Struggles of a young woman.
We spend years and years perfecting our look, our speech and walk.
Time can be very misleading, it has a way of making us feel comfortable, like we have all the "time" in the world. Its like getting your first R500, you think you have a lot of money until you left with that last R100 and think back...WHAT THE HELL DID I DO WITH THE R400?!
Hours pass by as we keep looking in the mirror for imperfections, hours pass by as we watch reality shows religiously, hours pass by as we worship our celebrities, hours pass by and when you finally stop to look at yourself, you find that you don't even recognize the person you see in the mirror.
Girl child who are you, are you comfortable being with the person inside or does she make you nervous because she asks too many questions?
Can you blame her; yesterday you loved the colour red because your favorite singer claimed to love the same colour, two years ago the thought of wearing a short dress made your stomach turn but today your the go-to person when someone wants to buy a short dress just because you wanted to fit in, you dating a guy that you hate being around just because he has the same reputation as you, so it only makes sense right?
You hate being alone because its at those times when everything that you do, that goes against everything you believe in comes crashing down on you, your scared of facing reality, your scared of being alone, your scared, you are scared!
But until when?
Thursday, 5 March 2015
Wednesday, 25 February 2015
Bye Bye My Soweto
I was often misunderstood by my peers because I read books on adventures and listened to Barbie songs and my favourite movie was "The never ending story"; see I was born and raised in a township, the infamous streets of Soweto were my playground, when it came to fashion, I often looked up to the local thugs and Kwaito artists of that time. They had the coolest clothes, prints that not anyone would dare to wear, jewelry that I only saw on television and cars that shun so brought, your sight was temporarily impaired. Those were the days I tell you, I loved everything about my township, it was rich, full of flavor and back then we were dreamers with a plan.
These days when I walk down the streets of my neighborhood all I see is death, its like watching "The Walking Dead" in 4D.
What happened to the beautiful cultures we had? What happened to the drive for success? What happened to our dreams? Where did our hope go? Who robbed Sowetans of their passion and creativity?
We have become useless, stuck in the everyday habits. Short term goals no longer include getting a qualification or being our own boss; it has been taken over by "getting a boyfriend who can support a certain lifestyle".
What about you, don't you dream of being able to support yourself, have a lifestyle you own and be your own person. Don't you dream of independence?
Your mother works tirelessly to get you into the best high school she can afford, your father goes to work everyday just so your stomach can be filled with tasteful food at night, your teachers work overtime to try to get you to do your homework but what do you, spit in their face, in same cases I mean that literally.
We can blame the media to a certain extent, we can blame our families and community to some extend, the most important factor in this problem and the one that needs to take most of the blame is ourselves. We allow ourselves to be taken over by material things, we look for easier ways to the jackpot. My heart breaks when I look at Naledi and surrounding townships but I have to accept that it is gone.
Last year I learnt that 5 of my neighbor's kids have become prostitutes, I have never seen a real life prostitute in my life and my first time had to be with kids that were between the ages of 13-15 years of age. One night I cried because I remembered how we used to play together in the street; yes I am a little older than them but back then we all played in the streets, Saturday was the most beautiful day in Soweto, I say that because indigenous games were huge back then, everybody played even my mom. All those memories came crashing down on me and I wept because I cant imagine what they go through each and everyday. Most of their parents have given up; their kids swear at them and physically abuse them, when they try to discipline them they simply just run to the police station and cry "Abuse". Today three of them have kids with men that abuse and rape them, they walk around in short skirts looking for love or attention, they want to feel loved and cherished even if its just for one night.
To some degree I understand why they are doing it. our community doesn't have positive role models, most of them don't have fathers and never had them, their mothers work piece jobs and our community doesn't even have a simple thing such as a library. To some degree I understand!
I could have easily fallen victim to that life as well but I thank my mom for being strong and hard on me as a child. I have done loads of mistakes but luckily none of them have left me crippled. My mom bought me books that broadened my horizon far beyond the streets of Soweto, I could picture London way before the internet, I knew the street of China even though I hadn't been there, I could tell you the smell of Mexican food and different Indian spices despite the fact that I hadn't had a chance to taste it.
Even though my childhood was very lonely because I was the only child, I had a blast playing imaginary games in the bedroom that I shared with my mom, aunt and uncle; one small bedroom with 4 of us. One day I will tell you stories of my childhood, its beautiful and twisted story.
