When Love Went Viral

A few weeks ago, I posted a picture of myself wearing a shirt that read, “Bless Black People”. The message was in direct response to a message doing the rounds on Facebook. The message, which was also on a t-shirt read, ‘Fuck White People,” and was worn by a black university student. I don’t know how many shares that post got but my “Bless Black People,” post got shared over 4400, times reaching thousands if not hundreds of thousands of people. I got a lot of support for my message along with some hate.

2016 pic 046Either way while the post was trending I received over 300 friend request (before I had only had about 180 Facebook friends) from people not only all over South Africa and Africa but all over the world, including people from China, Italy and USA and South America. At least half of my new Facebook friends are black. I even got one friend request from someone in the Middle East, I think. I say I think the Middle East because all of the writing on his page and posts are in Arabic. He seems like a cool guy though. Anyway, the point is that I am now chatting to a lot of people whose races and cultures are different from my own.
Isn’t that the problem with the world, and South Africa in particular? That people of different races, cultures and views don’t interact with each other in any meaningful way? I have learnt a lot from my new Facebook friends. Although I’ve got a long way to go, I feel like I understand my fellow South Africans better. We have spoken about the blight of racism and our dreams for this wonderful country that we live in. Of course, there have been differences of opinion. We have disagreed but always we have listened to what the other person was saying. Racism thrives when people of different races fail to communicate with each other. When I posted my t-shirt post, I hoped it would show people that not all whites are racist and that there is a better way to deal with each other. At the very least I hoped my it would get people of different races talking to each other. I am glad that it has done that albeit in a small way. It is a good beginning.
Speaking of beginnings, this is my first blog entry. In the past, I have posted a lot of my poems and other writings on this website but from now on I will also blog, gulp, once a week. I intend to blog a lot about racism and how to erase it. I also, however, want my blog to address other social issues that effect South Africa and world. Always, though, I want my message to be one that brings people together.

The Greatest Living Poet

She is walking on the pavement when the idea comes to her
She has no paper so she holds the idea, fending off other thoughts,
Trying not to hear the songs coming from passing cars or houses on route
A police car pulls up onto the pavement in front of her
The officers jump out and draw their guns
The poet gasps
The offices approach the building on her right with caution
She wants to watch
Instead she walks around the police car and keeps walking
She tries not to think of it
Her mind struggles to hold the idea that she thinks could be a great
On her way home she passes a friends house
From inside she can hear music
And her friend and other friends chatting
She longs to join them but keeps walking
At last she gets home and writes the poem in a frenzy
On a piece of scrap paper pulled from the bin
Afterwards she looks at the words in awe
She marvels at the spirit that possessed her
She knows that she has just touched creation
And brought forth something that will last forever
Out of something that was never there

Jesus

On the cross
Raised high
Here you reign
Here you die
Here you bare
The weight of all
Here you rise
Thou you fall

Notes on An Apology

I see that my poem An Apology has upset certain people so here are my notes on the poem.

It is extremely presumptuous, I know, to apologise for Apartheid. Especially since I was only fifteen years old when it ended and played no active role in enforcing it. I apologised simply because I believe South Africa is a nation in need of healing. That, although some will deny it, the old wounds of Apartheid are still festering.

“Come on,” many of my countrymen will say, “Apartheid ended over twenty years ago. Its victims should move on.”

Whether twenty-two years of freedom is enough to get over more than 46 years of oppression is a question for another day. It is also irrelevant. Why? It is irrelevant simply because there IS lingering resentment over Apartheid. That much is obvious from the fact that so many people still point to Apartheid as the cause of our current problems. Whether justified or not, millions of South Africans still blame apartheid for the poverty they are experiencing.

Are all white people personally responsible for apartheid? No. Most of the white South Africans who enforced apartheid are probably in old age homes or the grave by now. Nonetheless, anybody who knows even a little bit about psychology understands that perception is almost always a substitute for reality. Sadly the perception among many but not all black South Africans is that white people are still oppressing them. At the very least they see us, driving around in our fancy cars and living in our massive houses, as having a monopoly on the wealth and resources of the country.

The question I asked myself before writing my poem is: Do the victims of Apartheid and thier children deserve an apology? I believe they do. I also believe that most white South Africans recognise how evil Apartheid was and will agree with me. South Africa is a nation in need of healing. More than ever South Africans of all races need to work together because it is the only way forward for us as a nation. If we fail to work together our beloved country will slide into the abyss of poverty, corruption, violence and possibly genocide that has swallowed so many African Nations. If we are honest with ourselves, we can already see signs of where we are going. Only when we are able to face each other and admit where we, or the people we are seen to represent, have gone wrong can we possibly move on and truly become what the great Nelson Mandela called the Rainbow Nation. If we are able to do that, South Africa will be not only become a free and prosperous nation but an example to other African Nations and to the world.

 

An Apology

I am sorry South Africa
Sorry for the sins of my ancestors
And those of my colour who stood by and did nothing
I apologise knowing that no apology can ever undo what was done
Or ever excuse the horror of it
I am sorry that I only knew what apartheid was once it was over
That I know people who say, “kaffir”
And that I sometimes I get tired of arguing with them
I am sorry about the displacement of your culture
And that you are expected to fit into mine
Which is far from flawless
I am sorry about the rape and murder
The theft and humiliation
The land taken over
The histories forgotten
I am sorry that I was too young to join the struggle
That I only saw it as my own
When I understood that we are all human
That we are all equal
That equal is all we have ever been
And will ever be
And I am grateful
That I stand before you now
Without my illusions
Because now I am free

Power = Responsibility

Why do some people say we should not vote at all?

 
They do not believe they have any power anyway and do not want to take the effort to participate. Instead, they sit back and criticize the whole system (even the parts that work), even though they use the system when it suits them. All of this they do while pretending to be rebels. In reality all they achieve is the continuation of the corrupt parts of the system which their abstinence gives power to.

Ideals

 

The day will come when they will be true
When every word of them will be nodded at
And written in a book so made sacred
In the deep future people might even
Put their hands on its cover when taking an oath
Or being sworn into high office
Churches could be built around them
Prayers may rise to them
Inevitably there will be an alter
And sacrifices
Suffering in the name of healing
One day they could well be
The kind of system they rebelled against
They might go from being a key to a shackle
Then it all starts again

Denial

Let us pretend that all is well in our country
That our leadership is worth following
That they are telling the truth when they lie
Let us pretend that the roads are not crumbling
That the lights are on every night
That the money we pay is being spent wisely
That the people who need help the most are getting it
That it is safe to walk alone at night
Or in the day time
Let’s pretend that we are living in harmony
And not slowly turning against each other
Because we want someone to blame
Most of all let us pretend
That there is nothing we can do about it
Because as long as we believe that
We don’t have to do anything
We can just carry on living our lives
While the country we live them in
And everything that could unite us
Breaks into ever smaller pieces
Until we have nothing left but our fantasies

Forged by Fire

I do not fear the fires of life
Nor when the hammer pounds fall
Who knows what strength
May come from strife
To one that faces all

I do not hide my tears when wept
I let them fall where they may
For if within the tears are kept
They will water and grow the pain

I fear not truth’s heavy anvil
That doesn’t budge a bit
For it turns my will to steel
And I forge myself by it

But none, not the fire blasts
Nor the hammer falls
Nor the anvil
Can shape me or ever will
Lest I am malleable