaps has always faced. Just me saying this could spark a vitriolic backlash because of my surname and the political party synonymous with it. There's nothing in the world that grates my cheese more than that. A nation devoid of ethnic, or real religious cleavages has managed to find a way of dividing its self. Politics.

The politics seem vitriolic at best, and downright violent at worst. Since I've been alive there have been political assassinations. In some instances, people involved in said assassinations are relatives. Well everyone's related in that little kingdom, so I guess that's not surprising. But, it doesn't seem like it's about to stop. It's frustrating, and off putting!

Why, oh why can't the politicians and people alike, be true to their nature, which I'm convinced is to be peaceful loving people?! Why must there be this deep division?! When will it ever end?
Moshoeshoe's nation celebrates fifty years of independence on October 4th. How great would it be if as a present to him, we buried the proverbial hatchet, and all just got along... In life.

Random ramblings of a mad man: Life

Random ramblings of a mad man: Owning your mistakes. Of all the challenges adulting seems to through at one, surely this is the most difficult to deal with?

Are some of us hard wired to do silly things? Why-knowing full well that the situation's going to blow up in your face-do some of us go ahead and do the most daft things?

Is that what masochism is?

I have done many, many things I'm not proud of. The things that only affect me I have dealt with and have been able to overcome. It's the things that hurt somebody else that I can never get over. When you hurt someone who truly doesn't deserve it. When your inexplicable actions cause damage to a bystander... It's easy to say "hindsight is a perfect science" but in reality you know as you perform the action that "this is not right". The old adage "it's easier to ask for forgiveness rather than permission" plays in your mind like a stuck record. That kind of thinking might be fine when your an adolescent and/or teen. But, as soon as you move in to the adult realm, that kind of thing is limiting.

Recently I've taken to repeating the "when you know better, you do better" moniker to myself. I figure that means that experience is the best teacher. So, do I need to the stupid thing before I know not to do it again? No, obviously not. Before I do the stupid thing, common sense should immediately suggest to me that, "this is a bad idea".
But then there are those situations where you're stuck between a rock and a hard place. The situations where common sense is completely uncommon. Where right from wrong isn't so simple. What happens then? I suppose those are the moments that test integrity more than the others. They teach you a lot about yourself. Often once the situation's unraveled you're left asking yourself whether you did the right thing or not. Whether you're a good man or not. It is, in my experience, at that point that you battle to own your mistakes.


Why, oh why does this adulting lark have to be so difficult?!

Random ramblings of a mad man: Barack Obama; Winnie Madela

Random ramblings of a mad man:

I'm having a minor internal moral crisis. My cousin "International cheree" loves when I say I'm grappling with my emotions, and today is the most apt example of this!
I'm a big Barack Obama fan. I really and truly believe he has inspired a nation, and a generation. I think his victory was all the flowery things experts, and pundits alike suggested it would be. He had no right to be American president. He had no right to even want to be president of the "free world".

And yet, he achieved this goal-in the main-thanks to the "audacity of hope".

His presidency while having many good stories to tell, to coin a phrase, has been fraught with inconsistencies that sadden me. The drone strikes, and Guantanamo situation, being the two most glaring stains on what I deem an otherwise brilliant stint in the white house.
I'm able to digest these atrocities by assuring myself that as the leader of the so called "free world" it is incumbent upon him to make some tough unpopular decisions in order for the greater good to prevail. Quite how men, women and children being mowed down by the drone strikes is for the greater good, I don't know. But, that's a story for another day. On the whole I like Obama, I like what he represents, and I like what he's done at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue (especially putting in a basketball court where he can indulge in pick up games with NBA royalty).

Here's where the emotional battle comes...
Winnie Mandela is an icon of the South African struggle. A strong black woman worthy of leading any struggle. I find myself unable to afford her the iconic status many around me know she deserves.
It could be for a number of reasons. I may have allowed my perspective to be clouded by the apartheid era sabc reporting (they hated her-which is probably a good sign for why she is worthy of the iconic status), or perhaps I have attached too much weight to the Stompie Sepei tragedy. A quick word on that. I was 10 or 11 when I first heard of that story, and was devastated that somebody my age might be killed by those he trusted dearly. Almost implicitly I might have thought.
However, there may be other factors. I may be so tuned in to the patriarchal establishment that I am not willing to allow a woman her place in history. My judgment might be so clouded by the things I take for granted that I hold 'me Winnie to a higher standard than I do her male counterparts, I don't know.

I do wonder why I can't look passed that particular tragedy as part of the greater good like I'm able to with Obama. A friend told me once "even your conditioning is conditioned". Wise words for a Carling Black Label afficianado. But, I wonder if that is the block in this scenario. Am I unable to see passed my conditioning? Can I not determine in this instance that this woman inspired, and led a generation through the toughest times in history, at great personal sacrifice and is therefore worthy of the highest praise, simply because I've got a chip on my shoulder?

I don't have the answers, but I suspect when I find them, they'll make me a better man.

Random rambling of a mad man: Before Mourinho happened

Random ramblings of a United fan:

I have finally managed to convince myself that Ryan Giggs should be Louis Van Gaals successor. It was a long and arduous journey, but I've managed to reach the destination!
My primary aversion to Giggs getting the job is simple. Giggs is my favorite United player ever. Should he, for whatever reason, find himself unsuccessful at managing the greatest club in the world then that would mean the end of a truly great love story.

But when I look at the dynamics, I wonder if it isn't exactly the right time for him to step up. I have read speculation of Jose Mourinho more than likely joining Man United next season, and I have read of a potential £300m war chest being granted to the "Special One". Now, here's the thing. I don't think United need to spend even a third of that figure. I am firmly of the view that United have a ready made eleven for next season. I think we could strengthen by bringing in a world class defender. Perhaps Diego Godin, or Marquinos. A top class striker also wouldn't be a bad idea. I like the gamble on a free Zlatan Ibrahimovic.

More than that United would be ready to go with a young squad fresh off winning the U21 title. I'm fully aware that winning the U21 title doesn't guarantee success in the big league, but having seen a bulk of those U21 players I'd say they're ready to be thrust in to the cut and dried of the pro league. Consider this team: De Gea, Fosu-Mensah, Godin, Smalling, Shaw, Schneiderlin, Rooney, Martial, Depay, Herrera, Rashford.

It may not look like a team of world beaters at first glance, but with the right mentor I'm convinced that's a team that could certainly challenge for top honors.
Is that team good enough to win a champions league? Probably not. Is it good enough to challenge for local honors? You bet! There's exactly the right blend of youth and experience! Who better to unlock that potential than a man who saw the youth and experience experiment first hand?
Mourinho would be a reaction to City, Chelsea and to a lesser extent Liverpool signing new managers. But, this is Man United we're talking about. United don't react! United do things the "United way". There's no more United way than the man who's been "tearing teams apart since '92"