Soweto as i know it is gone, that place i once felt proud of is dead, our cultures diminished and our people useless drunks.
My Soweto, Our Soweto
The home of many heroes and heroin's
Talented beings and passionate citizens
colorful and full of life
I would lay my head of the rocky roads and feel your warmth
The walls vibrate of songs sung in the night and laughter's we shared as a community
My Soweto, Our Soweto
they killed you when they promised to give you life
raped you are, for they didn't ask for your permission
when they poked you in the nuts
scarred...you are scarred for life.
Your death brings pain to my heart
Your pain i feel for we were in sync
i loved you then and i love you now
everyday i carry a piece of you in my heart
i keep hoping that oneday ill open my eyes and you would be there
but you are gone
My Soweto, Our Soweto
I bid you farewell.
These days when I walk down the streets of my neighborhood all I see is death, its like watching "The Walking Dead" in 4D.
What happened to the beautiful cultures we had? What happened to the drive for success? What happened to our dreams? Where did our hope go? Who robbed Sowetans of their passion and creativity?
We have become useless, stuck in the everyday habits. Short term goals no longer include getting a qualification or being our own boss; it has been taken over by "getting a boyfriend who can support a certain lifestyle".
What about you, don't you dream of being able to support yourself, have a lifestyle you own and be your own person. Don't you dream of independence?
Your mother works tirelessly to get you into the best high school she can afford, your father goes to work everyday just so your stomach can be filled with tasteful food at night, your teachers work overtime to try to get you to do your homework but what do you, spit in their face, in same cases I mean that literally.
We can blame the media to a certain extent, we can blame our families and community to some extend, the most important factor in this problem and the one that needs to take most of the blame is ourselves. We allow ourselves to be taken over by material things, we look for easier ways to the jackpot. My heart breaks when I look at Naledi and surrounding townships but I have to accept that it is gone.
Last year I learnt that 5 of my neighbor's kids have become prostitutes, I have never seen a real life prostitute in my life and my first time had to be with kids that were between the ages of 13-15 years of age. One night I cried because I remembered how we used to play together in the street; yes I am a little older than them but back then we all played in the streets, Saturday was the most beautiful day in Soweto, I say that because indigenous games were huge back then, everybody played even my mom. All those memories came crashing down on me and I wept because I cant imagine what they go through each and everyday. Most of their parents have given up; their kids swear at them and physically abuse them, when they try to discipline them they simply just run to the police station and cry "Abuse". Today three of them have kids with men that abuse and rape them, they walk around in short skirts looking for love or attention, they want to feel loved and cherished even if its just for one night.
To some degree I understand why they are doing it. our community doesn't have positive role models, most of them don't have fathers and never had them, their mothers work piece jobs and our community doesn't even have a simple thing such as a library. To some degree I understand!
I could have easily fallen victim to that life as well but I thank my mom for being strong and hard on me as a child. I have done loads of mistakes but luckily none of them have left me crippled. My mom bought me books that broadened my horizon far beyond the streets of Soweto, I could picture London way before the internet, I knew the street of China even though I hadn't been there, I could tell you the smell of Mexican food and different Indian spices despite the fact that I hadn't had a chance to taste it.
Even though my childhood was very lonely because I was the only child, I had a blast playing imaginary games in the bedroom that I shared with my mom, aunt and uncle; one small bedroom with 4 of us. One day I will tell you stories of my childhood, its beautiful and twisted story.
Soweto as i know it is gone, that place i once felt proud of is dead, our cultures diminished and our people useless drunks.
My Soweto, Our Soweto
The home of many heroes and heroin's
Talented beings and passionate citizens
colorful and full of life
I would lay my head of the rocky roads and feel your warmth
The walls vibrate of songs sung in the night and laughter's we shared as a community
My Soweto, Our Soweto
they killed you when they promised to give you life
raped you are, for they didn't ask for your permission
when they poked you in the nuts
scarred...you are scarred for life.
Your death brings pain to my heart
Your pain i feel for we were in sync
i loved you then and i love you now
everyday i carry a piece of you in my heart
i keep hoping that oneday ill open my eyes and you would be there
but you are gone
My Soweto, Our Soweto
I bid you farewell.
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