The delicious rot by Matuba Mahlatjie

Back in the day I used to draw inspiration from personal experience. Both good and bad. These days experience include people's tweets on one's timeline.
One man tweeted that he was inspired by the courage of women who were politically active in the 1950s. She used Ms Winnie Madikizela-Mandela as an example. My head started playing slideshows of Mama Albertina Sisulu, Ruth First, Helen Joseph and many others. They all fought back against the evil apartheid government.
Today we are unfortunate because we have no such women. A whole generation faded with time. They are replaced with women who glorify patriarchy. They are replaced by men and women who will suppress conscience so they can make a living in the new free South Africa. The South Africa that those brave women hoped for all those many difficult years ago.
I know you are anxious and want me to get to the point. Let me remind you how we continue to blame Israel and other countries that sponsored apartheid. Directly and indirectly, we condemn them up to this day.
But we continue to sponsor unemployment, poverty and corruption. Whether it is directly or indirectly. We do it. If we let a family from Asia that has influence over our government so it can make money and do nothing about it, it means we are comfortable with bullshit. It gets worse because some the most principled people I know have have swapped their principles for money.  They are now on the payroll of people who have contaminated our democracy. It is my belief that if that is the case, we too sponsor the ills that plague our hard-earned freedom.
Nelson Mandela was no saint, but he had principles. He turned down freedom because it was at the expense of his comrades. We would never turn down an offer to advance ourselves. Even if it is at the expense of others. We would rather be in make-up in front of cameras and repurposing what should be stories.
The factory that manufactured Compassion must have shut down in the 1950s. The few good people that are left are in the background. They are worn out from swimming against a massive tide of corruption, poverty and unemployment. The one that we subconsciously sponsor. We are almost the like parasites that feed on a corpse. Because the rot is so delicious. It's better than making our own kill amd sharing it.    

The delicious rot by Matuba Mahlatjie

Back in the day I used to draw inspiration from personal experience. Both good and bad. These days experience include people's tweets on one's timeline.
One man tweeted that he was inspired by the courage of women who were politically active in the 1950s. She used Ms Winnie Madikizela-Mandela as an example. My head started playing slideshows of Mama Albertina Sisulu, Ruth First, Helen Joseph and many others. They all fought back against the evil apartheid government.
Today we are unfortunate because we have no such women. A whole generation faded with time. They are replaced with women who glorify patriarchy. They are replaced by men and women who will suppress conscience so they can make a living in the new free South Africa. The South Africa that those brave women hoped for all those many difficult years ago.
I know you are anxious and want me to get to the point. Let me remind you how we continue to blame Israel and other countries that sponsored apartheid. Directly and indirectly, we condemn them up to this day.
But we continue to sponsor unemployment, poverty and corruption. Whether it is directly or indirectly. We do it. If we let a family from Asia that has influence over our government so it can make money and do nothing about it, it means we are comfortable with bullshit. It gets worse because some the most principled people I know have have swapped their principles for money.  They are now on the payroll of people who have contaminated our democracy. It is my belief that if that is the case, we too sponsor the ills that plague our hard-earned freedom.
Nelson Mandela was no saint, but he had principles. He turned down freedom because it was at the expense of his comrades. We would never turn down an offer to advance ourselves. Even if it is at the expense of others. We would rather be in make-up in front of cameras and repurposing what should be stories.
The factory that manufactured Compassion must have shut down in the 1950s. The few good people that are left are in the background.

Matters of the heart by Matuba Mahlatjie

I am probably one of many people who just never gave up on love. Even though I admit that I did love some wrong people. Wrong people because they did not return the love. This was way before gay relationships became an extra mural activity for a lot of men who labeled themselves straight in the earlier days. 

I have been confronted with cases of women, most of them great people, whom I thought were happy telling me that they are actually working hard to keep their relationships intact. It almost sounded like it was a second job they could not abscond from. To them, it was important for everyone to believe that everything is good. Giving the impression that they are happier and taken care of. I know all about loving the wrong people. Investing time, emotions and sometimes  money in a relationship that I sometimes knew deep down it would not materialise. That's a lesson I took from all the bad blood that was between myself and my ex-boyfriends. I stopped being dishonest about my feelings. I stopped giving everyone the wrong impression. While others will scavenge on the rough patch I was going through, some really reached out and helped me out of the pit I was in. It's about choices; you choose the stuff that's gonna make you and loose the ones that will break you. You make it easy for people to love you. More especially when you love yourself. 

So here is my advise to young women and men who enter relationships, those who marry or commit themselves to other people. And to those who lie.

There is no such thing as an "open marriage". Divorce is open. Marriage is pretending, denial. Someone would say this is a bit cynical thing to say. But once two people admit that it's not what they want, to wake up with the same person in perpetuity, the choice becomes either divorce or compromise. It's much easier to pretend. Isn't it? Get a big house, buy nice things, go on expensive trips. All the trappings of a happy life. The problem comes when you get caught. When Others know that you were never really happy. Your facade has been broken. It wasn't enough, you screwed around and now you got caught and everyone knows. Make smart choices. Matters of the heart require tact. Save yourself. Love yourself. Respect others and be honest to you especially.

And this is from a not always happily married man, but still very much in love with the man I chose to share my life with. 

E-Tolls: We are the wives of the governors. All of us!

The amazing thing about e-Tolls is that even young men from RDP houses in extension 5, Soshnaguve are upset about them. They don't even own cars and their future is bleak because of the lack of economic transformation. So, I suppose this takes a toll on them too. I cracked up laughing listening to some of their criticism of the tolls. The not so funny part though of this whole saga is that there is a clear US and THEM sensed by people at the bottom of the food chain. The people that we rub shoulders with every day. 

My take on this is that we as South Africans are treated like the wives of powerful men who will not listen to us. We are the submissive wives of the governors who come back home, or sometimes don't even come back to see how we are doing. Those of us who are employed generate this economy and keep the wheels turning. We are just like the wives who continue to bear children too scared to ask "what will my children eat". No time to even assess our reproductive health, we just continue to deliver. The unemployed ones are like the older, unattractive wives they married under pressure from family. And you know you can't choose your family. So those without work are a serious inconvenience to the governors. We are like the wives of the governors. We have no say in what goes on in our household. We just make sure everybody eats at the end of the day. 

Probably this might be a horrible analogy. But if you know toxic relationships and have seen how patriarchy has shaped this country you will not find it hard to agree that we are like the wives of the ones who only use us for their own gain. We give more than we receive. Yes, this is an emotional rant because I may be dragged to court forcing me to pay for using the road I use to go to work. 

Today I tweeted to my mentor and good friend Dan Moyane (@danmoyane) that the songs our mothers sang at community meeting in the 80s and late 90s are still relevant even now. Senzeni na? What have we done? The difference now is that even white South Africans might have to learn the words soon, because we are boarding the same boat. Even though some are more disadvantaged than others, we are herded into the same corner. We are the wives of the governors. Pregnant, barefoot and in the kitchen. That is the conclusion that e-Tolls brought me to. In Nelson Mandela's name, Amen.